Demelza Poldark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
letitbetrue) wrote2016-08-17 03:08 pm
letitbetrue) wrote2016-08-17 03:08 pm
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[september 4]
It's likely there are those who would find the habit strange, but Demelza has discovered a certain peace in visiting the cemetery on particularly quiet days.
She'd first come out here months ago while exploring, having found the place purely by chance, and now she comes to visit once or twice a month, usually bringing flowers along with her. There are so many graves here, so many more than she's ever seen before in her life, and there are far too many of them without flowers. It makes her wonder who mourns for these people, if perhaps they had no one in their life or if their own family and friends are long dead and gone as well. There are times when she creates stories for them all, imagining them as people other than who they might have been, but for the most part she just leaves them flowers and then walks on.
It's a fair distance from home, even from the city proper, but she's never had cause to worry about it before today. The cemetery grounds stretch far and wide, but she enjoys the walk, and it's as she's headed toward one particularly lovely monument near the back that she feels a painful sort of tugging down near the tops of her thighs. She pauses for a moment, then continues on, seeing no reason not to keep walking. The pain comes again a few moments later and Demelza stops again, one hand atop a gravestone.
She wishes suddenly she'd brought Garrick with her, if only to have someone to speak with.
Once she feels well enough to continue, she makes her way to the stone angel, lays a few bluebells at its feet, then gives it a gentle pat and turns to go back the way she's come, which is when the worst of the pain rips through her. It's the worst sort of cramping she's ever felt, worse even than when Julia had been born, and she cries out, clutching at the angel's foot in an attempt to keep herself upright.
It's a long walk back to the entrance of the cemetery, longer still to get back into the city and she is suddenly deeply afraid.
"Judas," she curses, then sucks in a few deep breaths and remembers her portable telephone. For the most part Demelza doesn't use it, but she fumbles it out of her dress pocket now, using the button and the screen as Abby had taught her, then pressing the button that will call Ross.
"Oh, Ross, please pick up," she begs softly as the telephone rings. "Please, please pick- Judas God!" she curses again as another contraction tears through her.
She'd first come out here months ago while exploring, having found the place purely by chance, and now she comes to visit once or twice a month, usually bringing flowers along with her. There are so many graves here, so many more than she's ever seen before in her life, and there are far too many of them without flowers. It makes her wonder who mourns for these people, if perhaps they had no one in their life or if their own family and friends are long dead and gone as well. There are times when she creates stories for them all, imagining them as people other than who they might have been, but for the most part she just leaves them flowers and then walks on.
It's a fair distance from home, even from the city proper, but she's never had cause to worry about it before today. The cemetery grounds stretch far and wide, but she enjoys the walk, and it's as she's headed toward one particularly lovely monument near the back that she feels a painful sort of tugging down near the tops of her thighs. She pauses for a moment, then continues on, seeing no reason not to keep walking. The pain comes again a few moments later and Demelza stops again, one hand atop a gravestone.
She wishes suddenly she'd brought Garrick with her, if only to have someone to speak with.
Once she feels well enough to continue, she makes her way to the stone angel, lays a few bluebells at its feet, then gives it a gentle pat and turns to go back the way she's come, which is when the worst of the pain rips through her. It's the worst sort of cramping she's ever felt, worse even than when Julia had been born, and she cries out, clutching at the angel's foot in an attempt to keep herself upright.
It's a long walk back to the entrance of the cemetery, longer still to get back into the city and she is suddenly deeply afraid.
"Judas," she curses, then sucks in a few deep breaths and remembers her portable telephone. For the most part Demelza doesn't use it, but she fumbles it out of her dress pocket now, using the button and the screen as Abby had taught her, then pressing the button that will call Ross.
"Oh, Ross, please pick up," she begs softly as the telephone rings. "Please, please pick- Judas God!" she curses again as another contraction tears through her.
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How such a thing is possible is truly beyond her, but she hadn't expected the surgeons here to be able to cure her and Julia either, but they had. And so she trusts them to do what's right by her and by their new baby.
"How do 'ee know she'll be a girl?" she asks, closing her eyes for a moment so she can try to relax and breathe. "Perhaps I'll give you a son, a little Jeremy Dwight." Though she must admit, the thought of having a daughter named Verity, after her dearest friend and Ross's most wonderful cousin, it does fill her with a warmth as well. What she wouldn't give to see them again, Verity and Dwight both, even Francis and Elizabeth. There are some wounds that nothing can mend, but they are family and she believes enough time has gone by that Ross might see it like she does as well.