by Ellie Dean
Mrs Finch eyed Julie and the bottle with suspicion as she did her best to clean William’s face and bib. ‘What’s that you put in there?’
‘William needs to have some medicine,’ Julie said loudly and clearly so there would be no misunderstanding. ‘The doctor says he has a heart problem and that medicine will make it stronger.’
‘Oh, poor little mite,’ Mrs Finch quavered as she held William closer and gave him the bottle. ‘His heart, you say? What’s the matter with it?’
Julie explained it simply, and reassured her that William was in no immediate danger. ‘But please don’t say anything to Peggy or the others just yet. They’ve got enough to cope with at the moment.’
‘You can rely on me, dear. I’m the soul of discretion.’
Julie suspected she couldn’t keep a secret for more than five minutes, but let it pass. ‘In the meantime, I’ll need you to help me keep an eye on him, Mrs Finch,’ she said. ‘He will need lots of cuddles and love, but he musn’t catch a cold or get sick, so we’ll have to be extra especially careful – and I’m going to have to rely on you to keep watch over him while I’m at work.’
Mrs Finch’s gaze was steady as she looked back at Julie. ‘Of course I’ll love him and look after him, and take the greatest care of him as I do Rose. But I’m not a fool, Julie. I know why you’ve asked me to do this.’
Julie kept her expression non-committal as she returned that gaze. ‘I asked you because you’re reliable and wise, and obviously dote on both babies.’
Mrs Finch chuckled. ‘You’re a sweet girl,’ she said, ‘but you’d make a terrible poker player.’ She gave a sigh and stroked William’s peachy cheek. ‘I know I’ve been a bit down in the dumps lately, but I can see now that I was being rather selfish and silly. We have one life, and should live it to the full, not wish it away – and there’s nothing like caring for others to take your mind off things.’ She looked back at Julie, her eyes twinkling. ‘It’s all right, Julie,’ she murmured. ‘I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet.’
Julie smiled. Her strategy had worked, and at last Mrs Finch seemed to be regaining her spirits.
Monday morning was one of those lovely, crisp days when the world seemed all fresh and new, with blossoms from the trees floating like pink and white confetti in the brisk breeze, and green shoots poking up between the bluebells and crocuses. Julie still hadn’t said anything to the others about William, but she knew that Mrs Finch would keep a close eye on him and ask for help if she needed it, so she felt reasonably happy about leaving him.
Feeling tired and rather anxious after being out half the night attending to a delivery in a remote cottage north of the town, she arrived at the surgery to find that there was no sign of Eunice or Michael. But the elderly Dr Sayers was in the waiting room going through patients’ notes while Maud crashed the noisy Hoover against the chair legs. His expression didn’t bode well. He was obviously having one of his famous grumpy days.
He looked up and glowered at Maud. ‘Turn that thing off and find something else to do that doesn’t make so much noise,’ he barked.
Maud’s look was sour as she took the Hoover out. Seconds later they heard the clatter of buckets in the kitchen, each bang and crash a forceful condemnation of his rudeness.
‘Damned woman can’t seem to do anything without making a racket,’ he grumbled. He finally looked at Julie. ‘Sister Harris,’ he said solemnly, ‘you and I need to have a talk.’
Julie felt a quiver of unease as she followed him into his consulting room and closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the chair, her starched apron carefully smoothed over her knees.
He sat behind his large desk, his hands folded over his midriff. He didn’t look at all jolly this morning, and as her gaze fell on William’s medical folder, which lay between them, she felt a pang of fear.
‘I was very sorry to learn of William’s problems,’ he said, coming straight to the point as he always did. ‘It must be difficult for you.’
‘Michael and Mr Watson have promised to keep a close eye on him,’ said Julie nervously. ‘It’s a big worry, of course, but the family at Beach View are very understanding, and I know I can rely on them to look after him while I’m working.’
‘Have you considered that your place is with William rather than here? I would understand completely if you wished to hand in your notice.’
Alarmed, she caught her breath. ‘I need to work to pay for his medication and everyday expenses,’ she said quickly. ‘As long as William is able to cope with this disability, I intend to carry on.’
‘I see,’ he said quietly. His gaze was steady beneath the curling white brows. ‘That is all very well, Sister Harris, but if things do take a turn for the worse, I cannot be expected to find your replacement at the drop of a hat. I did warn you that I will not tolerate any interruption to the smooth running of this surgery.’
Julie’s pulse was racing and her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. ‘Are you asking me to resign?’
‘I’m asking you to guarantee your reliability,’ he said gruffly.
She twisted her hands in her lap. ‘There are no guarantees, Dr Sayers, especially when it involves a sick child.’
‘Then I think you should seriously consider your position here,’ he said flatly. ‘It is important to maintain a continuous service to our patients in this town, and unless you can assure me that your tenure here will be uninterrupted, then I must start looking for another midwife.’
Julie closed her eyes and tried to remain calm, but her thoughts and emotions were in turmoil. ‘You can’t sack me,’ she replied bravely. ‘Not over this. I work hard and efficiently, I’m never late, and although me round seems to get longer and longer, none of my patients suffer because of it. Ask Michael. He’ll tell you.’
‘Ah, yes. My son.’ His lips thinned between the waxed moustache and white beard. ‘I have become aware that there have been moments of inappropriate behaviour between you, and it will not do at all, Sister Harris.’
He silenced her interjection with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘I realise you rely on him to look after William, and that you probably admire him for his skill and kindness. But anything more is unseemly, and I will not tolerate it. Do you understand?’
Julie suddenly realised that William’s condition was not the main reason for this conversation – it was really about her supposed relationship with Michael. She knew then that Eunice had stirred up the trouble, and she experienced a wave of cold fury.
‘I understand exactly what you mean, Dr Sayers,’ she replied icily, ‘and I can assure you there is nothing unprofessional about my dealings with your son.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he retorted. ‘Just see that it stays that way.’
Julie waited as he reached for his pipe and tobacco and took the time to try and calm herself. Eunice Beecham was a bitch, and it was clear she’d poured poison into the old man’s ear – but she was damned if she was going to let her ruin everything she’d worked so hard for. There was no way she would simply hand in her notice and walk away without a murmur.
‘So, Sister Harris,’ he said once he had the pipe going to his satisfaction, ‘what conclusion have you reached as to your position here?’
‘I will continue working as usual,’ she said firmly. ‘If you wish to employ another midwife, then I would suggest we share the workload, and both work part-time. That way you can be assured of the smooth running of the district duties, and I can continue to earn enough to pay for William’s medical care.’
He eyed her thoughtfully through the pipe smoke in the long silence that followed this brave little speech, and then nodded. ‘That sounds very practical in the circumstances,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll place an advertisement in next week’s medical journals.’
Julie’s emotions were mixed as she pushed back her chair and prepared to leave. She’d just talked herself out of getting the sack, but working fewer hours a week would leave her very short
of money, and she hadn’t a clue as to how she would manage.
He stood to escort her to the door. ‘You’re an excellent midwife and nurse, Sister Harris, and although I don’t approve of this infatuation you seem to have for my son, I can’t really afford to lose you.’
She eyed him with a cool detachment that belied her inner turmoil. ‘I’m a professional woman with heavy responsibilities, and far too mature to have infatuations about anybody,’ she retorted. ‘Your son is quite safe with me, Dr Sayers.’
He grinned for the first time that morning as he opened the door for her. ‘I’m glad to hear it, Sister. Now cut along, and ask Maud to bring in my morning coffee, will you?’
Julie stood in the hallway for a moment to catch her breath, and then determinedly walked into the waiting room where Eunice was overseeing Maud’s polishing. Maud bustled off to get the doctor’s coffee and Julie turned to Eunice.
‘It was very kind of you to be so concerned for William, but Dr Sayers is such an understanding man, isn’t he?’ Her gaze was even and appraising, the smile barely touching her lips.
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ Eunice murmured, her gaze fixed on the day’s list of patients.
‘Oh, I think you do, Eunice,’ Julie replied softly, ‘but you don’t get rid of me that easily.’
Eunice cleared her throat and shuffled the papers on her desk. ‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said stiffly.
‘Then let me enlighten you,’ Julie replied, leaning towards her, her voice low and flat with dislike. ‘Despite your best efforts to get me the sack, I will continue working here with Dr Sayers’ approval until I’m ready to leave. Any more backbiting, and I’ll make sure Dr Michael knows exactly what sort of bitch you really are.’
Eunice went ashen and her hand trembled as she placed Julie’s casebook on the desk between them. ‘The list is rather long this morning,’ she said unsteadily. ‘So I’ve teamed you up with Fay.’
Julie took the book and tucked it under her arm as Fay and Jess came hurrying in, faces glowing from the brisk wind. She turned her back on Eunice and returned the girls’ happy smiles. ‘Don’t bother taking your coat off, Fay,’ she said with enforced cheerfulness. ‘We’ve got a long day ahead of us and need to get on.’
Jim had bided his time since that talk with his father, but now a week had passed since the memorial service, Frank had made no effort to respond to his help or his offers of sympathy and brotherhood, and he’d waited long enough. He tramped purposefully over the hills, his hands dug deep in his pockets, his thoughts keeping him company.
He’d left the house early, telling Peggy only that he needed to be somewhere and didn’t know when he’d be back. Peggy knew him too well to question him, for he came and went as he pleased most of the time, and she didn’t really want to know the things he got up to unless she suspected they would upset the harmony of the family. She had merely kissed him goodbye and asked him to at least be back in time to visit Anne.
He always felt guilty, for Peggy was trusting and loyal, and he didn’t deserve her. There had been moments when he’d been tempted to stray, moments when his pride and vanity had been roused and he’d forgotten momentarily that he was a family man approaching his forty-fourth birthday. But his love for Peggy had never faltered and he’d remained true despite the temptations.
He knew he was a flirt. What was more, he could never resist a dodgy deal or a bit of black marketeering if there was a profit in it. Lord only knew his father had taught him well over the years when they’d taken the fishing boat over to France and come back with tobacco, brandy, and a host of other things the excisemen would have copped them for. But he’d never done anything to hurt anyone – had never been tempted to rob a bank or get into serious trouble. It could get very tedious sitting in that projection room for hours on end, and he needed the deals and the flirting to add spice to his life.
Jim wasn’t used to so much exercise, and he was out of breath as he reached the top of the track that led down to Tamarisk Bay. He could see over the cottage roofs to the beach where the boats had been winched up above the high-water mark, and he stood for a moment to watch Frank. He was alone, just sitting in his boat, smoking a cigarette and staring out to sea. There was no sign of the motorbike and sidecar Brendon had bought soon after his arrival home, and Jim rather hoped he’d taken Pauline out for a spin on this blustery but bright Saturday morning.
He pulled up his coat collar and made his way down the steep, rutted slope to the cottage. Without announcing his arrival, he walked past the front door and took the side path which led straight down to the beach. His heavy boots crunched the shingle as he made his way determinedly towards the man sitting in the boat.
‘What do you want?’ said Frank, not taking his gaze from the sea.
‘I’ve come to talk to you,’ said Jim, ‘and I’ll not be taking no for an answer.’ He climbed into the boat and sat beside his brother.
‘Oh, aye? And what do you have to say that I’d want to listen to?’
Jim knew this was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he was determined to see it through. It was time to be honest and straightforward, to say what was in his heart. ‘I love you, Frank,’ he said firmly. ‘I admire you and look up to you, and I’ve missed not having you around.’
Frank’s expression didn’t change as he stared out to sea and continued to smoke his cigarette.
Jim licked his lips. ‘I know you think I’m a thief and a liar, and I admit I’ve always walked a fine line when it comes to the law, and told a few little fibs to get me out of trouble with Peggy. But I’m not guilty of robbing the dead, and certainly not guilty of setting Todd up to wriggle out of things. He took that stuff and planted it on me – I was merely returning it to him.’
Frank threw his cigarette over the side and left it to burn to nothing in the shingle. After watching it for a moment, he turned his great head and regarded his younger brother with dark eyes as cold and blue as the Arctic. ‘Go away,’ he said with ominous calm. ‘Leave me in peace to mourn my sons instead of dragging up these things that don’t matter any more.’
‘They matter to me,’ said Jim fiercely. ‘They’re still raw, even after all these years, and it’s time we settled this once and for all.’
Frank stood up, making the boat rock as he towered over Jim. ‘What do you want from me?’ he roared, his weather-beaten face suffused with rage as his huge fists curled at his sides.
Jim felt very vulnerable sitting there, but he had known it might come to this and had prepared for it. He swallowed his fear and stood to face Frank. ‘I want you to admit you were wrong,’ he replied. ‘I want you to stop and think, to go back over what you thought you saw and try to see how it really was.’
Frank glowered, his hands flexing. He brushed past Jim, clambered out of the boat and began striding along the undulating banks of shingle.
Jim scrambled after him, grabbing his arm and pulling him off balance. ‘Don’t turn your back on me,’ he shouted. ‘I’ve had twenty-three years of this, and I’ve had enough.’
Frank let out a mighty roar and swung his meaty fist.
Jim ducked.
Frank was unbalanced, but he swung again.
Jim dodged the blow, crouched low and, with the full weight of his body behind it, rammed his head into Frank’s midriff.
Frank stumbled on the shingle and fell, winded, to his knees. ‘You’d better sling yer hook, because if I catch you, I’ll kill you,’ he panted.
Jim stood his ground, his fear overridden by the raging need to make his brother see that he couldn’t just shrug him off, couldn’t threaten or ignore him any longer. ‘I’ll leave when you accept I’m an innocent man,’ he said fiercely.
Frank staggered to his feet and although Jim was prepared to be punched, he hadn’t expected Frank to give him a shove in the chest which sent him flying and left him flat on his back. ‘Get out of here,’ Frank roared above him.
‘Go home, Jim, before I really do you some damage.’
Jim staggered to his feet. ‘Why do you hate me so?’ he yelled back. ‘Would hitting me make you feel any better?’ He stood tall and straight. ‘Go on then,’ he shouted, jabbing Frank in the chest. ‘Hit me and see if it takes away your pain.’ He jabbed him again. ‘Come on, Frank,’ he goaded. ‘Let’s finish what we started back in that village and let it be an end to it. What are you waiting for?’
The weathered lines in Frank’s face were carved as if in stone as his fist came from nowhere and thudded into Jim’s jaw.
Jim saw red for the second time in his life, and with a howl of pent-up frustration and anger unleashed a mighty right hook which almost knocked Frank off his feet. Within seconds they were silently and fiercely exchanging blows, wrestling for dominance on the shingle that slipped and slid beneath their trampling feet.
Jim knew he was no match for Frank, but he didn’t care, and as his punch found its mark and Frank stumbled and fell, he clung onto him until they were both rolling on the shingle and in danger of getting caught in the barbed wire.
And then Frank suddenly went limp beneath him.
Jim looked down at him fearfully, sure that he’d done him serious harm.
Frank’s craggy face seemed to change as he lay there, the lines softened and there was terrible pain in his blue eyes as he looked up at Jim. And then his great body began to shudder, and those eyes filled with tears as the huge arms wrapped round Jim in a bear hug. ‘I don’t want to fight you,’ he rasped. ‘I want to fight the world – this war – the bastards that killed my sons.’
Jim held tightly to his big strong brother, his heart hammering with love and hope as Frank clung to him and wept bitter, heart-rending tears. Jim wept too, not only for the loss of his two nephews, but for the years that he and Frank would never have back again.
