‘I’m going to make sure that this will be the best Christmas that Treetops Manor has ever seen,’ Tom told his wife as he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly and she didn’t doubt him for a minute.
Two weeks before Christmas, Tom and George drove into Nuneaton market and returned home with an impressive specimen of a Christmas tree. Despite the weather, which was grey and dismal and very, very cold, nothing could dampen their spirits.
‘But wherever shall we put it?’ Sunday asked as she stared in awe at the giant tree.
Kitty, who was now well overdue for the birth of her child, and Maggie had come from the drawing room to see it and Maggie giggled. ‘I reckon it will have to stay right here in the hall,’ she declared. ‘It’s far too tall to fit in any of the other rooms – unless you want to chop some off it.’
‘I will not chop any off, young lady,’ Tom retorted. ‘And I think it will look splendid in the hall. Ben, be a good chap and go and find a good sturdy bucket for it, will you?’
Ben shot off to do as he was told as Kitty waddled back into the drawing room, closely followed by Maggie, who was becoming really concerned about her. Only the night before, Kitty had suddenly said, ‘You will keep an eye out for the baby, won’t you, Maggie?’
‘You’ll be able to do that yourself,’ Maggie had told her, but it had worried her all the same. Was Kitty trying to tell her in a roundabout way that she didn’t expect to survive the birth? But that was nonsense! Kitty might be small and fragile, but thousands of women her build had given birth with no complications – so why should she be any different? Sunday and Tom already had the best doctor and midwife in the district on standby and now Maggie just hoped that the birth would soon be over.
Later that day, Maggie and Ben decorated the tree as Kitty sat on a chair and watched. Ben was perched on a ladder doing the top half while Maggie attended to the lower branches.
‘No, don’t put that one there,’ Maggie scolded him. ‘Just a bit further along … yes, that’s better.’
Kitty smiled. ‘You sound like an old married couple,’ she told them and was tickled when they both blushed and hurriedly got on with what they were doing. So that was how the land lay, was it? She’d noticed how well they were getting on and the way Ben’s eyes would follow Maggie about, and Kitty hoped that something would come of it. Maggie had been so good to her, she deserved a little happiness herself now.
Verity and Edgar Lockett, the reverend from Chilvers Coton Church, came to supper that evening and Lavinia and William were there too, and so the happy atmosphere continued.
‘Are you sure it’s big enough?’ Edgar teased as he stared at the giant Christmas tree when they arrived.
Tom playfully punched him in the arm before dragging him off to enjoy a pre-dinner cigar and a glass of port with the other men in the library while Cissie and Sunday pottered about the kitchen putting the finishing touches to the meal.
They were halfway through it when Kitty said rather faintly, ‘Would you mind excusing me?’
‘Of course not, love,’ Sunday said immediately. ‘You’re not in pain, are you?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that. I think it’s just the weight of all this.’ She patted her gigantic abdomen, then rising she lumbered away as Maggie watched her go anxiously.
‘Perhaps I should go with her?’
‘No, pet. Finish your dinner first,’ Sunday said. ‘I’m sure she will call us if she needs us.’
‘How long has she got to go?’ Verity asked as she helped herself to another slice of the succulent roast pork.
‘According to Maggie, it should have been at the end of November – but then babies have a habit of coming when they’re ready, don’t they?’
Verity nodded and the subject was changed.
The day before Kitty’s birthday, when Sunday came across her staring pensively from the window, she asked, ‘Are you all right, love?’
Kitty nodded. ‘Yes, but I’d be glad of a little chat if you have the time?’
‘Of course.’ She took a seat at the side of her and waited for Kitty to begin. The girl clearly had something on her mind.
‘I just wanted to say thank you for the way you’ve welcomed me home without making a fuss about … you know?’ She stroked her stomach and flushed.
‘Don’t be silly, why should I make a fuss? A baby is a blessing at the end of the day and it will be welcomed and loved. It isn’t your fault that you find yourself in this position. It’s that no good—’
Kitty held her hand up as she saw the raw yearning on Sunday’s face. She had always known how much Sunday had wanted to bear her own child and thought it a crying shame that it had never happened for her.
‘Stop, please,’ she said. ‘It isn’t quite what you think. What I mean is, Richard did blackmail me in the beginning into entertaining his friends – with my mother’s encouragement, of course – but truthfully, once I got used to it I found there were benefits to being an old gentleman’s darling. I suppose that must be some of my birth mother coming out in me,’ she said quietly. ‘I liked being pampered and spoiled, just as I loved the adoration I got from the crowds when I was on the stage. Does that make me a bad person?’
Sunday took her hand. ‘Not at all. It just makes you human. You were a young girl who had her head turned, that’s all, by people who were much older than you and should have known better.’ Sunday was under no illusions.
‘Well, it’s kind of you to say it, but do you feel sad that I’m no longer the young innocent who left here?’
‘Stop this right now,’ Sunday told her sternly. ‘You are just our Kitty. You will always be our Kitty, so let’s have no more of this silly talk.’
Kitty clamped her lips together and eventually Sunday went about what she had been doing, but for some reason a chill had settled in the pit of her stomach and she couldn’t seem to shake it.
Kitty’s labour pains began early the next day when they woke to find the world coated in a thick frost. As a weak wintry sun rose in the sky above Treetops Manor, everywhere looked as if it had been sprinkled with diamond dust but Sunday flew into a panic as soon as she realised what was happening and hardly noticed anything.
‘Tom, go and tell the doctor and the midwife that we need them as soon as possible,’ she ordered. ‘And you, Maggie, will you and Cissie get some boiling water on the go and fetch some towels – lots of them, please. Oh – and could you carry in the crib from the nursery? I have it all ready for the baby. Warm the sheets before you make it up.’
Maggie duly pottered away and returned with the crib which was placed at the side of the bed ready for the new little life that would soon be sleeping inside it. The tiny sheets and baby garments were airing by the fire. At that point Sunday’s stomach began to churn with excitement.
The midwife huffed her way up the stairs almost an hour later. She was a portly woman who had delivered hundreds of babies in her time and Sunday knew that Kitty would be in safe hands. ‘There I was, just about to start icing me Christmas cake when Tom raps on the door.’ She winked at Kitty then to show that there was no hard feeling. ‘Let’s have a look at you then, pet. Hopefully this will be over in no time an’ we can all enjoy getting ready for Christmas then, eh?’
As Sunday drew back the bedclothes and revealed Kitty’s enormous stomach the midwife’s eyes stretched wide. ‘Good grief,’ she gasped. ‘I ain’t in all me years seen such a little ’un wi’ such a huge bump. I reckon this is goin’ to be a big baby.’ She felt around gently then sent Sunday and Maggie out onto the landing while she examined Kitty more thoroughly.
Her joking manner was gone when she joined them and she confided, ‘I’m a bit troubled, I have to admit. The lass is huge an’ her only a little thing. This ain’t going to be easy. Have you sent for the doctor? I’ve a feeling we might need him afore the day is out.’
Sunday nodded. That sick feeling was back in the pit of her stomach again but then they heard Kitty groan an
d they all rushed back in to her.
As the morning lengthened into the afternoon, every minute began to feel like an hour. The doctor had arrived by then and he sent Sunday and Maggie downstairs to join the others who were all gathered in the day room waiting for news.
Cissie floated from there to the kitchen making endless cups of tea until they all felt that they might drown in it, and then mid-afternoon, the midwife appeared to tell Maggie, ‘She’s askin’ for you, pet. She’s insistent that she sees you.’
Maggie flew past her, taking the stairs two at a time to find Kitty looking deathly pale on the bed. Even so she managed a weak smile when she saw her friend, and when Maggie clasped her hand she breathed, ‘I just wanted to say thank you – for everything. I … I don’t know what I would have done without you.’
She pressed something into Maggie’s hand then but the girl was so distraught that she merely shoved it into the pocket of her dress before saying, ‘Give over, will you, and concentrate on getting this baby here.’
Kitty gasped then as a pain gripped her and she arched her back. Once it had died away she panted, ‘Be happy …’ But then the doctor was ushering Maggie from the room again and the midwife was back so Maggie went away leaving them to do their job.
As the afternoon progressed darkness fell and Sunday and Tom went quietly about the house lighting the lights.
‘Should it be taking this long?’ Tom asked, nodding towards the ceiling.
‘First babies have a habit of taking their time,’ Lavinia assured him but deep down she was very worried too by now. The doctor had informed them some time ago that Kitty was having a bad time of it, but all they could do was wait and pray that all would go well.
The evening wore on and gradually the screams that had echoed from upstairs faded to dull whimpers but still there was no baby and Sunday was feeling frantic now as she paced up and down.
‘You’ll wear a hole in the carpet at this rate, my darling,’ Lavinia told her gently but Sunday was beyond reasoning. Every instinct she had told her that something was seriously wrong, but there was not a thing she could do about it. And then suddenly the noises stopped. As one, Sunday and Maggie started across the room, almost colliding in the doorway, and then they were racing up the stairs side by side. Without even bothering to knock, Sunday flung Kitty’s bedroom door open just as the doctor was handing a tiny blood-covered infant to the midwife.
Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth as she realised that the child, a little boy, wasn’t breathing and then the midwife was hanging him upside down and smacking his bottom soundly. When it became clear that this was having no effect she laid him on the end of the bed and began to blow gently into his rosebud mouth but after a few minutes the doctor shook his head and laid his hand on her arm.
‘You can stop now.’ His voice was grave. ‘I’m afraid he was dead before we managed to deliver him.’
Sunday held each other and began to cry. Poor Kitty, all that effort and nothing to show for it! And he was such a bonny little boy.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Once the midwife had wrapped the baby in a blanket and laid it silently in the crib, Sunday crossed to Kitty whose eyes were feverishly bright in her waxen face.
She clutched at Sunday’s hand before saying on a sigh, ‘I love you, Sunday – never forget it. You’ve been more of a mother to me than my real mother ever was. And you, Maggie, I love you too.’
And then she was drifting away from them again and the midwife was shooing them out of the room. They found Tom and Ben waiting like expectant fathers on the landing for them and it felt like the most natural thing in the world for Ben to wrap his arms about Maggie as Tom hugged Sunday.
‘I-it was a little boy, but he was stillborn,’ Maggie sobbed, and then suddenly becoming conscious of their closeness she hastily stepped away from him and her cheeks began to burn. Ben would never look at a plain Jane like her, she knew. At the same time, Ben’s face set in hard lines as he cursed himself for a fool. How could he ever have allowed himself to believe for a minute that Maggie would ever look the side that he was on? She was a grand lass and bonny, the sort that any man would take for a wife, but she must find the sight of him disgusting, just as he himself did every time he glanced in the mirror.
‘That’s a shame.’ He nodded at her then turning abruptly he made off down the stairs with a speed that would have done justice to one of Tom’s racehorses.
Seeing the look of bewilderment on Maggie’s face, Sunday gently chided, ‘You shouldn’t have pushed him away like that, lass. Not when he cares so much about you.’
‘Cares? About me?’
It was Tom who answered when he said, ‘You women can be blind as bats sometimes, I swear. If you care for him at all, go after him and tell him afore you miss your chance.’
Lifting her skirt, Maggie did just that, finally finding Ben leaning heavily on the edge of the deep stone sink in the kitchen. Suddenly shy she stuttered, ‘Ben … I didn’t mean to push you away up there. I just thought that—’
‘I know what you thought.’ His voice was laced with bitterness. ‘You didn’t want me to get the wrong idea and think that you might be interested in me! Why would you be, with me looking like this?’
Taking his arm in a firm grip, she swung him about with a strength she hadn’t realised she had, and now her eyes sparked fire as she said, ‘Isn’t it time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself? You’re home all in one piece and even with your scars you’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen whereas I’m …’ She flushed and her anger died. ‘I’m just a plain Jane.’
Now it was his turn to look stunned. ‘You plain? Never! Why, you’re bonny inside and out. I’ve watched you looking after Kitty, running around doing whatever you can to make her more comfortable, and I’ve found myself feeling jealous of her.’ He couldn’t believe he had said that! ‘Aye, I have.’
Suddenly they smiled at each other.
‘Do you know what,’ Maggie said timidly. ‘I don’t think now is really the time for this while Kitty is going through so much, but if you still feel the same when it’s all over …’
Taking her hand he said huskily, ‘You’re on, lass.’
Upstairs, Tom and Sunday were still waiting for news of Kitty when the bedroom door opened and the midwife stuck her head around it to tell them, ‘There’s another baby coming. Pray to God that this one survives.’ With that she closed the door again as Tom and Sunday stared at each other in amazement. No wonder Kitty had been so enormous; she had been carrying twins! Soon after they spotted Maggie and Ben coming back up the stairs to join them and Sunday was pleased to see the way they kept glancing at each other. There’s two that will be all right from now, she found herself thinking. Now I just have to worry about Kitty!
It wasn’t long before a thin wail pierced the air and Sunday’s eyes lit up. The second baby had been born and if the noise it was making was anything to go by, this one was healthy. The midwife bustled out with the tiny child wrapped in some of the warm bedding and she thrust the bundle towards Sunday. ‘Can you see that she gets a bath?’ she asked. ‘I need to be in there with the doctor doing what we can for the mother. And yes, it’s a little lass by the way, small but she seems healthy enough, she’s certainly got a good pair of lungs on her.’ Then her eyes solemn she said, ‘I ought to warn you, it’s not looking good for the mother.’ Then she was gone as Sunday stared after her with stricken eyes.
‘Come on, pet, we’ve been given our orders,’ Tom told her gently and with a jolt Sunday realised that he was right. Once downstairs, everyone crowded around them and as Sunday slowly unwrapped the coverings from the tiny body they all gasped. The baby was beautiful, a perfect little replica of her mother with violet-blue eyes and soft dark downy hair.
Cissie hurried away to fetch a bowl of warm water and a towel and once the child was washed and dried they dressed her in some of the tiny clothes they had laid out all ready.
‘She’s just so gorg
eous,’ Cissie sighed. ‘Enough to make you feel broody.’ They all fell silent then, their thoughts centred on the soul who was fighting for her life upstairs. Very soon the infant was crying for her first feed and Cissie warmed some milk and fed her with the glass bottle they had ready in case of emergencies.
It was just before midnight when the drawing-room door opened and the doctor appeared looking tired and despondent. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I did all I could but she just slipped away.’
It was well past midnight when Cissie had washed and changed Kitty and laid her stillborn son in her arms. They all walked noiselessly, one by one, into the bedroom to say their goodbyes. Strangely, Kitty looked more peaceful than she had for a long time and Sunday prayed that she was destined to go to a better place. Soon, the undertaker came to take her and the babe to the Chapel of Rest. Weary and heartbroken, no one wanted to go to bed. Instead, they congregated in the kitchen for yet another cup of tea.
Cissie and George had finally gone back to their cottage and the new baby was fast asleep in Sunday’s arms when Maggie suddenly remembered that Kitty had given something to her earlier on.
‘This is for you.’ She fished an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to Sunday. After passing the baby into Tom’s waiting arms Sunday slit it open.
Dear Sunday,
I have had a strange feeling for some time that I will not survive my baby’s birth and so I am writing this letter to hopefully secure his or her future just in case.
The Little Angel Page 44
