Christmas in Bluebell Cove

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Christmas in Bluebell Cove Page 9

by Abigail Gordon


  The appointment was made for the following Monday afternoon and the speed and the time of it were most acceptable. They held hands until her name was called to see the obstetrician and his staff, and as they presented themselves Francine knew just how much she needed Ethan there.

  The ultrasound scan and withdrawing of the fluid didn’t take long and when it was over they were told that the results would be through in a few days.

  After she’d rested for a while they were ready to go, and as they were leaving Ethan said soberly, ‘All we have to do now is wait and pray that the baby hasn’t been harmed and the scan comes up clear.’ Holding tightly to his arm, she managed a wan smile.

  Their prayers were answered with a phone call to Thimble Cottage on the Friday afternoon to say that all was well. The baby was unharmed and the fluid had shown none of the danger signs they’d been testing for. As soon as she’d put the phone down Francine went round to the surgery to tell Ethan the good news.

  He was on the point of seeing off a patient and when he saw her he observed her anxiously until she smiled, and then he was smiling too, and Millie on Reception was also beaming at the obvious happiness of the head of the practice and his wife.

  On a Saturday in late September there was always a special event in Bluebell Cove where those who made their living from the land and the sea, or the turf and the surf as it was sometimes called, gathered to display the results of their labours and to compete for the honours bestowed on those whose efforts were judged to be the best.

  It was held at Wheatlands Farm, the Enderbys’ place, and like the Christmas ball they hosted every year for the people of Bluebell Cove, the show was always well attended.

  This year would be no different. On a mellow autumn day they would come to compete for the top prizes in the different categories on display around the room.

  George Enderby, the oldest member of the farming family, would judge the entries. Ethan had been nominated to chair the proceedings and Francine to present the prizes.

  To complete the family foursome Kirstie would be helping in the café, which was always a great success, with George Enderby’s daughter-in-law in charge, and Ben had been given the job of going round to check that the exhibits were not suffering from the warmth of the early autumn sun.

  When Ethan and Francine had been asked to take part many months ago they had each expected that by the time the autumn show came round once more they would have either found a solution to the problem that was tearing them apart or would be divorced.

  So far neither of those things had happened and they’d been wishing they weren’t committed to being seen together in public on such an occasion, with the necessity of putting on a front for friends and acquaintances.

  But as Ethan drove the four of them to Wheatlands Farm on the day the sheer pleasure of being together as a family on such an occasion was wiping away regrets and embarrassment, especially for Francine when out of the blue Kirstie said, ‘Can we give our baby a lovely French name like yours, Maman?’

  Oh, you blessed child! Ethan thought as they drove between high hedgerows that had been bedecked with the glittering frost of winter the last time they’d been to the Enderbys’.

  Today the hedgerows were warm and colourful with the last flowers of summer, and beside him his wife was smiling at what her daughter had said. His spirits were lifting. How could they not, with such a thoughtful young peacemaker in his family?

  Kirstie was only eleven years old but possessed the wisdom and understanding of someone much older. As she matured she would be just as attractive as her mother, but in a different way as she’d inherited the golden colouring of her maternal grandmother.

  ‘And what names would you suggest?’ Francine was asking

  ‘I don’t care,’ Ben said with his attention on the sleek sports car in front of them, but Kirstie was quick to reply and again Ethan sent up thanks for his daughter.

  It was with Francine’s parents in mind that she said, ‘How about Germaine, like Grand-mère, or Henri if it is a boy, like Grand-père?’

  ‘I would like that,’ Francine said softly, reaching over to the back seat to pat her daughter’s cheek gently. Aware that Ethan hadn’t spoken, she asked, ‘As the baby’s father, what do you have to say, Ethan?’

  ‘I have to say it’s a lovely thought and fine by me,’ he replied, and thought did it matter where they lived as long as his family were happy?

  They’d been coming with their entries all the day before, the long, the short and the tall, bringing flowers, fruit, vegetables, hams and bacon from the pig farms, cheeses from the dairy herds, and many other home-produced commodities. All of them prize specimens.

  That had been yesterday. Today the fishermen would come with the best exhibits from their catch that morning, and those in charge of the show would be spending the morning arranging the entries in their various sections.

  At two o’clock precisely Ethan would announce the proceedings open to those who had come from far and wide with their exhibits, and also to those who were there just to enjoy the spectacle of the fruits of land and sea. All of them entrenched in the community spirit that was always present on such occasions.

  As he took his place on the podium Ethan thought there might be a few there who thought he had a charmed life. That he’d taken Barbara Balfour’s place at the practice and was as well liked and respected as she had been, had a stunning French wife, two well-adjusted children, and lived in the big detached house across the way from the surgery that he’d had built by some artistic builder who had decorated the front of it so beautifully with pebbles from the beach.

  If that was what they thought, they would be wrong. He did have all those blessings in his life and was humbly grateful for them. But the charmed life that people might think he had was a myth because his wife didn’t want to live in Bluebell Cove any more and he was hurting every moment of the day.

  Those who didn’t know the circumstances might think him even more fortunate when they discovered he was about to become a father again and that it stood to reason his would be the bonniest baby in the village, just like the other two had been when they’d been small.

  Yet as he looked at those assembled there he felt a moment of happiness. It might be short-lived, but Francine was beside him on the podium. Kirstie was down there with the rest of the kitchen staff, wearing a white apron over the pink bridesmaid’s dress that came out on every occasion, and Ben was lounging nonchalantly nearby, holding a watering-can. With a smile and a few well-chosen words he opened the show and the proceedings commenced.

  As he watched Francine presenting the awards with grace and style, giving no inkling of the pressures she was under, Ethan was aware of Barbara Balfour in the front row of spectators and when all the awards had been given out and it was time for a traditional clotted-cream tea to be served, she called him across to where she was seated at a table with her family and said in her usual forthright manner, ‘Did you know that we are going to be grandparents, Ethan?’

  ‘Er, yes, so I’ve heard,’ he said, grateful that Francine wasn’t with him at that moment to hear the announcement. It would have been a reminder that her parents wouldn’t be around for the birth of their new grandchild.

  But Jenna was smiling her bubbly smile, Lucas had got to his feet and was taking a bow, and the moment passed in good humour with even his friend’s mother-in-law managing a laugh.

  He and Lucas had talked seriously about their respective wives’ pregnancies one night when they’d gone for a walk along the cliff path together, and when Lucas had asked Ethan, ‘How are things between the two of you?’ he had sighed.

  ‘I wish I knew,’ he’d said. ‘The future is blurred. I can only cope with the present these days. Needless to say, we’re both happy about the baby, but would be much more so if we had a clearer picture of each other’s true feelings regarding the chaos our lives are in.’

  ‘Francine does have a point, you know,’ Lucas had said. ‘One
can’t help having deep feelings about their childhood home, especially if it is in another country. I was grieved and angry on your part when she first went away, but she is doing her best now for you and the children, the way I see it.’

  Ethan had groaned. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? If it wasn’t for the practice I would do what she asks. But you worked there for a short time and saw what it’s like. The people of Bluebell Cove feel blessed with the health care they receive.’

  ‘And you still think no one can do it as well as you?’

  ‘No. I’ve told you. I don’t think that!’ he’d cried. ‘But a promise is a promise.’

  ‘I know,’ Lucas had agreed contritely. ‘I only want you to get things in perspective.’

  When they’d separated later Ethan had thought that wedding vows were promises too, some of the most important promises a person ever made, so what about those? But he wasn’t the only one involved—did Francine ever consider that?

  On Monday morning it seemed strange to Francine not to be touching down at the airport after the weekend in France and having to get to Bluebell Cove with all speed in time to have a quick bite before presenting herself at the surgery.

  It was always a relief to know that on such occasions Ethan had seen to breakfast for the children and made sure they were in time for the school bus when they weren’t on holiday.

  She’d given Paris a miss because of the show on Saturday and was at the surgery bright and early to see her first patient, who happened to be Charlotte Templeton, the headmistress of the village school that she’d sent to have tests for suspected Paget’s disease.

  Francine had received a report from the hospital the previous Friday and was not surprised to see that she had booked an appointment to see her today.

  When Charlotte came in she was pale but composed and as she seated herself opposite her first words were, ‘I’ve had the tests that you asked for and have been given the results.

  ‘They’ve told me that it is cancer but in its early stages. I’m going to have either chemo or radiotherapy, which should halt its progress and hopefully get rid of it, and am having my first treatment on Wednesday.

  ‘That I can cope with, it was the thought of a mastectomy that threw me when I came to see you with the breast infection. I am deeply grateful that you picked up on it, Dr Lomax. My job at the school means everything to me and I don’t want to let the children down.

  ‘I’m rather like your husband, dedicated to the job. He gives his all to health care for the folks in Bluebell Cove, and I’m happily in charge of the education of our young ones.’

  ‘From what they’ve said at the hospital I’m going to live to take another lesson, reassure another anxious parent, and at the worst pick up another piece of chalk, so that will do me for now.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  AUTUMN had arrived with its changing colours. The new school year had begun for Kirstie and Ben, and for the young ones in the village their headmistress was in control as always, with not a word to anyone regarding what was happening in her private life.

  There were signs that Leo would soon be back where he wanted to be and where Ethan also wanted him to be. His sister was over from Canada, offering to relieve him of the burden of care by taking their mother back home with her to live.

  In the very near future he would be taking up residence once more at the Mariners Moorings guest house on the coast road, where he’d stayed before.

  ‘Do you want to finish at the surgery when we have him back on board?’ Ethan asked when he told Francine the good news.

  ‘Not unless you want me to,’ she replied. ‘I’m enjoying being back on the job while I have the chance, and it won’t be for long in any case. I will want to ease off by November as I’ll be seven months pregnant by then and the baby is due in the new year so I will have to be making plans by that time.’

  ‘We will have to make plans,’ he said dryly, ‘and I don’t intend they should include you taking the baby to Paris with you every weekend when he or she arrives.’

  What had started out as a harmonious discussion was beginning to fray around the edges.

  ‘You’ve made your point,’ she told him. ‘At this moment I don’t know what I want to do. The sensible thing would be forget about the house in France and take up where we left off when I inherited it, but I don’t feel sensible, Ethan. I’m homesick and sad and want to wrap the only family I’ve got left around me like a warm blanket. Yet when I go there only emptiness awaits me.

  ‘Because of the manner in which the house became mine it was all crystal clear where I wanted to be in the beginning. I desperately wanted to live in France, but that was before I’d heard what you thought of the idea, and in my mind there has been confusion ever since.

  ‘For instance, my life now isn’t very different from what it was before. I’ve already lost the battle because I’m here for the biggest part of each week to please the children, and am back in my old slot at the practice. I visualised a clean break with all of us moving across the Channel, but it hasn’t worked out like that, has it?

  ‘With regard to my moving into the cottage, I think I was manipulated a little by Kirstie and Ben on the matter of them not being happy in France. When the three of you surprised me by coming to join me that weekend, I noticed that they were off looking up their French friends the moment they arrived.

  ‘It was as if they’d never been away, so I feel it was more a case of them wanting us all to be together in the same place rather than not liking life over there.’

  ‘So you are saying that nothing has changed much here,’ he said levelly. ‘Am I to take it that living in separate houses and no longer sleeping in the same bed doesn’t warrant a mention, and that the feeling of treading on eggshells all the time should be ignored, when before we were like one being?

  ‘If your parents had known this would happen when the house became yours, I’m sure they would have given it to charity. But getting back to what we were discussing, I would be most pleased for you to carry on at the surgery for as long as you feel up to it.

  ‘Our women patients are most happy to be able to consult you, and the staff like having you around again. What is more, I might find time to do my own thing occasionally with both Leo and yourself to ease the load.’

  They were in the garden at Thimble Cottage where he’d found her cutting the grass before the evening meal and had immediately taken over. Curious about what his ‘own thing’ might be, she asked, ‘So what would you do if you had some free time?’

  ‘Go to see Phoebe,’ he said promptly. ‘I feel bad that I haven’t been more supportive towards her over past months since she had little Marcus. She is a member of my staff, even though she works on the district, and life hasn’t been easy for her this past year.

  ‘It would be simpler to keep in touch if she was living here in Bluebell Cove during her maternity leave, but she seems close to her sister who lives in the town and will have needed all the help she can get over past months.’

  ‘So who is the father of her baby, do we know?’

  ‘No. I haven’t a clue. She doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. Her leave will be up in the new year so that will be another valued member of staff returning. The only time she’s been back here in public was when I asked her to be my partner on Christmas Eve when we all danced through the village.

  ‘Phoebe wasn’t sure she could make it at first, but when her sister offered to mind the baby she came, though she didn’t waste any time when it was over. She was off like a shot.’

  He was putting the mower away, unaware that Francine was thinking how thoughtful he was towards the young single mother, yet Ethan wouldn’t move to France for her sake.

  When he’d helped her clear away after the meal and the children were engrossed in their homework, he walked slowly back to the house in sombre mood.

  Back there in the garden Francine had opened her heart to him more than she’d ever done since the split and de
ep down inside he knew they couldn’t go on as they were. The situation had been complex enough before she’d fallen pregnant, but now—it really was like treading on eggshells.

  Her surmise that Kirstie and Ben had pulled some strings of their own to get their parents at least living in the same country was heart-breaking to say the least. How could he and Francine bring this kind of uncertainty into their youthful lives? There had to be a solution that suited them all and it was up to him to find it.

  On her way to the surgery on the morning after their discussion in the garden Francine saw Mary Carradine doing an early shop at the butcher’s. As they exchanged smiles the elderly villager said, ‘They didn’t do what I was expecting when I went to the hospital, Dr. Lomax. It seemed that I’d been worrying without cause. The gynaecologist said he was satisfied there was nothing seriously wrong with my cervix and I was discharged, which was wonderful news.’

  Francine nodded and told her, ‘He has informed me of his decision, Mrs Carradine, and I’m sure you must be relieved to know that is the end of it.’

  ‘I am indeed!’ she said with feeling, and trotted into the butcher’s with a lighter step than on the day when she’d been to the surgery to discuss her anxieties.

  Leo was back, as bright and breezy as ever. Only a very close look at his fair countenance brought into focus the stress lines that caring for his sick mother had brought around eyes and jaw line.

  Ethan told him what he needed was some good fresh air in his lungs, clear and unpolluted straight from the sea, along with some good Devon food, and the new addition to the practice said laughingly, ‘Surely I don’t look so bad?’

  ‘No, of course you don’t,’ he said reassuringly, ‘and even if you did, the food that Meredith serves at the guest house will soon put you right.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it will,’ he agreed, ‘but what I really need to get me back on line is this chance to express to you my sincere thanks for keeping the place here open for me. It can’t have been easy.’

 

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