‘No, it wasn’t,’ Ethan told him, ‘but Francine has helped out in the mornings and we managed. It’s a shame that you missed the summer here in Bluebell Cove though. We’re well into autumn now, but the place still holds many charms!’
In her small consulting room at the other end of the passage Francine was thinking along similar lines but with regard to herself rather than Leo Fenchurch.
When she’d been pregnant with Ben and Kirstie, nine months had seemed like for ever, but with this baby it felt as if the waiting time was going too fast because nothing was clear cut in her mind about the future. The days seemed to be rushing past at breakneck speed.
Soon she would have to do some baby shopping and now that Ethan wasn’t so pressured workwise she knew he would want to go with her. Only that morning he’d said that from now on he was going to attend the antenatal clinic at the hospital with her, and the announcement had left her with mixed feelings of pleasure and uncertainty.
‘So have you chosen some names for your baby, Dr. Lomax?’ one of the antenatal nurses had asked the last time she was there.
The question had brought with it the memory of Kirstie suggesting they should call it after one of the parents that she’d lost so tragically and her young daughter’s thoughtfulness and perception had been like balm to her aching heart.
She’d smiled. ‘Yes, we have. Germaine for a girl, after my mother, and Henri for a boy, which was my father’s name.’
‘Those are lovely names,’ the young nurse had said.
‘Yes, they are,’ she’d agreed softly, and wished that Ethan had been there to share the moment.
She was back in France again for the weekend and in the solitude of the house Francine was moving from one familiar room to the next deep in thought.
Would she have wanted to come back to live in Paris under different circumstances? If her parents hadn’t died and the house hadn’t become hers?
The truth was that she’d become obsessed with the idea of moving here, so much so that even the reality of her pregnancy hadn’t really changed her mind.
She knew that the major part of her yearning to be back was because of the way her parents had been taken from her in a matter of minutes on a steep winding road in a foreign country. Coming to live in their house was the only way she could think of to ease the pain and at the same time celebrate their lives, but in the meantime what was she doing to her family? To Ethan?
Taking away the pleasure and satisfaction he got from the efficient running of the practice was one thing she was denying him, and another was depriving him of a proper home life.
He’d already announced that the baby wasn’t going to be shuttled around to suit their requirements, and it would do Kirstie and Ben’s education no good if they were involved in changing schools all the time.
She stopped in front of the wardrobes in the main bedroom of the house in her restless pacing. They were still full of her parents’ clothes because she hadn’t been able to face disposing of them. On a sudden impulse she began to take them out, placing the contents in neat piles on the big double bed.
Next she turned to the dressing table and started to empty the drawers with the same precision. Beneath an assortment of lingerie she found a long white envelope addressed to her in her mother’s hand writing.
She stood looking down at it for a long moment and then opened it slowly. Her mother had written in a fine sloping hand.
To our dearest daughter,
We hope it may be long before you have need to read this, but when the time comes we want you to know that we will leave this earth content because you have a husband who will always cherish you, two precious children, and are living in beautiful Bluebell Cove.
With eyes wide and astonished, fixed on the words in front of her, throat dry and legs wilting beneath her, she read the letter again, taking in the date at the top of the page. Her mother had written it the night before they’d left for the holiday in the Balkans, which was very strange, almost as if she’d had a premonition.
What about, though? That ill would befall them? That their daughter would need reassurance regarding her own life in the days to come?
She was shaking with the shock of finding what seemed like an answer to all her heart searching, and lifting the bed covers she crawled beneath them with the letter she’d found at the bottom of the drawer still clutched in her hand.
It hadn’t been amongst all the legal papers she’d had to deal with in the first instance after the accident. Instead it was as if her mother had been driven to write it and then with the holiday departure so near had put it out of sight.
At that moment the baby moved inside her, another reminder of where her responsibilities lay, and she thought that this unborn child must not be brought up between two homes, yet when she’d written the letter her mother would not have reckoned on her being totally overwhelmed by homesickness after losing them.
The weekends in Paris were never what she wanted them to be. They would be if Ethan and the children were with her, but as they weren’t they seemed long and lonely and as a taxi dropped her off outside Thimble Cottage at half past five on Monday morning Francine was thinking that this last one had been in a class of its own with the sadness of finding her mother’s letter and its contents creating even more confusion regarding the future.
As she put the key in the lock she ached to have Ethan’s arms around her and his voice telling her that it was going to be all right, even though she knew it wasn’t.
She went upstairs and undressed slowly, intending to sleep before surgery to blot out the tangle of her thoughts, if only for a couple of hours. About to get under the covers, she looked across at the house where she’d once lived. The place where her husband and children were sleeping, and almost as if some unseen force was controlling her she reached for a robe, went back downstairs, and then like a fleeting shadow moved swiftly across the distance that separated the two houses.
She unlocked the door and then just as swiftly and silently went up the stairs, pausing for a moment to look in on the children in their respective rooms, and then opened the door of the master bedroom where Ethan was sleeping amongst tangled covers.
Sliding into the empty space beside him, she huddled into the curve of his back and as she did so he turned over drowsily, but was wide awake in seconds, observing her in amazement when he saw her.
Raising himself up on to his elbow, he looked down on her and asked urgently, ‘What’s wrong, Francine? Is it the baby?’
‘No. I just came for comfort, Ethan, that’s all. Not for any other reason.’
‘So come here, then,’ he said softly, cradling her to him, ‘and tell me what it’s all about.’
‘I can’t,’ she whispered. ‘I just want you to hold me.’
‘All right,’ he murmured, stroking her hair with gentle hands. As she moved closer he felt the baby move and sent up a prayer of thanks for the moment that had brought the three of them together, if only for a little while.
When it was time to rouse the children for school and get breakfast on the go, Francine was fast asleep. Warning them to be quiet, Ethan pointed to their mother in the bed where she belonged. As usual Ben had no comment to make but there was a big smile on his face, and Kirstie, once again the spokeswoman, said, ‘Dad, is everything going to be all right again?’
‘I don’t know,’ he told her. ‘Your mother came because she was exhausted and distressed but wouldn’t say why, so we need to keep our fingers crossed.’
Francine awoke to a room full of pale sunlight and the clock saying that it was half past ten. There was a note on the bed side table that said, ‘You are to take the morning off, doctor’s orders. Bacon and eggs in oven on low setting. Ethan.’ As she sat on the edge of the bed, holding it in her hand, the memory of another piece of paper came to mind and with it the thought that anyone reading her mother’s letter would assume that she would take note of it. She would in normal circumstances, but normality was
in short supply.
After she’d eaten she tidied everywhere generally and collected all the washing that needed laundering, then went back to the cottage and spent what was left of the morning arranging for a charity shop not far from the house near Paris to collect all the clothes and other items that needed to be removed when she returned the following Saturday.
Ethan came in the lunch-hour and observed her keenly when she opened the door to him. ‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked as they went into the sitting room.
‘Yes, thanks,’ she replied awkwardly,
‘So what was wrong?’
She couldn’t lie, but neither did she want to tell him the truth. Not now anyway.
‘I found a letter my mother had written to me in the event of their deaths just before the accident.’
He was frowning. ‘That’s strange. What was in it?’
‘It was a farewell message to be read whenever the occasion arose.’
‘So are you going to show it to me?’
‘It was just the kind of letter that is left to comfort the bereaved,’ she said, avoiding further truths. ‘So?’
‘I didn’t bring it back with me.’
The frown was deepening. ‘I can’t believe you would leave something so precious behind in that empty house. Are we so far apart that you feel you can’t show it to me, Francine?’
She shook her head determinedly. ‘No, Ethan, we are not. It is because what is in it makes life even more complicated for me. I don’t want to raise any false hopes.’
‘Why, is Germaine telling you to stay where you belong, or something along those lines?’
‘I’m not ready to discuss it yet.’
Sighing with frustration, he turned to leave. ‘Fair enough. Hopefully I’ll still be around when you are.’
‘Why, where else are you likely to be?’ she asked tightly.
He was smiling and she thought he deserved a medal for putting up with her whims and fancies, yet in truth they were more than that, much more. So why did no one understand?
‘I might be with a rich widow on a cruise, or go into a home for tired doctors,’ he said whimsically, unable to be at odds with her for long. Anger and bitterness were long gone. They had been there in the early months of the break-up, but now it was a matter of being civil and trying not to hurt each other any more, which in some ways was a more depressing state of affairs because it was like giving up, waiting for the divorce to come through without trying to mend the wounds.
‘I have to go. It’s almost time for the late surgery. Don’t bother with cooking tonight, Francine. I’ll stop off for fish and chips at the Happy Fryer in the village when the surgery is over.’ He was still smiling. ‘The children will like that.’
‘Yes, I’m sure they will,’ she agreed with a watery smile of her own, and recalling the night before how he’d held her close and stroked her hair when she’d crept into bed beside him, she wondered how she could go on hurting him any more. Why not just give in and forget the dream? Even her mother was telling her to stay in Bluebell Cove. Not a single person understood how she felt.
Ethan was curious to know what was in the letter that Francine didn’t want him to read, but not desperate. She would show it to him in her own good time and until then he would let it lie.
She was carrying their child and he wanted her to be stress-free as much as possible. But in the present state of their affairs stress was the name of the game and when they’d eaten the fish and chips that evening he said with a view to lightening up their lives, ‘We’ve been invited to a cocktail party at the Enderbys’ farm.’
‘When?’ she asked in surprise. ‘And why?’
‘Saturday night. It’s to celebrate their daughter’s engagement. So do you want to go? It will mean another weekend that you’re away from your dream house.’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ she replied. ‘Kirstie and Ben have got sleepovers arranged with their friends so the night is ours.’ She would have to put her plans for the collection of her parents’ belongings by the charity shop on hold for another week, but for now she needed to mend some bridges with her husband. It was time they had some fun if there was ever any chance of them having a future together.
I wish, he thought, thinking back to the days when time together had not just been an occasional thing. Yet a tiny seed of hope had taken root in his heart. It had appeared because she’d come to him to be comforted, huddled in his arms as if she’d lost the way and didn’t know what to do.
Obviously her mother had unknowingly said something in the letter that had upset her daughter and it must have hit home, but next to the seed of hope was a thorn. The thorn of Francine rejecting his offer to cancel the divorce when he’d discovered she was pregnant.
It was a mild evening for late October and when they arrived at Wheatlands Farm there were lots of folk there that they knew. Jenna and Lucas were present, so happy that Francine envied them again the uncomplicated nature of their love and hoped that nothing would ever come along to take the magic from it.
She and Ethan had been like that once upon a time, but she didn’t want to think about it tonight. He’d told her she was the most beautiful woman in the room as he’d looked around him on arriving and she’d pulled a face and looked down at her spreading waistline.
‘I mean it,’ he’d said in a low voice as his glance had taken in the flowing black silk coat she was wearing over a low-cut cream dress. ‘I’ve not seen the outfit before. Is it new?’
‘Yes. Does it say Paris? It ought to.’
‘You both say Paris,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t think anyone here would disagree with that. But the trouble is when they look at me they see Bluebell Cove.’
His tone was light but she shook her head. ‘Don’t let’s start making comparisons, Ethan. Let’s just be happy for once.’
Since reading her mother’s letter calm was descending upon her gradually. There had been no great moment of decision, just a slowing down of the chaos of mind that she’d been living with for so long, and for the present she wanted to handle it with care. It was a frail and precious thing.
Their usual hospitable selves, the Enderbys had pulled out all the stops for their daughter’s betrothal to a young vet. There was a DJ in charge of the music, a local band to entertain, and an abundance of delicious food.
While Ethan had gone to find them both something non-alcoholic to drink, Davina, the young bride-to-be, approached Francine and said shyly, ‘I love your outfit, Dr Lomax, is it from Paris?’
‘Yes, it is,’ she replied with a smile for the girl that she’d treated for various things as she’d been growing up and who had always been interested in medical matters.
Her fiancé had appeared by her side and Davina introduced them. ‘This is Rob, my fiancé, Dr. Lomax. He is going to be looking after sick animals, and I will be looking after sick people. I’m in my second year at medical school.’
Ethan was back with the drinks and he said, ‘I remember your grandfather telling us that when you were young you were always taking his temperature and bandaging him up.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ Davina said laughingly. ‘My poor dolls didn’t have much of a life either, they were always ill beneath their blankets.’
Bringing the moment to a more topical level, he said, ‘Our sincere congratulations to you both. May you have a long and happy life together, as Francine and I hope to have for ourselves.’
When Davina and Rob had moved on to chat to other guests Ethan said, ‘I suppose that last sentence didn’t go down too well with you.’
She didn’t reply. Instead, taking his arm, she said, ‘Let’s dance, and if you hold me close enough you might feel this child of ours doing its own little dance. It is never still.’
‘Hmm, so maybe we have a footballer, a rugby player, or even a sprinter.’
‘Or it might be a little ballerina or a gymnast,’ she reminded him.
‘Of course,’ he agreed, ‘and that wou
ld be just as delightful.’
Barbara Balfour sat in her wheelchair at the edge of the dance floor, watching Ethan dance with Francine. She was alone. Her husband was chatting to a friend not far away and she had the moment to herself.
She would never admit it to anyone, but to her Ethan was the son she’d never had. Honourable, hard working, loving husband and father, extremely attractive, a man who stood out amongst his counterparts, and for months she’d observed his unhappiness and done nothing about it because she wanted him near her, not far away across the Channel.
Tonight he looked happy enough, she thought, but his wife blew hot and cold in the marriage. Maybe this was one of their better nights, but next weekend Francine would be off to France again, doing her own thing.
When she’d been so weak and ill the year before he’d called at their house every morning to check on her and Keith on his way to the surgery while in the background his marriage had been failing. Francine had taken the children off to France with her, leaving him alone in the big detached house that he’d had built for them.
At that time Jenna hadn’t yet come back from abroad and it had been Ethan’s visits that had helped her to get through the day. When their daughter had come home after becoming aware of her mother’s ill health, Ethan had offered her a job in the practice that fitted in with looking after her.
She knew that the biggest part of Ethan’s reluctance to do what Francine was asking of him came from the promise he’d made to her when he’d taken over from her that he would keep up the standard of care that she had always maintained, no matter what.
Little could he have expected that his dedication to his work would threaten his marriage and take him to the brink of divorce. She herself had sacrificed family life on the altar of healing the sick, and of late had thought if she’d had the chance to do it again she would have done it differently. So was she going to sit by and watch while Ethan did the same to a more serious degree?
Christmas in Bluebell Cove Page 10
