Christmas in Bluebell Cove

by Abigail Gordon

  Her train of thought was interrupted by Keith appearing at her side with food and drinks, and as she smiled at her long-suffering husband the moment passed, but would not be forgotten.

  Unaware of the direction of Barbara’s thoughts, Ethan and Francine passed by amongst the dancers and waved. She waved back and wished she still had the use of her legs so that he didn’t have his promise to her clouding his judgement.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WHEN they arrived back at their separate residences on a high after a very enjoyable evening Ethan suggested, ‘Why don’t we spend the night together? You might recall that I do a very nice line in comforting.’

  She smiled across at him in the shadowed light of the car. It would be easy to say yes to the suggestion, but she didn’t want any more confusion with regard to her feelings. She was only just beginning to see the way ahead more clearly, and passion and the desire they aroused in each other could interfere with the process.

  She shook her head. ‘No, thanks just the same, Ethan.’

  ‘So are we back to playing mind games again?’ he asked disappointedly. ‘You’ve been like you used to be all the time we were at the Enderbys’, but once more in our own environment it’s back to square one.’

  ‘Don’t be angry,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ve had a wonderful evening. Please don’t spoil it, Ethan.’

  ‘OK,’ he said equably, and kissed her cheek fleetingly. ‘I’ll see you safely inside. I suppose tomorrow is another day. If I ever get used to this arrangement, you’ll see a flag flying over the house we once lived in together.’

  When she awoke the next morning Francine lay wide-eyed, looking up at the ceiling, and thought thankfully that the calm was still there. A sense of purpose hadn’t presented itself so far but she knew it would come and when it did she would be ready.

  The curtains were still drawn across the way and, remembering how Ethan had cooked her breakfast after she’d gone to him for comfort when she’d arrived home after reading her mother’s letter, she dressed quickly and went across to where it seemed he was still sleeping.

  Before she started making breakfast she took a quick peep into the bedroom and, sure enough, he was asleep with the dark thatch of his hair stark against the whiteness of the pillow and his shoulders exposed above the covers.

  It would be so easy to do a repeat of that other time and slide in beside him, she thought, but after the rebuff of the night before he might not want her presence so, resisting the enticing male magnetism of him, she went quietly back downstairs and into the kitchen.

  The kettle was whistling and she was lifting the food she’d cooked out of the frying pan when she saw him framed in the kitchen doorway just as he’d rolled out of bed.

  ‘What’s this, then?’ he asked drowsily. ‘The calm before the storm, a sweetener before you tell me something I don’t want to know?’

  ‘No,’ she told him steadily. ‘It is in return for you making my breakfast the other day, that is all. So shall we eat?’

  ‘Yes, by all means, when I’ve put some clothes on,’ he replied, and disappeared.

  The clothes he’d referred to turned out to be just a pair of jeans and as they ate the food she’d prepared he said, ‘This is nice. I can’t remember when last we had breakfast together in this house.’

  ‘It wasn’t all that long ago,’ she reminded him. ‘There was the short time between my arriving unannounced on Christmas Eve and my moving into Thimble Cottage when we breakfasted together. Which reminds me, the rental period will be up in a couple of months.’

  He was putting his knife and fork down slowly. ‘And what do you intend to do?’

  ‘Arrange to rent it for another six months. I spoke to the lettings person at the estate agent’s a while back and she said it would be free, so it’s just a matter of signing the agreement and paying the rental.’

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ he said tightly. ‘This farce seems to be going on for ever.’ He was getting up from the table, pushing his chair back and heading upstairs again. Moments later she heard the shower in the en suite running and when he came down again he was dressed in smart clothes. She was impelled to ask, ‘Where are you off to?’

  ‘I’m going to do what I promised myself I would do when I had the time. Something I should have done before—check that Phoebe is all right.’

  ‘Lucky Phoebe,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Well, you don’t need me around here, do you? You’ve got everything nicely planned, with weekends in France, your own place just across the way, the children with you all the time on weekdays, while I get my slot just when it suits you.’

  As he slammed the door behind him a picture fell off the wall and as she bent to pick it up the baby moved as if to remind her that her responsibilities didn’t end there.

  Like a lot of good-natured people who are rarely angry, when Ethan lost his temper there was no mistaking it. He had to be pushed beyond reason to be so angry, and she couldn’t blame him.

  He hadn’t given her time to explain that she wasn’t expecting to be in Thimble Cottage for another six months, or even six weeks, but if she didn’t rent it again she could be left with a situation where she might have to move back here before she was ready to do so.

  There were bridges to mend and cross, legal matters to deal with, and the birth of their child drawing nearer all the time. The two of them were not going to slip back into an easy relationship so smoothly.

  The church bells were pealing out over the sleeping village as she walked back to the cottage in the peaceful Sunday morning, and expecting that it would be around lunchtime before Kirstie and Ben surfaced she went inside for a jacket and set off for a walk along the coastal path.

  It was chilly with a cold wind blowing in from the sea. Down below the tide was coming in, surging onto the sand with its own special kind of magnificence and putting into perspective all her uncertainties and yearnings with the infinity of the scene.

  When she looked up Ben and Kirstie were coming towards her with eyelids drooping from lack of sleep and looking as if they’d slept in their clothes, but when they saw her they came running towards her, tiredness forgotten in the pleasure of meeting, even though they’d only been apart from her since the night before.

  At the same time Ethan pulled up alongside on the road that ran beside the path and she thought, These are my family, my loved ones, and as long as I have them nothing else matters.

  As the three of them piled into the car she said, ‘You haven’t been gone long. Did you manage to find Phoebe?’

  ‘Yes. I only stayed a short time, though. She’s all right and little Marcus is coming along fine. She confirmed that she’ll be back in the new year and when she said she’ll be looking for somewhere to rent in Bluebell Cove I offered her one of the apartments over the surgery. They’re both vacant at the moment and it occurred to me that if he can tear himself away from Meredith’s cooking, Leo might be interested in the other one.’

  ‘And what did Phoebe say when you suggested it?’

  ‘Accepted on the spot, so that is sorted.’ He glanced at the sleepover pair in the back seat, ‘As we’re all together how about we go somewhere for Sunday lunch, or maybe Sunday brunch if you haven’t had any breakfast?’

  It seemed that Kirstie and Ben hadn’t had any breakfast, so brunch it was beside a big log fire in a farmhouse out in the countryside that had a restaurant.

  Francine said little during the meal. Instead she listened to Ethan and the children chattering about various things and kept her thoughts to herself. He observed her curiously from time to time yet made no comment, but when they were driving home he said in a low voice, ‘Are you all right? You’ve hardly spoken since I picked you up on the coast road. Is it because of my bad temper at breakfast-time when I went storming off?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine. I’ve just been relaxing, that’s all.’

  The time wasn’t yet right to tell Ethan she was relinquishing the dream. She
was expecting him to be delighted, but over-confidence never did anyone any good and neither did taking things for granted. Suppose when she told him he was dubious after all the aggravation she’d caused?

  On Monday morning the weather took a turn for the worse, with driving rain and gale-force winds reminding the residents of Bluebell Cove that winter was stating its case and that November, one of the dreariest months of the year, would soon be upon them.

  The month that was the forerunner to December and Christmas did have one redeeming feature, though. It brought with it Bonfire Night on the fifth, and already preparations for the event were under way on the headland,

  Francine was due at the antenatal clinic at the hospital in the afternoon and once again Ethan intended to be there when she saw the gynaecologist.

  When he came to pick her up he said, ‘The weather is worsening. I hope Kirstie and Ben have the sense not to hang about when the school bus drops them off, otherwise they’ll be drenched.’

  She had been given a clean bill of health regarding her pregnancy and when the gynaecologist had asked if they’d been told the sex of the baby they’d smiled at each other and shaken their heads.

  ‘We don’t want to know,’ Ethan had told him. ‘We will be delighted whatever it is, won’t we, Francine?’ And for a heavenly moment she’d felt as if they were just like any other expectant parents, with the safe arrival of their child the only thing to concern themselves about.

  Living in separate houses with a divorce pending hardly put them in that category, but for a fraction of time she was going to forget that, push the downside of their lives to the back of her mind.

  As they were leaving the clinic Ethan suggested they go for a coffee in the hospital restaurant and so, tranquil and relaxed, she agreed.

  They were enjoying the drink in the middle of the winter afternoon with no feeling of urgency when an item of local news flashed onto a television screen close by and changed all that.

  It said there had been an accident on a side road approaching Bluebell Cove. A school bus had been hit by a falling tree brought down by high winds coming in from the sea, and as they looked at each other aghast Ethan said, ‘There are lots of buses on the roads at this time of day, Francine, so don’t—’

  His voice trailed away as further information was released to the effect that the quick thinking of one of the pupils on the bus, Ben Lomax, had averted what could have been a terrible disaster and he was hero of the hour.

  The tree had smashed into the driving compartment and the driver had been knocked senseless, slumped over the wheel with the vehicle out of control and the young passengers being thrown all over the place, until Ben had rushed to the front and found the brakes.

  The announcement went on to say that he had refused to be interviewed because his younger sister had been hurt and he wanted to be with her in the ambulance, and as if to add to the horror of the moment the two doctors heard the sirens of several ambulances screeching onto the forecourt outside A and E.

  They were on their feet and running before the noise had stopped. The fact that Francine was almost seven months pregnant did not come into it at that moment. Kirstie was hurt! Her children had been in grave danger while she and Ethan had been having a leisurely coffee at the hospital.

  He was ahead of her and called over his shoulder, ‘Take it easy, Francine. We’re going to have enough on our hands if Kirstie’s injuries are serious, so save your strength for then.’

  She nodded and slowed down, and by the time she reached the first ambulance Ethan was standing by the doors with his arm around a white-faced Ben as the paramedics lifted the stretcher that held their daughter carefully onto the tarmac.

  Kirstie was semi-conscious with a large gash on the side of her head where it must have struck something inside the bus when it had gone out of control, and as Francine took her limp hand in hers and hugged Ben to her with the other one, the ambulance crew began to wheel the stretcher through the main doors of A and E, with the three of them hurrying alongside.

  Behind them was a procession of other young casualties on stretchers, some with parents and others, whose families didn’t yet know about the accident, being comforted by nurses.

  The most seriously injured was Dennis, the bus driver. He had taken the full impact of the falling tree inside the driver’s cab and although now conscious was being X-rayed for a possible fractured skull and severe arm and shoulder injuries.

  When the doctors had told him what Ben had done, he’d said weakly, ‘It’s a good job young Lomax was on board. What that kid doesn’t know about auto engines isn’t worth knowing.’

  The doctor who came to see Kirstie arranged that X-rays be done of her head to check for a haematoma or brain damage, and for a fracture of her forearm. Ethan’s face was grim as he listened to what the doctor had to say.

  He could see Francine holding tightly onto Ben out of the corner of his eye, ashen with shock as she looked down at their precious daughter, and it felt like a lifetime since they’d been dawdling over their coffee.

  It was a godsend that they had, otherwise they would have been on the way home while the ambulance had been bringing Kirstie to the hospital. What had happened to her and the other unfortunate youngsters on the bus made the problems that he and Francine had encountered over recent months seem as nothing by comparison. The welcome news about her continuing state of good health regarding the pregnancy had been blotted out by this.

  Kirstie was fully conscious now and X-rays hadn’t shown any internal bleeding or bruising of the brain from the head injury, but they’d shown the fracture of her arm that the doctor had suspected, and the deep cut on her head where she’d been thrown forward would need cleansing and stitching.

  That wasn’t all. There was another cause for concern. Weepy and hurting, Kirstie was saying she couldn’t hear anything.

  ‘Obviously there is some hearing loss, which could be temporary.’ the doctor in A and E told them. ‘It can happen after a severe blow to the head and can return once any perforation of the eardrum has healed, but we’ll see what the audiology department has to say, and in the meantime the head wound will be cleaned and then stitched now that we know there is no internal bleeding.’

  Audiology came up with the findings that there was a perforated eardrum and bruising of the ear canal on the left side and that during the next few days they would be checking progress, or lack of it, with regard to the problem sorting itself out. They were also told that when her arm had been put in a cast and the cut on her head stitched Kirstie would be taken up to the children’s ward to be with the rest of those who had been hurt.

  Thankfully none of the injuries appeared to be life threatening, but the bus driver’s condition was causing anxiety amongst the hospital staff, his relatives and everyone connected with the school

  Dennis was a nice old guy who’d been driving all his life with never a bump or fault in any shape or form. It had taken an old tree battered by the winds to fall and put an end to one of the pleasures of his later years, driving young ones to and from their school.

  In the midst of it all a member of staff from the hospital reception desk in the main hall came to say that the press had arrived and were asking to interview Ben.

  Ethan frowned at the thought, but Francine was watching Ben’s cheeks reddening and eyes widening at the thought of it and said, ‘Go with him, Ethan. Ben has something to be proud of. It would all have been so much worse if it hadn’t been for his quick grasp of the situation. Let him have his special moment. I’ll stay with Kirstie.’

  ‘Yes, of course. You are right as always,’ he told her heavily, but he had a smile for Ben. ‘We have an amazing son.’

  She wasn’t always right, Francine reflected when they’d gone, and it wasn’t what he really thought. Hopefully soon he might have cause to change his mind.

  ‘They’ve taken my picture, Mum,’ Ben cried when they came back, ‘and it’s going to be in the papers!’

 
‘Yes, indeed,’ Ethan agreed, looking slightly less grim, and then went to try to explain to Kirstie what was happening, but she couldn’t hear him, and he and Francine exchanged anxious glances.

  Kirstie was settled in the ward now and feeling more cheerful in the company of some of her friends, yet still very upset about her hearing loss, and no way were they going to leave her for a moment unless they had to.

  Ethan was on the point of taking Ben home and then coming back to join Francine for the night when Lucas appeared, having just come out of Theatre and heard about the accident.

  ‘I’m due to leave for home shortly. I’ll take Ben with me and he can sleep at our place for the night,’ he offered, ‘so that you two don’t need to leave Kirstie.’ He ruffled Ben’s dark locks. ‘l shall be wanting your autograph, and when Jenna hears about what you did she’ll have lots of hugs for you.’

  ‘She won’t, will she?’ he exclaimed in boyish dismay, and the two men laughed.

  Ethan had been down to one of the hospital shops and bought a pad and pen so they could write everything down for Kirstie and that had cheered her up a little, but her head was aching from the injury, and her arm felt heavy and cumbersome from the cast they’d put on it.

  When he looked around him it was clear that they were no different from any of the other parents whose children had been injured in various ways and didn’t want to leave them under the circumstances.

  ‘Can you imagine how it would have felt if you’d been in France when this happened?’ he commented soberly, and watched her expression change from caring mother to that of chastised wife and quickly added, ‘That was not meant as a criticism. It was just a comment. And will you please go into the parents’ room at the end of the corridor and lie down for a while? You look exhausted.