Country Loving

by Cathy Woodman

  There is mulled wine, Buck’s Fizz or orange juice to drink and the customary chicken and mushroom vol-au-vents.

  What’s missing is Old Fox-Gifford, Alex’s father, who died a couple of years ago in shocking circumstances. He reminded me a lot of my dad.

  ‘Good evening, Stevie.’ Fifi, who is a vision in pink, greets me, making me feel decidedly underdressed in my maternity clothes.

  ‘Hi, Fifi. How are you?’ I say, as she leans in and kisses me on both cheeks.

  ‘Very well, although this is the busiest time of year for me with all the functions I’m obliged to attend. Now, I hate to talk shop on an occasion such as this, but have you thought about where you’re going to source your landscaping materials? Only—’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Fifi. What are you saying? I haven’t had a decision on the planning application yet. Do you know something I don’t?’ I pause, waiting for her to respond. She appears to be having some difficulty.

  ‘Oh dear, I think you should really hear this through the proper channels …’ She looks around as if she’s checking for spies. ‘I don’t suppose anyone will mind. You’ll know soon enough.’

  ‘And?’ My heart misses a beat. Does this mean we have planning permission to develop the farm at long last?

  ‘It will be granted,’ she whispers ‘Within the week at the next meeting of the committee.’

  ‘That’s fantastic.’ I can hardly contain my excitement. I want to clap my hands and announce it to the whole of Talyton St George. ‘So we can go ahead with the new building …’ I grab Fifi and give her a big kiss. ‘Thank you. What made you change your mind?’

  ‘It isn’t just me,’ she says rather stiffly. ‘I’m not solely responsible, although I do have an influence. On careful consideration, we can see there’s no reason to oppose it, not one that would stand up to an appeal, at least.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. If only you realised what kind of stress you’ve put me and my father under. It’s been almost intolerable.’

  ‘I’m very sorry for that now, Stevie. Let me make it up to you,’ Fifi says.

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘I can do a good deal on materials and plants, and beat everyone else’s prices. I assume that the visitor centre alone will cost you an awful lot of money.’

  ‘Well, yes, you’re right. I’ll consider your offer, Fifi. Thank you.’

  ‘You know where I am.’ Fifi gazes down at my bump. ‘When is this baby due?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ I say, relaxing a little, as Jennie strolls up to rescue me.

  ‘Thanks, Jennie,’ I say when we escape from the throng into the hallway, crossing the tiled floor to the foot of an imposing oak staircase.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asks.

  ‘Fifi’s just let on that the project can go ahead. The planning application will be granted within the week.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ Jennie says, ‘but I’m asking about you.’

  ‘Not you as well,’ I groan. ‘Everyone keeps asking me if I’m all right.’

  ‘That’s one of the side effects of being in your condition. I’d make the most of it,’ Jennie says, grinning, ‘because, from the look of you, you aren’t going to be pregnant for much longer.’

  ‘I’ve been getting the odd pain now and again; my back aches sometimes and I can’t see my feet.’ Although I’m excited about seeing the baby, I am happy to delay the moment for as long as possible, even though I have a wonderful midwife and I’m prepared for a home birth, fingers crossed.

  ‘The sooner it gets going, the sooner it’s over,’ Jennie says. ‘Have you tried some brisk exercise?’

  ‘I’m still milking the cows twice a day. I’ve tried a curry – Mary cooked a rather interesting fusion meal of curried chicken and potatoes for dinner last night, but all it’s done is leave me with a touch of heartburn. I’ve tried the raspberry leaf tea, which tastes disgusting.’

  ‘Sophia would tell you to go and have a good gallop after hounds.’ Jennie glances up towards the staircase. ‘You could try and shift it by sliding down the banisters. That would be fun.’

  ‘I couldn’t,’ I say.

  ‘It’s easy.’

  ‘Jennie!’

  ‘It’s all right. I’ve done it before. Last year, I had a little too much to drink. Guy egged me on and we both had a go.’

  ‘It’s all right. I’d prefer to remain pregnant,’ I say, smiling at last. ‘Have you seen my dad?’

  ‘He’s regaling his old cronies with tales of the good old days when all farmers were men and ploughs were drawn by horses.’ Jennie chuckles. ‘Are you staying for “Auld Lang Syne”?’

  ‘I doubt I have a choice. James is driving me and Dad home. How about you?’

  ‘Guy’s asleep.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘He’s snoring on the sofa by the fire. I’ve prodded him a couple of times but he’s well gone. It’s all this getting up in early the mornings that does it. He can barely stay awake past nine.’

  The remainder of the evening passes quickly and we join the traditional singing of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ at midnight when the baby decides it’s time to wake up. In fact she’s probably been woken up by the sound of everyone’s voices joining in. She doesn’t so much kick now as press so hard on my bellybutton that it feels as if it will pop inside out. There can’t be much room left in there for her, I think as I look down at my enormous bump.

  ‘Come on, Stevie, let’s get you and Tom home,’ James says, appearing with my coat.

  ‘We’ve as good as got the go-ahead, James. We can start building.’

  ‘You mean it?’ James frowns. ‘I can start on the Shed. That’s fantastic. If you weren’t so heavily pregnant, I’d pick you up and whirl you around like they do on Strictly.’

  ‘Where is Dad?’ I ask as he drops my coat around my shoulders.

  ‘I’ve parked him in the car ready to go.’ James guides me across to the front door, but before we get there, he stops. ‘How about a quick kiss?’ he says gently, pointing to the mistletoe suspended above our heads.

  ‘I’m a pregnant woman,’ I say, trying to make light of it. Kiss James? Not after Leo.

  ‘It suits you. You’re one hot mama.’

  ‘Oh James.’ Smiling, I push him away.

  ‘One little kiss to wish each other a “Happy New Year”, that’s all.’

  I turn my cheek towards him, but he aims for my lips. I pull back abruptly.

  ‘James!’

  ‘I’m sorry. Too close …’

  ‘It was,’ I confirm, at least as embarrassed as James appears to be. He stares down at his hands as if gathering himself together before looking me straight in the eye.

  ‘Stevie, I know your heart is elsewhere for now, but I’d like to hope that one day you’ll move on, and when you do, I’ll be there waiting.’

  ‘It isn’t possible. You’re a great friend and I’m very fond of you, but I’m in love with Leo and that will never change, no matter how far away he is.’

  ‘I understand,’ James says gruffly. ‘Let’s not speak of this again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Happy New Year, James.’

  ‘Happy New Year,’ he says. He changes the subject. ‘You look as though you’re about ready to drop this baby – I hope you’re going to wait until I get you home.’

  ‘She isn’t ready yet. I’ve been having these practice twinges for a while now and I feel really good.’

  I’m not even tired when I get up at five in the morning to milk the cows with Cecil. Wrapped in many layers of thermals, a hat and scarf, I join him in the parlour where he’s already got the first batch of cows in from the collecting yard.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be resting or something?’ Cecil asks as I follow behind him, drying each udder off – gently because I understand now how it feels. As I slip the first set of cups on one of the cows, I feel a twinge, a dull ache in my belly that stops me short.

  ‘Are you all right, my lover?’


  ‘I’m fine.’ I bite my lip. ‘I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  ‘Are you sure you should be out here?’ Cecil asks again. ‘Why don’t you go indoors and sit down for a while?’

  ‘Cecil, stop fussing.’ The rhythm of the milking machine helps me relax until a second wave of pain passes right through me, followed within a couple of minutes by another. I grab the railing, catching my breath.

  ‘Stevie, I said you can let this lot go now,’ Cecil says, his voice cutting into my consciousness. ‘Stevie?’

  I reach up for the lever and pull, releasing the catch on the door so it slides open to let the cows out. They stroll past me, a blur of black and white. I let the cords of pain in my thighs relax, then return the lever to the closed position.

  ‘Come on, girls,’ I call as Cecil lets the next batch in.

  ‘Why don’t you phone the midwife to make sure – put your mind at ease?’

  ‘Put your mind at ease, you mean,’ I say sternly. I take the hose to clean the first cow’s teats.

  ‘That’s my job,’ Cecil says, taking it back from me as another wave of pain cramps through me. If these are merely the practice contractions, I’m dreading the real thing.

  ‘You look like a cow that’s about to drop,’ Cecil says, alarmed. He takes me by the arm. ‘Trust me when I say I’ve seen enough animals give birth to know when they’re in labour. Come on, these can wait here a minute while I take you to the house.’

  I don’t argue anymore. I can’t. I walk across the yard with Cecil, pausing to focus on a small patch of mud to get me through the next contraction.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I release my grip on his arm. ‘I’m hurting you.’

  ‘Never mind,’ he says gently. ‘You can always lean on me. You know that.’ He waits until the pain passes and leads me through into the kitchen. ‘Sit there while I fetch Mary. She’ll know what to do.’

  I can’t sit down. I can only stand, holding on to the edge of the table. My father potters in using his stick to join us, while Cecil looks on, uncertainty etched in his expression.

  ‘Tom, Stevie’s about to drop,’ Cecil says. ‘What shall we do?’

  ‘I would say to call the vet because they know what they’re doing,’ my father says brightly, and I wish I did have the vet here – specifically Leo. I wish he was at my side, his voice calm and reassuring and his hand on mine. If only he could have been my birth partner. I feel so alone in the company of two old men who might have some idea of what to do, extrapolated from calving many cows over the years, but I’d really rather not let them anywhere near me.

  ‘We could fetch Bertha and the calving ropes just in case we need to pull it out,’ Dad jokes.

  ‘It isn’t funny,’ I say, cut short by another contraction, which feels like a coiled python crushing me around the belly. I bite my lip so hard I can taste the metallic warmth of fresh blood. I fumble for my mobile and hand it to Cecil. ‘Call the midwife, please. Look in “Contacts” – she’s called Kelly.’

  I listen as he speaks to her immensely slowly to give her a full description of my activities throughout the morning and a blow-by-blow account of his opinion of how I looked when he first saw me come into the parlour at milking time.

  ‘Give it to me,’ I say, snatching the phone. ‘Kelly? It’s Stevie.’

  ‘How are you?’ she asks.

  ‘I’m in pain.’ I begin to sob. ‘It hurts soooo much.’

  ‘How often are the contractions coming?’

  ‘I don’t know. Every two or three minutes? I can’t talk long.’

  ‘I’ll be right with you. I’m in Talyton so it’ll take me five minutes. Get someone to run a bath and try to keep moving if you can. And remember to breathe.’

  ‘Thanks for that,’ I say, but she’s gone, already on her way.

  ‘Nick. I must get hold of Nick.’ I dial his number. He answers straight away, as if he knows. ‘She’s on her way. I’m in labour.’

  ‘I’ll leave in ten minutes. Hold on for me, won’t you?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to be long now,’ I mutter.

  ‘I’m going to fetch Mary,’ Cecil says as Nick continues talking. I’m not sure what he’s saying anymore.

  ‘I’ll stay here,’ says Dad as I slump forwards over the table, waiting for the next killer pain. I thought I was organised and ready, but it seems I’m not. All I want is for it to stop.

  ‘Stevie? Stevie, are you still there?’ The mobile slips from my grasp and clatters across the floor, the battery and cover flying in different directions.

  ‘I’ll see to that, my lover.’ Dad guides the pieces close together with his stick so he can pick them up. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks when I make a move.

  ‘Upstairs.’ On the way, my waters break, and I’m on my knees at the top step when Mary rescues me, helping me to the bedroom.

  ‘Sit there quietly on the edge of the bed, Stevie. Hold my hand and give it a good hard squeeze if you need to.’ She smiles, but she can’t disguise her concern. ‘I was in the house when your mother gave birth to Ray and you, and when my sister had her three boys, but I can’t claim I know what to do.’

  I take her hand.

  ‘There, there. We’ll have help here soon. You and the baby will be fine. All will be well, you’ll see … That must be the midwife,’ she adds when a car drives into the yard and Bear starts barking.

  Kelly appears in the room soon after, wearing her uniform and a smile.

  ‘Hello, Stevie. Let’s see how you’re progressing.’

  ‘Kelly, I’ve changed my mind – I want to go to hospital.’

  I’m aware of the glances that pass between Kelly and Mary.

  ‘I’m here now, and from the look of you this baby isn’t going to wait for an ambulance. She’s going to be born at Nettlebed Farm just as you planned.’

  ‘Like Stevie and her father before her,’ Mary adds.

  ‘Where’s your bag, the one you packed in case you went to hospital?’ Kelly asks. ‘Is dad on his way? At what time did you have the first contraction?’

  I’m losing my grip on reality. I can’t be bothered with all these questions. I can’t think. I’m tired, confused and retreating into myself.

  ‘I don’t know where the bag is, and as for Nick, I don’t care. He’s the one who got me into this mess in the first place.’

  ‘Hey,’ soothes Kelly. ‘Let’s get you out of those clothes and into a nightie.’

  I grab an oversized T-shirt from the chest of drawers.

  ‘Stevie, you’re putting it over your day things – not such a good idea when you’ve been out milking cows.’

  ‘I don’t want to get changed. Ohmigod.’ The pain takes my breath away. It’s like nothing I’ve experienced before and I can’t take it. I can’t go through with it. ‘I can’t do this.’

  ‘You have to,’ Kelly says. ‘It’s too late to back out now.’

  ‘Don’t laugh at me,’ I snap. ‘This isn’t funny.’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m sure you don’t want to know this now, but you’re in transition.’ It vaguely rings a bell, I think, as she continues. ‘It won’t be much longer. Now, do you want to stay on your feet or … ?’

  ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. I want an epidural, a Caesarean, anything … Just get this baby out of me.’

  ‘You wanted as natural a birth as possible when we wrote your plan together. Have you taken your Arnica?’

  ‘Arnica? What good are a couple of sugar pills going to do?’

  There’s a box of latex gloves on the dressing table, a gas canister and a TENS machine on the blanket box. Following my gaze, Kelly sets me up with gas and air, and the TENs machine – anything and everything, including the music Jennie and I chose, thinking it would be soothing, but the only music I want to listen to is the sound of Leo singing and playing his guitar …

  ‘How much longer?’ I ask between contractions.

  ‘Baby isn’t coming as quickly as I thoug
ht, but she’s perfectly happy in there.’

  ‘I want an epidural,’ I say, when a couple more hours have passed and I’m leaning over the bed, sucking for all I’m worth on the gas and air and keeping the button on the TENs machine pressed down, but Kelly is determined that I have a home birth as planned.

  ‘You can’t hurry some of these little ones. This one’s a proper Devonian, taking life in the slow lane, but it’s looking promising,’ she says eventually. ‘It won’t be long now. The baby’s crowning. You can push, Stevie.’

  In spite of my exhaustion, I push, bearing down hard.

  ‘Here she comes,’ says Kelly.

  ‘Push. Breathe. Breathe. Pant lightly, Stevie. Now push with everything you’ve got. Push … You aren’t pushing.’

  ‘I am!’

  ‘Push!’

  There’s a strange sensation between my legs and sudden relief, followed by a high-pitched cry, and I drag myself onto the bed. Kelly wraps the baby in a towel and rests her on my chest.

  ‘Congratulations, Stevie. You’re a star.’

  I hardly hear her, my attention focused on my daughter.

  ‘Hello, Baby.’ With one finger I pull the corner of the towel away from her face while Kelly cuts the cord. ‘Welcome to the world.’

  ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’

  ‘Amazing.’ I press my nose to the top of her head, breathing in her unfamiliar, egg-like scent, and my heart floods with love and adoration mixed with worry over the sudden responsibility I’ve taken on. Is she too hot or too cold? Is she hungry? How do I tell?

  ‘Is everything all right?’ I hear Mary calling from downstairs. ‘Can we come up? Are you decent?’

  Kelly gives me a sheet to cover my modesty. I’m sure I look completely wrecked, but I don’t care.

  ‘Dad, you should have waited for me to come down,’ I tell him when he appears at the bedroom door, struggling along with his stick.

  ‘You kept us waiting long enough, Stevie.’ He is smiling like I’ve never seen him smile before. ‘Let’s see my lovely new granddaughter.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t she lovely?’ coos Mary, as the three of them crowd inside.

  ‘I don’t see how you can tell with her being so tiny,’ Cecil says. ‘She’s all hair.’