She does have a lot of hair for a newborn, a damp mop of light brown hair. She has milk spots across her nose, and tiny fingernails.
‘When you’ve all met Baby, you can go and make some tea,’ says Kelly. ‘I have things to do here. Go on.’
They leave reluctantly and Kelly weighs the baby – at seven pounds five ounces in old money, as she says. She measures her too, and checks her temperature before handing her back.
‘I wish my mum was here to meet her,’ I say quietly, choking up.
‘Where’s dad? I thought he wanted to be here.’
‘He’s on his way. I should call him, but my mobile’s downstairs.’
‘You stay there. I’ll get it.’
Someone has pieced my phone back together, so I can call Nick to let him know his daughter has arrived safely. It’s a strange conversation and I wish it wasn’t happening.
‘I wish you’d given me more warning,’ Nick says quietly. I picture him on his hands-free, driving down the A303. ‘I would have liked to have been there at the birth.’
‘I didn’t have much warning. I’m sorry, really I am, but events somehow overtook me.’
‘You could have called, or got someone else to call, Stevie, but maybe that’s what you want, to shut me out.’
He’s making me feel guilty because maybe subconsciously he’s right.
‘You’re okay?’
‘Yes, thank you for asking. That’s kind of you …’ I bite back a sob as my normal self disappears into a whirlpool of irrational sadness. I’m drowning in hormones. ‘You can stay at the farm, if you like.’
‘It’s a nice offer, but I think I’d prefer to find a B and B,’ he says.
‘I’ll call Lynsey up at Barton Farm to ask her if she has a room.’
‘India is here with me,’ Nick adds, and I feel a small stab of guilt that I didn’t get in touch with her straight away myself. ‘We’ll see you soon.’ When he cuts the call, I realise I haven’t asked him if he wants one room or two.
‘How do you feel about seeing Nick?’ Kelly asks.
‘Resigned, I suppose.’ I bite my lip, then worry that stress might curdle my milk. ‘It’s important for her to know her dad, but – oh, this sounds selfish – I want her to myself.’ Nick is being reasonable at the moment, but I’m scared that he’ll fall in love with our daughter like I have and take her away from me. ‘Do you think he’ll try for custody? I don’t think I could bear it.’
‘A tiny baby should be with its mum,’ Kelly says. ‘I’m sure you can come to some kind of agreement that works for everyone. Now, Stevie, you haven’t delivered the afterbirth yet and we need to make sure—’
‘I know it’s important to make sure it’s all out – I’ve seen it with the cows.’
Kelly smiles and says, ‘I almost forgot you’re a farmer,’ before she gives me an injection and helps me attach the baby to my breast to suckle, but nothing happens. ‘I’m sorry, Stevie, we’re going to have to get you to hospital. I’ll call an ambulance.’
‘Can’t we give it a little longer? I don’t want to go anywhere now.’
‘You’re going to have to leave Baby here. Shall we ask Mary to look after her, or is there someone else?’
‘I don’t want to leave her.’ I start to cry at this unexpected turn of events.
‘I’m afraid you aren’t allowed to transfer in the ambulance with your baby on this occasion in case you require urgent medical attention on the way. It’s a common-sense precaution, that’s all,’ she goes on, as if she’s trying not to worry me, but it’s too late.
‘What sort of attention? What’s going to happen to me?’
‘I’m not saying anything is going to happen. There’s a slight risk of post-partum bleeding, that’s all, and I’d rather be on the safe side.’
‘I’m not sure about leaving her with Mary. She isn’t experienced with babies. I’ll call Jennie next door. Kelly, isn’t there any way … ?’ As I gaze at my daughter, unable to take my eyes off her, I notice a change in the colour of her skin. My heart stops. ‘She isn’t breathing.’
Kelly whisks her away from me and starts to resuscitate her, calling for a second ambulance at the same time while tears stream down my cheeks.
Please be all right. Please, I beg silently. I’ll give up everything – the farm, the project – as long as my baby is fit and healthy.
I watch as Kelly sucks fluid from her throat and administers oxygen, and gradually the colour returns to Baby’s face. Although Kelly reassures me that my daughter will be fine now, she wants her to go to hospital too as a precaution, so my daughter travels in one ambulance and Jennie – who’s turned up in a hurry – and I travel in another.
‘Everything will be all right,’ Jennie says, but I can’t bring myself to believe her. I’ve never been so frightened in all my life.
Chapter Nineteen
A Twenty-First Century Girl
‘What’s happened to Nick?’ Jennie asks. ‘I thought he was supposed to be here.’
‘He’s on his way with India – I left it too late. I didn’t realise how quickly it would happen. I suppose I thought, as she was my first, it would take ages for her to arrive.’ I start to panic again. ‘What if he doesn’t get here in time to see her? I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘The baby will be fine,’ says Jennie. ‘That’s what Kelly said.’
‘She’s in an ambulance on her way to the hospital – how can she be fine?’
‘She will be,’ Jennie says firmly. ‘When we get to the hospital, we can let Nick know where we are.’
‘I need to let Leo know too. I promised him …’
‘There’s no hurry.’ Jennie hesitates. ‘I don’t see why you have to rush to contact Leo of all people. Stevie, you have to look forward now, not back. This is like a new beginning. Make the most of it.’
‘Are you telling me to forget him?’
‘Not forget, but move on with your life. It’s what I did after my divorce. Don’t go wasting all your energy on a man who’s on the other side of the world.’ She pauses. ‘Perhaps now is a good time to break contact with him, put him out of sight and out of mind.’
‘Jennie, I know you mean well, but I couldn’t. I …’ I swallow hard, choking up at the thought of Leo, and him being so far away when I need him here with me. ‘I love him.’
‘I know you do, Stevie, but you have to remember that Leo is in New Zealand through choice, not because you were torn apart like Romeo and Juliet. You’re completely besotted with a man who isn’t here.’
‘You’re a practical person, so I can see where you’re coming from,’ I say, ‘but I’m a romantic. I believe in true love, the one and only.’
‘I’m sorry to have upset you, but it’s the truth. You can’t spend the rest of your life dreaming of what might have been.’ Jennie’s tone is soft, but the idea of never speaking to Leo again is too much for me to bear. ‘Come on,’ Jennie continues, ‘let’s concentrate on making sure you’re well enough to care for your baby. I can’t wait to introduce her to Reuben. They’ll be able to play together. It’s wonderful.’
I smile weakly. I’m feeling nauseous and faint in the back of the ambulance and I’m relieved when the journey’s over, but my hopes of meeting up with my daughter fade when I find she’s been taken to the special care baby unit for observation and tests, and I’m expected to undergo treatment on the maternity ward without seeing her first.
I meet the doctor who recommends manual removal of the placenta under general anaesthetic, which will delay me seeing my daughter by a few hours. I’m devastated, but it’s essential to avoid infections and bleeding.
‘You have to have it done, Stevie,’ Jennie says. ‘Trust me, you need to be well to look after her properly. Let me find out if Nick’s arrived yet, and how the baby’s doing. I’ll be back.’
I’m taken down to theatre for the anaesthetic. I don’t know how long it takes, but I’m soon back on the ward, groggily asking for my daughter.
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‘She’s doing well, Stevie,’ Jennie says from my bedside. She’s brought me a bottle of energy drink and a sandwich, but I’m not hungry.
‘Jennie? Are you still here?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Thanks for coming with me when you have your own family to look after.’
‘Don’t worry about that. It’s what friends are for. And I can understand how scary it is to think of your baby going off to hospital like that.’
‘I thought she’d … gone.’
‘Hey, don’t. She’s going to be all right now.’ Jennie holds my hand. ‘And so are you.’
‘When can I see her?’
‘The doctor says you must stay here for a few more hours yet.’ She pauses. ‘Nick is with her. I know it seems unfair, but at least the baby has one of her parents with her.’
‘I wish I was there …’
‘He’ll be here to see you soon. Remember, all this is being done with everyone’s best interests at heart. Now, I’m going home to see Reuben. I can come back anytime if you need me, otherwise I’ll drop in tomorrow morning to see when you’re both ready to come home.’ She smiles wryly. ‘Your dad, Mary and Cecil are desperate to see you and the baby again, but I’ve persuaded them to wait. I hope you don’t mind.’
During the evening, I fall asleep again, drowsy from the anaesthetic and exhausted from labour, and I’m only vaguely aware of Nick coming to my bedside to reassure me that the baby is doing well and is expected to join me in the morning. He’s paid for a private room too, for which I’m grateful.
‘I thought you needed a good night’s sleep,’ he says, patting my hand. ‘You know, the baby’s beautiful, Stevie. I can’t believe she’s ours.’ His eyes fill with tears. ‘I just wish … Oh, it’s too late for the “if onlys”. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Did you find somewhere to stay?’
‘Yes, there’s no problem. Don’t worry, Stevie.’
I struggle to sleep after he’s gone, but eventually I drift off, only to be woken early by crying babies. My heart aches and my breasts are heavy with milk.
‘Where’s my baby?’ I ask a nurse I find in the corridor outside my room. ‘I’d like to see her now.’
Having ascertained who I am, she contacts the unit to find out what’s going on. She returns, beaming.
‘Baby’s just been with the doctor. She’s coming down to the ward in the next half an hour or so.’
I can hardly wait. I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet, which isn’t a good idea because the exertion makes me feel giddy and I have to return to bed, where I sit and look at the photo Kelly gave me of the baby before she left me on the ward the previous afternoon. I burst into tears yet again. I have never cried so much in my life.
‘Here she comes, Baby Dunsford,’ says a nurse, pushing a trolley into my room. ‘You stay there, mum. I’ll pass her over so you can feed her. Don’t worry if it doesn’t come naturally at first,’ she goes on. She parks the cot beside me, lifts the baby out and hands her to me, and I’m overwhelmed with joy and anxiety, over the moon to find her fit and well, and afraid I’ll drop her.
‘Babies aren’t as fragile as you might imagine.’ The nurse chuckles at my ham-fisted attempt to cuddle her without letting her head flop back.
‘Hello, Baby.’ I press my lips to her forehead, but she’s more interested in food than starting a conversation, and it doesn’t take long for her to get the idea about latching on to the breast. ‘How will I know when she’s had enough?’
‘She’ll decide,’ the nurse says.
Nick returns as promised with India in tow, and the nurse makes an excuse and leaves us to it, at the same time as the baby decides she has finished feeding, dropping off the breast with her eyes closed, and every now and then pursing her lips and sucking, as if she’s feeding in her sleep.
‘How are you, Stevie?’ India asks. She looks stunning, dressed in a jacket from Diesel, straight jeans and long boots.
‘I’m all right now, thank you,’ I say.
‘This is so exciting. I feel like an honorary auntie. Here –’ she hands me a present – ‘I bought some clothes for the baby. I couldn’t resist.’
‘Can I take her while you open it?’ Nick asks.
‘Of course.’ I’m not sure which of us is the most nervous about the whole manoeuvre of transferring the baby from one parent to the other, but our ridiculous fumbling breaks the ice.
‘That looks pretty comical,’ India observes. ‘You two need some practice. Is there some kind of training class for beginner mums and dads?’
‘It isn’t that easy, India,’ Nick comments as he settles the baby against his shoulder. ‘I can’t believe she’s so small.’
With a tug of regret, I realise he’ll make a great dad and I wish it could have been different. How I wish I could have found a way to love him instead of Leo! He gazes at her adoringly. ‘You’ve got such a cute nose.’ He looks up to me. ‘She looks like you, not me, luckily for her.’
‘She has your eyes,’ I say as India pushes the present across the bed to remind me to open it.
‘Thank you.’ I tear the paper. The sight of the baby clothes – a Ralph Lauren and a Moschino romper – makes my heart melt. ‘They are so cute, but they must have been expensive.’
‘Nick contributed as well. I couldn’t buy any old rompers. I’d hate to see her growing up dressed as a country bumpkin,’ India grins.
The baby starts to cry and kick her feet as if she’s Sir Bradley Wiggins pedalling a bike.
‘Oops, I reckon she’s hungry again,’ Nick says.
‘She can’t be.’
‘You’d better go back to Mummy.’
It’s effortless, the way he says it, and it hits me suddenly that I am a mum. He passes her back to me and I try to sort myself out to feed her discreetly. Although Jennie says you don’t care who sees what after you’ve had a baby, l really don’t want to expose myself to Nick of all people, even if he has – or maybe because he has – seen it all before.
‘Is there anything you need, Stevie?’ Nick asks. ‘I can nip down to the shop to get you a sandwich or coffee. You’re looking a bit peaky.’
‘Thanks, Nick.’
The baby doesn’t really want to feed again. She suckles for a couple of minutes then falls asleep.
‘I’ll go,’ India says, getting up quickly, as if she’s pleased to have an excuse to escape. ‘I’ll buy a selection.’
When she leaves us, Nick wants to take pictures of our daughter, but she won’t wake up now. He reaches across and tickles her cheek. She merely yawns, so he snaps her anyway and texts the photos to his mum and dad, and it occurs to me that they’ll want to see the baby soon. It occurs to me too that Nick and I should have thrashed all this out before.
‘Nick,’ I begin, ‘have you thought about how often you’ll want to see her?’
‘As often as possible,’ he says, and my heart sinks a little. ‘While she’s little, I’ll come and visit every other week or so, and when she’s older, I’d like to have her at weekends – not every weekend, maybe one in three.’ He sighs. ‘I did consider walking away, and if I’m honest it would have been the easiest and most painless option for everyone, but now I’ve seen her, I’m glad I didn’t.’
‘I’m glad too.’ I don’t hate Nick. In fact, I respect him for how he’s made the effort to meet our daughter.
‘I believe every child should have the chance to know its parents.’ He lowers his voice. ‘I was adopted as a baby.’
‘I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you mention it before?’
‘I’ve known for sure since I was twelve, but I’ve never made a big issue of it because I didn’t want to let my mum and dad down by going to look for my birth parents, but now I’ve seen her, I realise it’s something I have to do.’ Nick clears his throat. ‘Everyone should know where they came from.’
‘Oh Nick. That’s such a sad story.’
He reaches out and touch
es my hand. ‘Thanks for not making this difficult for me. I’m glad we can be polite to each other. Friends?’
‘Friends,’ I say. ‘You know, I was afraid you might try to take her away from me.’
‘No way, Stevie. What do you think I am? I’m not a monster. I’m an ordinary bloke.’
‘And a very special dad,’ I say, catching his fingers and giving them a squeeze. ‘How are you and India?’ Even in my muzzy postnatal state, I recognise there is something going on between them.
‘Why don’t you ask her? I thought she would have given you all the gory details. You two share everything.’
‘We used to.’ There is an awkwardness between us when I’ve always thought she was one of those friends I’d be able to pick up with again after a break without ever feeling different, but, to my sadness, it isn’t to be.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but India and I have grown close and we’ve decided to make a go of it. It sounds weird when we’re so different, but I think it’s truly a case of opposites attract.’
‘I see.’ Do I mind? I suppose I would have liked to have known before, but it’s none of my business. I wonder if she fancied him when Nick and I were together. ‘That’s wonderful news, Nick,’ I say after a moment’s thought. ‘I’m very happy for both of you.’
‘Have you decided about the flat? The offer’s still open. It’s probably not the best time to discuss it, but … ’
‘I’d like to sell it now the project has the go-ahead. I’ll never come back to London, whatever happens. The farm will always be home to me now. Let me know the details sometime. There’s no great hurry.’ I pause. ‘Would you like to hold Baby again?’
‘We can’t keep calling our daughter Baby,’ Nick says. ‘I’d like to register her birth. She needs a name and I’m happy to let her take your surname – for her sake. Have you any ideas?’
‘I like Holly or Poppy.’
‘Oh?’ Nick grimaces. ‘I was thinking of Rosemary after my mother, or Tara. I like Tara.’
‘After one of your ex-girlfriends? I think not.’
‘How will she feel when she’s my age and everyone’s calling her Holly? It isn’t a classy name and she wasn’t even born at Christmas.’
Country Loving Page 30
