Country Midwife, Christmas Bride

by Abigail Gordon

  That being so, it was to be expected that there wouldn’t be much opportunity for a life of his own and it could be one of the reasons why he’d never remarried. Though for most people who found themselves alone the need for someone to fill the gap outweighed every other consideration, but not in his case, it would seem, and neither was it so for her.

  Her face was warming again at the memory of how she’d dragged him away from his breakfast that morning because of the placid Daisy’s appearance at her kitchen window.

  Presumably he’d eaten when he’d got back, but she wouldn’t have been the only one who’d had to put a spurt on timewise, and then after all that he’d taken the trouble to arrange for Helen to cook breakfast for her.

  Their lives were similar in some ways, she thought as she let herself into the clinic once more, but vastly different in others. Whatever his problems, James’s life sounded as if it was full and rewarding, except for the one big gap of a loving wife and mother, and if what his housekeeper had said was correct, those who cared about him would like to see the blank space filled.

  But the length of time it remained empty was often an indication of the depth of the loss. It brought with it a steadfast loving faithfulness that was a barrier to any other relationships.

  Memories of Richard were so clear and tender there was no way she wanted any other man to hold her close in the night or sit across the table from her at mealtimes. As for the baby she’d lost, there were moments when she envied a radiant mother as she placed her child in her arms, but it was also like balm to her soul every time she brought a newborn safely into the world.

  Unlike the man in the surgery next door, her life was only half-full, but she’d learned to live with that, she always told herself when she was feeling low. Though was half a life better than none, she sometimes wondered.

  It seemed that James lived by a different set of rules from hers. In the middle of his busy life he had found time to show her an impersonal sort of kindness that was heart-warming, and she was going to repay him by making his dream of a maternity clinic in the village an efficient reality.

  She spent the rest of the morning unpacking deliveries of stationery and medical supplies, and at lunchtime went across to the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms for a quick bite. It was a luxury she knew she would probably have to forego when things got busy at the unit, but she had the next few days to settle in at her own pace before the grand opening on Friday, when as well as the Derringhams some of the bigwigs from St Gabriel’s would be there.

  James appeared again just before his afternoon surgery was about to commence and said, ‘How’s it going? I thought we might have seen you at lunchtime. If you remember, I said that you’re welcome to join us whenever you feel the need.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she told him, ‘but I thought you might be feeling you’ve seen enough of me for one day.’

  ‘I’m not with you,’ he said, and then laughed. ‘Ah, you mean Daisy. Don’t give it another thought. My mother was born and bred in the countryside but she was nervous if they came too near, and she would never go within a mile of a pig sty.’

  He was making it up as he went along because he didn’t want this newcomer with hair in a long golden plait and a clear violet gaze to have any reason to regret having moved to the beautiful village where he’d been born.

  She’d positively sparkled when she’d seen the new clinic for the first time, but for the rest of it she seemed rather subdued and he wondered what went on in her life.

  Yet did that matter? If Lizzie was as good as she was said to be, he couldn’t ask for more and with that in mind he said, ‘Would you be prepared to come back this evening for a couple of hours while I put you in the picture regarding our present antenatal arrangements and pass on to you the medical notes of the expectant mothers at presently under our care, who will be transferred from the surgery to the new clinic?

  ‘As you know, we are a doctor and nurse short at the moment, with David and Laurel on honeymoon, which means that I have no spare time during the day,’ he explained, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t break into your evening. We could have met at my place or yours, I suppose, but as a matter of protocol I wouldn’t want patients’ records to leave the surgery.’

  ‘I don’t mind in the least,’ she said immediately. ‘I have plenty of time on my hands. I’ve been going for a stroll and then having an early night, so I’m not going to be missing anything.’

  It was there again, he thought. A solitariness that was so different from his own life. He was surrounded by people he cared for, and who cared for him.

  If time for himself was hard to come by, so what? The children were happy and healthy, and the pain of losing Julie was lessening as the years went by, yet it would never go away completely because she wasn’t going to see her children grow up, and that was always what hurt the most.

  Lizzie was waiting for him to finish what he’d started and bringing his mind back to the present he said, ‘Would eight o’clock suit you? The children will be asleep by then. I don’t think they’ll need much persuasion as the first day of a new school year is always exhausting for everyone concerned, and Helen is there to keep an eye on them.’

  He was checking the time. The waiting room was filling up.

  ‘Yes, eight o’clock will be fine,’ she told him.

  ‘Right, I’ll see you, then,’ he said briskly, and off he went, hoping that the pride of St Gabriel’s maternity services wasn’t thinking that he was overdoing the getting-to-know-you routine.

  As Lizzie walked home in the late afternoon she was wishing that she hadn’t been quite so eager to fall in with James’s suggestion that they meet again that evening. Anything to do with the new clinic was of paramount importance to her, but she felt as if she needed to get her breath back after such an eventful day of ups and downs, the downs issuing from her continuing mortification over the cow episode, and the ups a deep satisfaction with the arrangements of the clinic. Not to mention what had happened when she’d gone to the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms for her lunch.

  Emma, the usually rosy-cheeked wife of the partnership who owned the place, had said hesitantly, ‘Is it you that’s going to be in charge of the new baby clinic that’s opening on Friday?’

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Lizzie replied, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘I think I’m pregnant,’ Emma had said. ‘I’ve done a test that I bought from the chemist and it was positive. So can I come to see you?’

  ‘Of course,’ she’d said, smiling at her across the counter. ‘That’s what I’m going to be there for. Is it your first baby?’

  ‘Yes, and we just can’t believe it. We’ve been married a long time and had almost given up hope.’

  ‘So how about coming in on Friday after the opening and being my first patient?’

  ‘I’d love to be that! Simon is over the moon. He’s been getting all the recipes mixed up this morning, so watch out for salt instead of sugar in your apple crumble,’ she’d warned laughingly.

  On the whole the ups had far outweighed the downs and she wanted it to stay that way, but there had been a slight lift of the eyebrow when she’d impulsively told James that she had plenty of time on her hands, as if he found it hard to believe that anyone could be in that position, and the last thing she wanted was to arouse his curiosity.

  She was getting on with her life the best way she knew how, and providing a useful service to the community took away some of the loneliness that rightly or wrongly she didn’t confide to anyone.

  But she’d committed herself to returning to the clinic that evening and when she gave her word about anything, she kept it.

  The children were full of their first day at school when James came in from the surgery that evening, or rather Pollyanna was. Jolyon was his usual self and his contribution to the discussion was that their new teacher had said he had a funny name.

  ‘She said unusual, not funny,’ Pollyanna corrected him, ‘and that she thought it was very nice.’

/>   ‘It means the same,’ he protested, ignoring the last bit, ‘and why isn’t any other kid called the same as me, Daddy? Why am I not called Sam or Tom?’

  Jess had given them their evening meal and was standing in the doorway of the dining room ready to leave, but she paused and said in a low voice, ‘The teacher was just trying to be nice, but as we know Jolly has a mind of his own.’

  James nodded and, taking Jolyon to one side, said to him, ‘There was a boy in my class at school who didn’t like his name because he was the only one who had it, but as he grew older he began to change his mind because everyone was envious that he had such a super name and wished that theirs wasn’t Sam or Tom.’

  ‘What was he called?’ Polly chipped in.

  ‘His name sounded very much like yours, Jolyon, but not quite. He was called Joel.’

  Apparently satisfied with the explanation, Jolyon nodded his small blond head and ran off to play, and as he ate his solitary meal James was smiling at the difference in his children. Polly accepted everything as it came her way, but not so her brother—he had to know the whys and wherefores before he was happy.

  When he arrived at the new clinic there was no sign of Lizzie and he thought that maybe she wasn’t the eager beaver that she’d seemed to be earlier, but when he glanced across the road in the dusk to where the ancient village church stood he saw a flash of colour amongst the gravestones that surrounded it and seconds later she was coming towards him through the lychgate.

  ‘There are some really old graves in the churchyard, aren’t there?’ she commented, and wondered why a shadow passed over his face. But, of course, maybe his wife’s was one of the newer ones, she thought, although she hadn’t seen it if it was. So less said about that the better. Changing the subject, she asked politely, ‘Have the children enjoyed their first day back at school?’

  ‘Er…up to a point in Jolyon’s case,’ he said wryly. ‘Pollyanna was her usual happy self, but her brother is not so easily pleased. They had a new teacher who apparently commented on his name in what appears to have been the nicest possible way, but he took it to mean that she didn’t like it. He and I had a little chat and it was sorted.’

  She was smiling. ‘It is a fact that young children want to be the same as their friends and don’t want to be different, but if they have an unusual name, they often come to like it as they get older. My name isn’t unusual but I have had to answer to many forms of it over the years, such as Beth, Liz, Bet and Lizzie, which is the one that has stuck, though in truth the one I like best is Elizabeth, my given name.’

  ‘What do your family call you?’

  ‘I have no family, but when I did have they called me Lizzie.’

  ‘You have no family at all?’ he questioned in amazed disbelief, so much aware of his own blessings he felt guilty.

  ‘No,’ she said steadily, and her tone told him that was the end of the discussion, as did the fact that she was observing the pile of patients records on the reception desk in the waiting room and settling herself on one of the chairs that were placed in neat rows across the room.

  As he came to sit beside her Lizzie said, ‘I think the seating arrangements in here have too much uniformity. I want it to be that while the mothers-to-be are waiting their turn they can chat to each other easily, with the chairs scattered around the room. So if it’s all right with you, I’m going to rearrange them. It is very important for women to be able to share their fears and excitement, and their problems, with each other, especially if they are first-time patients taking what can be a scary step into the unknown.’

  ‘It’s fine by me,’ he told her. ‘You are the one who is going to be in charge of this place. My function will be to be there if you need me. I would only interfere if I thought it absolutely necessary, and with your record of excellence at St Gabriel’s having preceded you, I can’t see that ever happening.

  ‘But, Lizzie, don’t let this place take over your life completely,’ he continued, and couldn’t believe what he was saying when the fates had sent to Willowmere someone as dedicated to health care as the woman sitting beside him. ‘There are lots of things to do in the village, people to get to know, beautiful places to explore, as well as looking after the pregnant women in our midst.

  ‘So why don’t I take you to Willowmere’s only pub, The Pheasant, when we’ve finished here? It will give you the opportunity to socialise a little.’

  It was there again, Lizzie was thinking. He was picking up on the emptiness of her life and she didn’t want him to be concerned about her. For one thing, she hardly knew the man, and for another, apart from during working hours when they would have to be in contact, she wanted to be left to get on with her life, such as it was.

  But James was putting himself out to make her feel welcome when he must have plenty of other things to do in his busy life, and it would seem ungrateful to refuse his suggestion, so she said, ‘Yes, if you’re sure that you have the time.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he said calmly, and, passing her the first lot of patients’ notes, began to explain who they were and what they would be expecting from her.

  When they’d finished going through them Lizzie said, ‘It would seem that there will shortly be another name to add to these.’

  ‘I’m not with you,’ he commented.

  ‘I went to the café across the road at lunchtime and Emma asked for an appointment as she’s done the pregnancy test from the chemist and it showed positive. So we’ve arranged for her to be the first patient at the clinic after the opening on Friday.’

  ‘Emma pregnant!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wonderful! She and Simon have wanted to start a family for a long time. She had a miscarriage when they were first married and there has been nothing since.’

  ‘So I will have to take great care of her, won’t I?’

  ‘Yes, you will,’ he agreed, ‘and now am I going to take you for that drink?’

  ‘Er…won’t your housekeeper wonder where you’ve got to?’ she said with an unmistakable lack of enthusiasm, and he wanted to laugh. He could think of two or three unattached female members of the community, and one who was already in a relationship, who would have jumped at the idea, but not so this one, it seemed.

  ‘No, not at all,’ he assured her perversely. ‘But to put your mind at rest, I’ll call at the house before we go and let her know where I will be if she needs me.’ And Lizzie had to go along with that.

  The Pheasant was crowded and when they walked in various people greeted James and observed his companion with curiosity, which was satisfied somewhat as he introduced her as the new community midwife who was joining him for a drink to celebrate the opening of the new clinic.

  By the time they’d found a couple of seats and James had fought his way to the bar and back, Lizzie was feeling more relaxed, grateful for the way he had introduced her into the socialising throng without causing her embarrassment.

  At the same time she was telling herself if she was going to fit into the life of the village she was going to have to start living again, and after three years of shutting herself away from everything but her job, it was not going to be easy.

  James was observing her expression and almost as if he’d read her mind he said, ‘That wasn’t so bad after all, was it? Everyone was listening when I introduced you, so now they all know who you are.’

  ‘If you say so,’ she agreed. ‘You know the people here better than I do. Have you always lived in Willowmere?’

  ‘Yes. My father was in charge of the practice before me, but after my mother died he began to fail and my sister, Anna, gave up all her plans for the future and came home from university to help me during a very difficult time. Thankfully her life is now back on course again.’

  He was speaking about his family in the hope that she would mention the absence of hers, but the ploy wasn’t working. Lizzie wore a wedding ring, he’d noticed, but there was no husband around.

  Maybe she was divorced and that was the reason for her retice
nce, yet a marriage break-up seemed as nothing to some people, but it had to be a daunting experience in many ways.

  He had his children and his sister in his life, and if what she’d said was true, the woman sitting opposite had no one. Small wonder that she wasn’t the life and soul of the party, but he needed to bear in mind that she’d only arrived in Willowmere a few days ago.

  It was dark when they left The Pheasant with no moon above and James said, ‘I’m going to walk you home, Lizzie, and will want to see you safely inside before I leave you.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she protested.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you will, but nevertheless that is what I’m going to do.’

  ‘All right, then…and thanks,’ she said awkwardly without any social grace.

  They walked in silence, past the shops all shuttered for the night, then skirted the single-storey village school built from the familiar limestone, and then the peace garden came in to sight, with the cottage across the way.

  He watched in silence as she unlocked the door and stepped over the threshold and when she turned to face him, said, ‘Goodnight, Lizzie. Make sure you lock up when I’ve gone.’

  She nodded mutely and watched until he disappeared from sight, then did as he’d said, and when that was done she sat on the bottom step of the stairs and wept because a stranger’s concern was breaking down her defences.

  From what she’d seen of James so far he seemed to be that kind of person, considerate and caring towards everyone, herself included as the latest addition to the health care of his beloved village, and she didn’t want it to be like that. She didn’t want to have feelings in the half of her life that was empty, because with feelings came weakness and she needed to be strong to face each day.