The Lakeland Doctor's Decision

by Gill Sanderson

  Now for the last imperative step. Taking a deep breath, she went to work. Carefully, using the space the episiotomy had created, she inserted her hand. Ignoring the mother’s fresh wail she reached further. There! There was the forearm. If she could just apply the right pressure, just pull gently but firmly ... yes, there was movement. Faith sent up a small prayer – this baby had been so good so far, carry on that way!

  The tiny body moved again. She had it! ‘Push,’ she shouted to Lizzie. Lizzie pushed. And the baby slipped into Faith’s hands. An eyeball check and yes, the baby was breathing. ‘She’s alive,’ she said exultantly, tears running down her face. ‘Lizzie, Dave, you’ve got another daughter and she’s lovely!’

  Chris took the child from her, dried and wrapped her in the towels put ready and handed her to Dave. ‘Give her to her mother,’ he said.

  The birth wasn’t quite over. Faith pressed down on the mother’s stomach. ‘One more task. A last couple of pushes to get rid of the placenta, then you can cuddle your little girl.’

  The placenta was delivered. Faith leaned back against Chris. ‘Thank God,’ she murmured and felt his arms come around her in a brief, hard squeeze. ‘All OK?’

  ‘All fine. Fabulous work. Do you want me to suture the episiotomy?’

  Faith was drained. She tipped her head up and smiled at him. ‘Yes, please.’

  After that it was all straightforward stuff. Faith and Chris made independent examinations of the baby and there appeared to be no ill effects of the shoulder distocia. There was the general cleaning up to be done, the bed changed, the notes to write up. A fine baby girl, weight five pounds, Apgar scale ten – the maximum.

  ‘A lovely baby,’ Faith said, and meant every word. And, now that it was all over, felt a touch of envy.

  * * *

  There wasn’t time, after all the excitement, to go on to the woodland playground. Fortunately, Molly seemed to think playing with Alice, being read to by Alice’s grandma and seeing a tiny new baby was a reasonable substitute.

  In some ways, thought Faith, the events of the day had bound her and Chris together even more. They’d worked as a team in the intimate atmosphere of a home birth, turning what could have been a tragedy into another small miracle of life. From the way he smiled at her when they were once more in the car, Chris thought so too. It crystallised her decision.

  ‘I’m withdrawing my application for the Hadrian’s Wall post,’ she said abruptly.

  The ignition keys dropped from Chris’s hand. His head swivelled to hers, his eyes green and intense. ‘Really? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. I’m a Dale Head and Little Allaby woman.’ She felt a sense of peace that the decision had finally been made.

  Chris retrieved his keys from the floor. ‘I am quite ridiculously pleased,’ he said, his voice muffled. ‘Time to go home. Which house shall we go to, Molly? Ours or Faith’s?’

  Molly considered. ‘Faith’s for tea, then ours for bedtime,’ she said, adding kindly to her father, ‘Faith makes nicer teas than you do.’

  Faith took a quick breath. It was too good an opening to miss and she was in an uncharacteristically reckless mood. ‘I make quite good breakfasts too,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to come and stay at your house overnight some time and then I can make you one in the morning.’

  She saw Chris’s hands grip the steering wheel. ‘That sounds nice,’ he said. ‘What sort of breakfasts do you make?’

  ‘Bacon sandwiches? Eggy bread? Exploding croissants?’

  ‘I like eggy bread,’ said Molly. ‘Grandma makes it.’

  Faith knew. It had been the reason she mentioned it. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at the little girl. ‘Shall I stay tonight and make some tomorrow, then?’

  Molly smiled at her. ‘Yes. And you can read me a story tonight. And Daddy can read me story too,’ she added quickly.

  ‘She’s asleep,’ said Chris softly. He looked across at Faith, perched on the other side of Molly’s bed, and experienced a fillip of the heart he didn’t remember in any of the years of his marriage. ‘It’s been a good day,’ he said, standing up.

  ‘Bringing new life into the world is always good.’ But Faith caught her lip between her teeth as she said it.

  ‘What is it?’ Chris followed her out of the room, turning the light off.

  He saw her back shrug in the dim light from the landing. ‘Nothing. New life to balance old, I suppose.’

  He caught up with her, drew her to him. ‘Faith? You aren’t making sense.’

  She rested her head against his chest. If he hadn’t been so concerned, he would have rather liked it, the simple trust of her in his arms. ‘It was five years ago today that I heard Mike had been killed.’

  ‘Oh, Faith.’ Chris held her close, feeling her pain. ‘Sweetheart, tell me truthfully. Do you want to stay tonight? Or not.’

  She looked up with the swift smile he had come to associate with her. ‘I’d rather not be on my own tonight. I’d like to stay. But I’m going to get up way earlier than Molly tomorrow!’

  Chris chuckled and bent his head to kiss her. She was soft and giving in his embrace. He kissed her eyelids, tasting tears on her lashes. He suddenly, fiercely, didn’t want her to ever cry again. He would do all in his power to help her – not forget Mike, because that would be wrong – but remember him for the love they’d shared, not the sadness.

  Chris moved down to kiss her lips, and as he did so he recalled what she’d said some time ago. That she’d heard of Mike’s death two days before her birthday. So that meant it would be her birthday on Saturday. A day she hadn’t celebrated for the past five years.

  Faith was giving him back kiss for kiss, her hands roaming his back and threading into his hair. His last thought before he succumbed to the glorious passion of making love to her was that he was going to have to work pretty fast if he was going to replace her birthday sadness with beautiful memories too.

  ‘Chris, you really don’t have to do anything special,’ Faith protested as he walked her down to the gate next morning so she could get ready for work.

  ‘That’s not what Molly thinks. Birthdays are to be celebrated, I’m afraid.’

  ‘But ...’ She was temporarily distracted by him dropping a kiss on her hair.

  ‘Buy yourself a new dress on the way home. That will satisfy her. See you later.’

  ‘Yes, see you.’ Faith glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. Eggy bread for breakfast was all very well, but it all took time and she was going to be late if she didn’t hurry. Her feelings were all agitated. How had Molly even known it was her birthday on Saturday? Naturally she couldn’t upset the little girl, but it was going to be hard to keep smiling all through that day.

  She had a heavy workload that morning, but still made time for a break when she usually popped into the playroom to see Molly. Today, however, Beth Kitson paged her just as she got there to ask if she could come to the maternity unit.

  ‘On my way,’ said Faith. She glanced into the playroom, but Molly was at the craft table, busy with glue and an awful lot of glitter. Faith was pleased to see she was sitting next to Hannah. Obviously she’d forgotten their little spat.

  By the end of the day, shopping for clothes was the last thing Faith wanted to do. Then she got a text from Hope remarking that Chris was a fast worker and offering to meet her in town to help her choose a sexy dress.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ she texted back. She drove into town feeling manipulated.

  She’d barely got home when there was an imperious knocking at the back door. It was Molly, grinning all over her face and handing her a distinctly glittery envelope.

  ‘What’s this?’ said Faith.

  Molly jumped up and down excitedly. ‘Open it and see.’

  Faith opened the envelope and brought out an even more glittery card. ‘Miss Molly Ford and Mr Christopher Ford invite Dr Faith Taylor to her own birthday party down by the river on Saturday at midday,’ she read. She looked up to see that C
hris had followed his daughter and was leaning against the door jamb.

  ‘Just a birthday picnic, Faith.’ There was a smile in his eyes that said he understood her reservations. ‘A few sandwiches and a nice glass of wine amongst friends. All you have to do is to walk down with Molly and me and look gorgeous.’

  Faith glanced ruefully at the carrier bag she’d unloaded from the boot of her car. ‘I didn’t exactly buy a river bank sort of dress.’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘All the better.’

  * * *

  Faith’s thirtieth birthday. She woke up to texts from her sisters and a feeling that today, whether she liked it or not, would mark a turning point between her old world and the new. Quite why, she wasn’t sure, perhaps simply because she was being persuaded to celebrate, rather than regret.

  Her mobile rang. Chris’s voice sounded warm and velvety in her ear. ‘Good morning, sweetheart. I missed you last night. Happy birthday.’

  She’d missed him too, but she’d needed time alone. Things were happening a little fast. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘How long have I got to make myself presentable?’

  ‘We’ll come over at eleven.’ His voice became cautious. ‘I believe your sisters are arriving at eleven thirty.’

  She laughed. ‘I can cope with them. And you’re sure you don’t want me to do anything? Make anything?’

  ‘Just be beautiful. And be happy.’ There was the briefest pause, as if he was on the point of saying something else, then Faith heard the thudding of small feet. Molly was evidently awake. ‘Until eleven,’ he said, and rang off.

  Faith sat on the bed for a moment. There was something she had to do, something she’d been putting off. She pulled open the bottom drawer of her chest of drawers and took out a box holding a thick photo album. Inside the front cover was a picture of Mike smiling at her as he had done so often in life.

  Just be beautiful. And be happy.

  Faith looked into Mike’s twinkling eyes and knew he would say exactly the same. She swallowed the lump in her throat, blew him a tiny kiss, closed the album gently and put it away.

  When the time came to put on her new dress, she almost ducked out. It was surely far too frivolous for a birthday picnic by the river? She put on the slinky pink underwear from Hope, enjoying the feel of it on her skin, then slid her new purchase off the hanger. It was a silk dress in exactly that tone of pink that suited her skin. It was sleeveless, almost backless, showing just the right amount of cleavage. A summer dress.

  ‘Some young man will think you look wonderful in this,’ the shop assistant said as she carefully wrapped it. ‘He’ll think he’s very lucky. And he’ll be right.’

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Faith wondered if she had chosen it with the subconscious desire that Chris would like it – and like her in it. She went downstairs thoughtfully.

  ‘Happy birthday, Faith!’ squealed Molly, bursting through the back door, dressed in her fairy party dress again. ‘Daddy wouldn’t let me come before – I’ve been waiting ages. This is your birthday card. I crayoned it myself. It’s very nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ said Faith, sitting down and opening the card.

  ‘This is me and this is you and this is Panda,’ Molly explained, leaning close to her and pointing at the people she had drawn. ‘And that is me and my two friends. And those are all the fairies. And underneath it says Happy Birthday with love from Molly and Panda.’

  ‘So it does! It is the loveliest card in the world and I shall put it on the mantelpiece with my other cards. Do you want to see them?’

  ‘Not yet. You need to open Daddy’s card.’

  Faith looked up and there was Chris. Her breath caught in her throat. He was looking fabulous, dressed in a grey linen suit with a silk shirt in a rich green that matched the colour of his eyes. And those eyes were definitely admiring her dress!

  ‘Hello, birthday girl,’ he said and leaned down to kiss her as he put a light, rounded-oblong parcel in her lap.

  Just a birthday kiss, a kiss on the cheek. But Faith felt her body respond to his warmth, his nearness, the expensive cologne he was wearing. From his indrawn breath as she turned her head to brush her lips against his, he wasn’t immune to the close proximity between them either.

  The sound of a car outside made him straighten up. ‘That’ll be my sisters,’ said Faith, flustered. It was astonishing how an encounter of just a couple of seconds with Chris could send her senses straight to the bedroom and her thoughts into total disarray.

  ‘You’d better open your nice present then,’ he said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

  ‘Yes, open it. It’s lovely. Do you like the paper?’

  Faith bent her attention to Chris’s parcel. It was wrapped in a pearlescent pale blue paper with fairies dancing across it. ‘Very pretty.’

  ‘It’s my paper,’ said Molly. ‘Shall I help you unwrap it?’

  So Molly undid the end and Faith eased out the tissue paper inside.

  ‘Like “Pass the Parcel”!’ The little girl wriggled excitedly.

  The parcel was soft, light ... ‘You’ve wrapped me a cloud,’ said Faith with a laugh. Then the tissue paper fell free, revealing a pashmina scarf in all the pinks, purples and blues in the spectrum. She ran her fingers over it. It was so soft to the touch! And so beautiful. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said simply. ‘Thank you both very much.’

  Then her sisters came in and the tone of the day changed to a celebration. There were hugs, kisses, more presents. Hope’s was soft and squashy with a definite feel of underwiring to it. ‘I think I’ll open this one later,’ said Faith.

  Her sister grinned unrepentantly. ‘Good idea. By candlelight, perhaps. After a long luxurious bubble bath.’

  Which coincidentally, was what Charity’s present contained.

  Chris looked at the contents interestedly. ‘Chocolates too. And a bottle of champagne. I’m beginning to like your sisters.’

  Faith wore the pashmina to walk down to the picnic. ‘Don’t we have to take some food?’ she asked, looking at everyone’s empty hands.

  They all laughed at her.

  It was another beautiful day, warm, with a light breeze. As they reached the bridge, Faith stopped. The normally peaceful riverbank was nearly as busy as it had been last week. ‘Maybe we should find somewhere else,’ she said. ‘There are an awful lot of people there.’

  She recognised the trestle-tables from the village hall. And the bunting that appeared at every spring fête. Just as she noticed Abbey and Jack Kirk bustling around, Abbey turned and saw her. She waved madly, shouted something indecipherable, and a whole bunch of people – some of them, Faith realised belatedly, from Dale Head hospital – moved aside to reveal a banner pinned across the front of the tables.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FAITH !!!”

  Faith’s hands went to her mouth in shock. The whole village was there for her!

  ‘They’re fond of you,’ murmured Chris in her ear. ‘As soon as I discussed my little idea with Abbey, she mentioned it to her friends and Jack dropped it into conversation at the Earnshaw Arms. I believe Beth Kitson and Jared Carpenter might have spread the word around the hospital grapevine too. I’m paying for the drink, but everyone else insisted on contributing the food.’

  ‘But ... but why?’ Faith looked at him, bewildered.

  He stroked her face. ‘They’ve been worried, sweetheart. They respect you. They appreciate the work you’ve done to make Dale Head a good place. They want you to be happy.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. ‘And so do I.’

  Molly had already gone skipping past them in her fairy dress, holding one hand of Charity and one of Hope.

  ‘Come on,’ said Chris. ‘You can’t run out on everyone now.’

  Faith swallowed. ‘I might need a hand to hold,’ she said.

  ‘You got it.’

  There was an enormous cheer when Faith reached her very own birthday party. She blushed and made a hasty speech of thanks to ev
eryone for coming – and for providing the party! More cheers, toasts were drunk, and she had small presents to open from her closest friends.

  ‘Why?’ she asked Abbey helplessly.

  ‘Apart from to say “thank you” for delivering all our babies, getting me the best job in the world and keeping hospital employment local and happy?’ Abbey clinked her friend’s glass. ‘You do ask some daft questions, Faith.’

  Chris had been right. Everyone really was here because they cared about her. It made Faith feel slightly teary, but very warm and fuzzy inside. She must have been mad to think she could ever leave it and go to Hadrian’s Wall. Amidst the general food, wine, beer and conversation, she felt she was living the afternoon on two levels. On one level there was a village birthday party with her sisters, friends, colleagues and neighbours. On the other level there was just her and Chris. She was aware of him the whole time, whether he was acting as host, popping the corks out of bottle after bottle of champagne, sitting next to her on a picnic rug sharing a plate of mixed savouries, or on the other side of a large group discussing rural life as opposed to urban living.

  Gradually, the sandwiches, quiches, salads, tiny hot pies and bacon rolls vanished. As did the fruit skewers, the individual jellies with fresh fruit in them and the dangerously alcoholic trifle.

  ‘Cake!’ shouted Molly, and was echoed by the other children.

  ‘I’m not sure I can,’ said Faith.

  ‘Now, now,’ said Chris. ‘It’s a well known fact that birthday cake takes up no space at all.’

  He reached down a hand to pull her to her feet. The sun had shifted, colouring his eyes a lovely deep green. ‘More champagne,’ he said, easing open the cork on one last bottle and pouring golden liquid into their glasses. The bubbles caught the sunlight, giving everything a magical air. At the trestle table, Jared was endeavouring to light all thirty candles on a large cake.

  ‘I might not forgive you for that,’ muttered Faith.

  ‘Blow,’ shrieked Molly.

  ‘Yes, blow,’ said her harassed subordinate. ‘This breeze is getting up.’