The dress had the desired effect. She knew him now; he couldn’t conceal from her the flicker of interest when she opened the door. He was looking pretty good himself in chinos and a softly draping shirt. Had he done it on purpose? But neither of them said anything.
Jamie held a hand of each of them as they walked through the town to the big field that served as cattle market and fair-ground. It twisted Zoe’s heart to see him so happy with both her and Connor, to see his sunny face turning from one to the other. As they approached they could hear the music coming from the PA system and Jamie jumped with joy. But Zoe had a sudden stab of memory.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Connor.
For a moment she was furious with him. How had he known? If they were so attuned to each other, why couldn’t he just trust her to know what she wanted from life? ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s silly. There used to be a big fair that set up near the army base every year in the last place we lived. Girls at school raved about how much fun it was. My mother said it was full of lawless travellers and got really distressed when I suggested that I go with a group of friends—even just for an hour. She wanted me near, all the time, wanted to wrap me in cotton wool, for her sake as well as for mine. But I could open the windows and hear the music, like this.’
‘It probably wasn’t that great.’
‘No, but I’d have liked to find out for myself.’
‘Make your own mistakes, you mean?’
‘Not actually make them—just know that the potential was there to make them if I wanted to. It’s no wonder, really, that I fell for Neil. Life with him was so free.’ She sighed. ‘I ought to have known there’d be a catch.’
They’d entered the showground now. Booths had been set up either side of the main avenue leading to the arena. Signs pointed to the animal pens, auction sheds, agricultural equipment sales, farmer’s market, craft demonstrations and funfair. The place was thronged with people, queues building up already at the hot-food stalls. Jamie’s eyes were out on stalks, not knowing which way to look first. Certainly he wasn’t paying any attention to the adults’ conversation.
‘Is there always a catch?’ said Connor. His voice was noncommittal, but Zoe could hear the edge to his question.
‘There always has been so far,’ she said frankly. ‘I was glad to help my mother, but I missed out on normal growing-up, and didn’t realise until later that I’d been emotionally stifled. Neil showed me bright lights and glitter—and I was so dazzled that I didn’t notice there was nothing behind them. Jamie is a wonderful gift, but I have to be so responsible all the time that sometimes I forget to enjoy him.’ She took a resolute breath. ‘And then I find a man I love and I get hurt again.’ For a moment she saw her own pain reflected in Connor’s navy-blue eyes. ‘Sorry. Saying that was ill-mannered of me. It won’t happen again.’
‘Mummy!’ gasped Jamie, seeing two children run past with huge mounds of candyfloss on sticks.
Connor gave a strained chuckle. ‘Later, lad. No point starting the day feeling sticky and sick.’ He glanced at Zoe, half-angry, as if he didn’t want to keep being reminded. ‘I’m sorry too. But I refuse to be the means of stopping you from having a happy and fulfilled life. Look, for now let’s just make Jamie’s first Buckley Show a good one. Enjoy today. Time out. Pax?’
Enjoy today. But look what had happened the last time they’d taken time out of their ordinary lives. She gave a sound-less sigh. ‘Pax,’ she agreed.
So they strolled towards the animal pens, past demonstrations of basket- weaving and hurdle-making and then to the funfair.
‘Look, Jamie, lots of people going round in big teacups,’ Connor said, pointing to a roundabout. ‘Would you like a ride in one?’
‘Yes, please,’ said Jamie. ‘I’d like a ride in a cup with you and Mummy. And then can I go on that big slidey thing?’
The helter-skelter. Zoe looked at the height and bit her lip. ‘I’ll go up with him,’ said Connor. ‘I’d like to.’
So Jamie had a fairing. He had rides on assorted merry-go-rounds. He won a purple helium-filled balloon with Buckley Show written on it. The three of them ate locally produced beefburgers and bought an ice cream each. Almost, Zoe couldn’t help feeling with a pang, almost as if they had been a real family.
Then came the important bit—Jamie’s early birthday present. The tractor parade! They met a smiling Bert Ramsdale and one of his grown-up grandsons, Adam, outside the main arena. Zoe liked both of them at once—more importantly, so did Jamie. In fact, Jamie was astounded. Bert was big, well-rounded, had a red face and was wearing his Farmers’ Best—tweed jacket, yellow waistcoat, leather gaiters and a flat cap.
‘He looks just like Farmer Giles in the Big Red Tractor story,’ Jamie whispered.
‘He does,’ Zoe whispered back, ‘but his name is Bert.’
‘So this is my new driver, is it?’ Bert said. ‘Jamie, you can come and work on my farm any time.’
The arena was the main show ground where the gymkhanas, dog show and sheep-herding trials were held. Tomorrow there would be a steam rally, but today local tractors were going to drive round in a parade before the rest of the show started.
Bert took them to where the tractors were lined up, led them to the biggest and the reddest. Zoe blinked when she saw its size. ‘I’ll get in the cab first,’ said Bert, ‘and then we’ll lift you up.’
‘I can climb,’ said Jamie. ‘Uncle Connor is teaching me.’ And he was up the side of the tractor like an expert.
Zoe gulped. Connor put a hand on her arm. ‘No cotton wool, remember?’
‘It doesn’t mean I have to like it,’ muttered Zoe.
Adam winked as he also swung himself up. ‘Mum used to say that. He’s never damaged any of us, though.’
Someone shouted a command, the marshal waved and the first tractor set off into the arena. The rest followed, one after the other. Zoe watched the tractor carrying her son as it chugged around the huge ring. She was very conscious of Connor’s tall frame by her side.
The big red tractor came round in front of them again. Jamie was standing between Bert’s legs, his hands on the wheel, proud and terrified at once, steering on his own. He managed to wave to them and Zoe photographed him.
Two more circuits, and then the tractors thundered magnificently out to the static display area. Jamie was hopping up and down in the cab, incandescent with joy. ‘Uncle Connor, Farmer Bert says you can take us to his farm one day and we can see his other tractor. Can we?’
Connor cast a helpless glance at Zoe. ‘We’ll see what can be arranged,’ he said. ‘Now, say thank you to Farmer Bert and we’ll find out what else there is to see. I think I saw signs for a Robin Hood demonstration.’
‘All right,’ said Jamie happily. ‘Thank you very much, Farmer Bert. And thank you, Uncle Connor. It’s the best birthday present ever!’
Just for a moment, as Connor smiled and swung James down from the tractor to her with Bert looking benignly on in the background, Zoe felt marvellously, completely happy. The three of them together was so as it should be. But then she remembered—they weren’t together, this was a pretend day, something that would soon be in the past. She bit her lip at the shaft of pain. Still, this was Jamie’s day and she had to seem cheerful. Her grief she could put on hold.
Jamie decided he didn’t want candyfloss; instead, he wanted a lollipop on a stick. Zoe wasn’t too happy about sweets but, remembering her own misery when not allowed to go to the fair, she agreed. ‘Just this once, mind! And you clean your teeth the minute we get back home.’
Jamie smiled beatifically, stuffed the lollipop in his mouth and sucked happily as he reached for Connor’s hand.
Another stab of pain. Parting Jamie from Connor was going to be hard.
They walked along the edge of the display ground towards the archery targets and longbow shooting. Behind them came the sound of a tractor engine, one of the farmers heading for home. Jamie scampered to the edge of the field for a closer l
ook and waved at the driver, who waved back.
It always happened when you least expected it.
Zoe was looking at her son and saw suddenly and horribly what was about to happen. She couldn’t move, couldn’t yell a warning: there was nothing she could do. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and she was completely paralysed with terror. There was a drainage ditch to the side of the path that led from the display ground. Perhaps the rain earlier in the week had softened the bank, perhaps the bank was undercut, perhaps the weight of all the tractors during the day had softened it. Whatever…The tractor drove too close to the edge.
The ground looked solid but it wasn’t. In horrific, slowed-down detail, the vast back wheel skidded, slipped, dropped into the ditch. The tractor tilted, lurched sideways, slowly toppled on its side.
And Jamie was in the way! Dear God, he was right in its path! Zoe’s heart leapt into her throat as she started to scream. She screamed as the driver’s canopy pushed Jamie over. She screamed as the cab slammed into the ground. She screamed as Jamie disappeared from view.
Connor had been looking the other way but, at the roar of the tractor’s engine and Zoe’s scream, he turned. She caught sight of his face, saw his expression of utter horror before he was hurtling towards the tractor and she was following.
The noise of the engine stopped. The driver squirmed out of the cab, blood streaming from a cut on his head. ‘I fell on the little lad,’ he mumbled. ‘He’s under the canopy; I’ll have to…’
‘Go over there and sit down,’ Connor snapped, barely pausing in his swift assessment of the wreckage. ‘Hold a handkerchief to your head. We’ll deal with this.’
Zoe was frantically scrambling up the crumbling bank, digging her fingers into the dirt to get a purchase. Connor appeared beside her, his face intent. The horror was still in his eyes, but overlaying it was the purposeful expression of a professional. She felt, not relief, but the certainty that if anything could be done then Connor could do it. In some ways the complete trust was a comfort. It meant she wasn’t alone.
And then she heard a strange cry, half gasp, half cough.
‘Mummy…’
Jamie was alive!
Connor gripped her arm. ‘Thank God,’ he whispered.
Zoe took her own tearing breath and concentrated. And had to bite her lips together not to cry aloud again. Jamie was pinned down by one of the struts that supported the driver’s canopy. It was pressed across his abdomen, pushing him into the muddy ground below. His face was white, his eyes wide and fearful. She tried to reach for him, to comfort him, but Connor took a deep lungful of air and said, ‘Careful. I’ll see to him.’
He slid down to kneel by Jamie’s side, feeling under the strut, scooping at the oozing mud. ‘He’s been pushed into soft earth,’ he muttered. ‘There might be no internal damage if we’re in luck…’ Then he tensed. ‘Zoe! Lean over his face, check his airway and his breathing!’
She did as she was told. There were new signs of panic in her son’s eyes. His mouth opened even wider and suddenly she realised that his lips were turning blue. ‘Connor! He can’t breathe!’
Connor pushed her aside, bent low over Jamie, eased his head back and looked in his mouth. ‘His tongue’s okay…Oh, God! That lollipop he was sucking! He must have tried to swallow it in his shock, and now it’s lodged in his throat!’
‘Heimlich manoeuvre!’ said Zoe, almost too terrified to speak.
‘I can’t! There’s no way I can get behind him. But perhaps there’s just a chance…’
He put the knuckles of his right hand under Jamie’s diaphragm and jerked them sharply upwards. He tried, five times. It could work—but it didn’t. Zoe found panic seizing her.
Jamie’s head lolled to one side. No air to his lungs, no oxygen to his bloodstream, feeding and powering the rest of the body. Zoe was a midwife—she had seen babies who had been starved of oxygen. She knew only too well what would happen if there was insufficient oxygen reaching the brain. Brain death in three minutes.
There was a crowd gathering behind them, some to watch, some offering to help. Connor turned his head and shouted, ‘I need a pocket knife! Any kind of blade! Now!’
Three were thrust forward. He grabbed one, opened the smallest blade and nodded. From his pocket he took a ballpoint pen and pulled out the ink cartridge so he was left with a hollow tube. Then he turned to her. His face was grey, his voice clipped to the point of curtness—but she knew he was in extreme stress, not unfeeling, and she loved him for it, even through her terror.
‘Pull his head back, hold it straight between your hands.’
She followed his directions without question. She knew what he was doing, knew she had to do the same. For the moment, put all emotion on hold. It was the only way they could manage this—to treat it as a job. But she couldn’t. This was her son. And treating him was the man she loved. There had to be a happy outcome. Almost unconsciously, she started crooning restful words, getting Jamie to relax, making it easier for Connor to do what he had to do.
He was feeling the strain too. She knew it. He talked as he worked, perhaps to her, perhaps to himself. ‘Just below the Adam’s apple there’s a ridge called the cricoid cartilage. I have to put my finger on the soft spot between them. Tighten the skin over the spot and cut—about half an inch deep.’
The penknife looked clumsy in his hands—but it cut. Zoe cringed at the sight of her son’s blood, but her hold didn’t alter.
And nor did her faith in Connor. He was more intense than she’d ever seen him. He looked at the cut for a millisecond, slipped a finger inside to enlarge it, then slid the biro tube into the cut, put his mouth over the end—and breathed air into Jamie’s lungs. After a small nightmare of black endless nothing, there came the whistling sound that indicated that Jamie was once again breathing on his own.
‘Thank God,’ whispered Conner. ‘Oh, thank God.’
Zoe gave a small, stifled sob of relief.
Their eyes met. There was no need for words. Both knew the other was more full of emotion than they could express. And, in that moment, Zoe’s feelings crystallised. She loved this man. Not because of Jamie, but because of her. She loved him. She had trusted him to save her son’s life and, more than anything, she wanted to trust him with her heart. Forget pride, forget hurt, forget not laying herself on the line again. As soon as they got out of this situation, she was going to tell him that she couldn’t live without him.
Connor looked back down at Jamie. Still holding the tube in place, he leaned back, a huge relieved smile on his face. ‘That’s better,’ he said.
Ragged applause sounded behind them. Zoe gazed at Jamie, his colour normal again, and knew a vast, overwhelming thankfulness. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We stay right here and wait for the professionals.’
And, on cue, there was the thin sound of the siren as the paramedics drove towards them.
They sat in the corner of a waiting room in Sheffield Hospital. Zoe was leaning against Connor’s shoulder; his arm was round her. From time to time she shuddered and his arm tightened.
‘He’ll be all right, won’t he?’ she whispered, not for the first time.
But, despite everything, Connor was still a doctor and would not give good news until he was absolutely sure. ‘I think there’s a very good chance,’ he said. ‘The ambulance got us here so fast it must have been jet-propelled. Try and relax.’
‘Why are they taking so long?’ she said fretfully.
‘They’re making certain. I’d do exactly the same. So would you.’
She was silent for a few moments and then she said, ‘I’m glad you’re with me.’
Then the A&E Consultant came out and smiled. ‘Mrs Hilton? Good news. Young Jamie has a badly bruised abdomen but there appears to be no internal damage. You were right, Dr Maitland. Apparently, the soft ground saved him. No other problems, except for the dirtiest piece of surgery I’ve seen in a long time on his neck. An emergency tracheotomy! Pe
nknife and ballpoint pen? I’ve heard of it being done but this is the first time I’ve ever had to deal with it. Still, a very good, efficient job. I’ve cleaned it all up and antibiotics will see to any risk of infection. I gather you’ve had some experience of surgery before?’
‘Some,’ said Connor.
‘Rather more conventional, I trust. Now, we’re going to keep Jamie in overnight for observations. Would you like to come and see him? He’s only half conscious but he might recognise you.’
Zoe and Connor stood. ‘Perhaps you should go in on your own,’ Connor said. ‘After all, he’s your child.’
She took his hand in a firm hold. This was where it started. ‘He’s yours as well now. After all, you saved his life.’ Then she turned to the doctor. ‘We don’t want to leave him. Is there somewhere we can stay the night? Both of us?’
‘I’ll arrange it,’ said the doctor.
Chapter Eleven
THEY sat on either side of Jamie’s bed, each clasping one of his hands. Connor looked at Jamie, white-faced, a bandage round his neck, more or less asleep. Then he looked at Zoe, watched her gently lift her child’s hand to her lips.
Today had taught him so much. He enjoyed his work, got satisfaction from mending the townsfolk in the surgery and then pushing himself in the open air on his time off, but today was the first time he had really known what his life would be like without Zoe, because he knew that if he hadn’t been able to save Jamie, the Zoe he knew might not have survived. She would have continued her life as normal, but her very essence, the loving nature that so attracted him to her, would have died with her son. Before she had come to Buckley he hadn’t even realised that his daily round was empty. In shutting out the pain of what could never be, he’d shut out all the ordinary stuff of life too. But she had come, with her wide smile and her refusal to take the easy path. She’d blown a hole in his armour—and when he’d finished reeling in shock he’d discovered that she and Jamie had set up home in his soul.
Village Midwife, Blushing Bride Page 16
