It all hung on the results, and the wait was going to be harder than anything he’d had to endure before, because this time there was so much more at stake.
Don’t think about it, he told himself. Just enjoy her. Give her what you can. Wait.
Be patient.
And pray…
* * *
‘Yes? Is that Mrs Carter?’
‘It is. Anna, I hope you don’t mind me phoning—I got your number from directory enquiries. It’s about Max.’
Her heart crashed against her ribs. ‘What about him?’ she asked tensely.
‘Nothing bad! Don’t worry. It’s his birthday on Sunday, but I expect you know that.’
‘No, I didn’t. He’s failed to share it with me,’ she said drily.
His mother laughed. ‘Oh, well, that sounds like Max. Anyway, he’s coming for lunch. I thought I’d ask him to bring you, and he doesn’t know it but I’ve asked the others—Andrew and Frankie and Joel and their other halves, and the children. It’ll be a bit chaotic, and I don’t know how you feel about it, but I wondered…would you mind bringing Harry?’
Warmth flooded her, the warmth of his family reaching out to her, including her and her son—Max’s son, of course, and maybe she was only included as an appendage, but Mrs Carter had seemed genuinely pleased to meet her.
‘I’d love to come and bring Harry. The only thing is, you won’t say anything, will you? Not to the children. If Max’s brothers and sister know, I think that’s a good idea, but, please, make sure nobody lets it out. If we decide to tell Harry, I do want it to be a considered decision and not just a blunder.’
Mrs Carter hastened to reassure her. ‘Of course. Don’t worry, I’ll prime them all. Are you going to come with him in the car, or on your own?’
‘With him, I think,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Otherwise he’ll smell a rat. If he doesn’t know about the others, he’ll
Mrs Carter laughed delightedly. ‘Oh, Anna, what a good idea. I’ll ring him now.’
‘Before you go,’ Anna said quickly, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any ideas about what I could give him?’
There was a long silence. ‘Nothing lasting—nothing built to endure for generations,’ she said finally, her voice tinged with sadness. ‘He’s got this thing about it. Feels he’s not going to be here for long so there’s no point. I usually give him clothes or something like that, which he has to have regardless, and make a fuss of him.’
How incredibly sad and defeatist, Anna thought, and wondered what on earth she could give him.
Then it came to her. Flowers. Nobody ever gave men flowers, and yet when her father had been ill once and her mother had given him flowers, he’d been delighted.
Yes. She’d give him flowers, and she’d arrange them herself. A big basket of them to stand on top of the wood-burning stove in his cottage, and look gorgeous. And Harry could draw him a picture.
She went to the florist during her break in the morning and ordered a lined basket, and planned the arrangement. Masses of colour and lots of roses from her mother’s garden, with dark green foliage, her favourite combination.
She’d arrange them on Saturday evening—unless Max had plans for the evening, in which case she’d arrange them earlier and hide them in her garden shed. Or, better
Excellent.
She walked along from the florist to the surgery, and passed Fred lurking near the bus shelter, looking for cigarette ends on the ground. ‘Fred?’ she said, as she approached, and he jumped guiltily.
‘Dear me, Sister, you scared the living daylights out of me—what you trying to do, frighten me to death?’
She suppressed a smile. ‘I was expecting you earlier,’ she told him. ‘You had an appointment to see me this morning to have your stitches out, and you didn’t turn up. What happened to you?’
‘Oh, the usual,’ he said. ‘Bad head—it’s the arteritis in my neck.’
‘You don’t have arthritis in your neck,’ she told him drily. ‘You probably had a hangover.’
‘It’s my sister’s pillows—mean as an old rattlesnake she is, won’t buy me a new one.’
‘It’s a wonder she puts up with you at all, never mind buy you new pillows. Come on, come over to the surgery with me now and I’ll take them out for you.’
He mumbled a protest, but she took his arm and guided him across the street, staggering slightly, and propelled him into her room and sat him down. ‘Right, this won’t take a moment. It’s healed quite well, considering.’
‘Considering what?’ he asked grumpily.
Considering it’s bathed in neat alcohol, she nearly said, but then thought better of it. ‘Considering it was only a few
‘Is that all?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Could have done that myself with the old cut-throat.’
The idea of him with a cut-throat razor left her cold with horror. ‘Go on, Fred, go home.’
‘No. Chip shop opens soon. They give me last night’s cold fish—I tell them it’s for the dog,’ he said, wheezing and cackling at his own craftiness.
‘Fred, you don’t have a dog,’ she said patiently.
‘I know—clever, ain’t it? And they don’t know!’
I bet they do, Anna thought with exasperated affection. ‘Go on, Fred, hop it. I’ve got patients to see.’
He grumbled his way out of the door, and she puffed a little air freshener around the room to disguise the smell a bit, then called her next patient.
She recognised the young woman, but she didn’t know where from at first. ‘Jenny, isn’t it? Come on in and sit down.’
‘Thanks. First of all, how’s the cat?’ she asked, and then the penny dropped.
‘He’s fine—I thought I recognised you. You work at the vet’s, don’t you?’
‘At the moment—I’m pregnant now, so I won’t be doing it too much longer. That’s why I’m here—for routine blood tests.’
‘Oh, lovely. Congratulations. When’s it due?’
The girl snorted softly. ‘January—and it’s not exactly wonderful news. I’m not married, and he’s gone off already.’
Anna prepared her syringes and swabbed the inside of the girl’s elbow. ‘I’ve got a little boy. He’s four, and his
She nodded. ‘My mum. She lives near me. She’s going to help me, because I’ll have to go back to work. I couldn’t get rid of it, though. It’s my baby, isn’t it?’ she said simply. ‘I reckon we’re stuck with each other.’
Anna smiled at her. ‘Just enjoy it. Babies are wonderful, and they grow up so fast. Every stage is different—some are worse than others, but all of them pass. Just remember that when it’s teething or has colic or night terrors or temper tantrums. Everything passes!’
‘Including pregnancy, thank goodness,’ the girl said with a laugh. ‘I’ve been as sick as a parrot for the first few weeks, but now I feel better.’
‘Just one thing,’ Anna warned her as she dropped the last sample in the bag, ‘wear gloves and wash your hands very thoroughly if you handle any cats or dogs or their dirty litter. You can’t risk getting toxoplasmosis during your pregnancy.’
‘Right. I’ll be careful—I had heard about it, but it’s so easy to forget. Thanks.’
Anna called her next patient, and Max stuck his head round the door. ‘Can we have lunch?’ he asked quickly.
‘Sure—what time?’
‘When you’re finished. I haven’t got any calls today.’
She nodded. ‘OK. I’ve got two more patients.’
‘Fine. I’ll wait.’
He blew her a kiss, and she felt a warm glow surround
She sent the last one off with a new dressing, and went out to find Max. He was in the garden, sitting amongst the roses as usual, and she was suddenly glad she’d decided to give him flowers.
He stood up when she went out and smiled at her. ‘Just smell this rose,’ he said, and she stuck her nose right into it and sniffed slowly.
‘Mmm, gorgeous. It’s a Blanc Double de C
oubert,’ she told him. ‘My mother’s got some in her garden.’
He looked wistful for a moment, then his mouth tipped in a lopsided smile. ‘Lunch?’ he suggested.
‘Where?’
‘I thought we could buy some sandwiches in the shop and walk down to the river. I just wanted some fresh air and space, and I’ve got something to ask you.’
Sunday? she thought, but said nothing. They went into the shop and bought some sandwiches and a bottle of Max’s ‘designer’ water, and headed down the hill to the river. There was a mill, and they sat on the bank by the millstream and munched their sandwiches, and Anna waited.
‘Are you busy on Sunday?’ he asked finally, taking the last bite of sandwich.
‘No—why?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s my birthday. My mother always does lunch or something for me. She asked me to ask you and Harry. I think they just want to see him again—she hasn’t stopped talking about him.’
I know, she nearly said, and stopped herself in the nick
‘Oh, leaving here about eleven, I suppose. We want to be in Cambridge by half past twelve, and I don’t want to go like a bat out of hell.’
‘OK.’
‘And on Saturday night, I thought we’d have our own private celebration,’ he said softly, his meaning clear. ‘I thought I might take you out for dinner, then lure you back to my den and have my wicked way with you.’
She smiled. ‘You won’t have to do much luring,’ she assured him.
His mouth tipped in a grin. ‘Is that right, you hussy?’
‘Absolutely. We have to go, we’ll be late. You’ve got an antenatal clinic and I’ve got to stand in for the midwife.’
‘What about tonight?’ he asked, getting to his feet and pulling her up. ‘Are you doing anything?’
‘Visiting my cat,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Want to join us?’
‘Poor old boy. How is he?’
‘Less bored than he would be at home,’ she replied. ‘He’ll live. He’s driving Mum mad, I think. We could go for a walk through the woods, if you like. I know you won’t finish until about six-thirty, but if you come to the farm for supper, we could take a stroll afterwards. Fancy that?’
‘Sounds a bit healthy,’ he said with a grin. ‘Won’t your mother mind?’
‘Not at all,’ she promised, and made a note to ring her mother and warn her so there would be enough to go round. Not that there was any danger that there wouldn’t be. She usually did enough for an army.
‘Yes—she’s progressing well. Her headaches are better, her mind’s much clearer and she’s feeling more like herself all the time, apparently. Let’s just hope it continues.’
They were just turning into the surgery premises when a young lad skidded round the corner on his bike, swerved to miss them and skidded on some loose gravel. The bike flew out from under him, he crashed into the wall and for a second they all froze.
A lorry thundered past, galvanising them all into action. Max ran towards him, with Anna in hot pursuit, and the boy started to get up. Blood poured from his mouth, and he started to shake with reaction.
‘It’s Paul, isn’t it?’ Anna said. ‘Paul Seager?’
He nodded.
‘Are you all right?’ Max asked calmly. ‘Anywhere particular hurt?’
‘Mouth,’ he mumbled, and then he closed his eyes and started to cry.
‘He’s shocked—let’s take him in,’ Max said, and Anna put her arm round his shoulders and steered him towards the door.
‘You picked the right place to fall off, anyway, Paul,’ she said, trying to distract him.
The receptionist did a mild double-take. ‘Good heavens,’ she said, ‘I thought we were busy enough, without you two going out touting for business!’
Max shot her a grin. ‘Just hold all our patients for a few minutes, could you? We want to make sure there’s no harm done.’
Anna pushed the door open, led Paul through the waiting room and said to Max, ‘Your place or mine?’
One brow arched eloquently, but he managed to keep a straight face. ‘Yours. You’ve got all the equipment.’
She stifled a laugh. They went into her treatment room and laid the young man down on the couch, and Anna covered him with a blanket while Max washed his hands and snapped on some gloves.
‘Right,’ he said kindly, ‘let’s take a look at you, Paul. What have you done to your mouth?’
He opened it carefully, and Max turned back his top lip and found a nasty puncture wound. Two of his teeth were broken, just chipped at the bottom edge, and Max gently but thoroughly checked the wound in his lip to make sure that there were no fragments of teeth left inside.
‘Ow,’ the boy cried, and Max apologised but carried on. Anna held his hand, and when Max was satisfied she wiped his face, gave him a mouthwash and tidied him up.
‘I think your mum’s going to have a bit of a fit,’ she said, looking at the state of his clothes. His trousers were ripped, his shirt was drenched with blood and he’d dripped on his trainers.
‘It’s the holidays,’ Max said with a grin. ‘You’d be safer at school. Right, you need to see the dentist about those teeth, but I don’t think you’ve got an urgent problem. They might be a little bit sensitive to hot and cold for a while, and so will your lip, so be careful to have everything tepid for a bit, OK?’
He nodded.
‘Now, anywhere else hurt? Hands, knees, ankles, elbows?’
‘It was an accident,’ Anna soothed him. ‘Mums only kill when you’ve been stupid. Trust me, I know.’
‘I was being stupid,’ Paul said dolefully. ‘I was going much too fast. I nearly hit you.’
‘Well, if it’s any comfort,’ Max told him, ‘it’s a good job you swerved to avoid us, because if you’d gone straight out into the main road like that, that darned great lorry that came along a moment later would have killed you for sure. Tell your mother that. Is she at home at the moment?’
He nodded, his eyes wide.
‘Well, perhaps if you give Anna all the details, she can ring your mother and tell her all about your accident, and she can come down and collect you, all right? And I’ll make sure your bike’s in out of the road so it doesn’t get nicked.’
It held them up, of course. They worked their way through the antenatal clinic together, Anna weighing mums and checking blood pressures and urine samples, Max feeling the lie of the babies and listening to their heartbeats and asking about problems.
She finished after the antenatal, but he still had a surgery to do, so she left him to it and went to see her mother—hopefully in time before she cooked the supper, because in all the chaos with young Paul Seager she’d forgotten to ring about Max joining them.
‘No problem,’ Sarah said with a smile. ‘It’ll be nice to have him here. Talk to the cat—it’s bored to death.’
So Anna sat on the floor beside the cage and tickled the cat through the bars, and her mother handed her a cup of tea and she told her about the flowers she was planning for
‘I agree,’ her mother said. ‘I’ve got tons, you know that. I always have tons. Just leave me some of the pink stuff for a wedding next week, that’s all.’
Anna laughed. ‘I won’t take that much. I want to be able to carry the darned thing! I thought I’d come and pick them tomorrow morning early and put them in cold water till Saturday. He wants to go out for dinner on Saturday, so I can’t do them on Saturday night.’
She had a moment of doubt. ‘You don’t think he’ll feel I’m being a cheapskate, do you?’ she asked worriedly. ‘Only his mother said he hates anything that lasts, because he thinks it’ll outlast him, and I couldn’t think of anything else apart from food. Perhaps I should have just ordered him a hamper from somewhere really smart.’
‘And spent hundreds of pounds? Don’t be silly,’ her mother told her. ‘Anyway, he’ll love them. Men never get flowers, and it’s such a shame.’
Thus encouraged, she took Max on a tour of the flower garde
n later that evening, and made a mental note of the flowers he particularly loved, then the following morning she cut them and put them up to their necks in cold water in the scullery, and on Saturday she made some excuse about the cat and arranged them in her big wicker basket.
‘Oh, darling, they’re lovely,’ her mother said, going all misty-eyed.
‘I hope he thinks so. I wonder if I ought to go and get him something else? Chocolates or something? A pen to use for work?’
‘No. Stop fussing, and go. You’ll be late for dinner.’
Her mother smiled sadly. ‘Of course. It’s not for long, after all, is it? Either Max will stay, and you’ll all be together, or…’ She trailed off.
‘Or he’ll go, one way or the other,’ Anna finished softly. ‘I know.’
CHAPTER NINE
ANNA heard her father’s pickup truck stop outside Max’s cottage at seven the next morning. She slipped out of bed without waking him, crept downstairs in his dressing-gown and opened the door.
‘Where do you want them?’ her father asked.
‘On the wood-burner in the sitting room. I’ll open the door.’
She led him silently through, and helped him put the flowers down on the black iron stove. They filled the empty wall above, and looked wonderful.
‘Clever girl,’ her father said, hugging her. ‘Wish him a happy birthday from us. Here’s a bottle of wine for you to share later.’
He handed her a bottle of bubbly, and she kissed him and closed the door softly behind him.
‘Annie?’
She went to the foot of the stairs, the champagne still in her hand. ‘Hi. Did I wake you? Sorry. Someone came to the door.’
‘Have they gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s that?’ he asked, his face a picture.
‘Happy birthday,’ she said softly.
He looked at her, stunned. ‘Are they for me?’
She nodded.
‘From you?’
Again, she nodded.
‘They’re beautiful! Oh, Annie…’ His voice cracked, and he dragged her into his arms and hugged her till she thought her ribs would break. ‘No one’s ever given me flowers before,’ he mumbled into her hair, and after a moment he lifted his head.
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