Country Midwife, Christmas Bride
Country Midwife, Christmas Bride
Abigail Gordon
Country Midwife, Christmas Bride
Abigail Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u97cc0e3e-6f54-5ad2-ad62-389f08f2238d)
Title Page (#u252d567f-38f4-5a8f-ae7d-e9a5e14b52d3)
Dear Reader (#u814d9152-572f-5ed7-b7f9-081e88c2cb34)
About the Author (#ub371b5cd-67f9-5b6f-8f66-61608e9a8b61)
Chapter One (#u91acd777-5d4e-51ad-91f7-712826fe4405)
Chapter Two (#uba4bd455-81d5-5ae9-a752-fe48a7e4be17)
Chapter Three (#u337c711b-fe04-540e-a394-1b360fa8ee78)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader
Having been brought up happily enough in a Lancashire mill town, where fields and trees were sparse on the landscape, I now live in the countryside and find much pleasure in the privilege of doing so. It gives me the opportunity to write about village life, with its caring communities and beautiful surroundings.
If you have been following the lives and loves of the doctors and nurses in the Cheshire village of Willow-mere as the seasons come and go, I do hope that you have enjoyed my quartet of books about this close community of caring country folk. Maybe soon we will go back there once again to see what has been happening in Willowmere. For now I hope you enjoy COUNTRY MIDWIFE, CHRISTMAS BRIDE, featuring Dr James Bartlett and new midwife Lizzie Carmichael.
Whatever the future holds for the beautiful village of Willowmere, I wish you all happy reading.
Abigail Gordon
Dear Reader
Having been brought up happily enough in a Lancashire mill town, where fields and trees were sparse on the landscape, I now live in the countryside and find much pleasure in the privilege of doing so. It gives me the opportunity to write about village life, with its caring communities and beautiful surroundings.
If you have been following the lives and loves of the doctors and nurses in the Cheshire village of Willow-mere as the seasons come and go, I do hope that you have enjoyed my quartet of books about this close community of caring country folk. Maybe soon we will go back there once again to see what has been happening in Willowmere. For now I hope you enjoy COUNTRY MIDWIFE, CHRISTMAS BRIDE, featuring Dr James Bartlett and new midwife Lizzie Carmichael.
Whatever the future holds for the beautiful village of Willowmere, I wish you all happy reading.
Abigail Gordon
Abigail Gordon loves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a close-knit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.
CHAPTER ONE
THE first thing Lizzie Carmichael did when she arrived back at the cottage after the wedding was to ease her feet out of the elegant but not very comfortable shoes she’d worn as part of her outfit.
The second was to put the kettle on, and while it was coming to the boil there was something else she needed to do—take stock of the rented property that she’d moved into late the night before.
There’d been no time during the morning as the marriage of her friend Dr David Trelawney to Laurel Maddox, a practice nurse, had been arranged for eleven o’clock and by the time she’d sorted out some breakfast in a strange kitchen and dressed carefully for the special occasion it had been time to present herself at the church in the Cheshire village of Willowmere where the wedding was to take place.
The cottage she was renting had been David’s temporary home while he’d been having an old house beside a beautiful lake renovated for Laurel and himself. He’d only moved into his new home the day before, which had made her arrival a last-minute thing.
The wedding had been a delightful occasion and a pleasant introduction to the surrounding countryside, but Lizzie was in Willowmere to work. She’d transferred from St Gabriel’s, the big hospital in the nearest town where she’d been employed ever since she’d qualified as a midwife, and where she’d got to know David, to take up a position in local health care that she just hadn’t been able to refuse.
She’d been offered the chance to take charge of a new maternity centre that would be functioning in just one week’s time in an annexe adjoining the medical practice on the main street of the village.
It would be a place where local mothers who wanted to have their babies at home would not have to rely on the services of a community midwife from the hospital some miles away, but would receive care before the birth, during the birth and in the sometimes traumatic days afterwards on a more personal level and from a much nearer source, under the supervision of a senior midwife.
The project was being funded by Lord Derringham, a local landowner who was on the board of governors at St Gabriel’s, and it was due to be officially opened on the coming Friday by his wife.
Before then Lizzie would be taking a keen interest in the final arrangements that were being put in place and if necessary introducing ideas of her own, while at the same time getting to know the rest of the staff in the village practice.
The person she was going to be involved with the most was the senior partner at the practice, James Bartlett. She would be answerable to him with regard to any emergencies that occurred either before a birth or during it, and would take his advice as to whether the mother-to-be should be transferred to St Gabriel’s with all speed, or just as a necessary precaution.
He’d been best man at the wedding in the old stone church and before the ceremony had begun she’d introduced herself to him. He’d seemed pleasant enough, but there hadn’t been time to say much under the circumstances and she was hoping that come Monday it would be different.
She’d brought some ideas of her own with her and would be eager to discuss them with him, and at the same time be ready to take note of what he had to say from his point of view. Until then she was going to spend what was left of the weekend getting to know the place that was going to be her home for the foreseeable future.
When she’d been asked if she would take on the responsibility of the new venture she’d agreed without hesitation. Since she’d lost Richard, her husband, in a pile-up on the motorway three years ago and in the horrendous aftermath of the accident had also lost the baby that would have been their firstborn, her job had become the only thing she had left to hold on to and she gave it everything she’d got.
David had also worked at St Gabriel’s, then as a registrar, before deciding to move into rural health care, and she was going to be doing the same.
When he’d mentioned that he would soon be vacating the cottage he was renting in Willowmere to start married life in the house by the lake, she’d got in touch with the letting agents and now here she was. Just across the way was one of the special attractions of the place: a flower-filled peace garden that she’d been told was the pride of the local folk who had paid to have it put there and contributed to its upkeep.
She’d sold their house after Richard and the baby had been taken from her, unable to bear seeing the nursery he’d been working on half-finished, and conscious all the time of the empty half of the bed that would always be there to remind her.
The leafy suburb where they’d lived had been left behind and she’d moved into an apartment near the hospital…and at the same time had bought a single bed.
It had been a modern, impersonal sort of place where she’d eaten and slept, and she would probably have stayed there for ever if the Willowmere position hadn’t come up. Now she’d gone to the other extreme and was renting a small limestone cottage in an idyllic Cheshire village that she hadn’t seen until the night before.
When she’d made the tea and sipped it slowly in her new surroundings, off came the suit she’d worn for the wedding, on went jeans and a sweater, and back went the long fair swathe of her hair into a ponytail as she began to unpack the boxes that held her belongings.
Once that had been accomplished it was time to find a shop as the only food in the place was a loaf she’d brought with her and a packet of cereal, which would have made rather dry eating if she hadn’t noticed a farmer delivering milk to nearby properties and been able to obtain a supply from him. He’d asked if she wanted a regular delivery and she’d been quick to say yes. It would be one less thing to shop for when she was busy at the clinic.
On her way to seek out the shop, or hopefully shops, Lizzie was promising herself that if she should come across a café of some sort she was going to eat there as it was beginning to feel a long time since she’d had food at the wedding reception.
There was something along those lines, she discovered. The atmosphere in the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms was welcoming and the food was excellent. She would be dining there again, she decided as she left the place. As she looked around her, taking in her surroundings, she saw the doctor who’d been best man at the wedding coming towards her with a young child on either side of him. She recognised the twins, a boy and a girl that she’d already seen once that morning in the company of a dark-haired, youngish woman and an elderly lady.
James Bartlett was smiling as they drew level and as she observed the bright-eyed little girl and solemn small boy he said, ‘Hello, Lizzie. You won’t have met my children.’ He placed the palm of his hand on top of each of their small golden heads. ‘Pollyanna and Jolyon.’
‘I saw them at the wedding,’ she told him with an answering smile, ‘but didn’t realise they were yours. I suppose that having your best man’s duties to perform they were with their mother.’
‘We haven’t got a mummy,’ the boy called Jolyon said matter-of-factly. He pulled at the neck of the smart little shirt he’d worn for the wedding. ‘I’m too hot, Daddy.’
‘We’ll be home soon,’ his father told him, ‘and then you can change into your play clothes.’
His sister was looking down at Lizzie’s feet, now encased in comfortable casual shoes, and into the silence that followed his father’s reply she said, ‘Where are your blue shoes?’
James’s smile was fading fast. This is just too embarrassing, he was thinking. He’d only stopped to say a brief hello to Lizzie Carmichael and within seconds Jolyon had told her about the great gap in their lives, and as Pollyanna had a thing about clomping around in Julie’s shoes, no doubt she would ask Lizzie if she could try her shoes on some time.
‘The shoes are at the cottage where I’m living,’ Lizzie told her easily. ‘They were hurting my feet.’
‘I wear my mummy’s shoes and pretend I’m grown up,’ Pollyanna explained.
‘Yes, well,’ her father interrupted gently, ‘perhaps we can talk about that another time, eh, Polly?’ He smiled apologetically at Lizzie. ‘The person you saw with the children was Jess, their nanny, and somewhere nearby would be Helen, my housekeeper. You’ll no doubt get to meet them soon. Willowmere is a very friendly village.’ And with his son tugging to be off and his daughter wanting to linger, he wished Lizzie a brisk goodbye and the trio went on their way.
Lizzie felt embarrassed that she’d been so presumptuous as to take for granted that the slender dark-haired woman she’d seen with the children was their mother. She wondered what had happened, and hoped she hadn’t upset them. It had been an easy enough mistake to make as they’d seemed so content in the woman’s company.
It was out of character, though, as after losing Richard and the baby she never presumed anything, took nothing for granted. If something good happened in her private life it was a bonus, and there hadn’t been many of those over the last few years.
Meeting David and subsequently the lovely Laurel, who’d had her own bridges to build, had been one, and she hoped that one day she might have the pleasure of seeing the young bride at her maternity clinic. But there would be plenty of time for that, and she, Lizzie, would be around for all of it as she intended to settle permanently in Willowmere, circumstances permitting.
She’d been going to ask James about the shops in the village but had been sidetracked by the children, and now as she looked around her Lizzie saw that there was no need to have enquired. They were all there on the main street, one after the other, starting with the post office at one end, an attractive delicatessen next to it, then the usual butcher’s, bakery, greengrocer’s and the rest, all of them with a quaint individuality of their own that set them apart from the usual shopping facilities of the modern age.
As James walked up the drive of Bracken House, his detached property next to the surgery, with the children skipping along in front, he was wishing that his introduction to the latest member of health care in the village had been more dignified.
Theirs was going to be essentially a working relationship and already Polly and Jolly in their innocence had turned it into something less official, and he’d ended up reciting his domestic arrangements as if by some remote chance Lizzie might want to hear them.
She was an unknown quantity and that was how he would like it to stay until Monday morning. Time then to see if the bright star of the maternity unit at St Gabriel’s was going to be the right one for Willowmere and the nearby rural communities.
He was well pleased that home births were being highlighted through the generosity of Lord Derringham, and knew that his lordship would have insisted that his project be properly staffed, and he supposed that what little he’d seen of the newcomer so far was reassuring.
She was in her early thirties, according to the information he’d been given, which made her five or so years younger than himself, and was unattached which he supposed could mean anything. But her having moved into the tiny cottage that David had been renting seemed to indicate that as well as being unattached Lizzie Carmichael lived alone…though he was presuming, of course.
At the opposite side of the surgery there was an annexe built from sturdy local stone, as were most of the buildings in the village, and the new maternity unit was taking shape inside.
The annexe had served various purposes over the years. At one time it had housed James’s sister, Anna, who was now working out in Africa with her husband, Glenn.
After years of separation, they had married in January and were finally living their dream, and James was delighted for them.
The inside of the annexe had now been gutted and the whole structure altered to accommodate the needs of the expectant mothers who would be attending the centre, and now the woman whose calling brought her in touch with other women’s babies all the time had arrived in Willowmere.
When Lizzie went upstairs to bed that night the shoes she’d worn for the wedding were where she’d taken them off. She remembered the interest that James’s little girl had shown in them, which she supposed wasn’t surprising. They had high heels, open, strappy fronts, and were made out of pale blue leather to match the suit she’d been wearing. They’d been an extravagance of the kind that she rarely allowed herself and hadn’t been all that comfortable when it came to wearing them, but to the small Pollyanna they must have seemed quite exciting if she was into putting her small feet into her mother’s old shoes.
It was the evening of what had been a mellow Sunday in September. James had read the children a bedtime story and as their eyelids were beginning to droop he was about to go downstairs for a quiet hour with a new medical journal that he’d been trying to find time to read when through the window on the landing he saw the midwife walking alongside the river that ran behind the house and the practice.
Lizzie was alone and there was a solitariness about her that was so unmistakable that he forgot how he hadn’t wanted to be involved with her out of working hours and he opened the back door of Bracken House and called, ‘Hi, there, it’s a beautiful night. Are you getting used to your new surroundings?’
She halted beside the fast-flowing river as he walked down to his garden gate.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘So far I’m acquainted with Willow Lake because of David and Laurel, have dined in the excellent tea rooms, shopped on the main street, and now I’m exploring the river bank, but not for long as I intend to have an early night. It’s been hectic moving here at the last minute and I want to be on top form for tomorrow.’
‘So you haven’t had anyone to help you with the move?’
‘Er, no,’ she said, seeming mildly surprised at the question. ‘It was no problem, though. I’m used to sorting out my own affairs.’
‘Would you like to come in for a cold drink or a coffee?’
She hesitated for a moment, then said politely, ‘Yes, thank you. It is rather warm. A cold drink would be nice.’
He nodded and opened the gate that gave him access to the river bank, and as he led the way into the house Lizzie was still wishing she could act naturally with this man who was going to be a close colleague in the days and weeks to come.
Maybe it was because he was so impressive to look at, or perhaps she wasn’t as confident as she’d thought she was over her new appointment. Whatever it was, he was giving her the opportunity to get to know him better and she supposed she may as well accept the offer of some light refreshment.
The house, when she went inside, was impressive by anyone’s standards, pleasant, roomy, with children’s clutter in a couple of the rooms. Pointing to doors down a side passage, James said, ‘That is my housekeeper’s domain during the week, a sitting room and bedroom where she can do her own thing. At weekends Helen usually goes home. She has one of the new apartments further along the river bank.’
Lizzie nodded. She was looking around her and thinking that the cottage she was renting would fit into a corner of Bracken House, yet it was big enough for her needs in the solitary life she’d chosen.
He’d gone into the kitchen to get the drinks and while he was there her glance was fixed on a photograph of a smiling raven-haired woman holding a tiny baby in each arm. It had to be the mother, she thought, and the infants had to be the children who had both captivated her and aroused her curiosity the day before.
When James brought a jug of home-made lemonade in, he saw the direction of her gaze but made no comment, and after her wrong assumption when she’d had the nanny down for the mother, Lizzie was not going to risk a repeat of that kind of thing.
‘You will have seen the new centre from the outside, no doubt,’ James said, steering the conversation towards less personal channels. ‘What do you think of it?’
She smiled and he thought she should do it more often. ‘What I’ve seen so far is impressive. I haven’t met Lord Derringham, but from what I’ve heard he isn’t sparing any expense.
‘I’ve also been told that as well as it being a thank-you gesture to the practice for the care that David and Laurel gave to his son when he had an accident up on the moors, his lordship has a young family of his own and is keen to see first-class maternity care in Willowmere and the surrounding villages.’
‘That is correct and the reason why you are here.’
‘Mmm. I’m known as workaholic and I suppose it’s true. Midwifery is the most rewarding of occupations and comes with the responsibility of bringing new life into the world carefully and safely for the sake of the newborn and its mother.’
She finished her drink and was getting up to go, feeling that she’d flown the flag enough for her love of the job. James could have invited her in solely to be hospitable and she’d been going on like someone with a one-track mind, yet wasn’t that what she was? There was nothing else in her life to wrap around with loving care, just the mothers and babies that came and went.
‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said as she stepped into the dusk. ‘Until tomorrow, then?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, until tomorrow.’
As he put out the empty bottles for Bryan Timmins, the farmer who delivered the milk each morning, and then locked up for the night, James was glad that he’d invited Lizzie in for a drink.
He’d been wrong to think that Monday would have been early enough to get to know the newcomer. He’d got a new slant on her in the short time they’d been together and was going to feel more relaxed in her company when they met up again in the morning.
Her devotion to the job was clear to see and would be most welcome, but he was just a bit concerned that it seemed to have such a hold on her, as if there was nothing else that mattered. Yet he could be wrong about that. She could have lots of other interests that she hadn’t mentioned, as during their first conversation of any length Lizzie was hardly going to recite chapter and verse all the things that made up her life. They were her affair and hers alone.
He hadn’t told her he was a widower, had he, though he wasn’t sure why. He made no secret of it in his dealings with either of the sexes, yet with her the words had stuck in his throat, and even if she was the least curious of women, he would expect her to wonder why his children had no mother.
No doubt Lizzie would find out soon enough that he was the most sought-after catch in Willowmere, with lots of experience in dodging the net.
Monday morning came and at Bracken House it was time to get ready for the children’s first day of a new school year. Jess had arrived with her usual promptness and as she gave the children their breakfast and sorted out the new uniforms that went with the new term, Helen was busy in the kitchen, putting together a packed lunch for Jolyon, who didn’t like school dinners.
It was as James came down the stairs, showered and dressed in one of the smart suits that he wore at the practice, that the phone rang. When he picked it up a voice that was beginning to sound familiar spoke in his ear.
‘James, forgive me for bothering you, but you’re the only person I know in this place,’ Lizzie cried frantically. ‘There’s a bull at my kitchen window. I’d left it open and it’s staring at me while it’s munching one of the plants on the window sill. I’ve never been so near one before and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.’
‘It will belong to Bryan Timmins, who delivers your milk,’ he said as he watched Helen put his breakfast on the table. ‘I’ll be right over. Keep the door shut, Lizzie, and I’ll phone Bryan to come and get it while I’m on my way.’
‘Please don’t be long,’ she begged. ‘It’s nearly finished eating the plant and I’m scared what it’s going to do next.’
‘I’m coming,’ he promised, and before the children got wind of it and wanted to come he was striding swiftly down the main street to where the cottage stood beside the peace garden, which he was relieved to see had so far escaped the wanderer’s appetite.
When Lizzie opened the door to him, wrapped in a tightly belted robe with hair hanging limp from the shower, she said anxiously, ‘It’s still there! I don’t know what to do, James!’
‘All right,’ he soothed as he went through to the kitchen. ‘Bryan is on his way. We’ll soon have it back where it belongs.’ He smiled when he saw the unwelcome visitor. ‘It isn’t a bull, Lizzie. She’s just a harmless cow from his dairy herd that has wandered through the broken fence at the bottom of your garden. I’ll point her in the right direction while we’re waiting for Bryan to show up.’
He opened the back door of the cottage, went outside and herded the obedient cow towards the gap in the fence.
As Lizzie watched in complete mortification he stopped and looked down at his feet and she saw that Daisy had left a calling card. James had stepped in a cow pat.
With his expression giving nothing away, he continued herding the intruder towards the field from where it had come, and Lizzie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
What a ghastly beginning to her first day at the village practice, she was thinking. It was almost time to put in an appearance and she was only half-dressed, hadn’t had any breakfast, and her knight in shining armour was going to have to change his trousers, which were spattered around the bottoms, and clean up what looked like a pair of hand-made shoes.
At that moment the farmer appeared and apologised for his animal’s wanderings. ‘Daisy wouldn’t harm you,’ he said. ‘Will you forgive her for the intrusion on to your property if I mend your fence?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed weakly.
On receiving her agreement, he went to take charge of the cow and when James returned to the cottage she said awkwardly, ‘I’ll pay for the dry cleaning and any damage to your shoes.’
‘Forget it,’ he said easily. ‘That’s what country life is all about. I’m going to go and get changed and will be hoping that my breakfast hasn’t dried up in the oven. What about you? Have you eaten?’
‘Not yet, no,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘I’m so sorry for making such a fuss. The thought of being late on my first day at the clinic doesn’t bear thinking about, so I’m going to grab a slice of toast and then get dressed…and thank you for coming to my aid. I don’t usually freak out like that, I can assure you.’
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ he told her, ‘but even a harmless cow can seem menacing when close to. Bye for now, Lizzie,’ he said. He paused with his hand on the latch of the garden gate. ‘Make sure you have a proper breakfast, not just a piece of toast. There’s no rush. The mothers-to-be aren’t queuing up for your services yet, so no need for further panic.’
He’d been smiling as he’d said it, but as she went back inside Lizzie wondered just how much James had meant it. Had he seen the episode with the cow as a confidence crisis on her part? If he had, she would have to remind him that she was here to see babies safely into the world. The animal kingdom was someone else’s responsibility.
Lizzie ignored James’s advice not to skip breakfast and had just a glass of milk before quickly drying her hair and then putting it in a long plait that swung smoothly against her shoulders. It was hardly the height of fashion but was soon done and time was something she hadn’t got if she wasn’t going to be late at the clinic.
Uniform, tights and shoes were soon on, followed by a swift application of make-up, and she was on her way, carrying the case that went everywhere with her when on duty.
She would be hungry before the morning was over, she thought as she hurried along the main street, but it was an important day in her life and she was not going to be late for it.
Every time she thought about the cow at her window her face burned. The animal hadn’t got horns, she should have known it wasn’t a bull, but she would still have felt most uneasy at finding it there.
There were children on the street, all heading for the village school and the first day of term. Ahead of her she could see James’s twins skipping along beside the nanny and she wondered what she did for the rest of the day during term time once she’d seen them safely inside.
When James stepped out of the front door of Bracken House he saw her coming up the street with the brisk grace of a woman who was in charge of her life, and thought whimsically that there was no resemblance to the dishevelled person who’d begged him to come quickly and get rid of her unwelcome visitor earlier that morning.
This was the real Lizzie Carmichael, he thought, dressed in the standard blue uniform of her calling, with hair swept back into a plait of all things and sensible flat shoes on her feet that bore no resemblance to the ones that Polly had admired.
His daughter hadn’t been the only one who had noticed the wedding guest in pale blue elegance.
Though his interest had been only mild curiosity until she’d introduced herself as the person appointed by St Gabriel’s to be in charge of the new maternity clinic. Since then it seemed as if she was everywhere he turned.
‘Well done,’ he said in a low voice when she was near enough to hear him, ‘but you haven’t eaten, have you? You can’t have, there hasn’t been time.’
‘No. I’ve had a glass of milk, though.’
‘I see. So shall we go inside? I’m sure you must be eager to see where you’re going to be working. Once you’ve had a good look round and I’ve introduced you to the surgery staff I suggest you pop across to my place and Helen will make you a pot of tea and a bacon sandwich, or whatever you’re used to at this time of day. I think we can manage without you for half an hour or so.’
Lizzie could feel her colour rising. She wasn’t used to being looked after. He’d already done her one favour with regard to the cow. She was uncomfortably aware that he’d changed his suit, and that his shoes had got back their shine, both chores he could have done without on a Monday morning before he’d had his breakfast. And hadn’t there been just a hint of patronage in his last comment?
But she could hardly refuse the offer in the circumstances and so she said in the same polite tone as on the night before when she’d been invited into his home for a drink, ‘That is very kind. An offer I can’t refuse.’
He nodded. ‘That’s good, then. So shall we start the day? I told the receptionists last week not to make me any appointments for the first hour this morning so that I can be available to show you around, and once that’s done I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the new maternity clinic.
‘You will have your own receptionist. We have four at present, and one of those will be transferred so that your patients can go straight to maternity care without visiting the surgery, unless you decide they need to.
‘Although yours will be a separate unit, a communicating door has been made between the two places to save time and energy, but the only person you will be answerable to in the surgery will be me.’
Lizzie nodded, trying to force the morning’s embarrassing events from her mind. She was determined that from now on James would only see the calm, collected, professional Lizzie Carmichael, and nothing more.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN the door swung open and James stepped back to let her precede him into the building Lizzie knew immediately that she was going to be happy there, not just in the pristine, well-appointed rooms with every facility for antenatal and postnatal care, but in Willowmere itself.
She had found the perfect combination in this pretty Cheshire village where outside late summer was starting to turn the colour of the leaves on the trees and inside was the place where she was going to revel in the role that she’d been asked to play.
There was a waiting room painted in cream, beige and gold, with a honey wool carpet to match. Plenty of comfortable chairs that were not too low for heavily pregnant mothers to rise up from were arranged in rows, and in a corner was a reception desk.
Through a door at the end was a consulting room where she would interview new patients and listen to the problems of those already registered with the clinic.
Next to it there was a room divided into cubicles where she, and James if necessary, would check on the progress of the babies and the general health of the mothers-to-be. It was equipped with scales, a medicine cupboard for on-the-spot medication if needed, and various other items that her practised eye had noted, such as comfy cotton gowns for examination time and disposable sheets, plus a pile of glossy magazines to leaf through while waiting. Through another door were hand washbasins and toilets.
‘So what’s the verdict?’ James asked when she’d observed everything without comment.
‘Wonderful!’ she exclaimed, eyes bright with enthusiasm. ‘It’s so relaxing and clean looking. Who were the brains behind all this?’
‘The hospital hired a firm to do the make-over, but Lady Derringham had the last word on the décor and positioning of the facilities. You will be meeting her on Friday at the official opening.
‘You might have noticed that there hasn’t been room to put in any kitchen space for your needs, but we have that kind of thing in the surgery and you will be welcome to use it whenever you want.’
He was smiling. ‘And now do you think you can drag yourself away while I introduce you to the people on the other side of the communicating door?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, and went to meet Ben Allardyce, a well-known paediatric surgeon, who was standing in for his wife, Georgina, the only female GP in the practice, while she was on maternity leave.
And then there was Gillian, one of the two practice nurses, holding the fort while Laurel was on her honeymoon, and Sarah Martin, a pretty, curvy girl and the youngest of the receptionists, who would be transferring to the new maternity centre.
Elaine Ferguson, the practice manager, came and shook hands and the good feeling that Lizzie had felt when she stepped into the place was still there.
Life without Richard and the child she’d been carrying would have been an empty thing if it hadn’t been for her job, she thought. Maybe here in Willowmere she might find a different kind of solace in friendly folk and delightful surroundings as everyone was making her most welcome.
The one who stood out amongst them the most, however, was the man who was now speaking in a low voice for her ears only. ‘It’s half past nine, my first patient is due any moment. I’m going to take you to Helen for a belated breakfast.’
Lizzie nodded with head averted, afraid to speak in case the tears that were threatening began to roll down her cheeks. She just wasn’t used to this, she thought unevenly. It would be easy to get to like it, and then what?
Loneliness had become a way of life and it was partly her own fault, but it had its advantages. By not ever getting close to anyone again she’d avoided any more pain. So was this beautiful Cheshire village going to make her see life differently? Did she want to be sidetracked into a kind of lifestyle she hadn’t bargained for?
As James’s middle-aged housekeeper plied her with eggs, bacon, hot buttered toast and a pot of tea Helen said chattily, ‘So, my dear, you’re the midwife who is coming to work in the new maternity clinic at the practice.’
‘Yes, that’s me,’ she said, smiling across at her.
‘James is highly delighted at the new arrangement,’ Helen informed her. ‘His life revolves around health care in the village. It comes second only to his love for his children and his sister. I kept house for his parents when he and Anna were young until I went to live in Canada to be with my daughter while her children were small, but now they’re grown up I’ve come back. I was homesick and James needed some help in the house, so here we all are.
‘Jess, their nanny, is also a classroom assistant during term time, which works well as she’s at school the same hours as the children and is available all the time during the holidays.
‘We leave James to it at the weekends to give him some quality time with Polly and Jolly. All those who love him would like to see him married again but he shows no inclination to put anyone in their mother’s place and seems happy enough. But I mustn’t go rambling on, though you’ll find out soon enough that he lost his wife in a car crash when the children were just a few weeks old.’
That was how she’d lost Richard, Lizzie thought. How weird that they should have both lost their partners in similar circumstances. Obviously all Willowmere would know what happened to James’s wife. It was that kind of place.
Not so with her situation. Most of the staff who’d been at St Gabriel’s when her own life had been torn apart had moved on. Any that remained had their own lives to lead, their own peaks and valleys to cope with, and that was how she’d wanted it to stay.
As she made her way back to the practice building, having thanked Helen most sincerely for taking away her hunger pangs, she avoided the surgery and went straight to the clinic. She was still trying to come to terms with what Helen had told her about James. How he was bringing up his children as a single father, and providing a high standard of health care for Willowmere at the same time.
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 reticence, 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.
As he walked home, James was telling himself that he had enough responsibilities in his life without attempting to take on the emotional burden that Lizzie obviously wanted to keep private. She was going to be the right one for the job and that was all that mattered.
It was Friday afternoon and Lady Derringham was about to cut the tape that had been placed across the entrance to the new maternity clinic in front of those assembled for the occasion, which included her husband, the chairman of the primary care trust for the area, dignitaries from St Gabriel’s, and Lizzie and James.
Lizzie could see Emma from the tea rooms at the front of the crowd that had gathered to watch the opening ceremony, and she smiled. Emma had been to see James and her booking-in appointment was arranged for that day.
Shortly she would have her photograph taken as the first patient to attend the clinic. It would be open for business and Lizzie’s feeling of being on the edge of things would disappear.
James was observing her and noting that today she was well and truly in her midwife mode, immaculate in the blue uniform of her calling, hair in the golden plait and eyes bright with the significance of the moment.
As his glance met hers he decided that the other side of her personality that had seemed so solitary and withdrawn must have been a figment of his imagination. She was calm, confident, unfazed by the ceremonial aspect of the gathering…and content.
The scissors had snipped, the tape was cut, and her ladyship was saying, ‘I now declare the Derringham Maternity Clinic well and truly open.’ And as she stepped inside they all trooped in after her.
As James came to stand beside Lizzie he said, ‘You are happy today, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’she replied. ‘More than I’ve been in a long time.’
He nodded. ‘That’s good.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE crowd had gone, the officials from St Gabriel’s had driven off in their cars. Only Lord and Lady Derringham remained and Lizzie was discovering that Olivia Derringham’s interest in the clinic was not going to be a passing thing.
As the person who was going to be in charge she had been expressing her appreciation of the facilities that had been provided and the uplifting design of the place and Olivia said, ‘If you think it would be all right, I’d like to volunteer to come in for a couple of mornings each week to give what assistance I can, even if it is only to make tea, help out the receptionist and perhaps settle the patients in the cubicles as they wait to be seen.’
‘That’s a very kind offer,’ Lizzie told her, slightly taken aback. ‘I’ll speak with James, but I’m sure it would be fine. Most of the time I will be on my own, except for the receptionist who is being transferred from the surgery, and I’m presuming that it will be quite busy, with expectant mothers from surrounding villages transferring to this clinic as well as those from Willowmere. I’ve been told that extra staff will be brought in if needed, but the hospital trust is waiting to see what the workload turns out to be first. So I would much appreciate help from someone like yourself.’
Olivia Derringham nodded and went on to say, ‘I suppose you know that we have donated the clinic as our way of thanking two members of the village practice who I believe are on honeymoon at the moment. I would have liked them to be here, as what they did for our son—you know he had a nasty fall while on a sponsored walk that they were also taking part in—was something that my husband and I won’t forget. But when they made their wedding plans they had no idea that the clinic would be finished so soon and urged us to go ahead with the opening rather than there be any delay, so here we are, and you’ll let me know about helping out then?’
‘Certainly. Thank you for your kind offer of support, Lady Derringham.’
‘Lizzie, the name is Olivia. I was working in a burger bar when I met His Lordship, and now I need to remind my husband, who is deep in conversation with Dr Bartlett, that we need to be home in time for nursery tea.’
‘You look somewhat stunned,’ James commented when they’d gone. ‘What gives?’
‘I don’t know if you would agree to this, James, but Her Ladyship has offered to help in the clinic for a couple of mornings each week.’
He frowned. ‘But she isn’t trained!’
‘Not doing midwifery. She’s volunteered her time to help out in Reception where needed, make tea and coffee, and make sure the patients are comfortable. In other words, she’s offering to be a general dogsbody.’
‘Amazing!’
She laughed. ‘She has no airs and graces. They met in a burger bar, of all places. She worked there. Don’t you think it’s rather romantic? She is a very nice woman. I’m sure we’d get on well.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ he agreed. ‘Well, let me look into this and I’ll let you know shortly.’ Lizzie smiled and he thought how she looked bright-eyed and happy now, but he knew that no matter how he tried to tell himself otherwise, somewhere not too far away was the other Lizzie, subdued and wanting to be left alone. But as he’d told himself several times since they’d met, that was her affair.
‘Until their son’s accident and David and Laurel’s involvement in it, we only saw the Derringhams rarely,’ he explained. ‘This is a new dimension her wanting to help in the clinic, and it is very commendable.’
‘Where do they live?’
‘At Kestrel Court, a large place on the way to the moors. His Lordship owns an estate up there, with grouse shooting and the like. Dennis Quarmby, one of my patients, is his gamekeeper, and the husband of Gillian, the practice nurse, is his estate manager.’ He checked his watch. ‘And now I need to be going. I’ve left Ben Allardyce coping with the late surgery on his own, which is a bit much, but fortunately he doesn’t seem to mind. What are you going to do now the ceremony is over? Wait for Emma to appear?’
‘Yes, I’m expecting her at any moment. She was with those watching and then the photographer approached her. She will know that I’m free now, and then after I’ve tidied up I think I’ll call it a day.’
He was on the point of departure. ‘Yes, do that. Have a nice weekend, Lizzie.’ Hoping that she might pleasantly surprise him, he added, ‘What do you usually do?’
‘A big shop on Saturdays and maybe take in a film. On Sundays I do my laundry and tidy up wherever I’m living at the time.’
He wondered what she meant by ‘living at the time’, but didn’t comment. Had she come from a series of bedsits? But he’d asked enough questions. Any more could be seen as intrusive and as it appeared that she wasn’t interested in how he spent his weekends or, if she was, she clearly wasn’t going to ask, he said goodbye and returned to his patients.
With Emma sitting opposite her, Lizzie was discovering that she was thirty-two years old and, according to the date of her last period, was now eight weeks pregnant.
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Abigail Gordon
Country Midwife, Christmas Bride
Abigail Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u97cc0e3e-6f54-5ad2-ad62-389f08f2238d)
Title Page (#u252d567f-38f4-5a8f-ae7d-e9a5e14b52d3)
Dear Reader (#u814d9152-572f-5ed7-b7f9-081e88c2cb34)
About the Author (#ub371b5cd-67f9-5b6f-8f66-61608e9a8b61)
Chapter One (#u91acd777-5d4e-51ad-91f7-712826fe4405)
Chapter Two (#uba4bd455-81d5-5ae9-a752-fe48a7e4be17)
Chapter Three (#u337c711b-fe04-540e-a394-1b360fa8ee78)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader
Having been brought up happily enough in a Lancashire mill town, where fields and trees were sparse on the landscape, I now live in the countryside and find much pleasure in the privilege of doing so. It gives me the opportunity to write about village life, with its caring communities and beautiful surroundings.
If you have been following the lives and loves of the doctors and nurses in the Cheshire village of Willow-mere as the seasons come and go, I do hope that you have enjoyed my quartet of books about this close community of caring country folk. Maybe soon we will go back there once again to see what has been happening in Willowmere. For now I hope you enjoy COUNTRY MIDWIFE, CHRISTMAS BRIDE, featuring Dr James Bartlett and new midwife Lizzie Carmichael.
Whatever the future holds for the beautiful village of Willowmere, I wish you all happy reading.
Abigail Gordon
Dear Reader
Having been brought up happily enough in a Lancashire mill town, where fields and trees were sparse on the landscape, I now live in the countryside and find much pleasure in the privilege of doing so. It gives me the opportunity to write about village life, with its caring communities and beautiful surroundings.
If you have been following the lives and loves of the doctors and nurses in the Cheshire village of Willow-mere as the seasons come and go, I do hope that you have enjoyed my quartet of books about this close community of caring country folk. Maybe soon we will go back there once again to see what has been happening in Willowmere. For now I hope you enjoy COUNTRY MIDWIFE, CHRISTMAS BRIDE, featuring Dr James Bartlett and new midwife Lizzie Carmichael.
Whatever the future holds for the beautiful village of Willowmere, I wish you all happy reading.
Abigail Gordon
Abigail Gordon loves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a close-knit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.
CHAPTER ONE
THE first thing Lizzie Carmichael did when she arrived back at the cottage after the wedding was to ease her feet out of the elegant but not very comfortable shoes she’d worn as part of her outfit.
The second was to put the kettle on, and while it was coming to the boil there was something else she needed to do—take stock of the rented property that she’d moved into late the night before.
There’d been no time during the morning as the marriage of her friend Dr David Trelawney to Laurel Maddox, a practice nurse, had been arranged for eleven o’clock and by the time she’d sorted out some breakfast in a strange kitchen and dressed carefully for the special occasion it had been time to present herself at the church in the Cheshire village of Willowmere where the wedding was to take place.
The cottage she was renting had been David’s temporary home while he’d been having an old house beside a beautiful lake renovated for Laurel and himself. He’d only moved into his new home the day before, which had made her arrival a last-minute thing.
The wedding had been a delightful occasion and a pleasant introduction to the surrounding countryside, but Lizzie was in Willowmere to work. She’d transferred from St Gabriel’s, the big hospital in the nearest town where she’d been employed ever since she’d qualified as a midwife, and where she’d got to know David, to take up a position in local health care that she just hadn’t been able to refuse.
She’d been offered the chance to take charge of a new maternity centre that would be functioning in just one week’s time in an annexe adjoining the medical practice on the main street of the village.
It would be a place where local mothers who wanted to have their babies at home would not have to rely on the services of a community midwife from the hospital some miles away, but would receive care before the birth, during the birth and in the sometimes traumatic days afterwards on a more personal level and from a much nearer source, under the supervision of a senior midwife.
The project was being funded by Lord Derringham, a local landowner who was on the board of governors at St Gabriel’s, and it was due to be officially opened on the coming Friday by his wife.
Before then Lizzie would be taking a keen interest in the final arrangements that were being put in place and if necessary introducing ideas of her own, while at the same time getting to know the rest of the staff in the village practice.
The person she was going to be involved with the most was the senior partner at the practice, James Bartlett. She would be answerable to him with regard to any emergencies that occurred either before a birth or during it, and would take his advice as to whether the mother-to-be should be transferred to St Gabriel’s with all speed, or just as a necessary precaution.
He’d been best man at the wedding in the old stone church and before the ceremony had begun she’d introduced herself to him. He’d seemed pleasant enough, but there hadn’t been time to say much under the circumstances and she was hoping that come Monday it would be different.
She’d brought some ideas of her own with her and would be eager to discuss them with him, and at the same time be ready to take note of what he had to say from his point of view. Until then she was going to spend what was left of the weekend getting to know the place that was going to be her home for the foreseeable future.
When she’d been asked if she would take on the responsibility of the new venture she’d agreed without hesitation. Since she’d lost Richard, her husband, in a pile-up on the motorway three years ago and in the horrendous aftermath of the accident had also lost the baby that would have been their firstborn, her job had become the only thing she had left to hold on to and she gave it everything she’d got.
David had also worked at St Gabriel’s, then as a registrar, before deciding to move into rural health care, and she was going to be doing the same.
When he’d mentioned that he would soon be vacating the cottage he was renting in Willowmere to start married life in the house by the lake, she’d got in touch with the letting agents and now here she was. Just across the way was one of the special attractions of the place: a flower-filled peace garden that she’d been told was the pride of the local folk who had paid to have it put there and contributed to its upkeep.
She’d sold their house after Richard and the baby had been taken from her, unable to bear seeing the nursery he’d been working on half-finished, and conscious all the time of the empty half of the bed that would always be there to remind her.
The leafy suburb where they’d lived had been left behind and she’d moved into an apartment near the hospital…and at the same time had bought a single bed.
It had been a modern, impersonal sort of place where she’d eaten and slept, and she would probably have stayed there for ever if the Willowmere position hadn’t come up. Now she’d gone to the other extreme and was renting a small limestone cottage in an idyllic Cheshire village that she hadn’t seen until the night before.
When she’d made the tea and sipped it slowly in her new surroundings, off came the suit she’d worn for the wedding, on went jeans and a sweater, and back went the long fair swathe of her hair into a ponytail as she began to unpack the boxes that held her belongings.
Once that had been accomplished it was time to find a shop as the only food in the place was a loaf she’d brought with her and a packet of cereal, which would have made rather dry eating if she hadn’t noticed a farmer delivering milk to nearby properties and been able to obtain a supply from him. He’d asked if she wanted a regular delivery and she’d been quick to say yes. It would be one less thing to shop for when she was busy at the clinic.
On her way to seek out the shop, or hopefully shops, Lizzie was promising herself that if she should come across a café of some sort she was going to eat there as it was beginning to feel a long time since she’d had food at the wedding reception.
There was something along those lines, she discovered. The atmosphere in the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms was welcoming and the food was excellent. She would be dining there again, she decided as she left the place. As she looked around her, taking in her surroundings, she saw the doctor who’d been best man at the wedding coming towards her with a young child on either side of him. She recognised the twins, a boy and a girl that she’d already seen once that morning in the company of a dark-haired, youngish woman and an elderly lady.
James Bartlett was smiling as they drew level and as she observed the bright-eyed little girl and solemn small boy he said, ‘Hello, Lizzie. You won’t have met my children.’ He placed the palm of his hand on top of each of their small golden heads. ‘Pollyanna and Jolyon.’
‘I saw them at the wedding,’ she told him with an answering smile, ‘but didn’t realise they were yours. I suppose that having your best man’s duties to perform they were with their mother.’
‘We haven’t got a mummy,’ the boy called Jolyon said matter-of-factly. He pulled at the neck of the smart little shirt he’d worn for the wedding. ‘I’m too hot, Daddy.’
‘We’ll be home soon,’ his father told him, ‘and then you can change into your play clothes.’
His sister was looking down at Lizzie’s feet, now encased in comfortable casual shoes, and into the silence that followed his father’s reply she said, ‘Where are your blue shoes?’
James’s smile was fading fast. This is just too embarrassing, he was thinking. He’d only stopped to say a brief hello to Lizzie Carmichael and within seconds Jolyon had told her about the great gap in their lives, and as Pollyanna had a thing about clomping around in Julie’s shoes, no doubt she would ask Lizzie if she could try her shoes on some time.
‘The shoes are at the cottage where I’m living,’ Lizzie told her easily. ‘They were hurting my feet.’
‘I wear my mummy’s shoes and pretend I’m grown up,’ Pollyanna explained.
‘Yes, well,’ her father interrupted gently, ‘perhaps we can talk about that another time, eh, Polly?’ He smiled apologetically at Lizzie. ‘The person you saw with the children was Jess, their nanny, and somewhere nearby would be Helen, my housekeeper. You’ll no doubt get to meet them soon. Willowmere is a very friendly village.’ And with his son tugging to be off and his daughter wanting to linger, he wished Lizzie a brisk goodbye and the trio went on their way.
Lizzie felt embarrassed that she’d been so presumptuous as to take for granted that the slender dark-haired woman she’d seen with the children was their mother. She wondered what had happened, and hoped she hadn’t upset them. It had been an easy enough mistake to make as they’d seemed so content in the woman’s company.
It was out of character, though, as after losing Richard and the baby she never presumed anything, took nothing for granted. If something good happened in her private life it was a bonus, and there hadn’t been many of those over the last few years.
Meeting David and subsequently the lovely Laurel, who’d had her own bridges to build, had been one, and she hoped that one day she might have the pleasure of seeing the young bride at her maternity clinic. But there would be plenty of time for that, and she, Lizzie, would be around for all of it as she intended to settle permanently in Willowmere, circumstances permitting.
She’d been going to ask James about the shops in the village but had been sidetracked by the children, and now as she looked around her Lizzie saw that there was no need to have enquired. They were all there on the main street, one after the other, starting with the post office at one end, an attractive delicatessen next to it, then the usual butcher’s, bakery, greengrocer’s and the rest, all of them with a quaint individuality of their own that set them apart from the usual shopping facilities of the modern age.
As James walked up the drive of Bracken House, his detached property next to the surgery, with the children skipping along in front, he was wishing that his introduction to the latest member of health care in the village had been more dignified.
Theirs was going to be essentially a working relationship and already Polly and Jolly in their innocence had turned it into something less official, and he’d ended up reciting his domestic arrangements as if by some remote chance Lizzie might want to hear them.
She was an unknown quantity and that was how he would like it to stay until Monday morning. Time then to see if the bright star of the maternity unit at St Gabriel’s was going to be the right one for Willowmere and the nearby rural communities.
He was well pleased that home births were being highlighted through the generosity of Lord Derringham, and knew that his lordship would have insisted that his project be properly staffed, and he supposed that what little he’d seen of the newcomer so far was reassuring.
She was in her early thirties, according to the information he’d been given, which made her five or so years younger than himself, and was unattached which he supposed could mean anything. But her having moved into the tiny cottage that David had been renting seemed to indicate that as well as being unattached Lizzie Carmichael lived alone…though he was presuming, of course.
At the opposite side of the surgery there was an annexe built from sturdy local stone, as were most of the buildings in the village, and the new maternity unit was taking shape inside.
The annexe had served various purposes over the years. At one time it had housed James’s sister, Anna, who was now working out in Africa with her husband, Glenn.
After years of separation, they had married in January and were finally living their dream, and James was delighted for them.
The inside of the annexe had now been gutted and the whole structure altered to accommodate the needs of the expectant mothers who would be attending the centre, and now the woman whose calling brought her in touch with other women’s babies all the time had arrived in Willowmere.
When Lizzie went upstairs to bed that night the shoes she’d worn for the wedding were where she’d taken them off. She remembered the interest that James’s little girl had shown in them, which she supposed wasn’t surprising. They had high heels, open, strappy fronts, and were made out of pale blue leather to match the suit she’d been wearing. They’d been an extravagance of the kind that she rarely allowed herself and hadn’t been all that comfortable when it came to wearing them, but to the small Pollyanna they must have seemed quite exciting if she was into putting her small feet into her mother’s old shoes.
It was the evening of what had been a mellow Sunday in September. James had read the children a bedtime story and as their eyelids were beginning to droop he was about to go downstairs for a quiet hour with a new medical journal that he’d been trying to find time to read when through the window on the landing he saw the midwife walking alongside the river that ran behind the house and the practice.
Lizzie was alone and there was a solitariness about her that was so unmistakable that he forgot how he hadn’t wanted to be involved with her out of working hours and he opened the back door of Bracken House and called, ‘Hi, there, it’s a beautiful night. Are you getting used to your new surroundings?’
She halted beside the fast-flowing river as he walked down to his garden gate.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘So far I’m acquainted with Willow Lake because of David and Laurel, have dined in the excellent tea rooms, shopped on the main street, and now I’m exploring the river bank, but not for long as I intend to have an early night. It’s been hectic moving here at the last minute and I want to be on top form for tomorrow.’
‘So you haven’t had anyone to help you with the move?’
‘Er, no,’ she said, seeming mildly surprised at the question. ‘It was no problem, though. I’m used to sorting out my own affairs.’
‘Would you like to come in for a cold drink or a coffee?’
She hesitated for a moment, then said politely, ‘Yes, thank you. It is rather warm. A cold drink would be nice.’
He nodded and opened the gate that gave him access to the river bank, and as he led the way into the house Lizzie was still wishing she could act naturally with this man who was going to be a close colleague in the days and weeks to come.
Maybe it was because he was so impressive to look at, or perhaps she wasn’t as confident as she’d thought she was over her new appointment. Whatever it was, he was giving her the opportunity to get to know him better and she supposed she may as well accept the offer of some light refreshment.
The house, when she went inside, was impressive by anyone’s standards, pleasant, roomy, with children’s clutter in a couple of the rooms. Pointing to doors down a side passage, James said, ‘That is my housekeeper’s domain during the week, a sitting room and bedroom where she can do her own thing. At weekends Helen usually goes home. She has one of the new apartments further along the river bank.’
Lizzie nodded. She was looking around her and thinking that the cottage she was renting would fit into a corner of Bracken House, yet it was big enough for her needs in the solitary life she’d chosen.
He’d gone into the kitchen to get the drinks and while he was there her glance was fixed on a photograph of a smiling raven-haired woman holding a tiny baby in each arm. It had to be the mother, she thought, and the infants had to be the children who had both captivated her and aroused her curiosity the day before.
When James brought a jug of home-made lemonade in, he saw the direction of her gaze but made no comment, and after her wrong assumption when she’d had the nanny down for the mother, Lizzie was not going to risk a repeat of that kind of thing.
‘You will have seen the new centre from the outside, no doubt,’ James said, steering the conversation towards less personal channels. ‘What do you think of it?’
She smiled and he thought she should do it more often. ‘What I’ve seen so far is impressive. I haven’t met Lord Derringham, but from what I’ve heard he isn’t sparing any expense.
‘I’ve also been told that as well as it being a thank-you gesture to the practice for the care that David and Laurel gave to his son when he had an accident up on the moors, his lordship has a young family of his own and is keen to see first-class maternity care in Willowmere and the surrounding villages.’
‘That is correct and the reason why you are here.’
‘Mmm. I’m known as workaholic and I suppose it’s true. Midwifery is the most rewarding of occupations and comes with the responsibility of bringing new life into the world carefully and safely for the sake of the newborn and its mother.’
She finished her drink and was getting up to go, feeling that she’d flown the flag enough for her love of the job. James could have invited her in solely to be hospitable and she’d been going on like someone with a one-track mind, yet wasn’t that what she was? There was nothing else in her life to wrap around with loving care, just the mothers and babies that came and went.
‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said as she stepped into the dusk. ‘Until tomorrow, then?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, until tomorrow.’
As he put out the empty bottles for Bryan Timmins, the farmer who delivered the milk each morning, and then locked up for the night, James was glad that he’d invited Lizzie in for a drink.
He’d been wrong to think that Monday would have been early enough to get to know the newcomer. He’d got a new slant on her in the short time they’d been together and was going to feel more relaxed in her company when they met up again in the morning.
Her devotion to the job was clear to see and would be most welcome, but he was just a bit concerned that it seemed to have such a hold on her, as if there was nothing else that mattered. Yet he could be wrong about that. She could have lots of other interests that she hadn’t mentioned, as during their first conversation of any length Lizzie was hardly going to recite chapter and verse all the things that made up her life. They were her affair and hers alone.
He hadn’t told her he was a widower, had he, though he wasn’t sure why. He made no secret of it in his dealings with either of the sexes, yet with her the words had stuck in his throat, and even if she was the least curious of women, he would expect her to wonder why his children had no mother.
No doubt Lizzie would find out soon enough that he was the most sought-after catch in Willowmere, with lots of experience in dodging the net.
Monday morning came and at Bracken House it was time to get ready for the children’s first day of a new school year. Jess had arrived with her usual promptness and as she gave the children their breakfast and sorted out the new uniforms that went with the new term, Helen was busy in the kitchen, putting together a packed lunch for Jolyon, who didn’t like school dinners.
It was as James came down the stairs, showered and dressed in one of the smart suits that he wore at the practice, that the phone rang. When he picked it up a voice that was beginning to sound familiar spoke in his ear.
‘James, forgive me for bothering you, but you’re the only person I know in this place,’ Lizzie cried frantically. ‘There’s a bull at my kitchen window. I’d left it open and it’s staring at me while it’s munching one of the plants on the window sill. I’ve never been so near one before and I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.’
‘It will belong to Bryan Timmins, who delivers your milk,’ he said as he watched Helen put his breakfast on the table. ‘I’ll be right over. Keep the door shut, Lizzie, and I’ll phone Bryan to come and get it while I’m on my way.’
‘Please don’t be long,’ she begged. ‘It’s nearly finished eating the plant and I’m scared what it’s going to do next.’
‘I’m coming,’ he promised, and before the children got wind of it and wanted to come he was striding swiftly down the main street to where the cottage stood beside the peace garden, which he was relieved to see had so far escaped the wanderer’s appetite.
When Lizzie opened the door to him, wrapped in a tightly belted robe with hair hanging limp from the shower, she said anxiously, ‘It’s still there! I don’t know what to do, James!’
‘All right,’ he soothed as he went through to the kitchen. ‘Bryan is on his way. We’ll soon have it back where it belongs.’ He smiled when he saw the unwelcome visitor. ‘It isn’t a bull, Lizzie. She’s just a harmless cow from his dairy herd that has wandered through the broken fence at the bottom of your garden. I’ll point her in the right direction while we’re waiting for Bryan to show up.’
He opened the back door of the cottage, went outside and herded the obedient cow towards the gap in the fence.
As Lizzie watched in complete mortification he stopped and looked down at his feet and she saw that Daisy had left a calling card. James had stepped in a cow pat.
With his expression giving nothing away, he continued herding the intruder towards the field from where it had come, and Lizzie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
What a ghastly beginning to her first day at the village practice, she was thinking. It was almost time to put in an appearance and she was only half-dressed, hadn’t had any breakfast, and her knight in shining armour was going to have to change his trousers, which were spattered around the bottoms, and clean up what looked like a pair of hand-made shoes.
At that moment the farmer appeared and apologised for his animal’s wanderings. ‘Daisy wouldn’t harm you,’ he said. ‘Will you forgive her for the intrusion on to your property if I mend your fence?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed weakly.
On receiving her agreement, he went to take charge of the cow and when James returned to the cottage she said awkwardly, ‘I’ll pay for the dry cleaning and any damage to your shoes.’
‘Forget it,’ he said easily. ‘That’s what country life is all about. I’m going to go and get changed and will be hoping that my breakfast hasn’t dried up in the oven. What about you? Have you eaten?’
‘Not yet, no,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘I’m so sorry for making such a fuss. The thought of being late on my first day at the clinic doesn’t bear thinking about, so I’m going to grab a slice of toast and then get dressed…and thank you for coming to my aid. I don’t usually freak out like that, I can assure you.’
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ he told her, ‘but even a harmless cow can seem menacing when close to. Bye for now, Lizzie,’ he said. He paused with his hand on the latch of the garden gate. ‘Make sure you have a proper breakfast, not just a piece of toast. There’s no rush. The mothers-to-be aren’t queuing up for your services yet, so no need for further panic.’
He’d been smiling as he’d said it, but as she went back inside Lizzie wondered just how much James had meant it. Had he seen the episode with the cow as a confidence crisis on her part? If he had, she would have to remind him that she was here to see babies safely into the world. The animal kingdom was someone else’s responsibility.
Lizzie ignored James’s advice not to skip breakfast and had just a glass of milk before quickly drying her hair and then putting it in a long plait that swung smoothly against her shoulders. It was hardly the height of fashion but was soon done and time was something she hadn’t got if she wasn’t going to be late at the clinic.
Uniform, tights and shoes were soon on, followed by a swift application of make-up, and she was on her way, carrying the case that went everywhere with her when on duty.
She would be hungry before the morning was over, she thought as she hurried along the main street, but it was an important day in her life and she was not going to be late for it.
Every time she thought about the cow at her window her face burned. The animal hadn’t got horns, she should have known it wasn’t a bull, but she would still have felt most uneasy at finding it there.
There were children on the street, all heading for the village school and the first day of term. Ahead of her she could see James’s twins skipping along beside the nanny and she wondered what she did for the rest of the day during term time once she’d seen them safely inside.
When James stepped out of the front door of Bracken House he saw her coming up the street with the brisk grace of a woman who was in charge of her life, and thought whimsically that there was no resemblance to the dishevelled person who’d begged him to come quickly and get rid of her unwelcome visitor earlier that morning.
This was the real Lizzie Carmichael, he thought, dressed in the standard blue uniform of her calling, with hair swept back into a plait of all things and sensible flat shoes on her feet that bore no resemblance to the ones that Polly had admired.
His daughter hadn’t been the only one who had noticed the wedding guest in pale blue elegance.
Though his interest had been only mild curiosity until she’d introduced herself as the person appointed by St Gabriel’s to be in charge of the new maternity clinic. Since then it seemed as if she was everywhere he turned.
‘Well done,’ he said in a low voice when she was near enough to hear him, ‘but you haven’t eaten, have you? You can’t have, there hasn’t been time.’
‘No. I’ve had a glass of milk, though.’
‘I see. So shall we go inside? I’m sure you must be eager to see where you’re going to be working. Once you’ve had a good look round and I’ve introduced you to the surgery staff I suggest you pop across to my place and Helen will make you a pot of tea and a bacon sandwich, or whatever you’re used to at this time of day. I think we can manage without you for half an hour or so.’
Lizzie could feel her colour rising. She wasn’t used to being looked after. He’d already done her one favour with regard to the cow. She was uncomfortably aware that he’d changed his suit, and that his shoes had got back their shine, both chores he could have done without on a Monday morning before he’d had his breakfast. And hadn’t there been just a hint of patronage in his last comment?
But she could hardly refuse the offer in the circumstances and so she said in the same polite tone as on the night before when she’d been invited into his home for a drink, ‘That is very kind. An offer I can’t refuse.’
He nodded. ‘That’s good, then. So shall we start the day? I told the receptionists last week not to make me any appointments for the first hour this morning so that I can be available to show you around, and once that’s done I’ll leave you to get acquainted with the new maternity clinic.
‘You will have your own receptionist. We have four at present, and one of those will be transferred so that your patients can go straight to maternity care without visiting the surgery, unless you decide they need to.
‘Although yours will be a separate unit, a communicating door has been made between the two places to save time and energy, but the only person you will be answerable to in the surgery will be me.’
Lizzie nodded, trying to force the morning’s embarrassing events from her mind. She was determined that from now on James would only see the calm, collected, professional Lizzie Carmichael, and nothing more.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN the door swung open and James stepped back to let her precede him into the building Lizzie knew immediately that she was going to be happy there, not just in the pristine, well-appointed rooms with every facility for antenatal and postnatal care, but in Willowmere itself.
She had found the perfect combination in this pretty Cheshire village where outside late summer was starting to turn the colour of the leaves on the trees and inside was the place where she was going to revel in the role that she’d been asked to play.
There was a waiting room painted in cream, beige and gold, with a honey wool carpet to match. Plenty of comfortable chairs that were not too low for heavily pregnant mothers to rise up from were arranged in rows, and in a corner was a reception desk.
Through a door at the end was a consulting room where she would interview new patients and listen to the problems of those already registered with the clinic.
Next to it there was a room divided into cubicles where she, and James if necessary, would check on the progress of the babies and the general health of the mothers-to-be. It was equipped with scales, a medicine cupboard for on-the-spot medication if needed, and various other items that her practised eye had noted, such as comfy cotton gowns for examination time and disposable sheets, plus a pile of glossy magazines to leaf through while waiting. Through another door were hand washbasins and toilets.
‘So what’s the verdict?’ James asked when she’d observed everything without comment.
‘Wonderful!’ she exclaimed, eyes bright with enthusiasm. ‘It’s so relaxing and clean looking. Who were the brains behind all this?’
‘The hospital hired a firm to do the make-over, but Lady Derringham had the last word on the décor and positioning of the facilities. You will be meeting her on Friday at the official opening.
‘You might have noticed that there hasn’t been room to put in any kitchen space for your needs, but we have that kind of thing in the surgery and you will be welcome to use it whenever you want.’
He was smiling. ‘And now do you think you can drag yourself away while I introduce you to the people on the other side of the communicating door?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, and went to meet Ben Allardyce, a well-known paediatric surgeon, who was standing in for his wife, Georgina, the only female GP in the practice, while she was on maternity leave.
And then there was Gillian, one of the two practice nurses, holding the fort while Laurel was on her honeymoon, and Sarah Martin, a pretty, curvy girl and the youngest of the receptionists, who would be transferring to the new maternity centre.
Elaine Ferguson, the practice manager, came and shook hands and the good feeling that Lizzie had felt when she stepped into the place was still there.
Life without Richard and the child she’d been carrying would have been an empty thing if it hadn’t been for her job, she thought. Maybe here in Willowmere she might find a different kind of solace in friendly folk and delightful surroundings as everyone was making her most welcome.
The one who stood out amongst them the most, however, was the man who was now speaking in a low voice for her ears only. ‘It’s half past nine, my first patient is due any moment. I’m going to take you to Helen for a belated breakfast.’
Lizzie nodded with head averted, afraid to speak in case the tears that were threatening began to roll down her cheeks. She just wasn’t used to this, she thought unevenly. It would be easy to get to like it, and then what?
Loneliness had become a way of life and it was partly her own fault, but it had its advantages. By not ever getting close to anyone again she’d avoided any more pain. So was this beautiful Cheshire village going to make her see life differently? Did she want to be sidetracked into a kind of lifestyle she hadn’t bargained for?
As James’s middle-aged housekeeper plied her with eggs, bacon, hot buttered toast and a pot of tea Helen said chattily, ‘So, my dear, you’re the midwife who is coming to work in the new maternity clinic at the practice.’
‘Yes, that’s me,’ she said, smiling across at her.
‘James is highly delighted at the new arrangement,’ Helen informed her. ‘His life revolves around health care in the village. It comes second only to his love for his children and his sister. I kept house for his parents when he and Anna were young until I went to live in Canada to be with my daughter while her children were small, but now they’re grown up I’ve come back. I was homesick and James needed some help in the house, so here we all are.
‘Jess, their nanny, is also a classroom assistant during term time, which works well as she’s at school the same hours as the children and is available all the time during the holidays.
‘We leave James to it at the weekends to give him some quality time with Polly and Jolly. All those who love him would like to see him married again but he shows no inclination to put anyone in their mother’s place and seems happy enough. But I mustn’t go rambling on, though you’ll find out soon enough that he lost his wife in a car crash when the children were just a few weeks old.’
That was how she’d lost Richard, Lizzie thought. How weird that they should have both lost their partners in similar circumstances. Obviously all Willowmere would know what happened to James’s wife. It was that kind of place.
Not so with her situation. Most of the staff who’d been at St Gabriel’s when her own life had been torn apart had moved on. Any that remained had their own lives to lead, their own peaks and valleys to cope with, and that was how she’d wanted it to stay.
As she made her way back to the practice building, having thanked Helen most sincerely for taking away her hunger pangs, she avoided the surgery and went straight to the clinic. She was still trying to come to terms with what Helen had told her about James. How he was bringing up his children as a single father, and providing a high standard of health care for Willowmere at the same time.
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 reticence, 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.
As he walked home, James was telling himself that he had enough responsibilities in his life without attempting to take on the emotional burden that Lizzie obviously wanted to keep private. She was going to be the right one for the job and that was all that mattered.
It was Friday afternoon and Lady Derringham was about to cut the tape that had been placed across the entrance to the new maternity clinic in front of those assembled for the occasion, which included her husband, the chairman of the primary care trust for the area, dignitaries from St Gabriel’s, and Lizzie and James.
Lizzie could see Emma from the tea rooms at the front of the crowd that had gathered to watch the opening ceremony, and she smiled. Emma had been to see James and her booking-in appointment was arranged for that day.
Shortly she would have her photograph taken as the first patient to attend the clinic. It would be open for business and Lizzie’s feeling of being on the edge of things would disappear.
James was observing her and noting that today she was well and truly in her midwife mode, immaculate in the blue uniform of her calling, hair in the golden plait and eyes bright with the significance of the moment.
As his glance met hers he decided that the other side of her personality that had seemed so solitary and withdrawn must have been a figment of his imagination. She was calm, confident, unfazed by the ceremonial aspect of the gathering…and content.
The scissors had snipped, the tape was cut, and her ladyship was saying, ‘I now declare the Derringham Maternity Clinic well and truly open.’ And as she stepped inside they all trooped in after her.
As James came to stand beside Lizzie he said, ‘You are happy today, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’she replied. ‘More than I’ve been in a long time.’
He nodded. ‘That’s good.’
CHAPTER THREE
THE crowd had gone, the officials from St Gabriel’s had driven off in their cars. Only Lord and Lady Derringham remained and Lizzie was discovering that Olivia Derringham’s interest in the clinic was not going to be a passing thing.
As the person who was going to be in charge she had been expressing her appreciation of the facilities that had been provided and the uplifting design of the place and Olivia said, ‘If you think it would be all right, I’d like to volunteer to come in for a couple of mornings each week to give what assistance I can, even if it is only to make tea, help out the receptionist and perhaps settle the patients in the cubicles as they wait to be seen.’
‘That’s a very kind offer,’ Lizzie told her, slightly taken aback. ‘I’ll speak with James, but I’m sure it would be fine. Most of the time I will be on my own, except for the receptionist who is being transferred from the surgery, and I’m presuming that it will be quite busy, with expectant mothers from surrounding villages transferring to this clinic as well as those from Willowmere. I’ve been told that extra staff will be brought in if needed, but the hospital trust is waiting to see what the workload turns out to be first. So I would much appreciate help from someone like yourself.’
Olivia Derringham nodded and went on to say, ‘I suppose you know that we have donated the clinic as our way of thanking two members of the village practice who I believe are on honeymoon at the moment. I would have liked them to be here, as what they did for our son—you know he had a nasty fall while on a sponsored walk that they were also taking part in—was something that my husband and I won’t forget. But when they made their wedding plans they had no idea that the clinic would be finished so soon and urged us to go ahead with the opening rather than there be any delay, so here we are, and you’ll let me know about helping out then?’
‘Certainly. Thank you for your kind offer of support, Lady Derringham.’
‘Lizzie, the name is Olivia. I was working in a burger bar when I met His Lordship, and now I need to remind my husband, who is deep in conversation with Dr Bartlett, that we need to be home in time for nursery tea.’
‘You look somewhat stunned,’ James commented when they’d gone. ‘What gives?’
‘I don’t know if you would agree to this, James, but Her Ladyship has offered to help in the clinic for a couple of mornings each week.’
He frowned. ‘But she isn’t trained!’
‘Not doing midwifery. She’s volunteered her time to help out in Reception where needed, make tea and coffee, and make sure the patients are comfortable. In other words, she’s offering to be a general dogsbody.’
‘Amazing!’
She laughed. ‘She has no airs and graces. They met in a burger bar, of all places. She worked there. Don’t you think it’s rather romantic? She is a very nice woman. I’m sure we’d get on well.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ he agreed. ‘Well, let me look into this and I’ll let you know shortly.’ Lizzie smiled and he thought how she looked bright-eyed and happy now, but he knew that no matter how he tried to tell himself otherwise, somewhere not too far away was the other Lizzie, subdued and wanting to be left alone. But as he’d told himself several times since they’d met, that was her affair.
‘Until their son’s accident and David and Laurel’s involvement in it, we only saw the Derringhams rarely,’ he explained. ‘This is a new dimension her wanting to help in the clinic, and it is very commendable.’
‘Where do they live?’
‘At Kestrel Court, a large place on the way to the moors. His Lordship owns an estate up there, with grouse shooting and the like. Dennis Quarmby, one of my patients, is his gamekeeper, and the husband of Gillian, the practice nurse, is his estate manager.’ He checked his watch. ‘And now I need to be going. I’ve left Ben Allardyce coping with the late surgery on his own, which is a bit much, but fortunately he doesn’t seem to mind. What are you going to do now the ceremony is over? Wait for Emma to appear?’
‘Yes, I’m expecting her at any moment. She was with those watching and then the photographer approached her. She will know that I’m free now, and then after I’ve tidied up I think I’ll call it a day.’
He was on the point of departure. ‘Yes, do that. Have a nice weekend, Lizzie.’ Hoping that she might pleasantly surprise him, he added, ‘What do you usually do?’
‘A big shop on Saturdays and maybe take in a film. On Sundays I do my laundry and tidy up wherever I’m living at the time.’
He wondered what she meant by ‘living at the time’, but didn’t comment. Had she come from a series of bedsits? But he’d asked enough questions. Any more could be seen as intrusive and as it appeared that she wasn’t interested in how he spent his weekends or, if she was, she clearly wasn’t going to ask, he said goodbye and returned to his patients.
With Emma sitting opposite her, Lizzie was discovering that she was thirty-two years old and, according to the date of her last period, was now eight weeks pregnant.
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Abigail Gordon
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Country Midwife, Christmas Bride, электронная книга автора Abigail Gordon на английском языке, в жанре современные любовные романы