The Villagers

by Gwyn G B

  Not bad, thought Alison, it was certainly right about the beginning of the month but at least things were going to look better. Feeling a little more happy and confident, she began to flick through the articles in the magazine. It was only when she got to an article titled, ‘What makes men like this Attractive?’ that she realised how old the magazine was. David Mellor’s rubber lipped smile oozed out from the pages along with Antonio De Sancha’s star struck eyes. She looked at the front cover, it was four years out of date. Feeling betrayed because it had duped her into a false sense of optimism with its horoscope forecast, she tossed the magazine back on the table. As most of the other magazines appeared just as ancient, she chose instead to sit and study the varied health posters on the walls. ‘Have you taken your folic acid’ or ‘Keeping Baby Safe’ all showed pictures of gleaming squeaky clean babies smiling at their sickly sweet mothers, or straight into the camera with clear angelic eyes. Alison looked around her in the waiting room, reality was a little less enticing. The toddler with the yellow plastic square jammed in his mouth had dribbled all down his chin and onto his t shirt. Another child had obviously just had some chocolate because there were brown stains round her mouth and little sticky finger prints all over her dress. Alison thought how unappealing other peoples’ babies looked, but how much she had adored Sophie and how much she would adore her new one. For the first time, she felt a strong emotional bond to the baby growing inside of her and subconsciously rubbed her stomach just to let it know she cared.

  It would be wonderful having a baby to take care of again. With Sophie she’d loved those first couple of years of helpless dependency, as the tiny baby she’d given birth to grew before her eyes and slowly learnt about the world. Indeed, by the time Alison’s turn came to go into the midwife, she’d really got quite excited about the forthcoming birth for the first time.

  Finding the right consulting room was quite easy, all the different coloured shapes were up on a board in the corridor and little arrow pointed off in the various directions. When Alison finally came to the end of her blue arrow trail, there could be no doubt it was the correct door because a large blue triangle sat right in its middle. She knocked.

  ‘Come in,’ came the voice behind the wooden curtain, it had a slight Scottish accent and Alison thought it sounded familiar. She didn’t have to ponder why for long because as she entered, Mary Leggett’s friendly beaming face greeted her.

  ‘Alison, do come in.’

  ‘Mary I didn’t realise,’ Alison said.

  ‘We all look after our own little patch and that also means I have some midwifery duties too. It’s such a lovely surprise to see you here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Alison replied, but embarrassment got the better of her. At least with a total stranger it would have been easy to skip over the details of who the father was and where he is now, but Mary was bound to know about Charlie as it wouldn’t have escaped the notice of the villagers how often he’d come to visit. Not to mention of course, Margaret St Romaine’s wagging tongue. The problem was how to explain his disappearance. ‘I’m afraid I was a little careless,’ she said attempting to at first cover up her embarrassment.

  ‘You’d be surprised what a big percentage of my parents walk through the door and say that,’ replied Mary, trying to make light and fully aware that Alison was uneasy. ‘You’re under Doctor Metcalfe I see, he’s a good man, you’re in safe hands there.’

  ‘Oh good,’ replied Alison, realising that of course, Mary would be a true professional and anything said in this room would not find itself repeated elsewhere.

  ‘Now, I know you’ve been through this before with little Sophie,’ continued Mary, still trying to relax Alison, ‘so you know I’ve got this huge form to fill in with lots of questions and then I’ll take your blood pressure, a little blood and urine sample, and answer any questions you might have about our local services. No doubt we will do things differently to London.’

  ‘Sure no problem,’ replied Alison. She’d just gone back nearly ten years to her first visit to the midwife when she’d been expecting Sophie. She’d felt so special, like nobody else in the world could have experienced the excitement and wonder she’d been feeling. Of course, besides the fact she knew women had been doing this for centuries, after giving birth in a big hospital she also realised how commonplace it was. There’d been eight of them on her ward, all giving birth within twenty-four hours of each other. At the end of it all though, when she held Sophie for the first time, she still felt special, so lucky, and no impersonal hospital could have ever taken away that feeling.

  Mary fired the questions at her, ‘Are you generally well? Did you have any problems with Sophie’s birth? Any history of genetic illness in either yours or the father’s family?’

  Alison had once again got a little embarrassed at the latter question and rather than saying I don’t know and we’re not talking, or yes the father is a cheating bastard and I hope my child doesn’t inherit those genes, she simply said, ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Home birth or hospital again?’ continued Mary.

  ‘Hospital I think,’ she replied.

  ‘Good, we’ve a lovely little maternity ward here, a bit further down the line we’ll invite you in for a look around. You should get Charlie and Sophie to come along too so they feel a part of it. Will Charlie be at the birth?’

  ‘Er, no, no I don’t think so,’ Alison replied.

  Mary started getting the impression that maybe things weren’t quite right between them. She was more subtle with her future questions.

  Once the little interview was over and the forms filled in, all that remained were the medical checks. Blood pressure came first. Mary pumped up the air band around Alison’s arm until it squeezed her almost hard enough to hurt.

  ‘Perfect, nothing to worry about there,’ Mary said, noting down the result. Then she donned her surgical gloves and took a sterilised needle from its packet, fitting it to a syringe ready to take a sample of blood. She tied a tourniquet around Alison’s arm so that a good vein pumped up in the crease of her elbow.

  Alison looked away as the needle went in, there was only a slight prick, Mary’s experience showed. Some of the younger nurses who had tried on Alison’s arm before had seemed to jab around looking for a vein for ages, bruising her arm. Alison’s sample of life fluid was sucked from her body and then a little pink square plaster placed over the tiny exit hole.

  Finally, all Alison had to do was nip to the ladies and fill the pot Mary had given her. Before she left, Mary asked if she had any questions.

  ‘Not really, except do I have to come to the hospital for my appointments every time?’

  ‘Oh no, not at all, except of course for the scans, but otherwise, I’m quite happy to pop in and see you at home. I’m always doing my rounds so that wouldn’t be difficult. I’ll give you my contact numbers along with this information pack and don’t hesitate to call me if you’ve any problems.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Alison, ‘it was lovely seeing you again, I feel in safe hands.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Mary smiling back.

  Back at home, the excitement was still there. She flicked through her little pack of information. There were the usual basic details on pregnancy and childbirth, sandwiched in between adverts for Mothercare, pushchairs and nipple creams. There were even some sample sachets to try, an advance on ten years ago. It was only when Alison came to a photo of four women, all from the different generations of a family, that she was reminded about the fact she had yet to tell her parents about the news. The photo was an advert for vitamin supplements, but Alison thought she’d probably need more than a few vitamins to persuade her mother not to have a major panic attack when she told her. Valium might be more appropriate in this instance. Maybe she’d just hold fire for a while, choose her moment. She decided that instead, it was time to call Debs and tell her what had happened with Charlie. She was finally ready to talk about it now and she could do with her friend’s
sympathy.

  27

  With Charlie out of their lives, things really did settle down for Alison and Sophie. Sophie was behaving almost normally again, Alison would only call it ‘almost’ because her daughter was still a little edgy about the new baby. She also kept a close eye on Michaela, but was more sympathetic towards the little waif now that she knew how difficult things were at home. Sophie herself stopped rebelling, content in the knowledge that Charlie had gone, along with his Beelzebub replacement and that Martha would soon sort out the baby when it arrived so that it wasn’t able to take her place in her mother’s affections.

  Alison even had a few articles published by some of the national women’s magazines. One was on coping with sudden bereavement and the others about moving from the town to the country, apparently a growing trend. Throughout all this, the new baby was developing well inside of her and by the end of the half term holidays she was just beginning to show a little. They were due to spend the last week of the break at her parents, Alison was certain her mother would notice her condition and besides, it was about time they were told.

  She chose her moment carefully. They were two days into the visit and Sophie was helping her grandad with the garden while Alison and her mother sat in the kitchen shelling peas.

  ‘This takes me back,’ said her mother, looking up just as Alison popped a pea into her mouth, ‘you’re still eating half the peas you shell just like you did when you were a little girl.’

  ‘Half!’ exclaimed Alison, ‘I’m only eating the odd one or two,’ and she happily crunched on a really sweet specimen.

  ‘One or two my foot!’ replied her mother smiling.

  Alison took the plunge, ‘Mum, I’ve got something to tell you.’

  The tone of her voice caused her mother to stop what she was doing.

  ‘Oh no, what is it this time?’

  ‘Well, look, I’m happy and I’m perfectly able to cope and, well… I’m pregnant.’

  Elizabeth Wright looked at her youngest daughter in total disbelief. Alison answered her unspoken questions.

  ‘It’s Charlie’s, I was really careless I know and sure it’s not the way I would have wished things to have turned out with us and everything, but I’m having a baby and that’s that. It’s going to be wonderful having a fresh new life to take care of.’ She stopped.

  Her mother’s look of total shock had turned into a mixture of worry and disapproval. Alison waited for the lecture. She didn’t have long to be kept in suspense because her mother took a deep breath and let rip.

  ‘I can’t believe that you, an intelligent adult, could have been so careless. For God’s sake Alison, haven’t you had enough to cope with? It’s less than a year since you husband was killed and now you tell me you’re having a baby by a man you won’t even talk to anymore. You never did tell me why you two split up. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ replied Alison adamantly, and a little upset with her mother for bringing Phil into the conversation.

  ‘Well then, how are you going to cope? You don’t know anybody in the new place, you’re miles from decent shops and you’re living on your own.’

  ‘Not really, I’ve got Sophie, and Martha has been a huge help. She’s always there if I need her.’

  ‘Martha! She’s an old woman and Sophie is just a child.’

  ‘Yes, but they’re both keen to help and Martha has been great.’

  Alison’s father was even less impressed and after two days of constant nagging from her parents, she decided she couldn’t stand it anymore and left for home earlier than planned. She’d expected them to be surprised and worried but was disappointed that they were so disapproving. It took her mother three days to stew and mull over the news before she rang her to apologise and offer all their support. Alison just accepted graciously, she’d had enough emotional upset for one year and was glad the baby’s existence was out in the open. Now she could tell her friends and family and start collecting all the baby things she’d soon be needing.

  And arrive the baby stuff did. One of Alison’s old University pals, Sandra, had given birth to her third child about eighteen months ago. With three young children to try and control she’d decided that enough was most definitely enough and brought down all her baby clothes, toys and accessories, which she no longer needed - or wanted. She drove a long way to come and see Alison and her new house, but for her it had been worth it. She’d left her husband to mind all three children for the first time on his own and was relishing going home to find him exhausted, half his hair torn out and baby dinner all over the kitchen and himself. She’d already had three panicked phone calls asking for advice. He’d been getting a bit cocky lately about how he had to go out and work at a serious job while his wife stayed at home to look after their children and had an easy time of it. Now though, the boring report his boss had demanded by the end of the week, was forgotten, an insignificance while he sweated over his new responsibility for three young lives.

  Now that Alison had settled into the village a bit more, she started to look into the witchcraft history of the area, it intrigued her. She started off by reading all of Martha’s husband’s books, and then she was hooked. She joined the local library and began to research properly. Focusing on something intellectual helped to keep her mind off her emotional sorrow. She also found out where the names of Martha’s cats originated from during the course of her research. It wasn’t just Beelzebub who’d got links to Satan; Asmodeus and Astarath were both lesser devil’s names and Alison presumed that Martha and John must have got the cats when he’d been writing his books. Martha had confirmed her theory.

  By the time Christmas came around, life at Deepdene was ticking along nicely. Alison was five months into her pregnancy and thought less about Charlie than she had done two months ago. Now he only came into her mind a few times a day and she’d truly resigned herself to the fact that not only was he a cheating bastard, he also obviously didn’t care about his new child because he’d failed to contact her once. She and Sophie had made the decision that as Martha had been so good to them they would invite her to spend Christmas Day with them rather than going to Alison’s parents.

  For Alison and Sophie this wasn’t really a Christmas for celebration. It was their first without Phil and meant that it would soon be one year since he’d been taken from them. Alison found the build-up particularly difficult. She’d been so used to planning everything with him, wrapping Alison’s presents together and deciding on the food and drink. To take her mind off his absence, Alison had thrown herself into making it a wonderful time for Sophie so that she wouldn’t dwell too much on the fact her father was sorely missed.

  She ordered a free range turkey from the butcher’s shop in the village. Collection day was the 23rd December and that’s when she bumped into Margaret St Romaine.

  ‘Alison I haven’t seen you around for ages. Are you coming to the Midnight Mass tomorrow? I got your card thank you, I do hope you received mine.’

  There was no mistaking Margaret. Alison gave her a greeting kiss and then tried to answer all her questions.

  ‘You’re looking very well,’ continued Margaret after Alison had just managed to get in her replies.

  ‘Thank you,’ she’d said, realising Margaret had noticed her slightly rounder than normal figure. She decided it was time that she knew and relished the fact that she felt strong enough to want to actually try and shock her with the news. ‘The baby is due in April,’ she said and watched her face.

  Margaret tried to be subtle and hide her surprise, but she wasn’t quite good enough. The flicker of the right eyebrow and the widening of her eyes gave her away.

  ‘How wonderful,’ she’d spluttered, ‘I’d not realised.’ Alison smiled knowing full well that within the next half hour anybody who was anybody in the village would know about her condition. She’d felt the time was right, poor Mary Leggett had carried the burden of knowledge for months, God Knows what excuse sh
e’d used had anybody seen her visiting Alison’s house.

  ‘Yes April,’ Alison confirmed.

  ‘You must let me know if I can do anything to help anything at all. I presume our Mary is keeping an eye on you.’

  ‘Yes that’s right.’

  ‘Good, she’s a true Christian woman, you’ll be in safe hands. Oh that’s just so exciting, April, I can’t wait.’

  Alison just smiled.

  ‘Well I must dash, so much to organise, but you will be along tomorrow evening I hope, there’s mince pies and mulled wine before the service.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll be there,’ said Alison waving her out of the shop. Then she turned to see Rob the butcher heaving a rather large turkey onto his counter top with a piece of paper sellotaped to it bearing her name.

  ‘Well I guess I’d better help you get this into the car then!’ he’d said smiling back in reference to her news.

  Martha declined to go to Church with them on Christmas Eve, and luckily so too had Sally Davidson. Alison hadn’t seen her since she and Charlie split up and was relieved not to have to be reminded of the whole sordid course of events. Most of the villagers went, except for Michaela’s father, Neil Best and Harding, and it turned out to be a really lovely evening. Alison and Sophie were made to feel very welcome by everyone and the atmosphere was one of cosy friendship and love - just what Christmas should be like.

  Come 7am the next morning, the commercial side of the festivities received a boost as Sophie woke up early, too excited about the prospect of her presents to be able to sleep any longer. She ran into Alison’s bedroom to wake her up and then the two of them carried her big pillowcase full of Father Christmas presents down to the tree in the sitting room. They sat there by the fake log fire with the fairy lights on and a Christmas hits tape playing in the background.