Country Midwife, Christmas Bride

by Abigail Gordon

  Every time she thought about Pollyanna asking her to get them a baby James’s expression came to mind, and she had to smile. She was bright, didn’t miss a thing, and at almost six years old was just as aware as Jolyon in his deeper-thinking way that the usual procedure for having a baby required a mother.

  When it had come to Pollyanna explaining that they would have a problem regarding that, it ceased to be amusing and Lizzie felt more like weeping. But the only person who could grant them that wish was James and she wondered what he’d said to them after she’d left.

  Whatever it might be it was not her business, and as she went up to bed on Sunday night the only thoughts in her mind were about the days ahead in the maternity centre and the challenge that it was going to be.

  As she made her way there on a crisp Monday morning, carrying the bag that always went with her when on the job, Lizzie could feel her heart beating faster, and it wasn’t just with anticipation.

  Her relationship with James had moved on over the weekend with the unexpected invitation to join him and his children in the park, and she wasn’t as cool as she would like to be about meeting up with him again.

  She wasn’t used to being in that sort of situation and if it hadn’t been for his children it wouldn’t have occurred, yet she wouldn’t have missed it for the world. But from now on she was going to have to adopt a more distant approach to everything that concerned them both, with the exception of the clinic, which came top of her priorities.

  As she walked along the main street towards the surgery there were lots of people about, residents on their way to work, deliveries being made to some of the shops before they opened for the day, and children on their way to the village school with whoever was in charge of them.

  When she looked across the street Pollyanna and Jolyon were amongst them again, trotting along with Jess. James’s small daughter was chattering away to her, but his son, who was gazing around him, saw her and she heard him say, ‘There’s Lizzie!’ Polly and Jess glanced across and the three of them waved enthusiastically.

  It was just a small gesture but as she waved back there was a warm feeling inside her, a feeling of belonging, being accepted into the community, a fitting start to her first day as the village midwife.

  At the same moment that she was letting herself into the clinic James came through the door that connected it to the surgery, and she was relieved to see by his manner that this morning he was purely the doctor. The easy-to-get-on-with, doting father of before had been put on hold.

  Sarah Martin, the young blonde receptionist, was with him and when he’d formally introduced them he said briskly, ‘All good wishes for your first full day, Lizzie. You know where I am if you need me. The staff have a coffee break round about eleven. Sarah will sort out yours and hers, and remember there’s the kitchen next door if you want to use it at lunchtime.’

  She nodded without meeting his glance, focusing on the demands of the day ahead to take her mind off the degree of pleasure she was experiencing in being near him again. Heaven forbid that she should join the list of those who would like to be the second Mrs Bartlett.

  James was observing her keenly and wondering what had happened to the delightful woman who had sat on the grass in the park with the children on either side of her, waiting for him to appear with the ice-cream cornets.

  But, of course, Lizzie had her midwife’s hat on this morning. If he read her mind correctly she would have only one thought in it, the purpose for which she’d come to Willowmere. And that was just how it should be, but it didn’t stop him from experiencing a niggling feeling of disappointment.

  When she’d left them on the Saturday morning he’d told the children, ‘The babies that Lizzie looks after have already got a mummy to love them, Polly. So I’m afraid she can’t give one to us, but one day you might have a baby of your own, and won’t that be lovely?’

  Thankfully that had sent her thoughts off in another direction and all the way home she’d been thinking of names for it.

  There were four mothers with appointments that first morning, each at different stages of their pregnancies and with different questions and concerns. She had seen two of them before when they’d been under her care in Antenatal at St Gabriel’s and now because they lived in Willowmere they were taking advantage of the new facilities.

  Colette Carter, the first one to be seen, was forty-two years old and the owner of a beauty salon in the village. Previously childless, she and her husband, who had a car sales outlet across the way from the post office, had been less than enthusiastic when she’d found she was pregnant.

  They were Willowmere’s leading socialites and wanted to stay that way, but today when Colette put in an appearance Lizzie discovered that everything had changed. They’d felt the first flutters of the baby’s movements and the realisation had transformed the couple’s thinking.

  Because of her age and the pregnancy being sixteen weeks along, she was due to go to St Gabriel’s soon for an amniocentesis to check for any abnormalities in the foetus she was carrying. After Lizzie had checked her blood pressure and listened to the baby’s heartbeat, Colette was anxious to know what was involved in the process.

  ‘Ultrasound scanning is used to show the position of the baby and the placenta,’ Lizzie explained, ‘and then a needle with a syringe on the end is inserted through the wall of the uterus so that a small amount of the amniotic fluid that surrounds the baby can be drawn off to check for any abnormalities.’

  ‘And suppose there are some?’ Colette questioned nervously. ‘What then?’

  ‘You will be told about them and the risks involved to the baby and yourself, and you would need to decide whether to continue with the pregnancy or not.’

  Referring to the patient’s records, Lizzie said, ‘There’s no known history of Down’s syndrome or other genetic disorders in either of your families, but the test is important for your age group as there is an increased risk in women over thirty-five. It’s just a precaution, Colette, so go home and try not to worry.’

  Of the other three patients with appointments, two were local women who already had young families so they’d been through it before and knew the routine. One of them was in the early stages of pregnancy so it was just a matter of blood tests, a urine sample and checking her general health and lifestyle. The other one, whose pregnancy was further advanced, was due for a blood test to assess the functioning of the placenta.

  The last patient due to be seen hadn’t arrived and Lizzie went to ask James if he could shed some light on the absence of Eugenie Cottrell.

  He had just finished morning surgery and was about to set off on his home visits when she appeared, framed in the doorway of his consulting room.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, smiling across at her. ‘How has it gone?’

  ‘Fine, so far,’ she told him. ‘Except that my last appointment hasn’t turned up and I wondered if you’d heard anything from her that might explain it. Does the name Eugenie Cottrell ring a bell?’

  He groaned. ‘She rang just five minutes ago asking for a home visit. I wasn’t aware that she’s pregnant and was booked in to see you, or I would have come across to let you know that she’s got some sort of severe stomach bug. I have her notes here. As one of Willowmere’s more colourful characters Eugenie leads a very full life, with lots of partying and suchlike. She’s an artist and lives in a cottage called The Hovel in woods near Willow Lake. There was a drink problem at one time. It’s to be hoped that it’s sorted if she’s pregnant. Do you want to come with me, or wait until she makes another appointment?’

  ‘I’ll tag along. From the sound of it this woman might need a watchful eye kept on her. Does the name of her property indicate the state of the place?’

  ‘No, not really, it’s just her sense of humour. Eugenie attended the same school as me and was a loose cannon back then.’

  He was picking up his car keys and heading for the forecourt of the practice, and when she’d been next door to get
her bag and told Sarah where she was off to Lizzie joined him with a feeling that it might have been wiser to have made her own way to this patient’s home. But considering that it was in woodland and she didn’t yet know the area very well, it had to be the most sensible thing to do.

  As they passed the lake, sparkling in the midday sun beneath the graceful willow trees, the house that David had renovated with loving care for Laurel and himself came into view and Lizzie said, ‘When are David and Laurel due back from their honeymoon?’

  ‘This coming weekend,’ he replied. ‘They will both be back on the job next week, which will give Ben Allardyce a chance to spend more time with Georgina and baby Arran. He and she had a rough time for a few years after their little boy was drowned. The pain and grief of it separated them, instead of bringing them closer together, and they divorced. But that is all behind them now and they are blissfully happy.’

  ‘So that is another tragic instance of losing someone who was loved a lot,’ she said tonelessly.

  He gave her a quick sideways glance. ‘You mean, like me?’

  ‘Er…yes.’

  In truth she’d been thinking of both of them, but her sorrow was tucked away in a corner of her heart and she didn’t want to bring it out for an airing while she was with James.

  It was clear that in the Willowmere Health Centre of which her project was part, there were two families who had faced up to loss and were getting on with their lives. So why wasn’t she doing the same?

  Maybe meeting James and the Allardyces was what she needed to jolt her out of the half-life that she’d been living for the last three years.

  He was observing her expression and wished he knew what she was thinking. There had to be a reason for Lizzie’s changes of mood. He sensed that something deep within her was the cause of them and wished he knew what it was, but one thing was for sure, he hadn’t known her long enough to ask those kinds of questions.

  They were driving through the woods now along the rough track that led to the cottage called The Hovel, and she said, ‘Aren’t the trees beautiful as the leaves start to turn, James? I just love the colours of autumn.’

  ‘Mmm, me too,’ he agreed, and as a red roof appeared with a smoking chimney perched on it he wished they could spend the afternoon getting to know each other better, instead of fulfilling the function that was part of his life’s blood.

  An unshaven guy with a pleasant face opened the door to them when they arrived and after they’d introduced themselves, said, ‘Eugenie’s upstairs and she has got some bellyache.’

  ‘Lead the way, then,’ James suggested, and the two of them followed him up a narrow winding stairway into a colourful bedroom with purple satin sheets.

  The woman they’d come to see was huddled beneath them, moaning softly, and when she saw them she said, ‘I’ve got the most awful stomach pains, James.’

  ‘Have you been vomiting?’ he asked, as he and Lizzie stationed themselves on either side of the bed.

  ‘No, it’s not that kind of thing, I don’t feel sick, but I’ve got dreadful pains in my stomach.’

  ‘Are you losing blood?’

  ‘Um…a bit,’ she said evasively.

  ‘I’ve Lizzie Carmichael with me,’ he told her. ‘She is the midwife you would have seen if you’d been well enough to keep your appointment this morning. So how long have you been pregnant, Eugenie?’

  ‘I’ve missed four or five times.’

  ‘And so far you’ve had no antenatal care?’

  ‘I was feeling OK. It was Zac downstairs who made me make the appointment at the new place in the village.’

  ‘Is he the father?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We need to get you to hospital,’ James told her after he’d examined her. ‘You could be on the point of miscarrying, and that is the cause of the pains. How long have you been losing blood?’

  ‘Since the middle of the night.’

  ‘I’ve called an ambulance,’ Lizzie said decisively. ‘The sooner we get you to St Gabriel’s the better, Eugenie. I just wish you’d come to us when you knew you were pregnant rather than putting yourself and the baby at risk this way.’

  ‘I know I’ve been stupid,’ the woman lying amongst the satin sheets said, ‘but I get so engrossed in my painting everything else comes second. Will you tell Zac that I might be going to miscarry?’ she begged James.

  He sighed. ‘Yes, if you want me to, but wouldn’t you rather tell him yourself?’

  ‘No. He’ll be upset. I don’t like to see him like that.’ She fixed her gaze on Lizzie. ‘If they can save my baby, will I still be able to come to the centre in the village?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said reassuringly, ‘but first we have to get you into hospital care.’

  The ambulance had been and gone with Eugenie’s devastated partner beside her, and as Lizzie and James drove back the way they had come through the woods she sighed. ‘I hope I wasn’t too hard on her.’

  He glanced over at her. ‘You certainly weren’t happy about our patient not having taken advantage of the care provided for pregnant women. Did I detect a personal note creeping in?’

  ‘Are you just asking or telling me off?’ she enquired.

  ‘I’m not just asking and neither am I telling you off,’ he replied equably. ‘Would you like to tell me about it? You don’t have to.’

  His quiet, nonjudgmental tone crept under Lizzie’s defences. ‘Yes, I was once pregnant and lost my baby. Not because of any lack of care on my part, or that of the NHS, or because of the tricks that nature plays, but it was due to someone’s carelessness, and I’ve had to live with that ever since.’

  ‘And the baby’s father?’

  ‘He isn’t around any more.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘How can you when you don’t know anything about me?’ she said stiffly.

  ‘I know this much. You are top notch at the job, you like my children and they like you, but at this moment you don’t like me much because you think I’m prying into matters that you don’t want to discuss.’

  He was wrong there, she thought. She liked him a lot. Too much for her own good. But it would pass and so would the edgy moment that had come from her sharpness with the woman back there in the woods.

  It was nothing new. She was never envious when she placed a newborn into a loving mother’s arms, but she had to admit Eugenie’s lack of care and attention had hit a raw spot.

  ‘You’re wrong about that,’ she said steadily. ‘How can I not like you when you’ve been so kind to me? Remember the cow episode, and you asking Helen to make breakfast for me, and, top of the list, inviting me to join you in the park.’

  ‘But you don’t like me enough to tell me what it is that drags you down sometimes,’ he said dryly.

  ‘I’ve just told you part of it. As for the rest, I’ve learnt from experience that loving too much, giving one’s heart to someone completely, leaves no defences in times of grief and despair. So I steer clear of that sort of thing and find life a lot easier by doing so.’

  ‘I take it this is about the baby you lost?’

  ‘Some of it, yes.’ There was no way she could tell him that she too had lost a partner in similar circumstances to him, and that instead of facing up to her loss, as he had done, had secreted it away in her heart where it lay like a stone.

  ‘And now can we talk about something else?’ she urged. ‘Eugenie’s paintings, for instance. They were all over the place, weren’t they, and most unusual, like the woman herself. She’s very talented.’

  ‘Mmm, she is,’ he agreed. ‘I have one in my bedroom that she painted of Julie, my wife. Eugenie did it from memory but it’s an incredible likeness.’

  There was nothing she could reply to that. All her photographs of Richard were shut away in a drawer because it hurt too much to look at them. That was the difference between them. James was living in the present, and where was she? Somewhere halfway to limbo?

  They we
re back in the village and as he pulled up in front of the practice he said, ‘It’s lunchtime, Lizzie. Have you anything planned?’

  ‘I’ve brought a sandwich and am going to make tea to go with it in the surgery kitchen.’

  He nodded. ‘Good. I’m going to pop back home. I want to phone my sister in Africa and can sometimes get her about this time, so I’ll have a bite while I’m there and will see you shortly.’

  As they went their separate ways Lizzie thought that her first full morning at the centre had been memorable, to put it mildly. The last thing she’d expected was to be out in the district with James again for a similar reason to the previous occasion, a pregnant patient who might lose her baby.

  When she’d brought Eugenie Cottrell’s records up to date she phoned St Gabriel’s for a second time to ask what was happening with Kirsten.

  She was told that the bleeding had stopped and that the placenta, as it sometimes did, had gone back into place, but that they were keeping the pregnant teenager in for a while longer to make sure that there would be no immediate recurrence of the problem, and after those reassurances she went for her lunch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AS THE week progressed, the new centre was functioning smoothly. Lizzie was delighted when James accepted Olivia Derringham’s offer of assistance for two half-days per week, and was grateful for her input.

  Olivia was pleasant and helpful and thrilled that her husband’s gift to the village was now established and working. She told Lizzie that when she’d been expecting their last child, Georgina Allardyce, who at that time had been Dr Adams, had come out to her several times for various problems associated with the pregnancy, even though the actual birth was to take place in a private hospital.

  ‘The village practice is dear to our hearts,’ she explained. ‘And I’ve been thinking, what about if some time in the future we could offer the mothers who want to have their babies at home a birthing pool, so that they could have the use of it in their own home when the time came, if they so wished? What do you think? Though we are talking about more funding on quite a large scale, so it might have to wait a little while.’