‘No! Far from it! How could you even think that? But we can’t be seen to be lovers.’
She met his eyes levelly. ‘If you think I am going to make a regular practice of sneaking out of your house in the early hours like a character from a bad farce, you have got another think coming. Chris, your daughter likes me. I certainly love her. She has calmed down so much from when you first moved here. How many tantrums has she had recently? None that I know of since I’ve been painting her mural.’
‘I can’t ...’ He lay back, one hand clutching his hair. ‘Faith, I can’t risk it.’
Faith raised herself on one elbow, kissed him hard and then slid swiftly out of the bed before she changed her mind. ‘I was determined never to get involved with anyone again after Mike because I thought I couldn’t take the risk of getting hurt. But I have. I’ve fallen for you. Giving you up now would be all the pain I didn’t want. I really don’t think Molly will be a problem if we take things gently with her. If you are reluctant about our relationship – any relationship – maybe you need to look closer to home. You went though hell with Lorraine – are you sure the problem now isn’t with you not your daughter?’
He stared at her in shock as she dressed. She didn’t waver. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said. ‘If you still want me to come over, that is. There’s only another day or so to do on the mural before it’s finished. Let me know.’
She didn’t look back as she let herself out and walked resolutely from his cottage to hers. It nearly killed her to leave him with such a look of anguish on his face, but she was feeling horribly vulnerable too. She’d broken her own rule, given her heart away again, laid herself open to the possibility of pain. If this all went wrong, the emotional fallout didn’t bear thinking about. Chris had to work his demons out for himself.
* * *
Chris listened to Faith heading rapidly down the stairs, heard her let herself out, pictured her crossing both gardens and unlocking her back door.
Closer to home.
Lorraine had never lived here, but suddenly the bedroom was full of his ex-wife’s presence. Baleful silences. Unfair accusations. Endless, pointless, cyclic arguments with neither of them able to reach the other. He’d been at his wits’ end. Sometimes Lorraine didn’t seem to have moved at all between him going out in the morning and returning at night. At other times her moods would shift by the minute.
And Molly – Molly had been fussed over, hugged, screamed at, ignored. It was no wonder she’d subsequently played up herself.
But his wife had known, deep down, that she needed help. That was the tragedy; that she’d known and wouldn’t let herself admit it. When she’d finally agreed to counselling, Chris had thought they’d turned a corner. Slowly, so slowly, she’d improved. She’d started caring about her appearance again, spent time with Molly. But not with him. She blamed him for her illness, focussed all her feelings of unworthiness and low self-esteem on him, because he had kept going when she hadn’t. So she didn’t want to see him. And as the improvement in her health continued, she didn’t want to see Molly any more either.
Chris sat up, putting his head in his hands. It was full daylight, he realised. The sun had strengthened in the sky while he’d been reliving the nightmare. Could he risk going through that again with another woman? Could he risk compromising Molly’s safety a second time?
But, he realised slowly, listening to the small sounds of Molly waking up in the next room, he hadn’t compromised it the first time. As soon as he recognised that Lorraine’s illness was causing her to neglect their small daughter, he’d booked Molly in at a day nursery, dropping her off and collecting her himself. When he saw how upset Molly was by her mother shouting and screaming at him, he’d taken her to stay with his parents. Maybe it had reinforced Lorraine’s poor self-image, but Molly had been cared for.
And – as Faith had said – his little girl was now a different person. A normal five-year-old. Chris was honest enough to admit that most of the improvement was due to a settled routine and Faith’s sensible pointers on childcare.
So ... so Faith had been right. It was himself he was worried about. His own heart. He had watched a lively, outgoing woman first succumb to depression and then go beyond it, settling to a dull hatred of him. He had promised to stay with her in sickness and in health, but she had rejected him and blamed him for her change. He couldn’t bear that again, either on Molly’s account, or on his own. On the other hand, was he really going to risk throwing away a second chance of happiness because of the worry that Faith might go the same way as Lorraine? His feelings for Faith were already much stronger than he’d ever felt for his ex-wife. The guilt would be too.
‘Come on, Daddy,’ said Molly, clambering on to the bed. ‘You said we could go and see Fairy Maple’s tree after breakfast.’
‘Whose tree?’
Molly sighed and corrected herself. ‘The tree that looks like Fairy Maple’s.’
‘Just you and me?’ asked Chris with the sense of a momentous step being taken. ‘Or shall we ask Faith along too?’
* * *
Monday morning and Faith was in temporary charge of Obs & Gynie. It was odd how different it felt compared to when she had done the same job under Freddie. The department felt different, it had purpose. The first thing Chris would do when he got back from his regional meeting would be to ask for a quick report on the morning’s activities. The first thing Freddie would have done would have been to order lunch.
Faith looked again at the letter on her desk. She had been invited to an interview for the Hadrian’s Wall Obs & Gynie position. It had brought a decision she’d pushed to one side back to the fore. Did she still want to apply? Her head said it would be foolish to back out having got this far. Her heart ... her heart was in a state of enormous indecision. She knew she loved Chris. She might not have said it to his face yet, but her heart knew it perfectly well. She couldn’t have gone to bed with him, couldn’t have given herself to him so completely, without loving him.
But what of him? Faith thought he did love her in return, but if he couldn’t commit, what future did they have? It was five years this week since she’d lost Mike. She’d managed – not well, but adequately – by shutting out emotion, by focussing on her job and her career. She had come to realise in these past weeks that it wasn’t quite enough after all. There was no sense of guilt in her, because Mike would want her to move on and be happy. But whatever she had with Chris must be an equal partnership if they were to take it forward. And if it wasn’t equal ... well, she’d rather get any new heartbreak over now rather than later.
Faith sighed and put the letter back on her in-tray, hating herself for wanting to keep her options open. She and Chris had agreed yesterday to take things gradually. It was a prosaic, if not very passionate, decision and she had the feeling it was chafing with both of them. Considering she had held herself back for five years, she was surprised at how much she wanted instant action now.
Her phone rang. A call to the delivery suite. A community midwife – one of a number attached to GP practices who all fed into Dale Head hospital – had requested the presence of a doctor. Faith hurried along and was pleased to find that the midwife was her sister, Hope. After dealing with the birth, she hugged her and said, ‘Have you got time for lunch?’
‘Of course,’ said Hope cheerfully. ‘I told my patient to time the baby for as near twelve-thirty as possible for that very reason.’
Faith grinned. Hope was very good for her as long as she wasn’t trying to interfere.
‘So,’ said her sister, as they queued up in the canteen. ‘How’s your lovely boss?’
Faith eyed her cautiously. ‘Settling in nicely.’
‘And your handsome neighbour?’
‘Fitting in very well with the village.’
Hope chuckled. ‘Saw you blush. Have you worn my Christmas presents yet?’
Faith felt herself go scarlet. ‘Sometimes I cannot believe I brought you up!’
&n
bsp; Hope blew her a kiss. ‘I’m not going to pry, but if you’d like some more sexy underwear for your birthday, you only have to ask.’
‘Can we talk about something else, please?’
‘I’m only trying to help.’
‘Please don’t,’ replied Faith. ‘Your version of helping is often very embarrassing.’
‘All right, I’ll be good. You remember this primagravida that I’ve got a hunch about?’
‘Yes,’ said Faith. Her sister was an experienced midwife, and Faith knew midwives in particular often developed a sixth sense about what might be wrong, a sense that had no basis in obvious medical facts. There was nothing official she could put on the reports, but she never discounted them. ‘Have you worked out why?’
‘No. Can you come out on a visit with me? I’ve checked with the boss. He says it’s OK.’
‘Sure. Where and when?’
‘First thing Thursday morning at Thwaite Hall farm. Lizzie’s booked in for the hospital for the birth, but the farm is up by Yallendale. It’s so easy to get cut off up there that I’m doing a home assessment at the same time as her normal check-up just in case.’
Faith was dismayed. She and Chris were both off-duty on Thursday. They’d planned to take Molly out for the day to a woodland adventure playground as another doing-things-together day. ‘How early first thing?’
‘It’s my first appointment.’
‘OK. I’ll meet you there.’ That wasn’t too bad. They’d stop on the way and Chris and Molly could wait in the car or perhaps look at the animals in the farmyard if there were any.
* * *
The outing didn’t start propitiously. For a start, it was the anniversary of the day that Faith had heard about Mike’s death five years ago. Try as she might, she couldn’t push aside the memory.
The second reason was Molly. ‘You could have asked Hannah to come with us if you’d wanted, to say thank you for her birthday party,’ said Chris as they were getting into the car.
Molly’s face darkened. ‘Hannah’s stupid. I hate her.’
Faith and Chris looked at each other in alarm. ‘But you were both playing together when I popped in yesterday,’ said Faith.
‘Yes, but then she said her Mummy said you were going to be my new mummy! And you’re not.’ Her voice rose. ‘Not, not, not! I don’t want you to be my mummy. I want you to be my Faith. Hannah’s stupid!’
Faith felt a stab of pain in her chest so sharp she nearly doubled over. Chris was looking equally stricken. She couldn’t dwell on it though. Molly had dissolved into sobbing tears. ‘Hush, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll just be Faith, then. It’s too nice a day for tears. Look, you’re making Panda soggy. Let’s mop you up.’ But inside, her heart was breaking. It had been going so well. Too well.
To get to Thwaite Hall farm they had to drive for four miles up Yallendale along a one-track road that ran along the side of Yallendale Beck. Having recovered from her outburst, Molly was enchanted, seeing fairies in every bend of the water.
‘This is lovely,’ said Chris, glancing across.
‘But lonely,’ said Faith. ‘And it can get cut off if there’s a flash flood and the beck swells.’
When they got to the farm, there was no sign of Hope’s car. Faith frowned, checked the time and then her mobile.
‘No signal,’ she said. ‘The valley must be too narrow.’
A man in his thirties hurried out from the farmhouse door. ‘Dr Taylor?’ he called ‘I’ve just had a phone call from the midwife. She’s been called out to a delivery, but she’d like you to do my wife’s check up, please, and she’ll do the home assessment another day.’
Faith got out of the car. ‘That’s fine. Babies come when they feel like it, don’t they? Oh!’ Peeping out from behind the man was girl of about seven or eight. ‘I thought this was Mrs Thwaite’s first pregnancy?’
‘It is. Lizzie’s my second wife. Alice’s mum passed away three years ago, now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Nay, we’re all right. I’m Dave Thwaite, by the way.’ He looked past her to the car. ‘Would your man and the little lass like to come inside?’
Her man. Faith felt a small glow, followed by a pang. If only she could be sure that was true.
She introduced Chris and Molly and they went inside. Molly was charmed to have a bigger girl to play with. Chris sat down with a farming journal, all dark-haired and green-eyed and gorgeous, keeping a watchful eye on them and leaving the examination to Faith. Just for a moment – as he waved her on – her breathing stopped. It was simple professional trust like that which made her determined to fight for him.
It was obvious right from the start that Lizzie Thwaite was in some discomfort. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve had wretched back pains all night. Put the kettle on, Dave, there’s a love.’
Back pain? Faith noticed Chris’s head come up alertly. ‘Let me see, she said. ‘You’re thirty-six weeks, right?’
‘Thirty-seven, now,’ Lizzie pressed her hand to her back again.
‘How is your general health?’
‘It’s fine. I was a bit worried this morning, because I seemed to have a bit of a show when I passed urine.’ She hissed and moved her hand around to her front.
Faith was having a very strong feeling about this. That ‘show’ could easily have been Lizzie’s waters breaking. And a lot of pregnant women’s contractions manifested themselves as back pain in the early stages. Babies came when they felt like it all right! ‘Let’s get you examined,’ she said. ‘Where is your bedroom? And have you got a clean sheet that you don’t mind getting messy?’
It wasn’t even five minutes later when she leant over the banister. ‘Chris,’ she called. ‘Can you fetch your kit out of the car too? Mrs Thwaite is fully dilated already. We are about to deliver a baby.’
She checked pulse, blood pressure, temperature and then assessed the lie of the baby. All well. ‘The baby seems to be in a bit of a hurry, but from what I can see, it should be a perfectly normal delivery. We’ll have an ambulance on standby as it’s premature, but both Mr Ford and I are Obs and Gynie doctors – bringing babies safely into the world is what we do.’
‘Oh,’ said Lizzie Thwaite faintly. ‘That’s good.’
The poor woman was in shock, and no wonder. One minute she was washing breakfast dishes with three weeks to go before even packing a bag for the hospital, the next minute she was propped up in bed having her first child. A little distraction technique was called for to help her relax.
Dave had already shepherded the two girls upstairs to play with baby toys in the connecting nursery – a plan they both approved of mightily. ‘Your ma’s on her way,’ he said to his wife. ‘Heaven help the local copper if he stops her for speeding.’
‘Is Alice looking forward to her baby brother or sister?’ asked Faith, making conversation.
‘Oh yes,’ said Lizzie. ‘She’s a lovely girl. Going to be a real little mother.’
Chris spoke, his voice diffident. ‘Was it difficult at all, her accepting you?’
Faith went icy cold at the question – and was astonished to see a laughing glance pass between husband and wife!
‘Lizzie’s always kept the farm accounts,’ said Dave, ‘so Alice has known and loved her for years. We were so surprised when she burst into tears on being told Alice was going to be her new mummy.’
Lizzie chuckled. ‘Turned out she thought that meant I might die, because that’s what her real mother did. Funny things, kids, aren’t they?’
Faith’s eyes connected instantly with Chris’s, seeing her own surge of hope reflected in his face. Was that it? Was that why Molly had got so upset? Because she didn’t want Faith to shout and go silent and then disappear like Lorraine had done?
There was no leisure to dwell on it. The time had come for Lizzie to push. She had attended classes, had practised relaxation, she knew exactly what to do. A perfect mum-to-be. Dave supported her at every step.
Faith had been present
at many births. She had early on learnt to push aside the swell of emotion as the head appeared. It was a good thing she was concentrating. So far it had been a perfectly normal – if fast – birth. The head was nearly delivered. A couple of minutes more and ... and ... no! Things weren’t right. It was going badly wrong! The baby’s head had appeared but was moving perhaps half in inch in and out. The face was very red. Faith knew what this was – it was called ‘turtlenecking’. If the baby wasn’t delivered soon, he–– or she–– wouldn’t make it.
Dave Thwaite was gripping his wife’s hand, worry etched on his face. ‘It wasn’t like this with Alice ...’ he muttered anxiously.
Faith glanced up at Lizzie. The woman had sensed everything was not under control. ‘My baby,’ she gasped. ‘Save my baby.’
Faith felt Chris leaning over her and drew strength from his very presence. His hand gripped her shoulder – did he know how hard?
‘A shoulder distocia,’ she said rapidly. ‘The anterior shoulder is impacting on the symphysis pubis, and the baby can’t get out.’
‘First one I’ve seen. You’ve dealt with cases like this before?’
‘Yes. But not many.’
‘You’re the physician in charge, love. I’ll do what you say.’
Faith snapped into high gear, that ‘love’ not impinging on her senses until many hours later. ‘Right. Help me get Lizzie into the McRoberts position, with her knees pushed right into her chest, then you try suprapubic pressure. Rock your hand up and down on her pelvis to try and release the shoulder that’s stuck. It just might work.’
It didn’t. Faith stood ready to take but the body didn’t emerge. Were the baby’s movements getting weaker? She ran through her options at lightning speed. She’d have to cut an episiotomy. Thank God she had her sterile scissors with her. Swiftly, she cut. Lizzie yelled, but Dave held her in a comforting grip, talking her through the pain.
Faith tuned them out. She had to. It was essential to get the baby out quickly, because with the chest compressed in the birth canal it couldn’t breathe. And with a baby half in and half out, the mother’s uterus couldn’t contract to stop bleeding.
The Lakeland Doctor's Decision Page 13