A Single Dad at Heathermere

by Abigail Gordon

  ‘I’m going to have to go to him, Laura, and I hope I get there in time,’ he said sombrely. ‘I don’t want George to die alone. I wish you could come with me but…’

  ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘Someone has to be here for our children, and I am not down as George’s next of kin, so it has to be you. Go to him, Jon, and if he is well enough to take it in, tell him I’m thinking about him. He is a lovely old fellow.’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll ring you if there is any news. Bye for now, Laura. Lock up after me.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I was all set for joining you for the last cuppa of the day.’

  ‘There will be other times,’ she promised as her world righted itself, and off he went into the dark October night.

  He came back the following morning when she was giving the children their breakfast and his expression told her that he had no good news about George.

  ‘He’s gone, Laura,’ he said gravely. ‘George passed away an hour ago.’

  ‘I’m so sorry about that,’ she said sadly.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Yet maybe it was meant. The operation, or its aftermath, could have killed him just the same. At least the old guy isn’t having to cope with that.’

  ‘Did you manage to speak to him before he died?’ she asked.

  ‘We just had a few words before he lost consciousness and you’ll never guess what. George has left his house on the riverbank to me.’

  ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘How kind of him. He must have cared for you very much.’

  ‘I was stunned when he told me. But at the moment there are more important things to think about. George has made me his executor. I’m going to have to arrange the funeral. He was well liked and half the village will be there, but you and I will be the only official mourners. Maybe Mum will have the children.’

  ‘She’ll want to be there herself.’

  ‘So we’ll have to arrange it during school hours.’

  ‘That’s a better idea, and now let me make you some breakfast.’

  ‘I won’t say no to that, and I haven’t forgotten that Abby and Liam have a date with Mischief and Muppet this morning.’

  ‘Aren’t you ready for some sleep? You’ve been up all night.’

  Jon shook his head. ‘No. I’m fine. I wouldn’t want to miss a minute of the riding lesson, and afterwards perhaps we could take a walk by George’s house as a sort of gesture.’

  ‘Do you remember the night Mr Lacey gave us a glass of his elderflower cordial?’ Liam said as the four of them walked in the direction of George’s house beside the river that was dancing along its stony bed.

  ‘Will he see us go past?’ Abby wanted to know.

  ‘No,’ Laura told her gently. ‘Mr Lacey was very sick and didn’t get better.’

  ‘He’s died?’ the two of them questioned, round-eyed.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so,’ Jon told them, and there was silence among the four of them as they walked past the house that now belonged to him.

  George’s funeral was in the late morning of the following Friday, which gave the two doctors time to clear the morning surgery beforehand. Once the waiting room was empty they left Tim to do the house calls while they went to get ready for the funeral and interment in the graveyard adjoining the church.

  Jon had been right when he’d said that everyone from the village who could be there would be, and as he and Laura sat in the one funeral car behind the hearse he was acutely aware that they seemed to be thrown together in every way but the one he so desperately wanted.

  He kept consoling himself with the thought that she must have some feelings for him or she wouldn’t have allowed their present situation to carry on for so long, but he would give anything to know what was really in her mind regarding the two of them.

  Maybe he and Abby ought to move into the cottage on the riverbank, instead of selling it. It would separate the children, but only to a minor degree, and it might bring Laura out from behind the barrier that she was so quick to put up whenever he tried to get close to her.

  But first they were on their way to say goodbye to George and he had a feeling that wherever he was, he would be smiling down on them. He’d been deeply touched when the old man had left him his house. So had his mother. Laura was keeping her feelings to herself. He knew that she was sad that George had died, but guessed she must be wondering where they went from here.

  The service in the packed church was short but very moving, and as they all filed out afterwards in the direction of the graveyard Laura was reminded of her father’s funeral where she’d been the only mourner, with just a smattering of village folk there. It had been a telling reminder that most people got out of life what they put into it.

  She’d never felt so lonely in her life at that time, until across the field that separated her father’s house from Marjorie’s, had come striding the man she hadn’t seen in years, and she’d begun to live again.

  George had been laid to rest and a sombre gathering made their way to the village hall where Jon had arranged for light refreshments to be served by a firm of caterers. Gradually most of those who had come to say their goodbyes filtered away. After a while Laura and Jon decided to do the same, leaving the vicar, his wife and a few of the parishioners still on the premises.

  When they reached the lychgate Jon said, ‘Do you think George would have approved of the arrangements?’

  ‘He would approve of anything that you did,’ she told him. ‘Do you remember what he said about if he’d had a son?’

  ‘Mmm. That kind of compliment doesn’t come one’s way every day.’

  He was opening the gate for her to go through when the vicar’s wife came rushing out of the hall, ‘Ah! Thank goodness you doctors are still here!’ she cried. ‘Katie, the butcher’s wife, who is expecting their second child any time, is having fast contractions all of a sudden. She thinks the baby is coming.’

  ‘What? Now?’ Jon exclaimed as they turned back.

  ‘My waters broke a few moments ago,’ Katie gasped when they reached her side. ‘Then the contractions started and they’re coming fast. I’m not going to have time to get to hospital. I wasn’t long with our first child.’

  Avril hadn’t yet left. She was standing nearby, leaning heavily on her stick, and she remarked dryly, ‘We’ve had the wedding and the funeral. We were only short of the christening.’

  As Katie cried out at the onset of another contraction Laura was phoning the emergency services for an ambulance. Pointing to a low trestle table nearby, Jon said, ‘Can you manage to stretch out on there if I help you? We’ll be able to gauge then just how near the birth is.’

  ‘Yes, but hurry,’ Katie begged as another contraction gripped her.

  They could actually see the baby’s head when they’d managed to ease off the maternity trousers Katie was wearing and Laura said, ‘OK, Katie. It’s all fine. Your child is almost out.’

  ‘I want Jack!’ Katie cried. ‘I can’t have our baby without him being here.’

  ‘I’ll go and fetch him,’ someone said, and ran to where her husband was behind the counter in the shop, as yet unaware that he was about to become a father for the second time.

  ‘Try not to push until I say so,’ Jon advised.

  ‘I need to,’ she cried. ‘I don’t think I can stop myself.’

  ‘Just hold back for a few more seconds and then you can push all you want,’ he urged, and into the hush that had suddenly come over everyone he said, ‘Now, Katie! Push!’

  With a loud agonised cry she obeyed him and as Laura gently guided the baby’s head he was out and howling at the indignity of his coming.

  At the same moment there was the sound of running feet and Jack appeared, still wearing his striped apron and with a string of sausages dangling from his shaking hand. A cheer went up as he dropped to his knees beside his wife and son.

  ‘What are you going to call him?’ someone wanted to know as Jon and Laura dealt with the placenta. Katie looked down in wonder on the red and
wrinkled newcomer. ‘How about George?’ she said. ‘If that’s all right with you, Jack?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ he choked. ‘Today of all days, what better name could we choose?’ Looking down at the sausages that were gently swinging to and fro he went on, ‘Could somebody go to the shop and tell the customer I was serving what’s happened to her sausages?’

  As a second messenger hurried off, the vicar said reverently, ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,’ and no one present had any disagreement with that.

  The ambulance arrived to take Katie, Jack and the baby to the nearest maternity unit, and as Laura held little George in her arms while his mother was taken on board, she was conscious of Jon’s dark hazel gaze on her.

  What was he thinking? she wondered. It was too much to hope that his thoughts were running along the same lines as hers as she tried to imagine what it would be like if they had a child, born out of love, and a brother or sister for Abby and Liam.

  It had been an unforgettable experience the two of them bringing that small mite into the world, Laura was thinking as they walked home afterwards. It was fortunate it had been an uncomplicated birth as they’d had no medical resources to hand. But at least they’d been there to give on-the-spot assistance.

  They were good together in every way but one she told herself. Working harmoniously in the practice. Always on the same wavelength with the children. But when it came to themselves it all became complicated.

  In an hour’s time she would pick the children up from school and Jon would go back to the practice for the afternoon surgery. As if he was thinking the same thoughts, he said whimsically, ‘Would you say that so far this has been a strange day that is now about to revert to normal?’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, I would.’

  ‘Why is it that we are so good at coping with everyone else’s affairs, yet our own never seem to get off the ground?’ he questioned as he’d done once before.

  ‘Maybe it’s because we are pulling in different directions.’

  ‘And what direction are you going in, Laura?’

  ‘I wish I knew,’ she said lightly, as if it was of no consequence. If Jon was in the mood for an in-depth discussion, she wasn’t. It would only bring confusion.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to bring everything out into the open, but as he’d waited this long he wasn’t going to jump in feet first and spoil everything.

  So far Jon still hadn’t shown up for that last drink of the day. He’d been bogged down with the funeral arrangements and sorting out the old man’s affairs, so that it had been late every night when he’d finished what he’d been doing and she’d been asleep.

  But now that George had been laid to rest Jon was feeling more relaxed, and that night, as Laura sat at the kitchen table, drinking a solitary hot chocolate, with a thin cotton robe over her nightdress, he tapped on the door.

  ‘At last!’ he said as she took another mug out of the cupboard. ‘I’ve been sorting out some more of George’s papers, but don’t feel that there is quite the same urgency now that the funeral is over.’

  He’d changed out of the dark suit he’d worn for the funeral into jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, and she saw that there were dark shadows beneath his eyes. It had been a stressful time for Jon since George’s death. He was tired, she thought, unaware that it came from sleepless nights rather than daytime pressures.

  As she observed him Laura was filled with tenderness. He was kind and caring to all he met. Not just to his adored daughter and the mother who was always ready to go the extra mile for him, but to patients and friends as well, and she supposed that she came into that last category.

  Ever since she’d come back to live in the village he had done everything possible to make her happy, except for the one thing that she longed for. Yet she couldn’t blame him for that because he didn’t know the problem existed.

  He was smiling at her over the rim of the mug he was holding, asking for nothing more than a few restful moments of her company before going to bed. The bed that she would so love to share.

  ‘It has been quite a day, hasn’t it?’ he said. ‘Saying goodbye to the old George and being present at the arrival of the new one. That was some lusty infant who came into the world in such a hurry. It’s a satisfying feeling to know that we were there when we were needed, isn’t it? Talk about teamwork!’ He smiled. ‘Because we are a team, aren’t we. Laura?’

  His tone was easy, casual almost, only he knew how much hung on her answer. If it was negative, as it often was when he tried to get closer to her, he was going to do what had been at the back of his mind ever since he’d discovered that George had left him his house.

  He was going to have the place renovated and refurbished and when it was done he and Abby were going to live there. They needed some breathing space, Laura and himself. Time to sort out their priorities. It had been a mistake to suggest her moving into the apartment that was so close to his. For all he knew, she might feel suffocated by him and was putting a brave face on it out of necessity.

  Jon was right up to a point, Laura thought, turning away to avoid meeting his glance, and missing the appeal in it that belied his casual tone. They were a team in every way but one, the one that mattered most of all. When she’d held that tiny baby in her arms she’d been more conscious of it than ever.

  ‘Yes. I suppose we are in some ways,’ she told him mechanically. ‘But then, we always were…in some ways.’

  So that was it, Jon thought soberly. No assurance that they might have a future together. He would get in touch with his solicitor and start the wheels turning with a view to moving into George’s house once it was all signed and sealed.

  The children would still be able to spend lots of time together. He would only be a short distance from the surgery. Abby and Liam could have sleepovers at both places and play by the riverbank as much as they liked, as both were capable swimmers.

  The only thing missing would be the foursomes that included Laura, but he would just have to cope with that. They had been delightful times but of late the pain factor had outweighed the pleasure.

  The following morning Laura sensed withdrawal in him and knew that it had to be from their bedtime conversation, as they’d been at peace with each other before that. Why couldn’t she bend a little, she thought after Jon had gone down to start the morning surgery, instead of being so guarded and on edge every time he started to talk about themselves?

  She had just arrived home from picking the children up from school when Jack the butcher called with his four-year-old daughter Tamsin, and presented her with a leg of lamb, steaks, free-range eggs and a string of sausages that he assured her laughingly were not the ones from the previous day.

  ‘It’s just to show how grateful we are for what you and Jon did for Katie and baby George,’ he said. ‘They’re both doing fine, thanks to you two doctors.

  ‘We’ll be having the christening in a few weeks’ time and would like you both to be godparents, if you will.’

  ‘We’d love to,’ she told him. ‘I’m sure that Jon will be as delighted as I am to be asked.’

  He nodded. ‘Good. We’re on our way to see them now and hopefully they should be home tomorrow. Katie will be delighted to hear that you and Jon are going to be godparents.’

  When Jon came upstairs at six o’clock the lamb was crisping in the oven, and when he commented on the appetising smell, Laura explained that Jack had been round and they’d been invited to be baby George’s godparents.

  ‘And what did you say?’ he asked.

  ‘I accepted for us both. I hope that’s all right with you.’

  His expression brightened. ‘Yes, of course it is. I will be delighted to take on that responsibility.’ Grateful that Jack’s unexpected visit had lightened the atmosphere, Laura went to tell the children about the christening.

  November had come and as the days went past, Jon waited to be told that he was the legal owner of George’s house. A structural survey h
ad shown that the actual building was sound and in good repair, but the inside was desperately in need of a facelift.

  He was hoping that it would be finished in time for Christmas, but had decided that he wasn’t going to move out of the apartment until the new year, as it went without saying that the children would want to be together for Christmas. Just how happy he and Laura were going to be at that special time was another matter, and the outlook wasn’t good.

  They’d been in the habit of discussing most things that affected the four of them in their everyday lives, but on this occasion he was saying nothing regarding what he proposed to do with the property he’d inherited. And Laura hadn’t asked.

  In the midst of all the uncertainty came the christening on a Sunday morning in early November, and as Laura, in her role of godmother, looked down at the baby in her arms, Jon thought that it was a moment similar to when she’d held George only seconds after his birth, and once again he would dearly like to know what was going through her mind.

  Was she thinking that this child was going to be part of a normal family with no undercurrents and past mistakes to haunt his parents? Or was she wishing that she’d been given the chance to have more children? He wished he knew, but the day had yet to dawn when she confided in him.

  It seemed that after losing Freddie to the capricious sea Laura hadn’t had any other physical relationships over the years. It was as if Liam and the elderly doctor she’d worked with in Cornwall had been the only people who’d mattered.

  And here they were again, doing the togetherness thing. To the onlooker united in everything they did, but not quite.

  On a grey Saturday morning Jon was given the deeds and the keys to the house The waiting was over. He couldn’t leave it any longer. He’d kept putting off telling Laura what he was planning to do, hoping that something would occur to make him think again, but it hadn’t.

  Now she would have to know and he wasn’t looking forward to it. But first he wanted to tell Abby about the changes that were about to take place.

  He’d taken her with him to the solicitor’s and when they came out he took her for a milk-shake. As she sat facing him, drinking through a straw, he said gently, ‘You know the house by the river that used to belong to Mr Lacey? Well, it is ours now, Abby. What do you think of that?’