‘I bet Poppy will refuse to go to big school now,’ I say.
‘Yeah, she’ll want to stay at home with Sherbet. Ugh, what a silly name.’ Lewis wrinkles his nose.
‘She won’t change it. Murray’s already tried to persuade her to call it something macho like Rocky or Arnie.’
‘That’s so wrong,’ Lewis says. ‘The way he minces along, he looks like a girl.’
‘What, Murray?’ I say, teasing.
‘No, the dog.’ Lewis glances towards me. ‘You’re winding me up.’
‘Maybe a little.’ I let go of his arm and run after Poppy. Lewis chases behind me and overtakes, reaching my niece just before I do.
‘Shall we put your new pet through his paces, Pops?’ he asks, squatting so he’s at her level. She frowns, and sticks her thumb in her mouth while still holding the lead. ‘Let’s pretend he’s at dog big school and find out what he knows.’
‘How?’ she murmurs.
‘Ask him to sit, like you do with Mick and Miley.’
‘Sit!’ she says, gazing at the dog; he looks up, his brown eyes showing a crescent of white beneath them. ‘Sit,’ she repeats, at which Sherbet plonks his bottom straight down. ‘Good boy,’ she says excitedly.
‘He knows that command,’ Lewis says. ‘How about “down”?’
‘Down,’ Poppy says, holding out her hand.
Sherbet throws himself down and rolls over, exposing his naked belly.
‘He’s a star, isn’t he?’ I observe, feeling a little inadequate on Frosty’s behalf. Why can’t my dog do that? ‘I wonder what other tricks he can do.’
He can bark to order and offer his paw.
‘He should join Mensa,’ Lewis says. ‘He’s almost as smart as Mick and Miley.’
‘Do I detect the voice of a competitive dad?’ I say, amused, until almost immediately I realise what I’ve said. Inwardly, I cringe. How can I deny him the chance of being a proper father when he’s clearly made to be one? I only have to see him with Poppy to realise that he’s a natural. Knowing that I can never provide him with a child is acutely painful – in fact, right now it’s killing me.
Apparently unaware of my inner turmoil, Lewis smiles and changes the subject. ‘How’s Rosemary?’
‘Gran’s okay. At least, she was when I left her this afternoon. It’s all right. James did a shift in the shop after school – it’s his mum’s birthday soon and he’s keen to have the money.’
‘It’s a help, but it isn’t really the answer, is it?’
‘I know . . .’
‘I understand your loyalty, but you are wrong about what’s best for her.’
‘Have you been talking to Emily?’ I say suspiciously.
‘The subject has come up, but that’s irrelevant. Your grandmother needs care in a professional setting. It’s like you asking me to deliver a baby. I’d have an idea of what I’m doing, but it wouldn’t be the same as having a qualified midwife present.’
Inside, my stomach is churning, but I let my expression go blank as he continues, ‘You can’t be with her full time. It isn’t practical. You can’t afford to give up your job—’
‘I will if I have to,’ I interrupt.
‘Trust me, if you were stuck indoors twenty-four/seven, having to watch over someone all the time in case they leave the gas on or put the cat through a hot wash, you’d crack up sooner or later. You know she’s going to get worse. She’s gone downhill since I first met her.’
‘What you say makes sense, but—’
‘All I’m saying – borrowing one of Rosemary’s phrases to summarise – is don’t let your heart rule your head.’ He looks ahead to where Poppy is trying to drag Sherbet away from a tuft of grass where he’s having a good sniff.
‘Let’s take Sherbet back to the house,’ Lewis says when we catch up with my niece and the dog. ‘I expect he’ll want his dinner. You did buy him some food, didn’t you, Zara?’
‘Actually, we haven’t got that far yet.’
‘It’s all right,’ Lewis says quickly, as Poppy’s face starts to crumple at the thought of her pet being half starved. ‘I have plenty of dog food and dog biscuits and chews.’
That’s my man, I think. Lewis always saves the day.
Later, we feed all four dogs, separately, of course. Although Frosty and Miley tolerate each other now, there’s no point in taking a risk. After that, Emily invites me and Lewis to join her, Murray and the girls for tea before we return to the annexe together.
‘Are you staying over tonight?’ Lewis asks as he turns the lights on.
‘I won’t,’ I say reluctantly. ‘I’m going to the hospital for a delivery first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Why? I thought you did home deliveries.’
‘I do attend hospital births sometimes. It’s nice to be able to be there, especially when you’ve met the mum-to-be on several occasions throughout the pregnancy, or she’s a friend. You get pretty close.’
‘I see.’ He smiles wryly.
‘It’s Tessa,’ I explain. ‘That part’s common knowledge, that her baby’s being delivered, but I can’t go into detail.’
‘I hope it goes well,’ Lewis says.
‘By this time tomorrow, they’ll be a proper family.’
‘There are many different kinds of families . . .’ I look up at him, but he’s looking over my shoulder as he speaks. ‘Couples like us with dogs instead of kids, for example.’
The wistful tone of his voice chokes me. I step up close to him and spread my palm across his chest, rumpling the material across the hard, slab-like muscle of his pectorals, keeping my eyes averted to hide my distress. I want him so much, yet how can I let him sacrifice his future happiness for me? It isn’t right, but he’s being so sweet and loving that I can’t bring myself to talk about the decision that is crystallising from the confusion in my mind. It’s breaking my heart.
Lewis grasps my wrist and leans in for a kiss. ‘Hey, let’s make the most of the next hour or so.’
‘Actually, I think I’d better be going.’
‘Are you sure?’ He sounds disappointed. ‘Are you okay? You’ve gone very quiet.’
‘I have a lot on my mind.’ I know it isn’t fair, but I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not strong enough.
‘Tessa’s baby – it’s all right, I know you can’t tell me, but there’s obviously something very wrong. You go and get some sleep. I’ll be fine here with a beer and a couple of old episodes of Top Gear.’ He accompanies me and Frosty to my car where we kiss goodbye.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow night,’ he calls, waving as I drive past him.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ I call back guiltily.
It’s lucky I return home when I do, because I find Gran wandering about in the kitchen, dressed in her nightie and carrying the watering can from the garden. The hob is immaculate and the breadbin is firmly shut, just as I left them. Norris is prowling up and down on the kitchen table, mewling for his dinner.
‘What are you doing with that?’ I ask her as Frosty greets her by licking her bony knees.
‘I don’t think your granddad watered the begonias so I thought I’d do it and now I can’t find them.’
‘That’s because we don’t have any begonias,’ I point out gently, ‘and, if we had, they’d be outside in the tubs.’ I’m not sure I’d recognise a begonia anyway – I’m not good at flowers.
‘Granddad grows them every year. He’ll be very upset if he finds out I haven’t looked after them. He’s very ill, you know.’ My grandmother touches her chest. ‘It’s his heart.’
I am puzzled.
‘Granddad isn’t ill. He’s. . . .’I can’t bring myself to say it, which is a mistake because Gran misinterprets the situation and her eyes light up.
‘You mean, he’s getting better?’
‘No, I’m so sorry, he’s dead.’ My heart tears in two as I watch how her expression changes, flicking through distress, recognition and a sudden lack of interest.
‘Of course, he’s d
ead. What did you think I meant?’
‘You said he was ill,’ I say gently.
‘He was. Before he died, he was very unwell. Dr Mackie said so.’ Gran hesitates. ‘Where have you been, you dirty stop-out?’
‘I’ve been out with Emily today to choose a pet for Poppy. We’ve got her a sausage dog. You’ll love him when you see him.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Eight thirty. Have you had anything to eat today?’
‘I had some bubble and squeak with an egg for tea,’ she says, but I don’t believe her. I think she’s covering for herself. If she can’t remember to eat, how on earth can she manage the shop? ‘James came round after school – he gave me a hand with the reckoning up.’
‘With the till, you mean?’
‘Yes,’ she sighs. ‘Are you being awkward? All these questions are making my head hurt.’
‘Never mind, I expect you’re tired. Let me have the watering can. I’ll feed the cat and make us cheese on toast.’ I ate at Emily’s so I don’t need food, but I’m hungry and sad and I could do with some comfort slathered with tomato ketchup.
That night, I dream – thanks to the slabs of molten cheddar on toast, I suspect – of dogs and Gran, of babies and Lewis, but the next morning I, wake, focused on being present to support Tessa and Jack when they welcome their son into the world.
I am there when Tessa is given an epidural in preparation for the C-section. I stand at one side of her, holding her hand, while Jack holds the other.
‘That’s it,’ I tell her. ‘Keep very still.’
‘All done,’ the anaesthetist says eventually. ‘You can lie down on your side now.’
Tessa groans as she changes position. ‘That feels so weird.’
Jack moves aside and stands with his arms crossed, staring at the floor.
‘You’ll be able to go to theatre soon,’ I say. ‘You’ll be awake throughout the procedure and, as soon as the baby’s delivered, you can have skin-to-skin contact, depending on his condition.’
The corners of Tessa’s mouth turn down and she begins to shiver. She’s petrified. I stroke her shoulder, looking for Jack.
‘Even the healthiest babies can have a slow start,’ I go on. ‘Sometimes they take a while to take their first breath. We know your baby has a hole in his heart, so everyone’s prepared and knows exactly what to do when he arrives. We know he could be absolutely fine, or he might need to be stabilised and admitted straight to the neonatal intensive care unit. Whatever happens, I’ll keep you up to date so you know what’s going on, and I’ll make sure you can hold him if it’s at all possible.’ I hear the sound of doors swinging closed. ‘Jack?’
‘He’s scared,’ Tessa says.
‘Wait there. I’ll go after him.’
‘I don’t think I have a choice, do I?’ she says ruefully. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Not now,’ I smile, in spite of the tension. Where is Jack off to, without saying anything, when his baby will be born within the next hour? I push the doors aside and turn right up the corridor, hoping he’s heading that way. Partway down, I catch sight of him, stopping and slamming his forearms against the wall, burying his head and clenching his fists, and I don’t know whether to be sorry for him or furious.
I march down to join him. Fury wins.
‘Jack, you have to man up,’ I say sharply. ‘Tessa and the baby need you.’
‘I can’t do it,’ he exclaims. ‘You don’t know how it feels, knowing your life is about to change.’
‘For goodness’ sake, your life changed from the moment you decided to try for this baby. Don’t let yourself – or Tessa – down.’ Jack ignores me, too caught up in the emotion of the moment. ‘Look at me. You can do this. I know you can.’ I wait for him to respond and, slowly, he turns to me, red-eyed. ‘That’s better. Now, come on. If you miss the birth, you’ll always regret it.’
‘Okay,’ he says, taking a deep breath. ‘Let’s do this.’
In theatre, the screens are up and the surgeon is good to go – we make it back just in time.
‘Your husband is here,’ I say breezily, as though nothing’s happened. ‘Jack, I’d stay this end if I were you . . . hold her hand.’
From when the surgeon makes the incision, I provide a running commentary for Tessa’s benefit.
‘You’ll feel a dragging sensation as the baby’s coming out.’ I watch the surgeon pull the baby, a scrawny and limp scrap of a creature with bluish-purple skin and a tonsure of dark hair, from her womb. ‘He’s out now.’
An eerie silence follows as the baby is placed on a towel in the arms of one of the team of specialists standing by, and bundled across to the trolley on the other side of theatre, where he is surrounded by a crowd of doctors and nurses. There are mutterings of Apgar scores and orders to intubate and administer drugs, but no baby’s cry.
‘Is he alive? Is he breathing?’ Tessa asks tearfully as Jack stands with her, grim-faced.
‘We don’t know yet. They’re giving him oxygen and drugs to stimulate his breathing.’ The expressions on everyone’s faces are beginning to worry me deeply. Even the surgeon looks grim as she stitches and staples Tessa’s Caesarean wound closed.
‘Please, let me see my baby,’ she begs, but I know as the paediatrician approaches us that any hope of that in the immediate future is impossible. He addresses Jack and Tessa.
‘Your baby’s made it this far, but he isn’t breathing for himself, so we’re having to do it for him. We’re taking him straight to intensive care, which is one of the options that we talked about before.’
‘How is his heart . . .?’ Jack asks, his voice quavering. ‘Is he going to live?’
‘I can’t give you any answers just yet. I’ll see you both later.’
Jack is on his knees with his arms around Tessa’s shoulders. They are both sobbing. I can hardly bear it. After a while, when the surgery’s over and the screens have been removed, Tessa glances up at me.
‘What happens now?’ she murmurs, her face pale and her eyes ringed with dark shadows. ‘I want my baby.’
‘I know, but I’m afraid it’ll be a few hours yet. You’ll be on the ward for a while to recover from the epidural. Jack can go and see the baby, take some pictures and bring them back for you.’ I hand her some tissues to mop up her tears. ‘It’s horrible being apart like this, but he’s in the best place.’ I don’t say it, but I realise from experience that no news is probably good news at this point. If there was no hope for the baby, the team on the unit would be doing their utmost to bring mum, dad and baby together to spend the last precious moments together and say goodbye. ‘Why don’t I ask your mum and dad to come and sit with you while Jack goes to the unit?’
‘The last time we heard, they were in the coffee shop,’ Jack says.
‘I’ll find them.’ I fetch Tessa’s parents, Steve and Annie, leaving them with their daughter while I accompany Jack to intensive care, where we find the baby in an incubator. He’s wearing a light blue woolly hat and he’s surrounded by tubes and leads and monitors. His eyes are closed, his skin mottled, and although a machine is breathing for him, his chest seems to collapse and expand much more than it should with each breath. The nurse with him explains that he’s in a critical but stable condition. He’s had a scan and the doctor is talking to the paediatric cardiologist about the possibility of surgery to close the hole in his heart. He will need surgery, but it’s whether it has to be done now, or can be left until he’s older and his condition’s improved.
It’s a relief that the baby is alive and that everything is being done that can be to help him, even though there could be months, or years, of worry ahead. I look towards Jack, but I don’t think he’s taking in the information. His eyes are on his baby, his expression a mixture of deep anxiety, love and adoration.
The sight of father and son sends a sharp pain knifing through my belly. The bond – even though Jack tried to resist it – is there, a natural instinct, and once again I t
hink of Lewis and how unfair of me it would be to deprive him of the chance of fatherhood.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask him.
‘Yeah,’ he responds. ‘I’ll take some photos on my mobile – if you wouldn’t mind taking them to show Tessa, I’ll stay here for a while.’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’ I smile to myself. What happened to the man who didn’t want Tessa to have this baby when there was so much uncertainty surrounding his health? I watch him take several snaps before I take his mobile to show Tessa and her parents. I repeat what the nurse said and then make my excuses and leave, but not before Steve Wilde ambushes me with a friendly bear hug, squeezing all the air out of my lungs.
‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘You’ve been wonderful.’
‘I haven’t really been able to do very much,’ I stammer as he releases me.
‘I know that if you could have done, you would have waved a magic wand and all would have been well with my beautiful grandson, but as it is, you’ve been a marvellous support to my daughter and, if he’d only admit it, my son-in-law as well.’
‘I’ll pop in tomorrow to catch up with Tessa and the baby,’ I say. ‘I’m sure they’ll both be staying for a few days at least. Go on. Go back to your daughter.’
I go on to do my visits, knowing that this is a day that Tessa and Jack will never forget. I’ll never forget it either, and that’s what makes being a midwife more than a job. You become part of people’s lives.
When I finish my shift, I decide to meet Lewis, the man who’s become such a big part of my life to the extent that I can’t bear to think of going on without him. To think it has come to this when I started out with all good intentions to keep our relationship on a casual basis, just for fun. I thought I could deal with it, but my attraction to Lewis was too strong, too powerful to resist, and now it’s all the more agonising that it has to come to an end.
I find him out in the barn with the new ram.
‘Hi,’ he says, moving across to kiss me. I turn slightly, offering my cheek. ‘Good timing. I was just about ready to stop for tea. How was your day?’
‘Okay.’ I shrug.
‘I heard Tessa’s baby’s in intensive care. Murray told me – the news is out.’ Lewis reaches out his hand. ‘I’m sorry. It must be hard sometimes. Let me give you a hug.’
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