Hetty's Farmhouse Bakery

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘We’re lucky to have such good friends,’ said Dan.

  ‘And family,’ I put in. Unlike poor Anna.

  Chris retied Dan’s sling and tucked the ends in neatly. ‘The doctor is doing her rounds; she’ll be here within the next hour. Until then, I’ll leave you two to it.’

  ‘Can’t I just go now?’ Dan asked.

  ‘No, you can’t.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Now do you want the curtains left closed?’

  ‘You can open them,’ I said, passing Dan what was left of his coffee. ‘I need to go and see my friend and her son in intensive care.’

  Dan gulped it down. ‘Wait for me, I’ll come with you.’

  Chris shook his head. ‘Sorry, you can’t leave the ward until you’re discharged.’

  Dan rolled his eyes. ‘Not even to go to another ward?’

  ‘No. The last thing this hospital needs is a lump like you keeling over. You took quite a battering yesterday.’

  ‘Probably better if you stay, Dan,’ I suggested tactfully. ‘At least you won’t miss the doctor.’

  ‘This is ridiculous, I’m not an invalid,’ he muttered. ‘He’s my godson too.’

  That was true; I sometimes forgot that as Anna and I were so close but there had been no other suitable male in her life and it had made sense that we were both Bart’s godparents. We were his guardians too, if anything should happen to Anna before he came of age. We were as near to family as they had.

  Chris hesitated. ‘Technically you are an invalid. And you’re in my care until the doc says otherwise. But …’ He pulled the curtains back and looked over at the nurses’ station. ‘Yes, thought so. We’ve got a wheelchair on the ward. If your wife doesn’t mind pushing you, you can go.’

  I stood and picked up the bag of Anna’s things. ‘Sure. As long as you don’t criticize my driving.’

  ‘Thanks for doing this,’ said Dan as I pushed him out of the lift and on to the ground floor.

  ‘No problem. It’s good practice for when we’re old and you’re decrepit.’

  ‘Ha ha.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Can’t wait to get home.’

  ‘For a shower?’ I said hopefully, wrinkling my nose at his greasy hair.

  ‘Watch out.’ He gripped the arm of the wheelchair as I misjudged a corner.

  ‘Whoops, sorry,’ I grunted, desperately trying to get the wheels to go in a straight line.

  ‘Yeah, I was holding out for a bed bath from that nice nurse from yesterday, but no such luck.’

  ‘I’ll run you a bath,’ I promised. ‘And I’ll even throw in a dollop of my bath lotion.’

  He reached up and touched my hand.

  ‘Thanks. And then I’ll have to get stuck into the insurance claim,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I hate paperwork.’

  I frowned, knowing how much work that would entail. ‘For the trailer? Do we have to?’

  ‘Yes. And for Bart and Cameron. Bart especially.’

  My stomach churned; I hadn’t thought about that. ‘Do you really think they’ll claim for personal injury against us?’

  Dan turned to look up at me and I stopped pushing. ‘I’ll insist on it. That’s why we have insurance: for exactly this type of eventuality. Anything Anna needs. Or Bart. Anything at all. They’ll have it.’

  I carefully threaded my arms round his neck and pressed my cheek to his. ‘You are a kind man. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you.’

  ‘Anyone would do the same.’

  My heart swelled for this man. He was one of a kind and I adored him for it.

  ‘Two people to a bed only, I’m afraid,’ said the nurse when we buzzed to enter intensive care. The heat from the ward hit us like a furnace as she opened the door.

  ‘But I’m in a wheelchair,’ said Dan, doing his best invalid face. ‘My wife needs to push me.’

  ‘I can wheel you to where you need to go,’ she offered firmly. ‘Your wife can wait outside for a few minutes, can’t you?’

  But I wasn’t really listening. I was looking over to Bart’s bed. Kelly, the nurse I’d met yesterday, was at the foot of the bed again, keeping a watchful eye over Bart. She looked up and smiled and then inclined her head to where Anna lay slumped, head down, both her hands clasping Bart’s. A ripple of sadness went through me. While I’d been in my own bed at home, Anna had been here with only the nurses for company.

  ‘Oh, look at her,’ I said, my voice catching in my throat. ‘She must have been here all night.’

  The nurse nodded. ‘She has, poor love. We did our best to persuade her to take a break when Bartholomew was in surgery, but she wouldn’t leave him; she sat in the waiting area of the recovery room and then followed him back here. No one else has come to relieve her. We don’t ask, but I’m assuming the father isn’t around?’

  I pressed my fingers under my eyes, willing the tears back. ‘She has no other family; we’re all she’s got.’

  ‘We are Bart’s godparents,’ said Dan. ‘And he was injured on my farm so I feel a responsibility.’

  ‘And Anna and I are like sisters,’ I added, watching as the nurse appeared to consider our plight.

  Finally, she gave a simple nod.

  ‘We do make concessions under difficult circumstances,’ she said, standing aside to let me push Dan in. ‘Just for five minutes and I must insist on complete calm or you’ll have to take it in turns at the bedside. I have my other patients to consider.’

  ‘We appreciate it,’ said Dan. ‘We’ll keep it down, promise.’

  Bart was lying in the same position as yesterday with his head angled to relieve pressure on the wound at the back of his skull. He’d been dressed in a hospital gown, which had been pulled down at the front to reveal his chest, which was dotted with sensors. The cage was gone and one leg was in plaster to the knee.

  Kelly raised her eyes from her notes as we approached and pressed a finger to her lips. ‘Anna’s sleeping,’ she whispered. ‘Finally.’

  ‘Morning,’ I said softly. ‘This is my husband, Dan.’

  She nodded. ‘Anna told me all about you. How are you feeling today?’

  ‘Fine. More importantly how’s the lad?’ Dan transferred himself to the visitor’s chair and I perched on the arm.

  The nurse tucked her hair neatly behind her ears and leaned forward to whisper. ‘He’s on strong pain relief but surgery to pin the ankle went well. The nurse on the night shift said he had a reasonably comfortable night. We’ve withdrawn sedation now so the next couple of hours are important. I’ll be keeping a very close eye on him, and when he wakes I’ll be looking for appropriate responses.’

  ‘Shit.’ Dan rubbed a hand through his hair. ‘I’ll never forgive myself if, if he—’

  I interrupted Dan quickly. ‘When you say “appropriate”, what do you mean?’

  Kelly’s blue eyes softened. ‘Can he poke his tongue out or squeeze my hand, can his eyes follow an object, can he answer simple questions. That sort of thing.’

  ‘And if he can?’

  She hesitated. ‘Then I’ll be happy.’

  ‘We all will.’ I nodded, understanding, and blew out a calming breath. I’d done some reading up on brain injuries last night. What none of us knew at the moment was whether Bart would have lasting brain damage or not. Anna stirred in her chair and I nudged Dan, reminding him not to make a sound. Her dress was crumpled from sitting in it all night, her curls were tangled and even though she was asleep, her face was etched with tension.

  ‘Hetty said you were here yesterday evening, Kelly?’ Dan whispered. ‘And again early this morning, how long is your shift?’

  ‘Twelve and a half hours,’ she answered. ‘That’s how we do things in intensive care. Continuity is key in these cases.’

  ‘These cases?’ Anna’s eyes pinged open and she blinked herself awake. She leaned across Bart and kissed his head tenderly. ‘Morning, darling. Are you awake? Mum’s here. I love you.’

  She scanned his face, smoothing his fringe back, and then looked d
own at his injured leg as if noticing his plaster cast for the first time.

  ‘Hi there!’ I circled the bed so I was on her side and bent to hug her but she pushed me off.

  ‘These cases?’ she repeated, glaring at poor Kelly. ‘This is my son. My child. Not just a case. A person.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Kelly calmly. ‘And Bart is my top priority right now. His pulse and blood pressure are doing fine, let’s keep it that way.’

  Anna nodded but began breathing in a rushed, panicky way.

  ‘You okay?’ I asked, risking a light touch to her arm. ‘Would you like some water?’

  She nodded again but didn’t look at me; her eyes were trained on Dan. I fetched her a cup of water from the machine, giving Dan a worried look as I passed.

  ‘It all happened in a flash,’ he was saying quietly when I got back. ‘The trailer overturned and I tried my best to protect Bart, but his leg got caught and he fell backwards. I’d do anything to swap places with him, anything.’

  I handed Anna the water and she mumbled her thanks. She was sitting bolt upright now and there was a wild look in her eye. ‘You tried to protect him.’ She had raised her volume and I was worried she’d attract attention.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ I whispered. ‘The ward sister said that if there was any undue noise—’

  ‘Undue?’ She reared her head back at me.

  Kelly cleared her throat. She stood with her clipboard and made her way past Anna and me to Bart’s monitors.

  ‘You know what I mean.’ I bit my lip and squatted down by her side, steadying myself by holding on to the arm of her chair. ‘I’ve brought you some clean clothes, if you want to go and freshen up?’

  She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly. Her eyelashes glistened with tears. ‘Thanks, but not yet, not till he wakes up.’

  ‘Anna, love, I don’t know what I can say other than sorry.’ Dan’s mouth was contorted with sorrow and I knew how much physical pain he was in himself. This was so unfair, all of it.

  Anna gulped her water down in one and handed me the empty cup. Then she took a deep breath and addressed Dan. ‘I can’t do this any more.’

  He inched his chair closer to the bed with his one free hand, wincing with the effort, and leaned as close as he could. ‘Anna, you can, love. Stay strong. You’re being so brave. Hetty said the scan didn’t show anything serious on Bart’s brain and now he’s stopped being sedated it’ll just be a matter of time. Hang on in there.’

  She shook her head slowly, staring at him. ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  Dan’s brow furrowed.

  ‘The farm’s insurance policy will pay out, Anna,’ I soothed. ‘You probably don’t want to think about any of that yet, but Dan and I don’t want you to worry about—’

  ‘It’s not that. I need to tell you about something. Something that happened a long time ago. I can’t keep quiet any longer, it’s killing me.’ Her voice had now gone eerily quiet.

  My spine prickled. What was going on here? Something in her tone was really odd.

  ‘Anna,’ Dan warned, his voice low.

  Anna turned her wild-eyed stare to me. ‘Last night,’ she said in a hoarse whisper, ‘you said even if I didn’t have a proper family, I’d always have you, no matter what. Did you mean it?’

  ‘Of course.’ I grasped her hand. ‘What is it? You’re scaring me.’

  ‘Even if it’s bad?’

  I nodded and out of the corner of my eye I saw Dan lean forward and drop his head to his hands.

  Anna held my gaze, emotions flitting too quickly across her face for me to catch them. My heart was hammering so violently I half expected Bart’s monitors to start registering it.

  ‘Anna,’ Dan urged, ‘think this through, love, think it through.’

  ‘Oh, I have,’ she said with a harsh laugh. ‘All night. I thought about it while Bart was in surgery. While I followed him as he was brought back up to the ward, alone, wishing I had someone to put their arms around me and tell me everything was going to be okay. And I thought about how I’d feel if—’ She gulped at the air, half sobbing, half choking.

  ‘Oh Anna,’ I said shakily. I didn’t know what to do, whether to comfort her or leave her be. I’d known her for years, but now she looked like a stranger. I didn’t know what was coming but my legs were trembling with fear.

  Kelly crouched down beside her. ‘Hey, Bart’s neurology is looking good, his op was a success. Let’s not worry about things we don’t know about.’

  ‘This is about things I do know.’ Anna blinked at her and turned her gaze back to Dan. ‘Bart begged to come and work with you on the farm. I was always worried that he’d hurt himself. I’m a nurse: I know the statistics, I know the risk. But deep in my heart I thought that maybe it was meant to be. You’re the only father figure he’s known.’

  Dan swallowed. ‘I was proud that he asked for a job; it’s hard work, not many kids would be interested. I wish I’d turned him down now.’

  ‘Then this stupid accident happened.’ Her volume was increasing again and the two nurses at the end of the nearest beds looked over, concerned. ‘And that was not meant to be.’

  ‘Anna, you need to lower your voice,’ Kelly warned.

  But Anna shook her head. Her breathing was so rapid now I could see her chest heaving.

  ‘If there was one person, Dan, one person on this earth I should have been able to trust him with it should have been you.’

  Dan wiped sweat away from his forehead. ‘I know. Don’t you think I know that? This will stay with me for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Sometimes accidents happen on farms. It’s awful, but it’s a fact of life,’ I said urgently, pushing myself between her and the bed, forcing her to look at me. ‘I can’t imagine what you’re going through but—’

  ‘No,’ she gasped. ‘No you can’t.’

  She looked at me, her eyes huge, ringed with dark circles. She looked hollowed out, haunted, and tears sprang to my own eyes.

  I glanced at Kelly, who sat tight-lipped and pale, looking anxiously over at the nurses’ station.

  ‘You promised you’d stick by me whatever, but I’m scared you didn’t mean it.’ Tears flowed down Anna’s face now and her sobs were getting louder. Surely they wouldn’t throw us out for crying too loudly, would they? I looked at Dan for reassurance but he wouldn’t meet my eye.

  ‘Anna, please, just say; whatever’s the matter, please tell me. You’re frightening the life out of me.’

  ‘Hetty,’ she managed to say through her tears, ‘there’s something you should know.’

  ‘Please, Anna.’ Dan pressed his hands to his face.

  Anna’s body was shaking like a leaf, but I couldn’t comfort her. I was frozen to the spot, wedged between her chair and the bed, watching her lips, my own face already wet with tears.

  ‘You don’t deserve this,’ said Anna. ‘Neither of you do. But I lied to you.’

  My breath escaped in a rush. ‘That’s okay, whatever you said—’

  ‘Dan,’ she looked past me to my husband, ‘you are Bart’s father.’

  For a second no one moved, no one spoke, as her words settled around us. I twisted to look at Dan, expecting to see bemusement or confusion or denial.

  But his face had turned white with shock. ‘Are you sure?’

  No denial.

  Anna nodded.

  I sank down to the floor as my heart shattered into a million splinters. I felt myself disintegrate. Noises echoed in my head from a distance but nothing felt real. None of this was real. My heart rate was speeding and my head was throbbing and hot like it was about to explode. Black spots blurred my vision.

  Anna and Dan. Anna and Dan and Bart. Bart’s father was my husband. Poppy had a brother. Dan had a son. A son. And Anna was my best friend.

  The world went black.

  Footsteps. Running. People had their hands under my arms. Someone held a cup to my lips and water ran down my chin.

  ‘Anna and Da
n,’ I breathed.

  Someone pushed my head between my knees.

  Kelly’s voice cut through the fog like a bell. ‘One of you should leave.’

  ‘Me,’ I spluttered, lifting my head. ‘I’ll go.’

  There were two nurses beside me, one hefted me up and then both of them returned to their own bays.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Anna sobbing, head bowed. Dan was on his feet staring down at Bart. ‘But you said the father was someone in Australia. I thought—’

  ‘Of course I said that,’ she spluttered. ‘What else could I do? You were with Hetty.’

  ‘So you were already pregnant when you left for your gap year,’ I murmured.

  ‘Okay,’ said Kelly sternly, ‘enough. You’ve got some talking to do by the sound of it. But this is not the time or the place. Nurse Black?’ she called over to the nurses’ station for assistance.

  ‘Bart!’ Anna lurched forward, leaning over the bed. ‘He opened his eyes. Kelly, did you see? My baby boy.’

  Bart’s eyes flickered. He blinked and flinched at the light. The person in his line of sight was Dan.

  ‘Sorry,’ he rasped through dry, cracked lips. ‘I got in the way.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry, son,’ Dan whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. He touched the back of his finger to Bart’s cheek. ‘Don’t be.’