by Jo Bartlett
‘I can understand that.’ Anna wanted to give Tamara a hug, but she looked as if an overly enthusiastic embrace could snap her in two. Not to mention the fact that it might have made it harder to stay professional. ‘Are you still having therapy sessions?’
‘Twice a week. I don’t know where I’d have been without that,’ Tamara looked across at her, ‘and without your support. I just wish I could have the baby here at the unit, with you.’
‘I know. I wish I could be there with you, too. But the consultant has recommended a hospital delivery and I think it’s probably the safest option to make sure you get everything you need. I’ll be straight in to see you and Belle as soon as I hear she’s arrived, though!’
‘You’ll be really welcome, but I won’t be saying the same for everyone.’ Tamara wrapped her arms around her bump, as if offering the baby an extra layer of protection. ‘I’m going to tell them on the ward that if my parents show up, they’re to be sent away.’
‘It’s up to you who you allow onto the ward and who you involve in Belle’s life, so you’ve got every right to make that decision.’ Anna couldn’t see any winners in the situation. Tamara had burst into tears during their very first consultation and it had all come out. She’d never forgiven her parents for sending her to boarding school at the age of seven, when her brother had come along. According to Tamara, he’d been the golden child, the son her parents had always wanted, and he’d never been sent away to school.
Tamara had described spending most of her first year at boarding school crying, making her an easy a target for bullies as a result. She blamed the years of relentless bullying that ensued, and what she saw as her parents’ rejection, for causing her eating disorders. When Tamara had first told Anna about her childhood, she’d said that food was the only thing she was in control of and so she’d used it bury her emotions.
Maybe there was more to her parents’ decision than Tamara’s interpretation, but it was something she’d decided she could never get past, and their regular attempts to try and build bridges just seemed to make things worse. Anna would have given anything to sit down and have one last conversation with her parents, and a big part of her was willing Tamara to change her mind and give her mum and dad another chance. But that wasn’t her job. It wasn’t even her therapist’s job to tell Tamara what to do. All they could do was be there to listen, and support her and the baby. Only time would tell if Belle’s maternal grandparents would ever get a chance to meet her. Tamara might be right, they might not even deserve the chance to get to know their grandchild. Not everyone experienced the unconditional love from their parents that Anna had never once doubted, but that’s what family was all about. It was more than DNA; she’d seen enough evidence of that in her job. Families came in all shapes and sizes, and they all looked different, but the happy ones all had one thing in common – they had love. And thankfully it looked like Tamara had finally found it too.
‘Luke’s parents are going to do a great job of being grandparents. They raised a man patient enough to put up with someone as crazy as me! So we can’t go wrong if we follow their example.’
‘You’re not crazy and you’ve got to stop giving yourself such a hard time. You’ve made loads of changes so you can give Belle the best possible start, and you should be really proud of everything you’ve done.’
‘Now you sound like Luke! But it means a lot hearing that.’ Tamara paused for a moment. ‘Just in case this is the last time I see you before Belle arrives, would it be really inappropriate to ask for a hug?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’ Anna held out her arms as the younger woman stepped forward. It was moments like these that made her fall in love with midwifery all over again. Being there to share the most amazing journey another woman would have, even if she never got to experience the whole of that journey for herself, still made her a million times luckier than most. Giving birth was such a small part of being a mother. God knows there were enough women, maybe even Tamara’s mother, who’d done that but who didn’t deserve to be parents at all. And that’s where she and Brae could step in. They just needed the chance.
13
Brae carried another box down from the loft, where he’d put them all at Anna’s instruction when she’d first moved in.
‘What’s in this one?’ He smiled that easy smile of his and Anna’s heart immediately lifted. The prospect of going through the boxes filled with possessions from her parents’ house, which she hadn’t been able to bear to throw away, would have been so much harder without him. There’d been some things that she’d kept out on display in every house she’d lived in since – everything from the camper van biscuit tin to the pair of silver lovebirds that her father had bought for her mother on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. A lot of the other stuff was just shoved into boxes and it was finally time to decide if she could let some of it go.
‘It’s probably just more of Mum’s books. She could never throw any away, it was one of the millions of things she thought was unlucky. She’d never put new shoes or her house keys on the table, and if she saw a single magpie she had to keep her fingers crossed until she saw a four-legged animal.’ Anna shook her head. ‘Not that it did her any good in the end. Bad luck, in the shape of cancer, found her anyway. I took loads of her books down to the charity shop after Dad died too, but I couldn’t bear to part with her favourites, the ones she kept on the bookcase in her bedroom.’
‘I can easily put some more bookshelves up in the office.’ Brae moved behind her and put his arms around her waist. ‘It might make me look a bit more intellectual. Instead of just filling them with the single shelf of books I’ve got, amongst the stacks of flyers for the fish and chip shop.’
‘You’re perfect as you are and I never want you to change.’ Anna spun around in the circle of his arms to face him. ‘I’m so lucky that I get to spend the rest of my life with you.’
‘I’m the lucky one.’ Brae kissed her and it would have taken absolutely no persuasion for her to forget about unpacking the boxes, but he pulled away and groaned. ‘Anna Jones, if you only knew the things you do to me! It’s a good job you’re not around all the time, or I’d never get anything done, but you’ve got to be at work in an hour and I don’t want to end up giving Ella anything you want to keep.’
‘Maybe we should save ourselves for the honeymoon now, anyway?’ Anna laughed at the look of horror that crossed Brae’s face. He was right, though. It wouldn’t be fair of her to expect him to sort through the boxes and decide what to give Ella when she came over later. She’d asked them if there was anything they could donate as stock for the eBay shop she’d set up as her latest fundraising venture for the lifeboat station. ‘Come on then, let’s sort through it all.’
Brae slid a knife carefully down the tape that sealed one of the boxes and pulled out the first book. ‘It’s a Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Squirrel Nutkin, and it looks like there’s lots more in here.’
‘She had the whole collection, she used to read them to me when I was a kid.’ Anna felt a warm glow at the memory and smiled. It was amazing to finally be able to think about the good times without being blindsided with a pang of longing that overwhelmed the memory. ‘They weren’t just bedtime stories, either. I’d climb into bed with her in the mornings on the days when I didn’t have school; we’d snuggle up together and she’d read to me. I loved it.’
‘It sounds perfect and there’s no way we’re getting rid of any of these books. They’re getting a shelf all of their own and not hidden away in the study either. I’ll ask Dan if he can recommend someone to make shelves for the alcove in the living room, so they can take pride of place.’ Brae handed her the first book and pulled out another one and she felt another huge surge of affection for the man standing in front of her. For some people, romance meant huge bouquets, or jewellery judged by its price tag. But this was real romance, Brae’s gentle thoughtfulness that never needed any prompting.
‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘For everything, for being you.’ She squeezed his hand, as he passed her another book, two photographs fluttering out from between the pages.
Picking them up, he handed them to her. ‘Is this your mum and dad?’
‘Uh-huh.’ They were tiny little photographs, much smaller even than the old Polaroids her father had taken of her in the mid-eighties when she’d been a toddler. One picture was of her mum standing by a road sign, and the other one was of her dad.
‘Do you recognise where they were taken?’ Brae looked over her shoulder, as she turned the first photograph over.
‘No, but that’s Mum’s writing on the back.’ It was as familiar to Anna as her own. There, in her mother’s distinctive loopy handwriting, were the words 1974 Rest and Be Thankful trip, and on the other 1972 Once Brewed/Twice Brewed trip.
‘Are those some sort of tours? The second one sounds like a beer festival.’
‘No, I’m pretty certain they’re village names.’ Anna’s mind was working overtime. ‘You remember I told you about the trips we used to do in Vanna, our camper van? We’d find the weirdest sounding places we could in Dad’s road atlas and plan our next trip there. It looks like they were doing it long before I came along.’
‘In the camper?’
‘No, they didn’t get that until I was eleven, but we had an old tent before that, the sort you’d expect to see army cadets use. Mum said they’d had it ever since they were married, but I never thought they’d started the road trips back then too.’ Anna looked at the photographs again, trying to work out if her parents’ early road trips somehow diminished the times they’d shared together as a family – one of the things that had made them the three musketeers.
‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’
‘I just always thought that was our tradition, a family thing that no one in the world but the three of us did.’
‘It was.’ Brae put his arm around her shoulders. ‘They just started it when they were a family of two and carried on when they were a family of three, or four if you count Vanna.’
‘How did you get to be so brilliant?’ Anna looked up at him, loving him even more than she’d done five minutes before. He’d made sense of it all in an instant. Not just the fact that her parents had shared those wonderful times together, even before they’d shared them with her – making precious memories that money couldn’t buy – but because it had made her realise something even more important. Her parents had already been a family, before she ever came along. When you found the right person, all you needed to make a family was the two of you, and Anna knew beyond any doubt that she’d already found hers.
Ella ran her hand down the last page of names. ‘Two thousand and thirty-seven, two thousand and thirty-eight, two thousand and thirty-nine. Not bad, but we need to get to 10,000 signatures before the government will respond. So I think we’re going to have to take it online.’
‘Can the government do anything? I thought the lifeboat station was funded by the RNLI?’ Dan’s voice drifted across from the other side of the room, but she didn’t look up.
‘They get a tiny percentage of their funding from government sources, but it’s more about raising the profile of the whole campaign and getting MPs to lobby the RNLI to keep the lifeboat station open. It worked in Ceredigion.’ Ella had been researching other lifeboat stations under threat and the Ceredigion MP had got involved in lobbying the chief exec of the RNLI when they were going to lose their all-weather lifeboat. So there was no reason it couldn’t work for Port Agnes, especially as there was a small chance it could result in more funding from the government too. ‘I don’t suppose the charity wants to lose the lifeboat station any more than we do, but they have to make tough decisions when they only get so much funding. I want to raise as much as I can to change their minds.’
‘God you’re sexy when you’re campaigning!’ Dan came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘It’s why I fell in love with you in the first place, you’re always trying to make the world a better place, and nothing gets me going like a woman with a spreadsheet full of signatures!’
‘Carry on talking like that and you’ll be sleeping in the spare room until August!’ She spun around to face him. If he was going to pretend to give her a hard time, then two could play at that game. ‘And there I was, planning to celebrate getting 500 signatures in the last two days alone, by taking off an item of clothing for every hundred signatures.’
‘That’s an unconventional campaign tactic, but I like it.’ Dan slid a hand inside her jumper and she sighed, wishing they had time to carry on what they’d started.
‘While I fully intend to fulfil all my campaign promises, I haven’t got time to deliver on that particular one right now.’
‘Disappointing, but I get it.’ Dan pulled her closer to him. ‘Joking aside, I’m really proud of you for doing all of this. I can’t believe how much you’ve got organised in such a short time.’
‘Half term seemed to be a really good time to try and get the kids involved.’ Ella leant her head against his shoulder. ‘Although a biscuit baking contest with a room full of kids is suddenly feeling like a crazy idea.’
‘It’ll be great and it was really nice of the school to let you use their food tech classroom.’
‘The coxswain’s wife is the head of year seven, so she managed to swing it. I just hope I can keep control of the room.’
‘Their parents are going to be there, aren’t they?’
‘Uh-huh, but I’ve seen how competitive some parents can get about their kids, so it’s the parents who worry me more.’
‘It’ll be brilliant, don’t worry. I’ll be there and some of the others are going, aren’t they?’
‘Anna and Brae are coming down to do the judging with Mum and Dad. Toni and Jess are on call, but they’re going to come down for a bit if they can, and Bobby’s bringing his niece.’ Ella glanced at the clock. ‘We’d better get going, it’s nearly half past.’
‘I’m glad your dad’s going to be there. I need to have a word with him.’ Dan picked up his keys.
‘What are you two cooking up now?’ Ella couldn’t help smiling. When she’d first met Dan, her father had been less than impressed. As an incomer, or an emmet, as Jago liked to call them, Dan represented everything her father railed against. But, when they’d reconnected, Dan had managed to prove himself worthy and it had become obvious to her father that no one worked harder to preserve the heritage of Port Agnes than Dan, and now the two of them were as thick as thieves.
‘Never you mind. You’ll find out when it’s time.’ Dan tapped the side of his nose. Whatever it was they were plotting would have to wait. There was a room full of kids waiting to start baking biscuits and Ella wasn’t coming home until she had at least another hundred signatures on her petition. It was because of the lifeboat crew that she still had Dan, and she’d do whatever it took to save their station.
The smell of freshly baked biscuits was making Ella’s stomach rumble so loudly that Anna turned to look at her.
‘Did you skip lunch again?’
‘I was too worried about how this was going to go.’ It seemed silly now, looking out at the flushed faces of the children anxiously peering through the doors of their ovens every thirty seconds or so. The prize for the winning batch of biscuits was a family pass – and a chance to meet and feed the rescue donkeys – at Trelawney Farm and Adventure Playground, which was just off the main road between Port Agnes and Port Kara. All of the children taking part would also be given a goody bag.
The prizes had been donated, and the families taking part had each paid £20 to enter. There was a raffle and donation box too, so Ella was hoping to add at least another £300 to the fundraising pot. There was a chance they could have made more just by auctioning off the prize, but spreading the word and collecting as many signatures as possible was more important. A biscuit baking contest would generate some great pictures for the social media pages she
was going to set up too, and that was definitely going to be their best chance of hitting the magic ten thousand signatures.
‘The kids are having a brilliant time.’ Anna gestured towards a little girl who was dropping Smarties onto the mountain of icing she’d already piled on top of her biscuits.
‘Almost as good as my dad!’ Ella could see Jago moving between the tables, telling all the children how amazing their biscuits looked, and she’d overheard him telling at least three of them that he’d never tasted anything so delicious. He was Port Agnes’ answer to Paul Hollywood, except he was far more generous with his praise.
‘Christmas at your house must have been amazing when you were little. I bet you got to make gingerbread houses and all sorts.’ Anna turned towards her.
‘It was. Dad always made a big thing of Christmas and all the Cornish traditions of course, and as for the food… well, you can imagine! When Dan spent his first Christmas with us, he couldn’t get off the sofa for about three hours after we’d finished dinner. Last year it hit him almost as hard. So he reckons he’s going into training to prepare for this year. Luckily he’s still got six months to go!’
‘That sounds like a good plan!’
‘Maybe you should have got in training for judging the contest today. A lot of the biscuits seem to have about three times as much topping as biscuit.’
‘It’ll be fine.’ Anna laughed. ‘I mean it’s a hard job, but somebody’s got to do it!’
Anna had been confident that she had, by far, the best job of all the volunteers, but an hour later, she’d have eaten her words if she could stand the thought of one more morsel passing her lips.