Midwife's Baby Wish

by Gill Sanderson

  At exactly eight o’clock she knocked on his door.

  She carried the house-warming present she had bought him, and she could feel her heart beating faster than usual. Well, she had been in a bit of a hurry in the last five minutes.

  But when she saw him her heart actually lurched. It was as if she hadn’t seen him for a month, instead of just twenty-four hours. He looked so new, so good!

  He was dressed in a soft white shirt and light grey trousers. And he was smiling at her as if she was the one person in the world he most wanted to see.

  ‘Lyn, come in, how nice to see you! The first guest in my new home. Last night you did most of the hard work, and today I’ve just cleaned round a little and thrown the rubbish away. I know I’m going to be happy here … next to you.’

  She followed him into the living room, the same room where she’d worked the night before, but now it was like a home, not a workplace. All the packing had been cleared away, there were flowers in vases, the chairs were better organised. This wasn’t the room where she’d sat so often with Jane. It was a man’s room.

  Shyly, she offered him his house-warming present. ‘This is to welcome you to Keldale. I hope you’ll be happy here.’

  ‘A present! I love presents!’ He tore off the wrapping. ‘Lyn, this is beautiful! Look, it’ll hang here, just over the mantelpiece. There’s no time like now.’

  Then he turned to the back. ‘Be happy in your new home,’ he read, ‘Love, Lyn.’ He looked at her and she couldn’t read his expression. ‘“Love, Lyn”,’ he said. ‘That’s nice. I know I’m going to be happy here, the more so because I’m living next door to you.’

  ‘It’s only a picture. I bought myself one just like it.’

  ‘Did you?’ he asked. ‘Isn’t it good that we seem to like the same things?’

  Then, before she realized what he was doing, he’d fetched a hammer and a hook, and had hung the picture on the wall. The picture looked really good. She could tell his enthusiasm was genuine.

  ‘That is great, thank you so much,’ he said, and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Now, would you like a sherry? And being traditional, I’ve bought some fruit cake to go with it.’

  So they drank a glass of sherry and had a slice of fruit cake, and she decided this was a very civilised way of spending half an hour. She sat in one of his comfortable armchairs and felt very much at ease.

  ‘You seem to be fitting in well here,’ she said.

  ‘I hope so. I was a bit worried at first, I wondered if country people might be suspicious of newcomers, might be slow to accept me. But I’ve met with nothing but kindness.’

  ‘We try to make people welcome,’ she said softly. ‘We want to be friendly.’

  ‘I know that’s true.’ Adam looked at her, thoughtfully, almost assessingly. ‘Being friendly,’ he said, ‘if you’re not going sailing again or doing anything similar, would you like to spend next Saturday afternoon and evening with me?’

  ‘Spend time with you? Doing what?’

  ‘I’d really like it to be a surprise. Nothing heavy, but something that would show you a little about me.’

  Her first reaction was to say yes because she rather fancied the idea. But then she thought some more and her native caution advised her against it. ‘I’d like to spend the time with you,’ she said slowly. ‘I’d really like to, and I’m not going sailing. But I’m going to say no.’

  He said nothing, just looked at her, his expression sympathetic, alert. She knew she had to go on. ‘I don’t want to seem forward or anything,’ she faltered, ‘but I think we might be getting … too close to each other. And I’m scared. Perhaps we should remain friends or even just acquaintances. That might be better for us. Well, it might be better for me. I’m sorry, Adam, perhaps I’m making too much over what is just a simple invitation, but I really am frightened.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to frighten you, Lyn, not for anything. And you must decide what’s best for you. But can you tell me why you’re frightened?’ Such a calm, understanding voice!

  For a moment she thought she would smile, shake her head, finish her drink – and leave without saying anything. She knew he would accept that. But then she decided she wanted him to understand. He was owed an explanation.

  ‘You know I was married. I loved Michael in a way I didn’t think it possible to love anyone. They say that after a few years love becomes quieter, gentler, turns into something like a habit. Well, with us it didn’t. I was as much in love with him after five years as I was the day I married him.’

  Now Lyn knew her voice was trembling. ‘We were going to have a baby and I was so much looking forward to it, and I lost it. Not an it, it was a little girl! But we still had each other and we had a future together. Then, one perfectly ordinary day, he went out in the morning, and in the afternoon I was told he’d been killed. It tore the heart out of me.’

  The tears were running down her face now. But she had to go on, to explain. Adam was owed that. ‘Perhaps I’ve got over the worst of it, but I decided afterwards that I would never risk being in love again. The pain was too great, the heartache too much. I’ve had men want to take me out, ask me to dinner and so on, but I’ve never said yes. It just isn’t worth the risk.’

  She saw him half stand, as if to come over to her, then, quite deliberately, he sat down again. She liked him for that. He would wait a while till she was calmer.

  After a moment she went to his bathroom, washed her face in cold water, when she felt a little better she returned and said, ‘I’m sorry about that. I usually keep my feelings well under control.’

  ‘People are meant to have feelings. If you control them too well you lose something very valuable.’

  He paused for a moment then went on, ‘I sympathise with you, I really do. And I think anyone who has had a love such as you described is to be envied. But I think that I want something from you and I’m going to ask you for it.’

  She could tell he was choosing his words with care, making sure that he said exactly what he meant. There must be no margin for error. ‘I’m not sure about this, neither of us is sure. But I think you’ve felt something for me, right from the time when you first opened your eyes on the boat. I felt a spark then, like nothing I’d felt before.’

  She had to be honest. ‘Yes. I did feel it.’

  ‘Lyn if you want nothing more to do with me, then you must tell me. You must say so face to face. I’m not going to be awkward with you, but I think I’m entitled to hear you say it.’

  She was silent. Did she want to tell him she wanted nothing more to do with him? Could she say it? She knew he’d accept her decision, no matter how reluctantly.

  ‘May I have another sherry, please?’ she asked at last.

  Wordlessly, he filled her glass.

  ‘I can’t say I don’t want to go out with you. And I’d like to go out with you on Saturday. But it commits me to nothing. This is an afternoon out, two friends together. Afterwards we might see more of each other … or not.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me.’

  Lyn searched his face for any sign of triumph. There was none there – just pleasure. And now she found she was more relaxed. More than relaxed, she was intrigued, and she was quite looking forward to an afternoon with someone. It struck her that her social life was rather solitary. Most of her time – as in the boat – she spent alone.

  ‘I quite like secrets, but you must give me some hint,’ she said. ‘What do I wear? Climbing boots or party dress?’

  Adam looked perplexed. ‘That’s quite a good question, and I hadn’t thought about it. Put it this way, I’ll be wearing trousers and a casual shirt with a pair of reasonably stout shoes. And carrying a waterproof, ’cos this is England.’

  ‘I get the picture.’ She smiled. ‘I can do that.’

  Lyn finished her second glass of sherry. ‘I’ve only had two drinks,’ she said, ‘but I can feel they’ve had an effect on me. I think I’d
better go.’

  ‘I’m so glad you came,’ Adam murmured softly, ‘I think we’re getting somewhere. But there’s no hurry.’

  She went home and sat and thought about what had just happened, the decision she had just made. By agreeing to go out with him she had made herself vulnerable – something she had sworn never to do again. But she found she didn’t mind.

  Adam had said to her that if you controlled feelings too well you lost something very valuable. That was an interesting thought. Her life over the past years now seemed a little flat. Perhaps she could risk something.

  She took the picture of Michael from its place on the mantelpiece and sat with it on her lap. She studied it, as she had done a thousand times before. What would Michael advise her to do now?

  She knew above all that he would want her to be happy. And she thought she could read an answer in that much-loved face. She should go for happiness – even if it meant taking a risk.

  Chapter Four

  Days later Cal and Adam got out of Cal’s car and looked at the village of Tyndale below them. There was the church, houses and cottages, a scattering of farm buildings, all in a green hollow in the hills.

  ‘It seems a picture-postcard kind of place,’ Adam said.

  Cal nodded. ‘It is. But it’s miles from the nearest town and miles from the surgery. After privatisation they cut the bus service, and it only calls three times a week now.’

  ‘So if someone needs medical attention and they haven’t got a car…?’

  ‘They’re in trouble,’ Cal said.

  Both Cal and Adam had been busy, and this was the first time they had been able to get together. After morning surgery Cal invited Adam to drive out with him. ‘Get to know a bit of the countryside,’ he had said. And they finished up at Tyndale. Adam wondered exactly what Cal had in mind. He knew this wasn’t just a casual invitation.

  They got back into Cal’s car and drove down the steep slope into the village. They parked by a village hall next to the church where, waiting for them, there was a beaming vicar. ‘The Reverend Peter McCarthy.’ Cal introduced them. ‘He’s got an idea for us.’

  Rev. McCarthy said he was pleased to see them, that they should call him Peter and should they get on at once? He led them into the village hall. It was a clean, well-decorated place, obviously lovingly maintained. They walked past the stacked chairs, the piano, the display by the local Guides and Scouts.

  ‘Kitchen,’ Peter pointed out. ‘A fridge-freezer, three stoves. A good boiler, there’s plenty of hot water and in winter this place is the warmest in the village. Toilets for men and women, both newly installed. And down there there’s a shower and bathroom.’

  He unlocked two further doors, showed them small empty rooms, each with a sink in the corner. ‘And these were what I had in mind for you.’

  Adam turned to Cal, lifted his eyebrows. ‘Peter wants us to hold a branch surgery here,’ Cal said. ‘Have a doctor and nurse in attendance perhaps one morning a week. In principle I’m very much in favour of the idea. But I brought you along to look for problems, to act as devil’s advocate. Tell me what you think.’

  Peter offered Adam a list of names. ‘These are all local people who are members of your practice. A lot of them are old, a lot of them are not very well off. A surgery they could walk to would be of vast benefit.’ He looked at Adam expectantly.

  Adam walked round the rooms, turned on the taps, peered into the toilets, the bathroom, the kitchen. ‘I think it’s a great idea,’ he said eventually.

  ‘How would you like to set it up, get it running?’ Cal asked.

  ‘Nothing would please me more.’

  Half an hour later, Cal and Adam were enjoying a beef sandwich at the local pub. As Cal said, they had to get a feel for the area. ‘There’s government money available for branch surgeries,’ he said. ‘We’ll let the practice manager do the applying, though. You’d better give her a list of the equipment you’ll need.’

  Adam nodded. ‘I don’t want to set up a complete surgery,’ he said. ‘I see this is a first line of defence. I suspect we’ll have to organise transport for quite a few to come to us in Keldale.’

  ‘True. But they’ll be in the system. That must be good.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to starting it.’

  Cal took an enjoyable mouthful of sandwich. ‘So you’re happy here? Things aren’t too quiet for you after the big city?’

  ‘Quiet! I haven’t had a dull day yet. And people here are so friendly I feel like I’ve joined a family.’

  ‘Quite so. You’ve fitted in well here. Getting on all right with Lyn, your next-door neighbour?’

  Adam realised that the question wasn’t as casual as it had sounded. ‘I think Lyn is wonderful,’ he said. ‘I’ve never met a woman like her.’

  Cal grinned. ‘I take it that isn’t a reflection on her abilities as a midwife?’

  ‘Not entirely, no. Are you worried that I might … upset her in any way?’

  Cal thought about this. ‘Lyn is a close friend. I knew her husband and I’ve seen how she’s suffered since he died. I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt her, she’s still vulnerable. But … I’ve got Jane now and I think everyone should be as happy as we two are.’

  ‘I’d like to make Lyn happy,’ Adam said.

  That morning she woke feeling unusually cheerful. There had been no special reason. It had been a wonderful morning but, then, the weather had been fine for weeks. She’d just felt cheerful. Life was good.

  She’d wondered about her mood as she’d washed, dressed and sat in a sunny corner of the kitchen to eat her breakfast. Yesterday she had made a decision, which was out of her hands now. She had agreed to go out with Adam. Where was he going to take her, would it make a difference to the way she felt about him? Would it make a difference to the way she felt about herself? It was in the lap of the gods now.

  The cottages were very stoutly built; it was seldom that she heard anything from next door. Occasionally there would be sound of music, or a knock or a rattle, and she’d be aware that he was close to her, only a few feet separating them. It was an oddly exciting thought.

  She set off on her rounds, and on impulse decided to call on Julie Harris. There was no real need – had there been any problems Julie would have phoned. But she hadn’t seen her since her weekend away. It would be nice to see if it had gone well.

  When she arrived it was easy to see that Julie was much happier. The dark marks under her eyes had gone, she looked more relaxed, had a bigger smile.

  ‘Come and look at the baby first then I’ll put the kettle on and you can see the snaps we took at the weekend. Lyn, we had a fantastic time!’

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves.’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe it.’

  So Lyn looked at pictures of the Minster, of Julie and Bill on the ramparts, of Julie and Bill rowing on the river. They did look happy. Lyn felt almost jealous of the pleasure she could see the two felt in each other’s company.

  ‘It was really good to get away, Lyn. Me and Bill had time for each other. He thought it was wonderful, too.’ Julie coloured slightly. ‘Things between us were so much better when we had plenty of time, and we weren’t worried about the baby crying. It quite perked us both up.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lyn, wondering if Julie would be needing her professional services in nine months’ time. ‘So Bill’s parents were happy enough, babysitting?’

  ‘They enjoyed it too, said they’d do it again whenever we liked.’

  ‘So next time will be?’ Lyn probed.

  Julie shrugged. ‘Some time. In a few months. It’s funny. Like I said, we both enjoyed getting away, but I was looking forward to getting back again to my baby.’

  She leaned over, peered down into the cot. ‘You know, I used to be always off having a good time. But now I’m happy staying at home. Being a mother completely changes the way you see things.’

  Julie sipped her tea. ‘Have you never wanted kids, Lyn? It seem
s a bit strange, being a midwife, an expert and all, and not having children yourself.’

  The question had only been asked casually, but Lyn had to strive to answer back equally casually. ‘Some day perhaps. When I find Mr Right. At the moment I get a big enough kick out of other people’s babies.’

  Lyn had to call home before going out that afternoon. As she ate her light lunch she thought of Julie’s question and her own answer. ‘When I find Mr Right.’

  Three and a half years ago she’d had a miscarriage. She had haemorrhaged and had been taken urgently to the local hospital, then moved to a large O and G unit in Leeds. Mr Smilie, her consultant, had diagnosed pelvic inflammatory disease. Hers had been one of those rarest of cases – it had just happened, there had been no obvious cause. When he’d discharged her; Mr Smilie had told her that she wasn’t to attempt to have another child for at least a year. But then, six months later, Michael had been killed.

  She still saw Mr. Smilie once a year and they had become friends. ‘Just a little precaution, my dear,’ he had said, ‘just to check up on how you are getting on. After all, we professionals have to stick together.’

  She sat motionless for fifteen minutes, not noticing that the mug of tea in her hand was growing cold. Then, slowly, she reached for her phone.

  Mr Smilie’s secretary remembered her and, because there’d been a cancellation, could fit her in the following Friday. ‘Just an ordinary check, is it?’ she asked. ‘No signs of anything wrong, no cause for worry?’

  It took Lyn a while to answer. ‘I just wondered,’ she said. ‘There’s no great worry but I just wondered … could Mr Smilie tell me if it would be all right for me to … that is, could I …? I want to know if I could conceive.’

  ‘I’ll make a note of that,’ said the secretary.

  Lyn picked up her mug of tea, sipped and then winced when she found it stone cold. Why had she asked that? What did it matter to her anyway? A part of her mind knew the answer to the question but she refused to face up to it. She would progress a little at a time.