She found a smiling Jack in the farmyard, who said mother and child had spent a quiet night. Lyn went inside, found a smiling Hetty and Cathy, and the squalling infant. There were the normal observations to be written up, arrangements to be made. But so far little Jamie seemed to have a good start in life. Lyn left, promising to drop in again that evening.
She was back in surgery again in time for the casual morning meeting. Adam was already there. She wondered if the others noticed the slight colour that tinged her cheeks when she saw him.
‘I’ve just been telling people about our exciting night,’ Adam said smoothly. ‘About being with you when Hetty Summers phoned. I enjoyed working with you. How’s Hetty this morning?’
‘Mother and child doing fine,’ Lyn said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘Hetty sent word to thank you for what you did.’
She was aware of the interested glances from the other members of staff. As an experienced midwife, for an uncomplicated birth she shouldn’t have needed a doctor in attendance. But, then, Adam was new to the practice. Perhaps they thought he’d just been getting experience.
At that moment Adam’s mobile rang. When he started work he would hand it over to the receptionist, but now he could answer it.
‘Oh hi, Ros,’ Lyn heard him say. ‘Sleep well? Yes, fine. I know we’ve got things to sort out but I’m a doctor now … look, as soon as I’ve finished my day I’ll come round to the Red Lion and we can spend all evening talking … yes, that’s fine.’
He turned, raised his eyebrows at Lyn. She got the message. Adam couldn’t see her tonight. Well, there would be other nights. But she was rather disappointed.
She had a clinic all that morning, and then went home before setting out on her afternoon calls. She often did this when she had time to spare. She could do a bit of tidying. Perhaps she could do some thinking, too.
There was a pile of mail inside her door. Much of it was advertising material from medical firms and went straight in the bin. But there was a thick letter from the Leeds hospital, and when she saw it Lyn tensed. She had put from her mind the question she had asked Mr Smilie. But now that question was more important to her than ever.
She didn’t open it at once. Instead, she placed it in the middle of her coffee table. There were other things she had to do, and she would do them first. There were notes to be written up, appointments to be checked, the bits of tidying she had promised herself. But finally she could find no more excuses. She made herself a drink and placed that on the table, too. Then she sat down and opened the letter.
She was a fellow professional and, knowing she would want to understand, Mr Smilie had sent the detailed results of all the tests. And there was a personal letter from him. She could take other tests, perhaps seek a second opinion. He was very sorry to have to tell her this, but he doubted whether she would ever be able to conceive. Mechanically Lyn read and reread the letter. This just couldn’t be happening to her! Suddenly it was all so important!
She found herself looking at the picture of her dead husband, hoping for inspiration. When he’d first died she’d talked to that picture – it had been like talking to Michael himself. It had helped; she had heard the remembered voice speak back. But now she realised there would be no reply. Finally he had left her – she was now on her own. The picture was just part of her memories.
She was calm, and this surprised her. Then she realised the calmness was to hide her panic. She had to think.
Adam was now part of her life. They both had agreed – last night had been much more than sexual. It had been a beginning of something, a promise of more. All right, they had decided to take their time, not to hurry things, and quite possibly they might find that they were not right for each other. But she knew this was rubbish. Adam and she were made for each other. And so in time – probably not too much time – inevitably they would think of marriage. And that for him meant children.
Everything she knew about him, everything he had ever said told her that he wanted, he needed children. And she couldn’t have them.
She knew she couldn’t tell him about the letter. Now she knew him well, she could predict his reply. He would say that it didn’t matter, that he loved her, that he wasn’t bothered that she couldn’t have children. He might even believe it. But she couldn’t allow him to make that sacrifice. In time he would feel differently.
It was a bitter irony. She had thought that she would never feel this way again, that there was no chance that she would ever fall in love again. But she had. And now she had to lie to the man she loved. Well, he would be gone in a few months. There would be nothing for him here.
As she thought this she heard a car draw up outside. She peered through the window – and there was Adam, getting out of his car. Looking at him, she thought her heart would burst. Why did he have to come now? She grabbed the letter from the coffee table, quickly ran into the kitchen and hid it in a cupboard. She didn’t want the letter in the same room as them.
Adam knocked, and when Lyn let him in he seized her and kissed her. Holding him felt so good that for a moment she was tempted to forget the letter, just to let things fall out how they might. But she couldn’t do that. Not to a man she loved.
‘I’ve got half an hour,’ he said, ‘and I just wanted to see you alone. This evening I have really to spend with Ros, so I wanted to see you while I could.’
‘Do you want a coffee?’ she asked coolly.
‘No. I just want to sit, to be with you.’
He led her unresisting to the couch, but once there she managed to ease herself away from his arms, to sit at one end while he was at the other. ‘Adam! We’ve got to talk. If you’re doing that you’ll distract me.’
‘I like distracting you.’
‘Well, we’re moving too fast. We need to stop, to take stock.’
‘Stocktake away. I’m all yours. All yours, Lyn.’
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. And when she looked at his face she didn’t know how she would be able to carry on.
‘I’ve been thinking. First of all, last night was fantastic. I have no regrets. You are a wonderful lover and you made me so happy, happier than I’ve been in years.’
She saw he was about to speak, so hurriedly she went on, ‘Please, let me finish. I don’t love you. I don’t want to love you, I’ve been in love and it hurts too much. I’m not going through that again. You’ll be leaving here in a few months. I’m never going to move. So we’ll have to part then. And, until then, we see each other, we keep on being friends, perhaps we even sleep together again. This is just a casual affair. And when we part, we part with no regrets, no recriminations.’
When Lyn had started to speak she had seen that he was upset. But then his face became thoughtful, and this worried her. She wanted him to accept, not to think.
‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Why are you different from this morning?’
This was too shrewd! ‘Nothing’s happened,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve just had the chance to think a bit.’
‘But two nights ago you were angry with me because you thought I was a womaniser. Now you want me to be one – and with you! That’s not like you.’
She shrugged, hoping to convince him. ‘It’s the way it is, Adam. This morning was this morning. Now is now. Just one thing. Never say you love me. I’ve been in love, I don’t want it again. If you ever say you love me, then everything between us is over. Can we get that straight now?’
He looked at her, and it was the hardest thing she had ever done to keep her face serene. But somehow she did. She didn’t know what he was thinking. For once his usually transparent face was enigmatic.
‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘And now I suppose I’d better go. I’ve calls to make.’
She waited till she heard his car drive away. Then she went upstairs, fell forward onto the bed where they had so recently made love. Her face was pressed against the pillow where his head had rested and there was the faintest aroma of his expensive aftersha
ve, of his body, even. She wept, more bitterly than she had done since her husband had died.
‘This is for you,’ Hetty said, ‘for you and Dr Fletcher. I made it myself, I wanted to give you a good one.’
It was three days later. Lyn was again at Longline Farm, checking up on Hetty’s and young Jamie’s progress. They were both doing fine and Cathy looked on approvingly.
Lyn unwrapped a corner of the flat parcel and peered into it. It was a cheese, made by hand at the farm.
‘We sell them at the farmers’ market,’ Hetty’s sister said. ‘They do very well. And we sell a lot to the local hotels as well.’
Lyn was often offered gifts like this. Sometimes it was something simple, like a box of chocolates or a bottle of wine. But occasionally it was something home-grown or home-made, which she enjoyed even more.
‘It smells wonderful,’ Lyn said honestly. ‘I’ll give half to Dr Fletcher and have some for my tea.’
‘Doesn’t Dr Fletcher ever have his tea with you?’ Hetty asked interestedly. ‘He lives next door to you, doesn’t he?’
‘Well, yes, but …’
Someone knocked on the door, much to Lyn’s relief. The door opened and a rather shamefaced youth looked round it. ‘All right to come in?’
‘Come in, Jamie,’ Cathy said cheerfully. ‘Lyn here’s the midwife. She’s just checking up on the baby for a couple of minutes and then we’ll leave you three alone for a while.’
Jamie came in, nearly tripped over a chair as he passed, then looked down at the baby at Hetty’s breast. Gingerly, he leaned forward to stroke the back of the little head.
‘Jamie here is little Jamie’s father,’ Hetty said flatly.
Lyn didn’t smile, simply looked up. In her profession she had met – or often not met – too many fathers who wouldn’t face up to their responsibilities. She didn’t like them. ‘Come to see your son Jamie?’ she asked him.
‘Yes. Think he’s … he’s lovely. It took a bit of getting used to the idea, but we’re … we’re …’
‘Me and Jamie are getting together for good,’ Hetty said. ‘We’re hoping to move into a little flat, perhaps get a council house in time. But getting anywhere to live round here is hard.’
‘I’m very pleased to hear you’re getting together,’ said Lyn. ‘A baby needs a mother and a father. And I know about property prices.’ But then she remembered the many hours of tears from Hetty when Jamie had been nowhere to be seen. ‘Why the sudden change of heart, Jamie?’
‘When she heard, my mum made me come to see the baby. And when I saw him, and when Hetty said he was going to be called Jamie, then I had to, didn’t I? He’s a little me.’
Lyn thought he seemed genuinely moved. And, like Hetty, he was so young! Feeling a thousand years old, she said, ‘Babies aren’t always like this, you know. They wake up at night, they get sick, they need lots of looking after. Babies can be hard work.’
‘I know that. But I’ve sat up that many times with my dogs that I think I can sit up with a baby, too. And my sister’s had three – I know what they’re like.’
‘Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Bye, Hetty, I’ll be in again next week.’
Lyn took her cheese and walked across the yard. Jack was there and walked over to have a quick word.
‘I gather young Jamie’s father has had a change of heart,’ she said.
Jack nodded. ‘I think he’ll be a good father. I know about him. He’s wonderful with animals, really patient. If he wanted to work for me I’d find somewhere for them both to live. Then everyone would profit.’
‘Sounds a good idea.’ Lyn smiled. ‘Hope it all works out well.’
As she drove off down the bumpy road she wondered why her problems weren’t so easy to solve.
That evening she cut the cheese and carried half round to Adam. He was just leaving, carrying a thick file, and he said he had another dinner date with Ros. ‘I’d love you to come,’ he said, ‘but we’ll be doing nothing but work. Ros can be a slave-driver, and she claims she’s behind schedule.’
‘That’s fine. I like workers, and I’ve got some form-filling to do myself. I’ve just brought you this cheese. Perhaps you’d like to take a bit for Ros? And I’ve got a story with a happy ending.’ She told him about Jamie and Hetty.
He was thoughtful. ‘D’you think they’ll stick together?’
She considered. ‘Probably yes. I suspect they will make a go of it, though it might be hard.’
‘People can sort out their problems,’ he said. ‘All they need is a bit of honesty and confidence. Now, I must go.’
She watched him walking down the lane, and wished she could walk with him.
For a further three days she hardly saw him. In some ways it was relief, in others it was a torture. When they met in the surgery they had to remain distant but friendly – and she didn’t know if she was getting it right. Then one evening there was a knock on her door and she opened it to find Ros and Adam.
‘I’m taking Adam down to dinner at the Red Lion and putting it on expenses,’ Ros said. ‘Will you come as well? I haven’t thanked you properly for dressing my hand when I cut it.’
So she went with them. It was good to be with Adam and, because Ros was there as well, she wouldn’t be tempted to feel things that were forbidden.
They chatted about work on television, a closed world to Lyn. ‘You would look great on the screen,’ Ros said. ‘You’ve got a good TV face. It’s heart shaped, it would show up, be attractive. The camera puts weight on people, but you’re slim enough to get away with that. I’m sorry we can’t film you.’
‘It’s just not me anyway,’ Lyn said.
They were waiting for their meal to be served, and Ros went outside to use her mobile. ‘That was interesting,’ Lyn said to Adam. ‘Ros was very flattering about me, but she was quite detached. I felt that if I’d been too fat she would have said so in exactly the same voice.’
‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘Ros is a very nice person, but she’s a consummate professional. Were you interested in what she had to say?’
‘Very much so. I’ve seen a new side of you, too. You’re a professional on TV, as Ros is. You’re good at it and you enjoy it. In a few months you know you’ll be back to it.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m thinking that my future might be around here, Lyn. I’m getting more and more involved with this outreach clinic scheme of Cal’s. I’d like to help develop it, see it through. Perhaps in time even open another one. And there’s another reason why I want to stay. You know that.’
‘I’ve got another round of drinks in,’ said Ros as she rejoined them.
Chapter Seven
‘You said you had a new mast for your boat,’ Adam said the next day. ‘And you promised to take me sailing one day. How about Saturday? I’ve checked the rosters and neither of us are on call over the weekend. If the weather’s good, I’d love a sail.’
Lyn thought about it. Being with him would be so painful – it would remind her of what she could not have. On the other hand, being without him would just make her miserable.
‘Just a couple of friends going for a sail together?’ she asked.
‘What else? You’ve told me what fun it is. If you’re right, I’ll think of getting a boat myself.’
‘OK, then, I’ll take you. We can borrow a lifejacket from the club.’
‘We could meet there if you like. I’ve got some work to do on my laptop, so I’ve hired a cruiser just for the weekend. It’s peaceful out on the lake; it’s easy to work there.’
‘Aren’t you peaceful next door?’
‘Too peaceful. I want to be disturbed but I’m not.’
Lyn didn’t answer that but she knew exactly what he’d meant. It would be no consolation to him to know that she felt exactly the same way.
As she drove over on Saturday morning she thought of how her life had changed since she had driven to the lake and met Adam for the first time. How had it changed? And was it for the better?
She was now much more unsettled and knew that never again would she be as she’d been before.
She realised her life before she’d met Adam had been in a shadow. Now her life was in the sunlight again. The trouble was, though, that now she had the ability to enjoy herself more, she could also suffer more. Meeting Adam had brought both happiness and pain. And at the moment pain was in the ascendant. Still, she was spending the day with him. She would enjoy that.
He was waiting for her at the club, dressed in shorts and an old shirt. She changed in the clubhouse, borrowed him a lifejacket and showed him how to rig the dinghy.
‘She’s called the “Start Again”,’ Adam said curiously. ‘That’s an unusual name. Why not the “Pretty Polly” or “Saucy Sue”?’
‘Silly! She isn’t pretty or saucy.’ She tightened one of the halliards then said, ‘I bought her just after my husband died. I had to do something new or I thought I’d go mad. And I called her “Start Again” because that was what I had to do.’
‘I see. I’m sorry if my question caused you pain.’
She smiled. ‘It didn’t. And I have started my life again. I’m happy now.’ She considered. ‘Well, happier. Now, let’s get this thing launched.’
He put his hand over hers. ‘You’ve got a new mast as the old one broke. Perhaps you should change the name and change the boat’s luck. Call it “Start Again Two”. When your mast snapped you were coming to see me. My life changed then. I’d like to think that yours did, too.’
‘My life did change,’ Lyn said after a pause. ‘But how it changed I’m still not sure. But I’ll stick a ‘Two’ after the “Start Again”.’
There was a reasonable wind and they pushed off. Lyn told Adam where to sit, how to sit out, how to hold the jib sheets. At first they only drifted as they were in a wind shadow, but when they reached the bay, the wind blew, the boat heeled and he looked comically worried.
‘Is this safe?’ Adam called.
‘Oh, it’s safe all right. But is it fun?’
‘It’s more than fun, it’s marvellous. Just how fast are we going?’
She grinned. Lots of people were surprised at the illusion of speed. ‘Not more than seven knots,’ she called back. ‘You could run faster. Now, concentrate on what we do when I turn into the wind.’
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