Country Midwife, Christmas Bride Read online

  As he walked home, James was telling himself that he had enough responsibilities in his life without attempting to take on the emotional burden that Lizzie obviously wanted to keep private. She was going to be the right one for the job and that was all that mattered.

  It was Friday afternoon and Lady Derringham was about to cut the tape that had been placed across the entrance to the new maternity clinic in front of those assembled for the occasion, which included her husband, the chairman of the primary care trust for the area, dignitaries from St Gabriel’s, and Lizzie and James.

  Lizzie could see Emma from the tea rooms at the front of the crowd that had gathered to watch the opening ceremony, and she smiled. Emma had been to see James and her booking-in appointment was arranged for that day.

  Shortly she would have her photograph taken as the first patient to attend the clinic. It would be open for business and Lizzie’s feeling of being on the edge of things would disappear.

  James was observing her and noting that today she was well and truly in her midwife mode, immaculate in the blue uniform of her calling, hair in the golden plait and eyes bright with the significance of the moment.

  As his glance met hers he decided that the other side of her personality that had seemed so solitary and withdrawn must have been a figment of his imagination. She was calm, confident, unfazed by the ceremonial aspect of the gathering…and content.

  The scissors had snipped, the tape was cut, and her ladyship was saying, ‘I now declare the Derringham Maternity Clinic well and truly open.’ And as she stepped inside they all trooped in after her.

  As James came to stand beside Lizzie he said, ‘You are happy today, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’she replied. ‘More than I’ve been in a long time.’

  He nodded. ‘That’s good.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE crowd had gone, the officials from St Gabriel’s had driven off in their cars. Only Lord and Lady Derringham remained and Lizzie was discovering that Olivia Derringham’s interest in the clinic was not going to be a passing thing.

  As the person who was going to be in charge she had been expressing her appreciation of the facilities that had been provided and the uplifting design of the place and Olivia said, ‘If you think it would be all right, I’d like to volunteer to come in for a couple of mornings each week to give what assistance I can, even if it is only to make tea, help out the receptionist and perhaps settle the patients in the cubicles as they wait to be seen.’

  ‘That’s a very kind offer,’ Lizzie told her, slightly taken aback. ‘I’ll speak with James, but I’m sure it would be fine. Most of the time I will be on my own, except for the receptionist who is being transferred from the surgery, and I’m presuming that it will be quite busy, with expectant mothers from surrounding villages transferring to this clinic as well as those from Willowmere. I’ve been told that extra staff will be brought in if needed, but the hospital trust is waiting to see what the workload turns out to be first. So I would much appreciate help from someone like yourself.’

  Olivia Derringham nodded and went on to say, ‘I suppose you know that we have donated the clinic as our way of thanking two members of the village practice who I believe are on honeymoon at the moment. I would have liked them to be here, as what they did for our son—you know he had a nasty fall while on a sponsored walk that they were also taking part in—was something that my husband and I won’t forget. But when they made their wedding plans they had no idea that the clinic would be finished so soon and urged us to go ahead with the opening rather than there be any delay, so here we are, and you’ll let me know about helping out then?’

  ‘Certainly. Thank you for your kind offer of support, Lady Derringham.’

  ‘Lizzie, the name is Olivia. I was working in a burger bar when I met His Lordship, and now I need to remind my husband, who is deep in conversation with Dr Bartlett, that we need to be home in time for nursery tea.’

  ‘You look somewhat stunned,’ James commented when they’d gone. ‘What gives?’

  ‘I don’t know if you would agree to this, James, but Her Ladyship has offered to help in the clinic for a couple of mornings each week.’

  He frowned. ‘But she isn’t trained!’

  ‘Not doing midwifery. She’s volunteered her time to help out in Reception where needed, make tea and coffee, and make sure the patients are comfortable. In other words, she’s offering to be a general dogsbody.’

  ‘Amazing!’

  She laughed. ‘She has no airs and graces. They met in a burger bar, of all places. She worked there. Don’t you think it’s rather romantic? She is a very nice woman. I’m sure we’d get on well.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ he agreed. ‘Well, let me look into this and I’ll let you know shortly.’ Lizzie smiled and he thought how she looked bright-eyed and happy now, but he knew that no matter how he tried to tell himself otherwise, somewhere not too far away was the other Lizzie, subdued and wanting to be left alone. But as he’d told himself several times since they’d met, that was her affair.

  ‘Until their son’s accident and David and Laurel’s involvement in it, we only saw the Derringhams rarely,’ he explained. ‘This is a new dimension her wanting to help in the clinic, and it is very commendable.’

  ‘Where do they live?’

  ‘At Kestrel Court, a large place on the way to the moors. His Lordship owns an estate up there, with grouse shooting and the like. Dennis Quarmby, one of my patients, is his gamekeeper, and the husband of Gillian, the practice nurse, is his estate manager.’ He checked his watch. ‘And now I need to be going. I’ve left Ben Allardyce coping with the late surgery on his own, which is a bit much, but fortunately he doesn’t seem to mind. What are you going to do now the ceremony is over? Wait for Emma to appear?’

  ‘Yes, I’m expecting her at any moment. She was with those watching and then the photographer approached her. She will know that I’m free now, and then after I’ve tidied up I think I’ll call it a day.’

  He was on the point of departure. ‘Yes, do that. Have a nice weekend, Lizzie.’ Hoping that she might pleasantly surprise him, he added, ‘What do you usually do?’

  ‘A big shop on Saturdays and maybe take in a film. On Sundays I do my laundry and tidy up wherever I’m living at the time.’

  He wondered what she meant by ‘living at the time’, but didn’t comment. Had she come from a series of bedsits? But he’d asked enough questions. Any more could be seen as intrusive and as it appeared that she wasn’t interested in how he spent his weekends or, if she was, she clearly wasn’t going to ask, he said goodbye and returned to his patients.

  With Emma sitting opposite her, Lizzie was discovering that she was thirty-two years old and, according to the date of her last period, was now eight weeks pregnant.

  ‘Your blood pressure is fine,’ she told her when she’d checked it, ‘but I see from your notes that you’re on medication for it, so we’ll keep a close eye on that.’ She gave her a reassuring smile. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’ve got morning sickness and sore breasts so far,’ Emma told her.

  ‘Both to be expected, I’m afraid. For the morning sickness try smaller meals more frequently, and ginger biscuits or ginger tea will help lessen the nausea. What about tiredness and exhaustion?’

  ‘Oh, I’m tired all right, and it’s partly due to the tea rooms being so busy, as well as my being pregnant. Simon wants me to take a back seat and employ someone to take my place, but I don’t know that I want to sit around all day.’

  ‘Perhaps a bit of both is the answer,’ Lizzie suggested. She gave Emma a pregnancy pack full of information, took bloods and a urine sample, and arranged the twelve- and twenty-week scan dates. ‘I’ll see you in a month’s time, Emma, unless you have any concerns before then.’

  About to lock up, she looked around her and thought that it was just a week since she’d arrived in Willowmere and it had been a strange one. Since meeting James Bartlett
at the wedding and then again with his children outside the Hollyhocks Tea Rooms, he’d seemed to be everywhere she’d turned, though she’d been the one who’d kick-started the cow episode that she would so much like to forget.

  He had asked how she usually spent her weekends and she’d told him without embellishments, as she didn’t see it being any different here in Willowmere, except that she might get out more on foot than she’d done in the town as the countryside was breathtaking.

  She went to bed early but sleep was a long time coming because her mind was full of the day’s events: the exciting opening of the clinic; the unexpected offer of help from Olivia Derringham; Emma’s pregnancy after a long time of waiting; and in the midst of it all was the amazing James with his busy, well-organised life, which included the enormous task of bringing up his children on his own.

  No matter how much help he had from outside, the responsibility for their health and happiness was his, and having met the delightful pair briefly it would seem that he was to be congratulated.

  She would have done the same if she’d been given the chance, she thought as she twisted and turned under the covers, but it hadn’t worked out like that, and ever since she’d been living in a cold zone with regard to family life.

  As the hours ticked by, sleep was coming at last. Soon she would slide into oblivion’s comforting respite, she thought drowsily, but it was not to be. The bedside phone was trilling and when she picked it up James’s voice came over the line.

  ‘Lizzie,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry about this.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ she told him, unable to disguise her surprise. ‘What is it, James?’

  ‘We have a pregnant patient who has got a bleed. They’ve been in touch with the emergency services but there is going to be some delay as there has been a serious accident on the motorway and there are huge hold-ups, so I’m going up there to check her out. She lives in a remote farm on the edge of the moors and the thing is, she’s asking for you.’

  ‘Is she one of those whose notes you’ve passed on to me?’ she asked, now fully awake.

  ‘No, she’s from your St Gabriel’s clinic and was about to transfer to Willowmere when she heard you were going to be based here, but this has cropped up. Can I ask you to come with me? I know that it’s barely seven o’clock, but her mother says she’s frightened and very weepy.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come. Who is she, James?’

  ‘Kirsten Williams. Do you recall her?’

  ‘Yes. She’s seventeen years old and due to give birth in a couple of months. I’ve been seeing her regularly at the hospital. Kirsten didn’t want to have the baby at home and has had no problems so far. This is something out of the blue.’

  ‘It would seem so,’ he agreed. ‘Is it too soon to say I’ll pick you up in ten minutes?’

  ‘No. I’ll see you then.’

  She was at the gate waiting for him, dressed in her uniform, devoid of make-up and with hair tied back loosely. There had been no time for the long fair plait that he was getting used to seeing.

  As she settled herself in the passenger seat he said, ‘Having to forego your breakfast is getting to be a habit, isn’t it? I really am sorry to be having you back on the job so soon.’

  She smiled across at him. ‘Today it is for a much more worthy cause, and what about your breakfast? I presume Helen will be giving the children theirs?’

  ‘I’ve already seen to that,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘and, yes, she’s with them now. I asked her if she could pop round to keep an eye on them as she doesn’t usually come to us at the weekend. Their day starts quite soon, I’m afraid. Children who go to bed early get up early.’

  ‘Yes, I would imagine so,’ she said, and there was something in her tone that told him to drop the subject.

  As he drove up the hill road she said, ‘I’m going to have to get to know the area and have bought a couple of maps but they’re in my car, and even so, if I’d been on my own I would have been floundering a bit.’

  He was pulling up outside a rambling farmhouse and almost before they’d got out of the car Kirsten’s mother was framed in the doorway and in a nearby field a man waved in their direction and carried on baling hay.

  There was no sign of an ambulance so it seemed that the motorway was still blocked and James said in a low voice, ‘If she needs to go to hospital we might have to take her, Lizzie, and we’ll have to use the side roads instead.’ She nodded. The thought had already occurred to her and she smiled reassuringly at the anxious mother, who had led the way upstairs the moment they’d set foot in the house.

  ‘Lizzie!’ the girl on the bed wailed when they entered a bedroom so much that of a teenager it made what they were there for seem bizarre, but it wasn’t the first time they’d been in that sort of situation and it wouldn’t be the last.

  As James examined Kirsten she sobbed. ‘If I lose the baby it will be my fault because I’ve said all along that I didn’t want it, that I was going to have it adopted, but I didn’t really mean it. I want my baby, Lizzie!’

  ‘It’s OK, Kirsten,’ she said gently, taking hold of her hand. ‘We’re here and if Dr Bartlett decides you need to go to St Gabriel’s and the ambulance still hasn’t arrived, we’ll take you. Are you hurting anywhere?’ she asked with the thought of a slow labour in mind, or even a faster one.

  Kirsten shook her head. ‘No. It’s just the blood.’

  ‘When did it start?’

  ‘It was there when I got up to go to the bathroom early this morning.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘More than spotting, and it was bright red.’

  James had finished examining her and, observing Kirsten’s mother, white-faced and anxious, said, ‘Kirsten will be better off in hospital, Mrs Williams, and we can check the baby there.’ He turned to the girl on the bed. ‘You haven’t had any falls or accidents in the last few days?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘Pregnant women do sometimes experience blood loss during pregnancy,’ he explained, ‘so we’re going to take you to hospital and place you in their care.’

  ‘I’ve got a case packed,’ her mother said, ‘and I’m coming with you. I would have taken Kirsten myself but I don’t drive, and the farmhand is too busy to leave what he’s doing.’

  Was there no husband and father in this household? Lizzie wondered. There’d been no mention of one. Perhaps Mrs. Williams ran the farm single-handed except for the man they’d seen baling the hay.

  Having taken note of her mother’s comments, James was turning to Kirsten and saying, ‘Just slip on a robe of some sort, Kirsten, and once we’ve got you and your mother settled in the back seat of the car with a blanket round you, Lizzie and I will take you to St Gabriel’s by a different route from the one that’s blocked.’

  While he’d been speaking Lizzie had cancelled the call to the emergency services and within minutes they were off, driving through the still sleeping village in the quiet morning.

  As the buildings of the big hospital in the nearest town came into sight Lizzie was thinking that this was unreal. She’d been gone from St Gabriel’s for just one week and she was on her way back to the wards that she knew like the back of her hand, and driving them there was the man that she’d thought would be just a figurehead at the surgery, someone that she saw briefly during working hours.

  Instead, it was as if he was taking over her life with his brisk concern for his patients and her own well-being, and though it was very pleasant in one sense, there was the risk that she could get to like it, which just wouldn’t do. The last thing she would ever want would be to make a fool of herself over James Bartlett.

  In everything except her innermost feelings she was cool and capable but relationships of a personal kind were taboo. So why would she be there like a shot if James invited her out again? He was someone dedicated to looking after others, she thought, even putting up with an outsider who didn’t know her own mind.

  ‘Lizzie! What are you doin
g here? Dare I hope that you’ve come back to us?’ Giles Meredith, the top gynaecologist at St Gabriel’s, said in greeting when he came to see Kirsten in the emergency admissions section of the maternity wing.

  He shook hands with James and said, ‘It must be some service you are giving your pregnant patients if both their GP and midwife are bringing them here in person.’

  Lizzie smiled, the two of them went back a long way. Giles was the nearest thing to a father figure she’d ever known as she’d lost her parents when quite young and been brought up by her mother’s unmarried sister, who had endured the responsibility for just as long as was necessary and then been eager to take a back seat.

  ‘Maybe you haven’t heard that the motorway is blocked, Giles,’ she explained. ‘The emergency services couldn’t get through to us and we needed to bring Kirsten here as quickly as we could.’

  James sensed an easiness in Lizzie’s manner towards the well-respected Giles Meredith that he hadn’t witnessed before, and again he wondered which was the real her, the restrained loner, or the bright, career-minded midwife. Or maybe there was yet another side to Lizzie that he had yet to see.

  ‘Ah, I see,’ the gynaecologist commented, and he turned to where Kirsten was lying hunched on the bed in a small cubicle with her mother seated beside her. ‘It says on your admission notes that you’ve had some bleeding, Kirsten. Is that right?’

  She nodded mutely.

  ‘In that case, an ultrasound scan is called for.’ She observed him in alarm and he was quick to reassure her. ‘We just need to see how baby is doing. We will be keeping you in for the time being until we are confident all is well, but before you have the scan I want to examine you. Again, it won’t hurt. Then we’ll see what your blood pressure has to tell us.’

  ‘We are going to leave you with Dr Meredith now, Kirsten,’ Lizzie told her. Turning to her mother, she said, ‘He is the best, Mrs Williams. Kirsten will be in safe hands.’

  ‘So you’re not coming back to St Gabriel’s, then, Lizzie?’ Giles teased as they prepared to leave.