Abigail Gordon - Country Midwife, Christmas Bride

At the opposite side of the surgery there was an annexe built from sturdy local stone, as were most of the buildings in the village, and the new maternity unit was taking shape inside.

The annexe had served various purposes over the years. At one time it had housed James’s sister, Anna, who was now working out in Africa with her husband, Glenn.

After years of separation, they had married in January and were finally living their dream, and James was delighted for them.

The inside of the annexe had now been gutted and the whole structure altered to accommodate the needs of the expectant mothers who would be attending the centre, and now the woman whose calling brought her in touch with other women’s babies all the time had arrived in Willowmere.

When Lizzie went upstairs to bed that night the shoes she’d worn for the wedding were where she’d taken them off. She remembered the interest that James’s little girl had shown in them, which she supposed wasn’t surprising. They had high heels, open, strappy fronts, and were made out of pale blue leather to match the suit she’d been wearing. They’d been an extravagance of the kind that she rarely allowed herself and hadn’t been all that comfortable when it came to wearing them, but to the small Pollyanna they must have seemed quite exciting if she was into putting her small feet into her mother’s old shoes.

It was the evening of what had been a mellow Sunday in September. James had read the children a bedtime story and as their eyelids were beginning to droop he was about to go downstairs for a quiet hour with a new medical journal that he’d been trying to find time to read when through the window on the landing he saw the midwife walking alongside the river that ran behind the house and the practice.

Lizzie was alone and there was a solitariness about her that was so unmistakable that he forgot how he hadn’t wanted to be involved with her out of working hours and he opened the back door of Bracken House and called, ‘Hi, there, it’s a beautiful night. Are you getting used to your new surroundings?’

She halted beside the fast-flowing river as he walked down to his garden gate.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘So far I’m acquainted with Willow Lake because of David and Laurel, have dined in the excellent tea rooms, shopped on the main street, and now I’m exploring the river bank, but not for long as I intend to have an early night. It’s been hectic moving here at the last minute and I want to be on top form for tomorrow.’

‘So you haven’t had anyone to help you with the move?’

‘Er, no,’ she said, seeming mildly surprised at the question. ‘It was no problem, though. I’m used to sorting out my own affairs.’

‘Would you like to come in for a cold drink or a coffee?’

She hesitated for a moment, then said politely, ‘Yes, thank you. It is rather warm. A cold drink would be nice.’

He nodded and opened the gate that gave him access to the river bank, and as he led the way into the house Lizzie was still wishing she could act naturally with this man who was going to be a close colleague in the days and weeks to come.

Maybe it was because he was so impressive to look at, or perhaps she wasn’t as confident as she’d thought she was over her new appointment. Whatever it was, he was giving her the opportunity to get to know him better and she supposed she may as well accept the offer of some light refreshment.

The house, when she went inside, was impressive by anyone’s standards, pleasant, roomy, with children’s clutter in a couple of the rooms. Pointing to doors down a side passage, James said, ‘That is my housekeeper’s domain during the week, a sitting room and bedroom where she can do her own thing. At weekends Helen usually goes home. She has one of the new apartments further along the river bank.’

Lizzie nodded. She was looking around her and thinking that the cottage she was renting would fit into a corner of Bracken House, yet it was big enough for her needs in the solitary life she’d chosen.

He’d gone into the kitchen to get the drinks and while he was there her glance was fixed on a photograph of a smiling raven-haired woman holding a tiny baby in each arm. It had to be the mother, she thought, and the infants had to be the children who had both captivated her and aroused her curiosity the day before.

When James brought a jug of home-made lemonade in, he saw the direction of her gaze but made no comment, and after her wrong assumption when she’d had the nanny down for the mother, Lizzie was not going to risk a repeat of that kind of thing.

‘You will have seen the new centre from the outside, no doubt,’ James said, steering the conversation towards less personal channels. ‘What do you think of it?’

She smiled and he thought she should do it more often. ‘What I’ve seen so far is impressive. I haven’t met Lord Derringham, but from what I’ve heard he isn’t sparing any expense.

‘I’ve also been told that as well as it being a thank-you gesture to the practice for the care that David and Laurel gave to his son when he had an accident up on the moors, his lordship has a young family of his own and is keen to see first-class maternity care in Willowmere and the surrounding villages.’

‘That is correct and the reason why you are here.’

‘Mmm. I’m known as workaholic and I suppose it’s true. Midwifery is the most rewarding of occupations and comes with the responsibility of bringing new life into the world carefully and safely for the sake of the newborn and its mother.’

She finished her drink and was getting up to go, feeling that she’d flown the flag enough for her love of the job. James could have invited her in solely to be hospitable and she’d been going on like someone with a one-track mind, yet wasn’t that what she was? There was nothing else in her life to wrap around with loving care, just the mothers and babies that came and went.

‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said as she stepped into the dusk. ‘Until tomorrow, then?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, until tomorrow.’

As he put out the empty bottles for Bryan Timmins, the farmer who delivered the milk each morning, and then locked up for the night, James was glad that he’d invited Lizzie in for a drink.

He’d been wrong to think that Monday would have been early enough to get to know the newcomer. He’d got a new slant on her in the short time they’d been together and was going to feel more relaxed in her company when they met up again in the morning.

Her devotion to the job was clear to see and would be most welcome, but he was just a bit concerned that it seemed to have such a hold on her, as if there was nothing else that mattered. Yet he could be wrong about that. She could have lots of other interests that she hadn’t mentioned, as during their first conversation of any length Lizzie was hardly going to recite chapter and verse all the things that made up her life. They were her affair and hers alone.

He hadn’t told her he was a widower, had he, though he wasn’t sure why. He made no secret of it in his dealings with either of the sexes, yet with her the words had stuck in his throat, and even if she was the least curious of women, he would expect her to wonder why his children had no mother.

No doubt Lizzie would find out soon enough that he was the most sought-after catch in Willowmere, with lots of experience in dodging the net.

Monday morning came and at Bracken House it was time to get ready for the children’s first day of a new school year. Jess had arrived with her usual promptness and as she gave the children their breakfast and sorted out the new uniforms that went with the new term, Helen was busy in the kitchen, putting together a packed lunch for Jolyon, who didn’t like school dinners.