Abigail Gordon - Country Midwife, Christmas Bride

‘What was he called?’ Polly chipped in.

‘His name sounded very much like yours, Jolyon, but not quite. He was called Joel.’

Apparently satisfied with the explanation, Jolyon nodded his small blond head and ran off to play, and as he ate his solitary meal James was smiling at the difference in his children. Polly accepted everything as it came her way, but not so her brother—he had to know the whys and wherefores before he was happy.

When he arrived at the new clinic there was no sign of Lizzie and he thought that maybe she wasn’t the eager beaver that she’d seemed to be earlier, but when he glanced across the road in the dusk to where the ancient village church stood he saw a flash of colour amongst the gravestones that surrounded it and seconds later she was coming towards him through the lychgate.

‘There are some really old graves in the churchyard, aren’t there?’ she commented, and wondered why a shadow passed over his face. But, of course, maybe his wife’s was one of the newer ones, she thought, although she hadn’t seen it if it was. So less said about that the better. Changing the subject, she asked politely, ‘Have the children enjoyed their first day back at school?’

‘Er…up to a point in Jolyon’s case,’ he said wryly. ‘Pollyanna was her usual happy self, but her brother is not so easily pleased. They had a new teacher who apparently commented on his name in what appears to have been the nicest possible way, but he took it to mean that she didn’t like it. He and I had a little chat and it was sorted.’

She was smiling. ‘It is a fact that young children want to be the same as their friends and don’t want to be different, but if they have an unusual name, they often come to like it as they get older. My name isn’t unusual but I have had to answer to many forms of it over the years, such as Beth, Liz, Bet and Lizzie, which is the one that has stuck, though in truth the one I like best is Elizabeth, my given name.’

‘What do your family call you?’

‘I have no family, but when I did have they called me Lizzie.’

‘You have no family at all?’ he questioned in amazed disbelief, so much aware of his own blessings he felt guilty.

‘No,’ she said steadily, and her tone told him that was the end of the discussion, as did the fact that she was observing the pile of patients records on the reception desk in the waiting room and settling herself on one of the chairs that were placed in neat rows across the room.

As he came to sit beside her Lizzie said, ‘I think the seating arrangements in here have too much uniformity. I want it to be that while the mothers-to-be are waiting their turn they can chat to each other easily, with the chairs scattered around the room. So if it’s all right with you, I’m going to rearrange them. It is very important for women to be able to share their fears and excitement, and their problems, with each other, especially if they are first-time patients taking what can be a scary step into the unknown.’

‘It’s fine by me,’ he told her. ‘You are the one who is going to be in charge of this place. My function will be to be there if you need me. I would only interfere if I thought it absolutely necessary, and with your record of excellence at St Gabriel’s having preceded you, I can’t see that ever happening.

‘But, Lizzie, don’t let this place take over your life completely,’ he continued, and couldn’t believe what he was saying when the fates had sent to Willowmere someone as dedicated to health care as the woman sitting beside him. ‘There are lots of things to do in the village, people to get to know, beautiful places to explore, as well as looking after the pregnant women in our midst.

‘So why don’t I take you to Willowmere’s only pub, The Pheasant, when we’ve finished here? It will give you the opportunity to socialise a little.’

It was there again, Lizzie was thinking. He was picking up on the emptiness of her life and she didn’t want him to be concerned about her. For one thing, she hardly knew the man, and for another, apart from during working hours when they would have to be in contact, she wanted to be left to get on with her life, such as it was.

But James was putting himself out to make her feel welcome when he must have plenty of other things to do in his busy life, and it would seem ungrateful to refuse his suggestion, so she said, ‘Yes, if you’re sure that you have the time.’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ he said calmly, and, passing her the first lot of patients’ notes, began to explain who they were and what they would be expecting from her.

When they’d finished going through them Lizzie said, ‘It would seem that there will shortly be another name to add to these.’

‘I’m not with you,’ he commented.

‘I went to the café across the road at lunchtime and Emma asked for an appointment as she’s done the pregnancy test from the chemist and it showed positive. So we’ve arranged for her to be the first patient at the clinic after the opening on Friday.’

‘Emma pregnant!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wonderful! She and Simon have wanted to start a family for a long time. She had a miscarriage when they were first married and there has been nothing since.’

‘So I will have to take great care of her, won’t I?’

‘Yes, you will,’ he agreed, ‘and now am I going to take you for that drink?’

‘Er…won’t your housekeeper wonder where you’ve got to?’ she said with an unmistakable lack of enthusiasm, and he wanted to laugh. He could think of two or three unattached female members of the community, and one who was already in a relationship, who would have jumped at the idea, but not so this one, it seemed.

‘No, not at all,’ he assured her perversely. ‘But to put your mind at rest, I’ll call at the house before we go and let her know where I will be if she needs me.’ And Lizzie had to go along with that.

The Pheasant was crowded and when they walked in various people greeted James and observed his companion with curiosity, which was satisfied somewhat as he introduced her as the new community midwife who was joining him for a drink to celebrate the opening of the new clinic.

By the time they’d found a couple of seats and James had fought his way to the bar and back, Lizzie was feeling more relaxed, grateful for the way he had introduced her into the socialising throng without causing her embarrassment.

At the same time she was telling herself if she was going to fit into the life of the village she was going to have to start living again, and after three years of shutting herself away from everything but her job, it was not going to be easy.

James was observing her expression and almost as if he’d read her mind he said, ‘That wasn’t so bad after all, was it? Everyone was listening when I introduced you, so now they all know who you are.’

‘If you say so,’ she agreed. ‘You know the people here better than I do. Have you always lived in Willowmere?’

‘Yes. My father was in charge of the practice before me, but after my mother died he began to fail and my sister, Anna, gave up all her plans for the future and came home from university to help me during a very difficult time. Thankfully her life is now back on course again.’

He was speaking about his family in the hope that she would mention the absence of hers, but the ploy wasn’t working. Lizzie wore a wedding ring, he’d noticed, but there was no husband around.

Maybe she was divorced and that was the reason for her reticence, yet a marriage break-up seemed as nothing to some people, but it had to be a daunting experience in many ways.

He had his children and his sister in his life, and if what she’d said was true, the woman sitting opposite had no one. Small wonder that she wasn’t the life and soul of the party, but he needed to bear in mind that she’d only arrived in Willowmere a few days ago.