––––––––
It was early morning, just getting light. Faith woke with an enormous sense of happiness. She was in bed with Chris, he had made love to her ... no, they had made love to each other. And it had been wonderful. She lay for a moment, perfectly still, realising that she’d finally allowed herself to love again, to take that risk.
She turned her head to look at him. He was still fast asleep. There was a half smile on his lips, his face looked relaxed, younger. He looked ... vulnerable.
She was lying on her back, he was on his side facing her, his hand resting lightly on her hip. She had lovely half-waking, half-sleeping memories of the night they had just spent together. They both seemed to have been determined not to let go of the other. When he had turned his back to her, she had nestled close to him, her arm round him, her knees behind his, her breasts touching the muscles of his back. When she had turned, he had done the same. It had been good.
But ... she was going to have to get up. Gather her clothes and go back home. She didn’t want to.
She kissed his forehead. ‘Chris, I should go.’
‘Mmm?’ He nuzzled closer, kissed her shoulder. It felt warm, safe, dangerously enticing.
‘I hate to say this, but I should go. I don’t know what time Molly wakes, but –’
His eyes flew open. ‘Molly! You’re right. She mustn’t find you here! God knows what it would do to her psyche.’
Faith felt a tiny, tiny stab that he was more concerned about Molly than about her. ‘That’s why I’m going,’ she said, telling herself not to be ridiculous. ‘I should be in different clothes the next time I see her.’
Chris cupped her cheek, his expression remorseful. ‘You know I don’t want you to.’
‘I don’t either, but there’s no sense in rushing her. We’ll just take things slowly.’
‘Faith, you don’t quite understand. The child psychologist said I shouldn’t form a new relationship at all. He said Molly needs a long period of stability.’
His skin against hers was still warm, still lovely, but Faith felt suddenly cold. ‘Are you saying that was just a one-night stand?’
‘No! Far from it! How could you even think that? But we can’t be seen to be lovers.’
She met his eyes levelly. ‘If you think I am going to make a regular practice of sneaking out of your house in the early hours like a character from a bad farce, you have got another think coming. Chris, your daughter likes me. I certainly love her. She has calmed down so much from when you first moved here. How many tantrums has she had recently? None that I know of since I’ve been painting her mural.’
‘I can’t ...’ He lay back, one hand clutching his hair. ‘Faith, I can’t risk it.’
Faith raised herself on one elbow, kissed him hard and then slid swiftly out of the bed before she changed her mind. ‘I was determined never to get involved with anyone again after Mike because I thought I couldn’t take the risk of getting hurt. But I have. I’ve fallen for you. Giving you up now would be all the pain I didn’t want. I really don’t think Molly will be a problem if we take things gently with her. If you are reluctant about our relationship – any relationship – maybe you need to look closer to home. You went though hell with Lorraine – are you sure the problem now isn’t with you not your daughter?’
He stared at her in shock as she dressed. She didn’t waver. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said. ‘If you still want me to come over, that is. There’s only another day or so to do on the mural before it’s finished. Let me know.’
She didn’t look back as she let herself out and walked resolutely from his cottage to hers. It nearly killed her to leave him with such a look of anguish on his face, but she was feeling horribly vulnerable too. She’d broken her own rule, given her heart away again, laid herself open to the possibility of pain. If this all went wrong, the emotional fallout didn’t bear thinking about. Chris had to work his demons out for himself.
* * *
Chris listened to Faith heading rapidly down the stairs, heard her let herself out, pictured her crossing both gardens and unlocking her back door.
Closer to home.
Lorraine had never lived here, but suddenly the bedroom was full of his ex-wife’s presence. Baleful silences. Unfair accusations. Endless, pointless, cyclic arguments with neither of them able to reach the other. He’d been at his wits’ end. Sometimes Lorraine didn’t seem to have moved at all between him going out in the morning and returning at night. At other times her moods would shift by the minute.
And Molly – Molly had been fussed over, hugged, screamed at, ignored. It was no wonder she’d subsequently played up herself.
But his wife had known, deep down, that she needed help. That was the tragedy; that she’d known and wouldn’t let herself admit it. When she’d finally agreed to counselling, Chris had thought they’d turned a corner. Slowly, so slowly, she’d improved. She’d started caring about her appearance again, spent time with Molly. But not with him. She blamed him for her illness, focussed all her feelings of unworthiness and low self-esteem on him, because he had kept going when she hadn’t. So she didn’t want to see him. And as the improvement in her health continued, she didn’t want to see Molly any more either.
Chris sat up, putting his head in his hands. It was full daylight, he realised. The sun had strengthened in the sky while he’d been reliving the nightmare. Could he risk going through that again with another woman? Could he risk compromising Molly’s safety a second time?
But, he realised slowly, listening to the small sounds of Molly waking up in the next room, he hadn’t compromised it the first time. As soon as he recognised that Lorraine’s illness was causing her to neglect their small daughter, he’d booked Molly in at a day nursery, dropping her off and collecting her himself. When he saw how upset Molly was by her mother shouting and screaming at him, he’d taken her to stay with his parents. Maybe it had reinforced Lorraine’s poor self-image, but Molly had been cared for.
And – as Faith had said – his little girl was now a different person. A normal five-year-old. Chris was honest enough to admit that most of the improvement was due to a settled routine and Faith’s sensible pointers on childcare.
So ... so Faith had been right. It was himself he was worried about. His own heart. He had watched a lively, outgoing woman first succumb to depression and then go beyond it, settling to a dull hatred of him. He had promised to stay with her in sickness and in health, but she had rejected him and blamed him for her change. He couldn’t bear that again, either on Molly’s account, or on his own. On the other hand, was he really going to risk throwing away a second chance of happiness because of the worry that Faith might go the same way as Lorraine? His feelings for Faith were already much stronger than he’d ever felt for his ex-wife. The guilt would be too.
‘Come on, Daddy,’ said Molly, clambering on to the bed. ‘You said we could go and see Fairy Maple’s tree after breakfast.’
‘Whose tree?’
Molly sighed and corrected herself. ‘The tree that looks like Fairy Maple’s.’
‘Just you and me?’ asked Chris with the sense of a momentous step being taken. ‘Or shall we ask Faith along too?’
* * *
Monday morning and Faith was in temporary charge of Obs & Gynie. It was odd how different it felt compared to when she had done the same job under Freddie. The department felt different, it had purpose. The first thing Chris would do when he got back from his regional meeting would be to ask for a quick report on the morning’s activities. The first thing Freddie would have done would have been to order lunch.
Faith looked again at the letter on her desk. She had been invited to an interview for the Hadrian’s Wall Obs & Gynie position. It had brought a decision she’d pushed to one side back to the fore. Did she still want to apply? Her head said it would be foolish to back out having got this far. Her heart ... her heart was in a state of enormous indecision. She knew she loved Chris. She might not have said it to his face yet, but her heart knew it perfectly well. She couldn’t have gone to bed with him, couldn’t have given herself to him so completely, without loving him.
But what of him? Faith thought he did love her in return, but if he couldn’t commit, what future did they have? It was five years this week since she’d lost Mike. She’d managed – not well, but adequately – by shutting out emotion, by focussing on her job and her career. She had come to realise in these past weeks that it wasn’t quite enough after all. There was no sense of guilt in her, because Mike would want her to move on and be happy. But whatever she had with Chris must be an equal partnership if they were to take it forward. And if it wasn’t equal ... well, she’d rather get any new heartbreak over now rather than later.
Faith sighed and put the letter back on her in-tray, hating herself for wanting to keep her options open. She and Chris had agreed yesterday to take things gradually. It was a prosaic, if not very passionate, decision and she had the feeling it was chafing with both of them. Considering she had held herself back for five years, she was surprised at how much she wanted instant action now.
Her phone rang. A call to the delivery suite. A community midwife – one of a number attached to GP practices who all fed into Dale Head hospital – had requested the presence of a doctor. Faith hurried along and was pleased to find that the midwife was her sister, Hope. After dealing with the birth, she hugged her and said, ‘Have you got time for lunch?’
‘Of course,’ said Hope cheerfully. ‘I told my patient to time the baby for as near twelve-thirty as possible for that very reason.’
Faith grinned. Hope was very good for her as long as she wasn’t trying to interfere.
‘So,’ said her sister, as they queued up in the canteen. ‘How’s your lovely boss?’
Faith eyed her cautiously. ‘Settling in nicely.’
‘And your handsome neighbour?’
‘Fitting in very well with the village.’
Hope chuckled. ‘Saw you blush. Have you worn my Christmas presents yet?’
Faith felt herself go scarlet. ‘Sometimes I cannot believe I brought you up!’
Hope blew her a kiss. ‘I’m not going to pry, but if you’d like some more sexy underwear for your birthday, you only have to ask.’
‘Can we talk about something else, please?’
‘I’m only trying to help.’
‘Please don’t,’ replied Faith. ‘Your version of helping is often very embarrassing.’
‘All right, I’ll be good. You remember this primagravida that I’ve got a hunch about?’
‘Yes,’ said Faith. Her sister was an experienced midwife, and Faith knew midwives in particular often developed a sixth sense about what might be wrong, a sense that had no basis in obvious medical facts. There was nothing official she could put on the reports, but she never discounted them. ‘Have you worked out why?’
‘No. Can you come out on a visit with me? I’ve checked with the boss. He says it’s OK.’
‘Sure. Where and when?’
‘First thing Thursday morning at Thwaite Hall farm. Lizzie’s booked in for the hospital for the birth, but the farm is up by Yallendale. It’s so easy to get cut off up there that I’m doing a home assessment at the same time as her normal check-up just in case.’
Faith was dismayed. She and Chris were both off-duty on Thursday. They’d planned to take Molly out for the day to a woodland adventure playground as another doing-things-together day. ‘How early first thing?’
‘It’s my first appointment.’
‘OK. I’ll meet you there.’ That wasn’t too bad. They’d stop on the way and Chris and Molly could wait in the car or perhaps look at the animals in the farmyard if there were any.
* * *
The outing didn’t start propitiously. For a start, it was the anniversary of the day that Faith had heard about Mike’s death five years ago. Try as she might, she couldn’t push aside the memory.
The second reason was Molly. ‘You could have asked Hannah to come with us if you’d wanted, to say thank you for her birthday party,’ said Chris as they were getting into the car.
Molly’s face darkened. ‘Hannah’s stupid. I hate her.’
Faith and Chris looked at each other in alarm. ‘But you were both playing together when I popped in yesterday,’ said Faith.
‘Yes, but then she said her Mummy said you were going to be my new mummy! And you’re not.’ Her voice rose. ‘Not, not, not! I don’t want you to be my mummy. I want you to be my Faith. Hannah’s stupid!’
Faith felt a stab of pain in her chest so sharp she nearly doubled over. Chris was looking equally stricken. She couldn’t dwell on it though. Molly had dissolved into sobbing tears. ‘Hush, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll just be Faith, then. It’s too nice a day for tears. Look, you’re making Panda soggy. Let’s mop you up.’ But inside, her heart was breaking. It had been going so well. Too well.
To get to Thwaite Hall farm they had to drive for four miles up Yallendale along a one-track road that ran along the side of Yallendale Beck. Having recovered from her outburst, Molly was enchanted, seeing fairies in every bend of the water.
‘This is lovely,’ said Chris, glancing across.
‘But lonely,’ said Faith. ‘And it can get cut off if there’s a flash flood and the beck swells.’
When they got to the farm, there was no sign of Hope’s car. Faith frowned, checked the time and then her mobile.
‘No signal,’ she said. ‘The valley must be too narrow.’
A man in his thirties hurried out from the farmhouse door. ‘Dr Taylor?’ he called ‘I’ve just had a phone call from the midwife. She’s been called out to a delivery, but she’d like you to do my wife’s check up, please, and she’ll do the home assessment another day.’
Faith got out of the car. ‘That’s fine. Babies come when they feel like it, don’t they? Oh!’ Peeping out from behind the man was girl of about seven or eight. ‘I thought this was Mrs Thwaite’s first pregnancy?’
‘It is. Lizzie’s my second wife. Alice’s mum passed away three years ago, now.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Nay, we’re all right. I’m Dave Thwaite, by the way.’ He looked past her to the car. ‘Would your man and the little lass like to come inside?’
Her man. Faith felt a small glow, followed by a pang. If only she could be sure that was true.
She introduced Chris and Molly and they went inside. Molly was charmed to have a bigger girl to play with. Chris sat down with a farming journal, all dark-haired and green-eyed and gorgeous, keeping a watchful eye on them and leaving the examination to Faith. Just for a moment – as he waved her on – her breathing stopped. It was simple professional trust like that which made her determined to fight for him.
It was obvious right from the start that Lizzie Thwaite was in some discomfort. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve had wretched back pains all night. Put the kettle on, Dave, there’s a love.’
Back pain? Faith noticed Chris’s head come up alertly. ‘Let me see, she said. ‘You’re thirty-six weeks, right?’
‘Thirty-seven, now,’ Lizzie pressed her hand to her back again.
‘How is your general health?’
‘It’s fine. I was a bit worried this morning, because I seemed to have a bit of a show when I passed urine.’ She hissed and moved her hand around to her front.
Faith was having a very strong feeling about this. That ‘show’ could easily have been Lizzie’s waters breaking. And a lot of pregnant women’s contractions manifested themselves as back pain in the early stages. Babies came when they felt like it all right! ‘Let’s get you examined,’ she said. ‘Where is your bedroom? And have you got a clean sheet that you don’t mind getting messy?’
It wasn’t even five minutes later when she leant over the banister. ‘Chris,’ she called. ‘Can you fetch your kit out of the car too? Mrs Thwaite is fully dilated already. We are about to deliver a baby.’
She checked pulse, blood pressure, temperature and then assessed the lie of the baby. All well. ‘The baby seems to be in a bit of a hurry, but from what I can see, it should be a perfectly normal delivery. We’ll have an ambulance on standby as it’s premature, but both Mr Ford and I are Obs and Gynie doctors – bringing babies safely into the world is what we do.’
‘Oh,’ said Lizzie Thwaite faintly. ‘That’s good.’
The poor woman was in shock, and no wonder. One minute she was washing breakfast dishes with three weeks to go before even packing a bag for the hospital, the next minute she was propped up in bed having her first child. A little distraction technique was called for to help her relax.
Dave had already shepherded the two girls upstairs to play with baby toys in the connecting nursery – a plan they both approved of mightily. ‘Your ma’s on her way,’ he said to his wife. ‘Heaven help the local copper if he stops her for speeding.’
‘Is Alice looking forward to her baby brother or sister?’ asked Faith, making conversation.
‘Oh yes,’ said Lizzie. ‘She’s a lovely girl. Going to be a real little mother.’
Chris spoke, his voice diffident. ‘Was it difficult at all, her accepting you?’
Faith went icy cold at the question – and was astonished to see a laughing glance pass between husband and wife!
‘Lizzie’s always kept the farm accounts,’ said Dave, ‘so Alice has known and loved her for years. We were so surprised when she burst into tears on being told Alice was going to be her new mummy.’
Lizzie chuckled. ‘Turned out she thought that meant I might die, because that’s what her real mother did. Funny things, kids, aren’t they?’
Faith’s eyes connected instantly with Chris’s, seeing her own surge of hope reflected in his face. Was that it? Was that why Molly had got so upset? Because she didn’t want Faith to shout and go silent and then disappear like Lorraine had done?
There was no leisure to dwell on it. The time had come for Lizzie to push. She had attended classes, had practised relaxation, she knew exactly what to do. A perfect mum-to-be. Dave supported her at every step.
Faith had been present at many births. She had early on learnt to push aside the swell of emotion as the head appeared. It was a good thing she was concentrating. So far it had been a perfectly normal – if fast – birth. The head was nearly delivered. A couple of minutes more and ... and ... no! Things weren’t right. It was going badly wrong! The baby’s head had appeared but was moving perhaps half in inch in and out. The face was very red. Faith knew what this was – it was called ‘turtlenecking’. If the baby wasn’t delivered soon, he–– or she–– wouldn’t make it.
Dave Thwaite was gripping his wife’s hand, worry etched on his face. ‘It wasn’t like this with Alice ...’ he muttered anxiously.
Faith glanced up at Lizzie. The woman had sensed everything was not under control. ‘My baby,’ she gasped. ‘Save my baby.’
Faith felt Chris leaning over her and drew strength from his very presence. His hand gripped her shoulder – did he know how hard?
‘A shoulder distocia,’ she said rapidly. ‘The anterior shoulder is impacting on the symphysis pubis, and the baby can’t get out.’
‘First one I’ve seen. You’ve dealt with cases like this before?’
‘Yes. But not many.’
‘You’re the physician in charge, love. I’ll do what you say.’
Faith snapped into high gear, that ‘love’ not impinging on her senses until many hours later. ‘Right. Help me get Lizzie into the McRoberts position, with her knees pushed right into her chest, then you try suprapubic pressure. Rock your hand up and down on her pelvis to try and release the shoulder that’s stuck. It just might work.’
It didn’t. Faith stood ready to take but the body didn’t emerge. Were the baby’s movements getting weaker? She ran through her options at lightning speed. She’d have to cut an episiotomy. Thank God she had her sterile scissors with her. Swiftly, she cut. Lizzie yelled, but Dave held her in a comforting grip, talking her through the pain.
Faith tuned them out. She had to. It was essential to get the baby out quickly, because with the chest compressed in the birth canal it couldn’t breathe. And with a baby half in and half out, the mother’s uterus couldn’t contract to stop bleeding.
Now for the last imperative step. Taking a deep breath, she went to work. Carefully, using the space the episiotomy had created, she inserted her hand. Ignoring the mother’s fresh wail she reached further. There! There was the forearm. If she could just apply the right pressure, just pull gently but firmly ... yes, there was movement. Faith sent up a small prayer – this baby had been so good so far, carry on that way!
The tiny body moved again. She had it! ‘Push,’ she shouted to Lizzie. Lizzie pushed. And the baby slipped into Faith’s hands. An eyeball check and yes, the baby was breathing. ‘She’s alive,’ she said exultantly, tears running down her face. ‘Lizzie, Dave, you’ve got another daughter and she’s lovely!’
Chris took the child from her, dried and wrapped her in the towels put ready and handed her to Dave. ‘Give her to her mother,’ he said.
The birth wasn’t quite over. Faith pressed down on the mother’s stomach. ‘One more task. A last couple of pushes to get rid of the placenta, then you can cuddle your little girl.’
The placenta was delivered. Faith leaned back against Chris. ‘Thank God,’ she murmured and felt his arms come around her in a brief, hard squeeze. ‘All OK?’
‘All fine. Fabulous work. Do you want me to suture the episiotomy?’
Faith was drained. She tipped her head up and smiled at him. ‘Yes, please.’
After that it was all straightforward stuff. Faith and Chris made independent examinations of the baby and there appeared to be no ill effects of the shoulder distocia. There was the general cleaning up to be done, the bed changed, the notes to write up. A fine baby girl, weight five pounds, Apgar scale ten – the maximum.
‘A lovely baby,’ Faith said, and meant every word. And, now that it was all over, felt a touch of envy.
* * *
There wasn’t time, after all the excitement, to go on to the woodland playground. Fortunately, Molly seemed to think playing with Alice, being read to by Alice’s grandma and seeing a tiny new baby was a reasonable substitute.
In some ways, thought Faith, the events of the day had bound her and Chris together even more. They’d worked as a team in the intimate atmosphere of a home birth, turning what could have been a tragedy into another small miracle of life. From the way he smiled at her when they were once more in the car, Chris thought so too. It crystallised her decision.
‘I’m withdrawing my application for the Hadrian’s Wall post,’ she said abruptly.
The ignition keys dropped from Chris’s hand. His head swivelled to hers, his eyes green and intense. ‘Really? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. I’m a Dale Head and Little Allaby woman.’ She felt a sense of peace that the decision had finally been made.
Chris retrieved his keys from the floor. ‘I am quite ridiculously pleased,’ he said, his voice muffled. ‘Time to go home. Which house shall we go to, Molly? Ours or Faith’s?’
Molly considered. ‘Faith’s for tea, then ours for bedtime,’ she said, adding kindly to her father, ‘Faith makes nicer teas than you do.’
Faith took a quick breath. It was too good an opening to miss and she was in an uncharacteristically reckless mood. ‘I make quite good breakfasts too,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to come and stay at your house overnight some time and then I can make you one in the morning.’
She saw Chris’s hands grip the steering wheel. ‘That sounds nice,’ he said. ‘What sort of breakfasts do you make?’
‘Bacon sandwiches? Eggy bread? Exploding croissants?’
‘I like eggy bread,’ said Molly. ‘Grandma makes it.’
Faith knew. It had been the reason she mentioned it. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at the little girl. ‘Shall I stay tonight and make some tomorrow, then?’
Molly smiled at her. ‘Yes. And you can read me a story tonight. And Daddy can read me story too,’ she added quickly.
‘She’s asleep,’ said Chris softly. He looked across at Faith, perched on the other side of Molly’s bed, and experienced a fillip of the heart he didn’t remember in any of the years of his marriage. ‘It’s been a good day,’ he said, standing up.
‘Bringing new life into the world is always good.’ But Faith caught her lip between her teeth as she said it.
‘What is it?’ Chris followed her out of the room, turning the light off.
He saw her back shrug in the dim light from the landing. ‘Nothing. New life to balance old, I suppose.’
He caught up with her, drew her to him. ‘Faith? You aren’t making sense.’
She rested her head against his chest. If he hadn’t been so concerned, he would have rather liked it, the simple trust of her in his arms. ‘It was five years ago today that I heard Mike had been killed.’
‘Oh, Faith.’ Chris held her close, feeling her pain. ‘Sweetheart, tell me truthfully. Do you want to stay tonight? Or not.’
She looked up with the swift smile he had come to associate with her. ‘I’d rather not be on my own tonight. I’d like to stay. But I’m going to get up way earlier than Molly tomorrow!’
Chris chuckled and bent his head to kiss her. She was soft and giving in his embrace. He kissed her eyelids, tasting tears on her lashes. He suddenly, fiercely, didn’t want her to ever cry again. He would do all in his power to help her – not forget Mike, because that would be wrong – but remember him for the love they’d shared, not the sadness.
Chris moved down to kiss her lips, and as he did so he recalled what she’d said some time ago. That she’d heard of Mike’s death two days before her birthday. So that meant it would be her birthday on Saturday. A day she hadn’t celebrated for the past five years.
Faith was giving him back kiss for kiss, her hands roaming his back and threading into his hair. His last thought before he succumbed to the glorious passion of making love to her was that he was going to have to work pretty fast if he was going to replace her birthday sadness with beautiful memories too.
‘Chris, you really don’t have to do anything special,’ Faith protested as he walked her down to the gate next morning so she could get ready for work.
‘That’s not what Molly thinks. Birthdays are to be celebrated, I’m afraid.’
‘But ...’ She was temporarily distracted by him dropping a kiss on her hair.
‘Buy yourself a new dress on the way home. That will satisfy her. See you later.’
‘Yes, see you.’ Faith glanced at her watch and picked up her pace. Eggy bread for breakfast was all very well, but it all took time and she was going to be late if she didn’t hurry. Her feelings were all agitated. How had Molly even known it was her birthday on Saturday? Naturally she couldn’t upset the little girl, but it was going to be hard to keep smiling all through that day.
She had a heavy workload that morning, but still made time for a break when she usually popped into the playroom to see Molly. Today, however, Beth Kitson paged her just as she got there to ask if she could come to the maternity unit.
‘On my way,’ said Faith. She glanced into the playroom, but Molly was at the craft table, busy with glue and an awful lot of glitter. Faith was pleased to see she was sitting next to Hannah. Obviously she’d forgotten their little spat.
By the end of the day, shopping for clothes was the last thing Faith wanted to do. Then she got a text from Hope remarking that Chris was a fast worker and offering to meet her in town to help her choose a sexy dress.
‘Over my dead body,’ she texted back. She drove into town feeling manipulated.
She’d barely got home when there was an imperious knocking at the back door. It was Molly, grinning all over her face and handing her a distinctly glittery envelope.
‘What’s this?’ said Faith.
Molly jumped up and down excitedly. ‘Open it and see.’
Faith opened the envelope and brought out an even more glittery card. ‘Miss Molly Ford and Mr Christopher Ford invite Dr Faith Taylor to her own birthday party down by the river on Saturday at midday,’ she read. She looked up to see that Chris had followed his daughter and was leaning against the door jamb.
‘Just a birthday picnic, Faith.’ There was a smile in his eyes that said he understood her reservations. ‘A few sandwiches and a nice glass of wine amongst friends. All you have to do is to walk down with Molly and me and look gorgeous.’
Faith glanced ruefully at the carrier bag she’d unloaded from the boot of her car. ‘I didn’t exactly buy a river bank sort of dress.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘All the better.’
* * *
Faith’s thirtieth birthday. She woke up to texts from her sisters and a feeling that today, whether she liked it or not, would mark a turning point between her old world and the new. Quite why, she wasn’t sure, perhaps simply because she was being persuaded to celebrate, rather than regret.
Her mobile rang. Chris’s voice sounded warm and velvety in her ear. ‘Good morning, sweetheart. I missed you last night. Happy birthday.’
She’d missed him too, but she’d needed time alone. Things were happening a little fast. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘How long have I got to make myself presentable?’
‘We’ll come over at eleven.’ His voice became cautious. ‘I believe your sisters are arriving at eleven thirty.’
She laughed. ‘I can cope with them. And you’re sure you don’t want me to do anything? Make anything?’
‘Just be beautiful. And be happy.’ There was the briefest pause, as if he was on the point of saying something else, then Faith heard the thudding of small feet. Molly was evidently awake. ‘Until eleven,’ he said, and rang off.
Faith sat on the bed for a moment. There was something she had to do, something she’d been putting off. She pulled open the bottom drawer of her chest of drawers and took out a box holding a thick photo album. Inside the front cover was a picture of Mike smiling at her as he had done so often in life.
Just be beautiful. And be happy.
Faith looked into Mike’s twinkling eyes and knew he would say exactly the same. She swallowed the lump in her throat, blew him a tiny kiss, closed the album gently and put it away.
When the time came to put on her new dress, she almost ducked out. It was surely far too frivolous for a birthday picnic by the river? She put on the slinky pink underwear from Hope, enjoying the feel of it on her skin, then slid her new purchase off the hanger. It was a silk dress in exactly that tone of pink that suited her skin. It was sleeveless, almost backless, showing just the right amount of cleavage. A summer dress.
‘Some young man will think you look wonderful in this,’ the shop assistant said as she carefully wrapped it. ‘He’ll think he’s very lucky. And he’ll be right.’
Looking at herself in the mirror, Faith wondered if she had chosen it with the subconscious desire that Chris would like it – and like her in it. She went downstairs thoughtfully.
‘Happy birthday, Faith!’ squealed Molly, bursting through the back door, dressed in her fairy party dress again. ‘Daddy wouldn’t let me come before – I’ve been waiting ages. This is your birthday card. I crayoned it myself. It’s very nice, isn’t it?’
‘It’s lovely,’ said Faith, sitting down and opening the card.
‘This is me and this is you and this is Panda,’ Molly explained, leaning close to her and pointing at the people she had drawn. ‘And that is me and my two friends. And those are all the fairies. And underneath it says Happy Birthday with love from Molly and Panda.’
‘So it does! It is the loveliest card in the world and I shall put it on the mantelpiece with my other cards. Do you want to see them?’
‘Not yet. You need to open Daddy’s card.’
Faith looked up and there was Chris. Her breath caught in her throat. He was looking fabulous, dressed in a grey linen suit with a silk shirt in a rich green that matched the colour of his eyes. And those eyes were definitely admiring her dress!
‘Hello, birthday girl,’ he said and leaned down to kiss her as he put a light, rounded-oblong parcel in her lap.
Just a birthday kiss, a kiss on the cheek. But Faith felt her body respond to his warmth, his nearness, the expensive cologne he was wearing. From his indrawn breath as she turned her head to brush her lips against his, he wasn’t immune to the close proximity between them either.
The sound of a car outside made him straighten up. ‘That’ll be my sisters,’ said Faith, flustered. It was astonishing how an encounter of just a couple of seconds with Chris could send her senses straight to the bedroom and her thoughts into total disarray.
‘You’d better open your nice present then,’ he said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice.
‘Yes, open it. It’s lovely. Do you like the paper?’
Faith bent her attention to Chris’s parcel. It was wrapped in a pearlescent pale blue paper with fairies dancing across it. ‘Very pretty.’
‘It’s my paper,’ said Molly. ‘Shall I help you unwrap it?’
So Molly undid the end and Faith eased out the tissue paper inside.
‘Like “Pass the Parcel”!’ The little girl wriggled excitedly.
The parcel was soft, light ... ‘You’ve wrapped me a cloud,’ said Faith with a laugh. Then the tissue paper fell free, revealing a pashmina scarf in all the pinks, purples and blues in the spectrum. She ran her fingers over it. It was so soft to the touch! And so beautiful. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said simply. ‘Thank you both very much.’
Then her sisters came in and the tone of the day changed to a celebration. There were hugs, kisses, more presents. Hope’s was soft and squashy with a definite feel of underwiring to it. ‘I think I’ll open this one later,’ said Faith.
Her sister grinned unrepentantly. ‘Good idea. By candlelight, perhaps. After a long luxurious bubble bath.’
Which coincidentally, was what Charity’s present contained.
Chris looked at the contents interestedly. ‘Chocolates too. And a bottle of champagne. I’m beginning to like your sisters.’
Faith wore the pashmina to walk down to the picnic. ‘Don’t we have to take some food?’ she asked, looking at everyone’s empty hands.
They all laughed at her.
It was another beautiful day, warm, with a light breeze. As they reached the bridge, Faith stopped. The normally peaceful riverbank was nearly as busy as it had been last week. ‘Maybe we should find somewhere else,’ she said. ‘There are an awful lot of people there.’
She recognised the trestle-tables from the village hall. And the bunting that appeared at every spring fête. Just as she noticed Abbey and Jack Kirk bustling around, Abbey turned and saw her. She waved madly, shouted something indecipherable, and a whole bunch of people – some of them, Faith realised belatedly, from Dale Head hospital – moved aside to reveal a banner pinned across the front of the tables.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FAITH !!!”
Faith’s hands went to her mouth in shock. The whole village was there for her!
‘They’re fond of you,’ murmured Chris in her ear. ‘As soon as I discussed my little idea with Abbey, she mentioned it to her friends and Jack dropped it into conversation at the Earnshaw Arms. I believe Beth Kitson and Jared Carpenter might have spread the word around the hospital grapevine too. I’m paying for the drink, but everyone else insisted on contributing the food.’
‘But ... but why?’ Faith looked at him, bewildered.
He stroked her face. ‘They’ve been worried, sweetheart. They respect you. They appreciate the work you’ve done to make Dale Head a good place. They want you to be happy.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. ‘And so do I.’
Molly had already gone skipping past them in her fairy dress, holding one hand of Charity and one of Hope.
‘Come on,’ said Chris. ‘You can’t run out on everyone now.’
Faith swallowed. ‘I might need a hand to hold,’ she said.
‘You got it.’
There was an enormous cheer when Faith reached her very own birthday party. She blushed and made a hasty speech of thanks to everyone for coming – and for providing the party! More cheers, toasts were drunk, and she had small presents to open from her closest friends.
‘Why?’ she asked Abbey helplessly.
‘Apart from to say “thank you” for delivering all our babies, getting me the best job in the world and keeping hospital employment local and happy?’ Abbey clinked her friend’s glass. ‘You do ask some daft questions, Faith.’
Chris had been right. Everyone really was here because they cared about her. It made Faith feel slightly teary, but very warm and fuzzy inside. She must have been mad to think she could ever leave it and go to Hadrian’s Wall. Amidst the general food, wine, beer and conversation, she felt she was living the afternoon on two levels. On one level there was a village birthday party with her sisters, friends, colleagues and neighbours. On the other level there was just her and Chris. She was aware of him the whole time, whether he was acting as host, popping the corks out of bottle after bottle of champagne, sitting next to her on a picnic rug sharing a plate of mixed savouries, or on the other side of a large group discussing rural life as opposed to urban living.
Gradually, the sandwiches, quiches, salads, tiny hot pies and bacon rolls vanished. As did the fruit skewers, the individual jellies with fresh fruit in them and the dangerously alcoholic trifle.
‘Cake!’ shouted Molly, and was echoed by the other children.
‘I’m not sure I can,’ said Faith.
‘Now, now,’ said Chris. ‘It’s a well known fact that birthday cake takes up no space at all.’
He reached down a hand to pull her to her feet. The sun had shifted, colouring his eyes a lovely deep green. ‘More champagne,’ he said, easing open the cork on one last bottle and pouring golden liquid into their glasses. The bubbles caught the sunlight, giving everything a magical air. At the trestle table, Jared was endeavouring to light all thirty candles on a large cake.
‘I might not forgive you for that,’ muttered Faith.
‘Blow,’ shrieked Molly.
‘Yes, blow,’ said her harassed subordinate. ‘This breeze is getting up.’
Faith blew out all the candles, there was a cheer.
‘And now you’ve got to shut your eyes and make a wish,’ said Molly.
Faith’s gaze connected with Chris. She shut her eyes and wished.
‘And you mustn’t tell anybody the wish or it won’t come true.’
She wasn’t going to. She was hoping there would be no need.
‘Happy Birthday’ was sung, cake was distributed. Full of food and starting to get sleepy, Molly wanted to go and see Fairy Maple’s tree.
‘Good idea,’ said Chris, putting his arm around Faith’s waist.
They strolled along the path to the tree, Molly skipping a little way ahead of them. ‘And then we’ll go to Faith’s house and then to our house,’ she said.
‘It would be much easier,’ Chris said casually, ‘if Faith came and lived with us all the time, really.’
‘All the time?’ Uncertainty crept into Molly’s voice.
‘Yes. I think it would be lovely.’
Molly pondered, the giant oak tree at her back, then turned suddenly tragic eyes on him. ‘But would she stay for ever?’ she said in a small voice. ‘Mummy didn’t stay.’
Faith hugged her, tears in her eyes, her heart melting.
‘Oh, that’s easy to fix,’ said Chris. ‘We just have to do a very special magic spell. I would have to look into Faith’s eyes and say, “Dear Faith, Molly and I love you very much. Please will you marry me and live with us always?” Just like that. See?’ His eyes were intense and very green and his hand hanging by his side gripped Faith’s.
Molly looked at Faith and put a small hand on her leg.
Faith took it, clasping Chris’s fingers with her other hand. Around them the trees rustled in the tiny breeze and the woodland scents coloured the air. Her heart filled up. She had never before known such love as she experienced right at this moment. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s powerful. And then I would have to look into Daddy’s eyes and say, “Dear Chris, I love you and Molly very much too. I would very much like to marry you and live with you both always.”.’
‘Does that mean yes?’ asked Molly.
Faith smiled. ‘Yes, darling. It means yes.’
‘And there’s one more thing,’ said Chris. ‘We have to seal the spell with a ring.’ He let go of her hand, felt in his pocket and took out a box, murmuring, ‘I’ve been carrying this around for days.’
Faith gazed mesmerised at a diamond-studded circle of gold. ‘Yes,’ she croaked, ‘that would seal the spell all right.’ There seemed to be something constricting her throat. She watched as he slid the beautiful ring onto the wedding finger of her left hand. It felt warm. It felt right. She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Of course, you could both come and live with me instead, if you like. Or perhaps we could find a new house for all of us?’
Chris swept them both into his arms, hugging her and Molly together. ‘Love you,’ he said softly in her ear.
‘Love you too,’ she replied.
Molly sighed. ‘I knew this was a magic tree.’
‘It is,’ said Chris, smiling at Faith. ‘It really is. Magic for ever.’