Текст книги "The Secrets of Midwives"

Автор книги: Sally Hepworth

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

A few minutes later, we loaded Gillian, David, and the baby into my car. Patrick started up his own vehicle, ready to follow us there. Neva held my car door open for me. “Good luck.”

I gave her a chaste kiss, and she caught my waist and pulled me into a quick hug. “You did good today, Grace,” she said into my ear. “And you were right. It was magic.”

Before I could gather my thoughts enough to speak, she was striding back toward the house.

12

Floss

The first time I laid eyes on Lil, she was in the third row of my Birthing Naturally class. In a black trouser suit with a mulberry scarf, she was dressed more for a wedding than a birthing class. Clearly she was too old to be pregnant. The empty seats beside her indicated she wasn’t accompanying her daughter. She was a fine-boned woman with a pure white bob and a dainty, angled face. The opposite of myself, physically speaking. As I introduced myself to the class and handed out my reading material, I couldn’t help stealing glances at her. She appeared a little out of place, but then, so did a lot of people. Birth, particularly for people of my generation, could make the best of people squeamish.

As soon as the class finished, she was out of her seat, beelining for the door. For a woman of her age, she was impressively lithe, but after ninety minutes of watching her arranging her delicate frame on the narrow chair, I wasn’t going to let her go without saying hello.

“I hope you found the class worthwhile,” I called out as she zipped past me.

She hesitated then half turned back. “Er, yes. Thank you.” She took another step toward the door.

“Is your daughter expecting, or another family member?”

It wasn’t my style to ask such personal questions, but for some reason, I couldn’t help it.

She paused again. “Neither. No one is expecting.” She hesitated, perhaps unsure whether to say more. “I thought I was attending another class.” She looked at the cover of the notebook in her hand. “Room C1202.”

I blinked. “Toastmasters?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

A laugh escaped before I could help it. “So … why did you stay?”

“I’m not sure. But it sure had nothing to do with Birthing Naturally.”

*   *   *

It was early evening. Lil and I had eaten pasta in front of a television game show that I’d pretended to follow with some interest. But my heart hurt. Not figuratively—it physically hurt. A high, twanging pain across my sternum and my left side. I was thinking about Bill again. It had been years since he was such a part of my psyche, and I hated that he still had the privilege of my brain space. More so, I hated myself for the mess I had created. I’d never regretted what I’d done. But now, with Neva’s situation so closely mirroring my own, my reasons for keeping the secret all these years seemed slightly less clear.

“You all right, Floss?” Lil asked. She’d cleared away the dinner dishes and now she stood in the corner of the sitting room, unfolding the wire rack to hang the laundry. She’d also cooked the dinner. I was letting down the team. “You’re holding your chest.”

“Am I?” I looked at the hand hovering over my heart. “Oh. So I am.”

“You’re worried about something.”

Lil wasn’t stupid. I hadn’t been myself since I’d got Neva’s news, and while she’d left me to my thoughts initially, I got the feeling I’d used up my grace period. In the past few days, she’d become increasingly short with me. “I’m just … thinking about Neva.” I tried to ignore the faded yellow envelope peeking out of the corner of my purse. “And Grace.”

Lil shook out a T-shirt and hung it over the rack. “They’ve been taking up a lot of your thoughts lately.” She picked a pair of underwear out of the basket, then paused. “Neva’s pregnancy is bringing up a lot of old hurts for you.” She draped the underpants over the wire and bent down to retrieve the next item. “I know virtually nothing about that part of your life. I wish you’d share with me.”

She continued hanging clothes, but her comment floated there, like dust in sunlight. I felt the presence of the envelope again—the letter from Evie that I’d dug out last night when I couldn’t sleep. All I’d have to do was give that letter to Lil, and she’d know everything. But something stopped me. I wanted to tell her. I knew what it was like having someone clam up when you were worried about them. Though, at least Lil saw me every day and knew I wasn’t in real, physical danger. When I was worried about Elizabeth, I didn’t have that luxury. After Evie’s engagement party, Elizabeth all but disappeared. Plans we made were always canceled. Bill had had a busy week; Bill needed her at home. It was frustrating, particularly since I couldn’t seem to get her—or Bill—out of my mind. What was it about him? I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I’d hoped that as her midwife, Evie would insist that Elizabeth attend prenatal clinics. If I could just see her, I was sure the funny feeling in my belly would dissipate. But Elizabeth took responsibility for her own prenatal care. She performed her own urine tests at home and she kept a weekly record of her stomach measurements, which showed the baby was growing properly. As a midwife herself, this was perfectly safe, and it made sense, since she lived a long way out and didn’t have a car. But that did nothing to reassure me.

I thought about voicing my concerns to Evie, several times, but then what were my concerns, really? That I had a bad feeling about Bill? That he tried to dance with me outside on his wedding day? They sounded pathetic at best, and at worst, like sour grapes. So I just waited for Elizabeth to get in touch with me.

A few months later, out of the blue, a dinner invitation arrived, along with a note saying that Elizabeth was sorry she hadn’t kept in touch better. I accepted the invitation. I’d have preferred that she come into town so I could take her to lunch and talk to her properly, but as that didn’t seem to be an option, dinner would have to do.

I made the journey to Kings Langley on my bike. Elizabeth said that their house bordered town and country, but the closer I pedaled, the more obvious it became that it was just plain country. A light rain misted down over me as I pedaled. I hadn’t seen a house for over fifteen minutes when I saw the lights of the little stone cottage. A car sat out front—a black town car. Strange. Bill didn’t have a car. When I reached the house, I leaned my bike against the low wall, smoothed down my pinafore, and took the path to Elizabeth’s front door, taking large steps to avoid the mud between the pavers.

Bill answered the door with a cigarette and a grin. “Floss. We were getting worried. We were about to send Michael out to look for you.”

Michael? I peered inside to where a young man stood. He was tall and thin, getting thinner at the top, like a sharpened pencil. His hair was brown, like his trousers, and neatly combed to the side. So this was the point of the dinner. My stomach, which already felt like it was being strangled with a belt, constricted further.

Bill gave me an easy hug. Easy for him. Not for me. His touch sent a strange tingle through me. I must have felt stiffer than an old corpse. He guided me through the door and straight into the kitchen, where Elizabeth stood, a clean red apron over her empire-line blouse. I was relieved to see her actually looking pregnant, even though she was carrying small, just a little mound in the front. The rest of her was normal size, perhaps even less than normal, but she’d always been slim. Her hair had been cut to chin length, and it was teased into a shiny, deep red bob that lifted at least three inches at the crown.

“Floss!” She took off her apron and hugged me. “I’m so happy you’re here. I wanted to have you over sooner, but … well, never mind, you’re here. Allow me introduce you to Michael. Michael: Floss; Floss: Michael.” She flicked her wrist back and forth between us. “Michael lives on a neighboring farm—cattle—with his father and brother, and was desperate for a home-cooked meal so I insisted he join us. Single and eligible.”

She lowered her voice and sang the last part, but she didn’t lower her voice enough. Michael turned away, politely busying himself looking at photographs on the mantel, but his cheeks were pink, and he was clearly holding back a smile.

“Can I get you a drink, Floss?” Bill was in a jolly mood, and Elizabeth also appeared happy, high on the intoxication of matchmaking. It was hard not to get caught up in it. She ushered us to the “dining room,” a small, windowless area that adjoined the kitchen and centered on a circular table. The house was tiny. Just a kitchen, an eating area, and another closed door, which must have been the bedroom. The bathroom, from what I could ascertain, was outside. A hard slog, I imagined, for a pregnant woman who could be up several times through the night. Odd that I hadn’t heard her complain about it. Then again, I hadn’t heard much from her at all these past few months.

“So, Floss,” Michael said as we sat adjacent to each other at the table.”Bill tells me you’re a midwife? A noble career. I’d imagine it’s very fulfilling.”

My eyebrows rose. I expected that a single, eligible farmer would have found midwifery a necessary but unremarkable career choice. The fact that he was interested made him rise several notches in my book. “It is,” I said. “Very fulfilling. I delivered my fiftieth baby yesterday, as a matter of fact.”

“Your fiftieth?” He gave me a little clap. “Well, I can’t boast those kinds of numbers, but I’ve delivered the odd calf. Though I don’t imagine it’s quite the same.”

I laughed. “There’d be some similarities, I suppose. But I can’t say I’ve ever delivered a calf.”

“I’ll be sure to invite you along next time.”

“I’ll be sure to accept.”

We smiled at each other. His stance—leaning forward, elbows on the table—betrayed his genuine interest. I only wished I could return it. His smile more than made up for his peculiarly shaped head.

“I see you two are getting along?” Bill said, sliding into the seat to my right.

“Just talking about our common interests,” Michael said.

“Midwifery,” I said. “Elizabeth used to be a midwife too,” I told Michael, “before she was married.”

“Is that right, Elizabeth?” Michael called out to Elizabeth in the kitchen. “You must miss it.”

Elizabeth entered the room with a roast chicken on a large brown chopping board. “I do. I was just about qualified when I gave it up. Some of the best times of my life.”

Bill, who sat between Elizabeth and me, raised his head. Elizabeth’s face changed. It was curious. She returned to the kitchen, and a moment later she was back with the vegetables. “Anyway, I’m glad it’s all behind me now,” she said. Her tone was aiming for bright, but not quite getting there. “Married life is wonderful. I certainly couldn’t do both.” She held the knife out to Bill. “Would you like to carve, darling?”

“It seems like an awful lot of effort to go to if you quit before you’re even qualified,” Michael said. “Do you plan to keep practicing after you’re married, Floss?”

“I hadn’t thought,” I answered honestly. “I suppose I would.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth’s voice was tight. “And how would you do that? Abandon your husband at all hours of the day and night, cycling all over town, going into strange houses like a woman of the night. And what about children? What would you do with them? Strap them to the back of the bike? It’s just not feasible, Floss.”

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “A man could cook his own dinner from time to time, surely? And going into strange houses doesn’t make you a woman of the night if you’re there to deliver a—”

“Elizabeth makes a good point, though,” I said quickly. Something about the way she spoke made me nervous. Woman of the night? They weren’t her words. And the stillness that had come over Bill—it worried me. “It’s not always practical.”

“No, it’s not,” Bill said. He moved to the head of the table, in front of the chicken. With a large knife, he sliced the bird in long, expert cuts. “I could hardly have Elizabeth cycling into town while she’s pregnant.”

“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “Of course not.”

For a few minutes, we ate in silence punctuated only by the occasional scrape of cutlery. The mood had taken a funny turn and I wasn’t entirely sure why. So what if I planned to work after I had children? I didn’t have any children, and I was fairly certain my prospects of having them were slim at best. Even if Elizabeth and Bill didn’t know that, were they really so insecure about their own choices that everyone needed to agree with them?

At least Elizabeth was eating. It reassured me. She was so thin, and at this stage of pregnancy, women needed calories. She ate like she was expecting twins—triplets!—though I wasn’t about to point that out.

“This is delicious, Elizabeth,” I said, hoping to inject some life back into the party. “The chicken is perfect.”

“You’re a lucky man, Bill,” Michael agreed, “a wife that can cook like this.”

Bill was looking at Elizabeth. “Slow down, darling. Are you eating for two, or two hundred? You’ll give yourself indigestion.”

Elizabeth’s smile snapped into place, frozen, if not for a slight quiver.

“Must be a boy,” he continued. “That’s my guess. What do you think, Floss?”

I frowned. Elizabeth’s cheeks were pink. Was he trying to humiliate her?

“The gender doesn’t have bearing on the amount of calories the mother needs to consume.” I sat a little straighter in my chair. “Elizabeth needs to eat plenty at this stage of her pregnancy.”

As usual, Bill held my gaze, but this time, it unnerved me. Perhaps I was a little sharp, but I considered it necessary. Silence fell upon the table yet again. Elizabeth wouldn’t meet my eye, or Bill’s. It was as though she were contemplating something very important. Finally, she married her knife and fork and rested them on her plate.

After dinner, I helped Elizabeth bring the dishes into the kitchen. While I filled the sink, she stood beside me. Right beside me. I got the feeling she was leaning on me. Physically (practically) but more so, emotionally. I was happy to prop her up. I had a strange feeling she needed it.

“So how is the pregnancy going?” I asked. I wanted to segue into Bill somehow but wasn’t sure of the best way.

“Oh yes, fine.”

“No issues?”

“None at all.” She stepped ever-so-slightly away from me, scrubbing the same plate four times, front and back. “My blood pressure is fine, my weight and measurements are fine—”

“Actually, you look thin,” I countered. “Apart from the stomach, you look like you’ve lost weight.”

“Morning sickness. Can barely keep a thing down.”

I felt my eyebrows gather. Morning sickness was rare this late in pregnancy, and besides, she seemed fine and well. “Any kicking?”

“Yes. It’s kicking right now.”

“May I?” I stepped forward and lifted the hem of her blouse. Elizabeth stepped back. But it was too late.

I thought I might faint. I cooled from the head down, giving me strange, falling sensation. Elizabeth tried to force down the hem of her blouse, but I held it tight. A purple, mottled bruise—red wine on cream carpet—stretched from her right hip to her navel. An angry bruise.

“It’s nothing.” Elizabeth forced her shirt down. She turned away from me and resumed washing dishes. “I fell on the way to the outhouse, is all. It can be awfully dark at night, and it was raining.”

I stared at her.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Have you been to the doctor?” I asked.

She waved her hand. “The baby’s kicking, I told you that. You have to be tough out here, in the country. I can’t be running off to the doctor with every little sniffle. And keep it to yourself. I don’t want Evie worrying.”

“Evie’s your midwife! You should tell her.” I lifted her shirt again and ran my fingers over the mark. “Does it hurt?”

“No. You’re sweet to be concerned, but my baby is growing beautifully, and it must be tying itself in knots, the amount it’s wriggling about. Don’t tell Evie, Floss. Please?”

“Okay.” I pressed a palm to my forehead. I could hardly force her to tell Evie, but I didn’t understand her hesitation. “But you need to see a doctor.”

“I can’t.” She took the tea towel from her shoulder and started drying dishes and returning them to their places. Still reeling, I picked up another towel and helped her.

“Well, at least come to a prenatal clinic so Evie can give you an exam.”

Elizabeth crashed a stack of plates onto a high shelf. “I’m a midwife, Floss. Why should I ride a bus all the way into town to be told things I already know?”

“How’s it going in here, ladies?” Bill and Michael entered the room. They appeared good-humored, no trace of the awkwardness during dinner. Bill had a way of charming people, convincing them he wasn’t such a bad guy. But now, I wasn’t sure it was true.

Elizabeth placed the last of the cutlery into a drawer. “All done.” She turned, a bright, convincing smile on her face. “Now—who’s ready for dessert?”

“You’re in for a treat,” Bill said to Michael, all smiles. He winked at Elizabeth. “Elizabeth makes the best treacle pudding you’ll ever taste. And after the dinner she’s just had, I’m sure she won’t be able to eat a bite. Help us, Floss.”

“Better not. I have a long ride ahead of me.”

“I can drive you home,” Michael said. “I was going to offer earlier. I’d be happy to.”

“You’re very kind,” I said. “But I must go.”

At the time, it was all I could do to get out of there. Suddenly, standing there in that tiny house felt suffocating in a way that it hadn’t when I’d arrived. What was going on with Elizabeth? I wanted so much to help her. But how could I, with her forbidding me to say anything?

With hindsight, of course, there were lots of things I could have done. But by the time I realized, it was too late.

*   *   *

The phone was ringing. Lil had finished hanging the washing and was sitting in front of me. She was available to talk, she wanted me to share this with her. She sat, ignoring the shrill, metallic ring of the phone.

I snatched it up. “Hello? Floss speaking.”

“Mom, it’s me.”

“Grace.” Lil sighed, picked up the laundry basket, and left the room. Discreetly, I picked up my purse and tucked the envelope farther inside, out of sight. “Are you all right?”

“I’m wonderful. You’ll never guess what? I did a delivery with Neva last night.”

“You did?”

“I was short a birth partner, so she said she’d do it. It was wonderful, Mom. I was so proud of her. Oh, and listen to this: She brought a man with her. A gorgeous man.”

In the kitchen, Lil was not exactly slamming cupboard doors, but certainly closing them firmly. “She brought a man to the birth?”

“Yes. A pediatrician.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t following, but from Grace’s triumphant tone, I got the sense that she would fill me in.

“Something was going on between them. Something romantic. I’m sure of it.”

“You think he’s the father?”

“No.” Her tone dipped. “No, I don’t think that. At least, I don’t see any reason that she’d hide it if he was. He’s single. Respectable. As I said, gorgeous. It’s a shame, because he was lovely. A good match for Neva.”

“Why is it a shame?” I asked.

“Call me a dreamer, but I’m still hoping the baby’s father will swoop in and everyone will live happily ever after. I can’t help but feel that the child will be missing out, not having the opportunity to know its real father.”

“Like … you missed out?” I spoke carefully, trying to keep the waver out of my voice.

“This is different, Mom. It’s preventable. My father died—you didn’t pretend he’d never existed. What Neva is doing to her baby—denying it a chance to know its father—that’d be pretty hard to forgive. And I don’t want Neva to destroy her relationship with her child before it’s even born.”

Grace chatted awhile longer, and then we signed off. But after I hung up, the room began to blur. A throbbing pain hammered in my chest, and my hands coiled around the base of my throat, over the pain. I couldn’t breathe. I tilted my head from one side to another, trying to find Lil. A sharp rattle came from somewhere—from me?—and then there it was—her face. Even amidst my alarm, the sight of her soothed me.

“Floss?” Lil’s voice rang out. “Darling, what is it?”

Another great rasp came from me, stealing the last of my breath. I pointed at my chest, where the fire raged. I managed to suck in a short breath. “I think … I think I’m having a heart attack.”