Christmas in Bluebell Cove (11 page)

Raising himself up on to his elbow, he looked down on her and asked urgently, ‘What's wrong, Francine? Is it the baby?'

‘No. I just came for comfort, Ethan, that's all. Not for any other reason.'

‘So come here, then,' he said softly, cradling her to him, ‘and tell me what it's all about.'

‘I can't,' she whispered. ‘I just want you to hold me.'

‘All right,' he murmured, stroking her hair with gentle hands. As she moved closer he felt the baby move and sent up a prayer of thanks for the moment that had brought the three of them together, if only for a little while.

 

When it was time to rouse the children for school and get breakfast on the go, Francine was fast asleep. Warning them to be quiet, Ethan pointed to their mother in the bed where she belonged. As usual Ben had no comment to make but there was a big smile on his face, and Kirstie, once again the spokeswoman, said, ‘Dad, is everything going to be all right again?'

‘I don't know,' he told her. ‘Your mother came because she was exhausted and distressed but wouldn't say why, so we need to keep our fingers crossed.'

 

Francine awoke to a room full of pale sunlight and the clock saying that it was half past ten. There was a note
on the bed side table that said, ‘You are to take the morning off, doctor's orders. Bacon and eggs in oven on low setting. Ethan.' As she sat on the edge of the bed, holding it in her hand, the memory of another piece of paper came to mind and with it the thought that anyone reading her mother's letter would assume that she would take note of it. She
would
in normal circumstances, but normality was in short supply.

After she'd eaten she tidied everywhere generally and collected all the washing that needed laundering, then went back to the cottage and spent what was left of the morning arranging for a charity shop not far from the house near Paris to collect all the clothes and other items that needed to be removed when she returned the following Saturday.

Ethan came in the lunch-hour and observed her keenly when she opened the door to him. ‘Are you feeling better?' he asked as they went into the sitting room.

‘Yes, thanks,' she replied awkwardly,

‘So what was wrong?'

She couldn't lie, but neither did she want to tell him the truth. Not now anyway.

‘I found a letter my mother had written to me in the event of their deaths just before the accident.'

He was frowning. ‘That's strange. What was in it?'

‘It was a farewell message to be read whenever the occasion arose.'

‘So are you going to show it to me?'

‘It was just the kind of letter that is left to comfort the bereaved,' she said, avoiding further truths. ‘So?'

‘I didn't bring it back with me.'

The frown was deepening. ‘I can't believe you would leave something so precious behind in that empty house. Are we so far apart that you feel you can't show it to me, Francine?'

She shook her head determinedly. ‘No, Ethan, we are not. It is because what is in it makes life even more complicated for me. I don't want to raise any false hopes.'

‘Why, is Germaine telling you to stay where you belong, or something along those lines?'

‘I'm not ready to discuss it yet.'

Sighing with frustration, he turned to leave. ‘Fair enough. Hopefully I'll still be around when you are.'

‘Why, where else are you likely to be?' she asked tightly.

He was smiling and she thought he deserved a medal for putting up with her whims and fancies, yet in truth they were more than that, much more. So why did no one understand?

‘I might be with a rich widow on a cruise, or go into a home for tired doctors,' he said whimsically, unable to be at odds with her for long. Anger and bitterness were long gone. They had been there in the early months of the break-up, but now it was a matter of being civil and trying not to hurt each other any more, which in some ways was a more depressing state of affairs because it was like giving up, waiting for the divorce to come through without trying to mend the wounds.

‘I have to go. It's almost time for the late surgery. Don't bother with cooking tonight, Francine. I'll stop off for fish and chips at the Happy Fryer in the village when the surgery is over.' He was still smiling. ‘The children will like that.'

‘Yes, I'm sure they will,' she agreed with a watery
smile of her own, and recalling the night before how he'd held her close and stroked her hair when she'd crept into bed beside him, she wondered how she could go on hurting him any more. Why not just give in and forget the dream? Even her mother was telling her to stay in Bluebell Cove. Not a single person understood how she felt.

 

Ethan was curious to know what was in the letter that Francine didn't want him to read, but not desperate. She would show it to him in her own good time and until then he would let it lie.

She was carrying their child and he wanted her to be stress-free as much as possible. But in the present state of their affairs stress was the name of the game and when they'd eaten the fish and chips that evening he said with a view to lightening up their lives, ‘We've been invited to a cocktail party at the Enderbys' farm.'

‘When?' she asked in surprise. ‘And why?'

‘Saturday night. It's to celebrate their daughter's engagement. So do you want to go? It will mean another weekend that you're away from your dream house.'

‘Yes, of course I do,' she replied. ‘Kirstie and Ben have got sleepovers arranged with their friends so the night is ours.' She would have to put her plans for the collection of her parents' belongings by the charity shop on hold for another week, but for now she needed to mend some bridges with her husband. It was time they had some fun if there was ever any chance of them having a future together.

I wish, he thought, thinking back to the days when time together had not just been an occasional thing. Yet a tiny seed of hope had taken root in his heart. It had
appeared because she'd come to him to be comforted, huddled in his arms as if she'd lost the way and didn't know what to do.

Obviously her mother had unknowingly said something in the letter that had upset her daughter and it must have hit home, but next to the seed of hope was a thorn. The thorn of Francine rejecting his offer to cancel the divorce when he'd discovered she was pregnant.

 

It was a mild evening for late October and when they arrived at Wheatlands Farm there were lots of folk there that they knew. Jenna and Lucas were present, so happy that Francine envied them again the uncomplicated nature of their love and hoped that nothing would ever come along to take the magic from it.

She and Ethan had been like that once upon a time, but she didn't want to think about it tonight. He'd told her she was the most beautiful woman in the room as he'd looked around him on arriving and she'd pulled a face and looked down at her spreading waistline.

‘I mean it,' he'd said in a low voice as his glance had taken in the flowing black silk coat she was wearing over a low-cut cream dress. ‘I've not seen the outfit before. Is it new?'

‘Yes. Does it say Paris? It ought to.'

‘You both say Paris,' he said in a low voice. ‘I don't think anyone here would disagree with that. But the trouble is when they look at me they see Bluebell Cove.'

His tone was light but she shook her head. ‘Don't let's start making comparisons, Ethan. Let's just be happy for once.'

Since reading her mother's letter calm was descending
upon her gradually. There had been no great moment of decision, just a slowing down of the chaos of mind that she'd been living with for so long, and for the present she wanted to handle it with care. It was a frail and precious thing.

 

Their usual hospitable selves, the Enderbys had pulled out all the stops for their daughter's betrothal to a young vet. There was a DJ in charge of the music, a local band to entertain, and an abundance of delicious food.

While Ethan had gone to find them both something non-alcoholic to drink, Davina, the young bride-to-be, approached Francine and said shyly, ‘I love your outfit, Dr Lomax, is it from Paris?'

‘Yes, it is,' she replied with a smile for the girl that she'd treated for various things as she'd been growing up and who had always been interested in medical matters.

Her fiancé had appeared by her side and Davina introduced them. ‘This is Rob, my fiancé, Dr. Lomax. He is going to be looking after sick animals, and I will be looking after sick people. I'm in my second year at medical school.'

Ethan was back with the drinks and he said, ‘I remember your grandfather telling us that when you were young you were always taking his temperature and bandaging him up.'

‘Yes, that's true,' Davina said laughingly. ‘My poor dolls didn't have much of a life either, they were always ill beneath their blankets.'

Bringing the moment to a more topical level, he said, ‘Our sincere congratulations to you both. May you have
a long and happy life together, as Francine and I hope to have for ourselves.'

When Davina and Rob had moved on to chat to other guests Ethan said, ‘I suppose that last sentence didn't go down too well with you.'

She didn't reply. Instead, taking his arm, she said, ‘Let's dance, and if you hold me close enough you might feel this child of ours doing its own little dance. It is never still.'

‘Hmm, so maybe we have a footballer, a rugby player, or even a sprinter.'

‘Or it might be a little ballerina or a gymnast,' she reminded him.

‘Of course,' he agreed, ‘and that would be just as delightful.'

 

Barbara Balfour sat in her wheelchair at the edge of the dance floor, watching Ethan dance with Francine. She was alone. Her husband was chatting to a friend not far away and she had the moment to herself.

She would never admit it to anyone, but to her Ethan was the son she'd never had. Honourable, hard working, loving husband and father, extremely attractive, a man who stood out amongst his counterparts, and for months she'd observed his unhappiness and done nothing about it because she wanted him near her, not far away across the Channel.

Tonight he looked happy enough, she thought, but his wife blew hot and cold in the marriage. Maybe this was one of their better nights, but next weekend Francine would be off to France again, doing her own thing.

When she'd been so weak and ill the year before he'd called at their house every morning to check on her and
Keith on his way to the surgery while in the background his marriage had been failing. Francine had taken the children off to France with her, leaving him alone in the big detached house that he'd had built for them.

At that time Jenna hadn't yet come back from abroad and it had been Ethan's visits that had helped her to get through the day. When their daughter had come home after becoming aware of her mother's ill health, Ethan had offered her a job in the practice that fitted in with looking after her.

She knew that the biggest part of Ethan's reluctance to do what Francine was asking of him came from the promise he'd made to her when he'd taken over from her that he would keep up the standard of care that she had always maintained, no matter what.

Little could he have expected that his dedication to his work would threaten his marriage and take him to the brink of divorce.
She
herself had sacrificed family life on the altar of healing the sick, and of late had thought if she'd had the chance to do it again she would have done it differently. So was she going to sit by and watch while Ethan did the same to a more serious degree?

Her train of thought was interrupted by Keith appearing at her side with food and drinks, and as she smiled at her long-suffering husband the moment passed, but would not be forgotten.

Unaware of the direction of Barbara's thoughts, Ethan and Francine passed by amongst the dancers and waved. She waved back and wished she still had the use of her legs so that he didn't have his promise to her clouding his judgement.

W
HEN
they arrived back at their separate residences on a high after a very enjoyable evening Ethan suggested, ‘Why don't we spend the night together? You might recall that I do a very nice line in comforting.'

She smiled across at him in the shadowed light of the car. It would be easy to say yes to the suggestion, but she didn't want any more confusion with regard to her feelings. She was only just beginning to see the way ahead more clearly, and passion and the desire they aroused in each other could interfere with the process.

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks just the same, Ethan.'

‘So are we back to playing mind games again?' he asked disappointedly. ‘You've been like you used to be all the time we were at the Enderbys', but once more in our own environment it's back to square one.'

‘Don't be angry,' she pleaded. ‘I've had a wonderful evening. Please don't spoil it, Ethan.'

‘OK,' he said equably, and kissed her cheek fleetingly. ‘I'll see you safely inside. I suppose tomorrow
is
another day. If I ever get used to this arrangement, you'll see a flag flying over the house we once lived in together.'

 

When she awoke the next morning Francine lay wide-eyed, looking up at the ceiling, and thought thankfully that the calm was still there. A sense of purpose hadn't presented itself so far but she knew it would come and when it did she would be ready.

The curtains were still drawn across the way and, remembering how Ethan had cooked her breakfast after she'd gone to him for comfort when she'd arrived home after reading her mother's letter, she dressed quickly and went across to where it seemed he was still sleeping.

Before she started making breakfast she took a quick peep into the bedroom and, sure enough, he was asleep with the dark thatch of his hair stark against the whiteness of the pillow and his shoulders exposed above the covers.

It would be so easy to do a repeat of that other time and slide in beside him, she thought, but after the rebuff of the night before he might not want her presence so, resisting the enticing male magnetism of him, she went quietly back downstairs and into the kitchen.

The kettle was whistling and she was lifting the food she'd cooked out of the frying pan when she saw him framed in the kitchen doorway just as he'd rolled out of bed.

‘What's this, then?' he asked drowsily. ‘The calm before the storm, a sweetener before you tell me something I don't want to know?'

‘No,' she told him steadily. ‘It is in return for you making my breakfast the other day, that is all. So shall we eat?'

‘Yes, by all means, when I've put some clothes on,' he replied, and disappeared.

The clothes he'd referred to turned out to be just a
pair of jeans and as they ate the food she'd prepared he said, ‘This is nice. I can't remember when last we had breakfast together in this house.'

‘It wasn't all that long ago,' she reminded him. ‘There was the short time between my arriving unannounced on Christmas Eve and my moving into Thimble Cottage when we breakfasted together. Which reminds me, the rental period will be up in a couple of months.'

He was putting his knife and fork down slowly. ‘And what do you intend to do?'

‘Arrange to rent it for another six months. I spoke to the lettings person at the estate agent's a while back and she said it would be free, so it's just a matter of signing the agreement and paying the rental.'

‘I can't believe it!' he said tightly. ‘This farce seems to be going on for ever.' He was getting up from the table, pushing his chair back and heading upstairs again. Moments later she heard the shower in the en suite running and when he came down again he was dressed in smart clothes. She was impelled to ask, ‘Where are you off to?'

‘I'm going to do what I promised myself I would do when I had the time. Something I should have done before—check that Phoebe is all right.'

‘Lucky Phoebe,' she said in a low voice.

‘Well,
you
don't need me around here, do you? You've got everything nicely planned, with weekends in France, your own place just across the way, the children with you all the time on weekdays, while I get my slot just when it suits you.'

As he slammed the door behind him a picture fell off the wall and as she bent to pick it up the baby moved
as if to remind her that her responsibilities didn't end there.

Like a lot of good-natured people who are rarely angry, when Ethan lost his temper there was no mistaking it. He had to be pushed beyond reason to be so angry, and she couldn't blame him.

He hadn't given her time to explain that she wasn't expecting to be in Thimble Cottage for another six months, or even six weeks, but if she didn't rent it again she could be left with a situation where she might have to move back here before she was ready to do so.

There were bridges to mend
and cross
, legal matters to deal with, and the birth of their child drawing nearer all the time. The two of them were not going to slip back into an easy relationship so smoothly.

The church bells were pealing out over the sleeping village as she walked back to the cottage in the peaceful Sunday morning, and expecting that it would be around lunchtime before Kirstie and Ben surfaced she went inside for a jacket and set off for a walk along the coastal path.

It was chilly with a cold wind blowing in from the sea. Down below the tide was coming in, surging onto the sand with its own special kind of magnificence and putting into perspective all her uncertainties and yearnings with the infinity of the scene.

When she looked up Ben and Kirstie were coming towards her with eyelids drooping from lack of sleep and looking as if they'd slept in their clothes, but when they saw her they came running towards her, tiredness forgotten in the pleasure of meeting, even though they'd only been apart from her since the night before.

At the same time Ethan pulled up alongside on the
road that ran beside the path and she thought, These are my family, my loved ones, and as long as I have them nothing else matters.

As the three of them piled into the car she said, ‘You haven't been gone long. Did you manage to find Phoebe?'

‘Yes. I only stayed a short time, though. She's all right and little Marcus is coming along fine. She confirmed that she'll be back in the new year and when she said she'll be looking for somewhere to rent in Bluebell Cove I offered her one of the apartments over the surgery. They're both vacant at the moment and it occurred to me that if he can tear himself away from Meredith's cooking, Leo might be interested in the other one.'

‘And what did Phoebe say when you suggested it?'

‘Accepted on the spot, so that is sorted.' He glanced at the sleepover pair in the back seat, ‘As we're all together how about we go somewhere for Sunday lunch, or maybe Sunday brunch if you haven't had any breakfast?'

It seemed that Kirstie and Ben
hadn't
had any breakfast, so brunch it was beside a big log fire in a farmhouse out in the countryside that had a restaurant.

Francine said little during the meal. Instead she listened to Ethan and the children chattering about various things and kept her thoughts to herself. He observed her curiously from time to time yet made no comment, but when they were driving home he said in a low voice, ‘Are you all right? You've hardly spoken since I picked you up on the coast road. Is it because of my bad temper at breakfast-time when I went storming off?'

She shook her head. ‘No. I'm fine. I've just been relaxing, that's all.'

The time wasn't yet right to tell Ethan she was
relinquishing the dream. She was expecting him to be delighted, but over-confidence never did anyone any good and neither did taking things for granted. Suppose when she told him he was dubious after all the aggravation she'd caused?

 

On Monday morning the weather took a turn for the worse, with driving rain and gale-force winds reminding the residents of Bluebell Cove that winter was stating its case and that November, one of the dreariest months of the year, would soon be upon them.

The month that was the forerunner to December and Christmas did have one redeeming feature, though. It brought with it Bonfire Night on the fifth, and already preparations for the event were under way on the headland,

 

Francine was due at the antenatal clinic at the hospital in the afternoon and once again Ethan intended to be there when she saw the gynaecologist.

When he came to pick her up he said, ‘The weather is worsening. I hope Kirstie and Ben have the sense not to hang about when the school bus drops them off, otherwise they'll be drenched.'

 

She had been given a clean bill of health regarding her pregnancy and when the gynaecologist had asked if they'd been told the sex of the baby they'd smiled at each other and shaken their heads.

‘We don't want to know,' Ethan had told him. ‘We will be delighted whatever it is, won't we, Francine?' And for a heavenly moment she'd felt as if they were just like any other expectant parents, with the safe arrival
of their child the only thing to concern themselves about.

Living in separate houses with a divorce pending hardly put them in that category, but for a fraction of time she was going to forget that, push the downside of their lives to the back of her mind.

As they were leaving the clinic Ethan suggested they go for a coffee in the hospital restaurant and so, tranquil and relaxed, she agreed.

They were enjoying the drink in the middle of the winter afternoon with no feeling of urgency when an item of local news flashed onto a television screen close by and changed all that.

It said there had been an accident on a side road approaching Bluebell Cove. A school bus had been hit by a falling tree brought down by high winds coming in from the sea, and as they looked at each other aghast Ethan said, ‘There are lots of buses on the roads at this time of day, Francine, so don't—'

His voice trailed away as further information was released to the effect that the quick thinking of one of the pupils on the bus, Ben Lomax, had averted what could have been a terrible disaster and he was hero of the hour.

The tree had smashed into the driving compartment and the driver had been knocked senseless, slumped over the wheel with the vehicle out of control and the young passengers being thrown all over the place, until Ben had rushed to the front and found the brakes.

The announcement went on to say that he had refused to be interviewed because his younger sister had been hurt and he wanted to be with her in the ambulance, and as if to add to the horror of the moment the two doctors
heard the sirens of several ambulances screeching onto the forecourt outside A and E.

They were on their feet and running before the noise had stopped. The fact that Francine was almost seven months pregnant did not come into it at that moment. Kirstie was hurt! Her children had been in grave danger while she and Ethan had been having a leisurely coffee at the hospital.

He was ahead of her and called over his shoulder, ‘Take it easy, Francine. We're going to have enough on our hands if Kirstie's injuries are serious, so save your strength for then.'

She nodded and slowed down, and by the time she reached the first ambulance Ethan was standing by the doors with his arm around a white-faced Ben as the paramedics lifted the stretcher that held their daughter carefully onto the tarmac.

Kirstie was semi-conscious with a large gash on the side of her head where it must have struck something inside the bus when it had gone out of control, and as Francine took her limp hand in hers and hugged Ben to her with the other one, the ambulance crew began to wheel the stretcher through the main doors of A and E, with the three of them hurrying alongside.

Behind them was a procession of other young casualties on stretchers, some with parents and others, whose families didn't yet know about the accident, being comforted by nurses.

The most seriously injured was Dennis, the bus driver. He had taken the full impact of the falling tree inside the driver's cab and although now conscious was being X-rayed for a possible fractured skull and severe arm and shoulder injuries.

When the doctors had told him what Ben had done, he'd said weakly, ‘It's a good job young Lomax was on board. What that kid doesn't know about auto engines isn't worth knowing.'

The doctor who came to see Kirstie arranged that X-rays be done of her head to check for a haematoma or brain damage, and for a fracture of her forearm. Ethan's face was grim as he listened to what the doctor had to say.

He could see Francine holding tightly onto Ben out of the corner of his eye, ashen with shock as she looked down at their precious daughter, and it felt like a lifetime since they'd been dawdling over their coffee.

It was a godsend that they had, otherwise they would have been on the way home while the ambulance had been bringing Kirstie to the hospital. What had happened to her and the other unfortunate youngsters on the bus made the problems that he and Francine had encountered over recent months seem as nothing by comparison. The welcome news about her continuing state of good health regarding the pregnancy had been blotted out by this.

 

Kirstie was fully conscious now and X-rays hadn't shown any internal bleeding or bruising of the brain from the head injury, but they'd shown the fracture of her arm that the doctor had suspected, and the deep cut on her head where she'd been thrown forward would need cleansing and stitching.

That wasn't all. There was another cause for concern. Weepy and hurting, Kirstie was saying she couldn't hear anything.

‘Obviously there is some hearing loss, which could
be temporary.' the doctor in A and E told them. ‘It can happen after a severe blow to the head and can return once any perforation of the eardrum has healed, but we'll see what the audiology department has to say, and in the meantime the head wound will be cleaned and then stitched now that we know there is no internal bleeding.'