Tall Poppies (27 page)

‘The baby's coming,' Livia told her.

‘At two o'clock in the morning?' Esmé groaned, but the sleep in her eyes had been replaced by excitement at the news. ‘Can I help? I won't be able to sleep.'

‘You can make sure the dog and cat are kept out of the way, if you would, Es. I don't want anyone tripping over them.' She swung her legs out of bed and cautiously stood, cradling the bulk of the baby with her hands. Odd to think that in a few short hours this troublesome little creature would be born, and she'd be a mother.

Another pain wracked her and she doubled up, groaning. Her waters broke and she could feel the baby pushing. The next pain came almost on top and she felt herself stretch. This was nothing like the maternity clinic had described. There had been no gradual onset of contractions  . . . no long drawn-out, agonizing labour. She remembered her backache of the previous day, and wondered.

Connie came back up. ‘The midwife is out seeing to another birth. Her husband said he'll tell her when she returns. It's not urgent, seeing you have only just started.'

‘It is urgent! I can feel myself stretching. Esmé, go and ring Doctor Elliot. Unlock the front door and turn the lights up so he can let himself in. Tell him the birth is imminent, and we can't get hold of the midwife. Connie, throw a sheet and some towels on the floor over that wet patch. It feels as though the baby is going to arrive at any moment and I'm going to soil the mattress if I get back in bed.'

Connie was wringing her hands by the time Esmé returned. ‘I don't know what to do.'

Esmé calmly took over. ‘I do. Don't sit there trying to hold it in, Livia. Get on the towels and I'll catch the baby when it comes out.'

Livia was shivering, but whether from cold or shock she couldn't say. She lowered herself to the floor and stayed on her hands and knees, it seemed more comfortable and natural that way. The next contraction made her shriek, but she couldn't stop herself from straining as the contractions pushed the baby's head through.

‘Don't push now  . . . the baby has to turn and I have to check that the cord's not wound around its neck. Oh, I haven't got time to look  . . . there it goes.' That event was followed almost immediately by a gush of liquid as the body slithered out of her like a floppy octopus into Esmé's waiting hands.

There came a warbling screech of complaint from under her body, like an opera singer who'd sat on a drawing pin.

‘Oh, my God, that was close!' The release of pressure was enormous, and Livia's laughter was almost hysterical.

Esmé was laughing, too. ‘Wasn't that the most wonderful experience!'

Connie looked pale. ‘It was lucky that she wasn't in the privy. Now  . . . what should we do?'

‘Wrap the baby up in this towel so it doesn't get cold,' Esmé said, and Livia marvelled at her sister's practicality. ‘Move forward a bit, Livia. There's something coming out of you. The afterbirth, I expect. I remember reading about it in those leaflets you brought home. Ugh! It looks like liver.'

‘I'm glad somebody read the leaflets.'

‘They didn't say what a gory business giving birth actually is. The baby is attached to the afterbirth. I don't know how to cut the cord, so I'll wrap it up with the baby and the doctor can see to it.' Esmé giggled. ‘Can you get on to your back now? You don't look very elegant in that position.'

They could already hear Dr Elliot's car bumping along the road at speed. When it screeched to a halt, with some relief, Connie said, ‘I'll go and make some tea.'

‘We'll need some water to clean Livia up with, and the baby as well. '

Connie stopped in the doorway and looked back at them. ‘What was it, did anyone look?'

The three of them gazed sheepishly at each other, and Esmé grinned over the din the infant was making. ‘I forgot.'

Connie laughed. ‘I think its Scottish blood is coming out; it's got bagpipes for lungs.' She folded back the towel and took a look. ‘You have a daughter. Good. Florence owes me half-a-crown.'

Esmé placed the baby in her arms. ‘There you are, Livia. One daughter.'

Livia took one look at the infant and fell helplessly in love.

‘It's a small baby, about six pounds,' Dr Elliot said a little later, after he'd shown Esmé how to cut the umbilical cord. ‘You can't expect much fat on them when they arrive early. She'll soon put on weight when she starts feeding. A good clean birth and no stitches needed. Well done, Mother.'

Nice of him to lie, she thought, and kissed the sparse dark cap of hair on the baby's head. The child nuzzled against her breast, making little mewing noises, with the odd demanding yelp thrown in.

The midwife arrived, admonishing her for being inconveniently early, and taking over. The baby set up a clamour when her warm body was laid on a cold metal scale, like a plucked chicken at the butcher's shop. She was weighed, and measured for length and head size. Her fingers and toes were counted, her heart listened to. The midwife smiled. ‘Everything is perfect, especially for a prem.'

Livia's newly discovered motherly instinct came to the fore. ‘She's getting cold.'

The midwife wrapped the baby tightly in a flannel sheet and placed her back in Livia's arms with a smile. ‘There you are, dear.'

The doctor aimed his smile at Esmé. ‘I understand you were the heroine of the hour.'

‘I'm going to be a nurse when I grow up. Then when Chad becomes a doctor I can work for him.'

‘It's a jolly good idea to keep it in the family, Poppet. For one so young you seem to have an instinct for nursing, because you did everything right. Now  . . . I'm going to have to fill out the paperwork, and at this time of the morning I do it best with a cup of tea, so I'll go down to the kitchen. Why don't you help your sister put the child to the breast while I do that? Babies need to learn to suckle as soon as possible. Does she have a name yet?'

It was a spur of the moment decision, because deep in her heart she'd never seriously considered that the child might be a girl. ‘I might call her Margaret, after Richard's mother, and Eloise, after mine.'

‘Margaret Eloise Sangster  . . . a very pretty name.'

Margaret Eloise took to the breast like a duck to water and was soon making contented sucking noises.

Esmé put her arms round Livia's shoulders and kissed her cheek before gazing down at her niece. ‘Did I feed like that from our mother?'

Esmé didn't often mention their mother, and her voice had adopted a wistful tone. ‘You did  . . . only she had Chad to feed as well.'

‘I wish I could remember it.'

‘Babies don't remember such things, but somewhere inside you is a hidden memory of all the love she felt for you  . . . because she did love you, Es. So did our father. To be loved gives any child a good start in life.'

‘I love our baby already. She's so sweet and pretty, and she looks like you. She's going to have your dark hair and eyes.'

‘You have the same hair and eyes, so she'll look like you, as well.'

Esmé gave a faint smile at that. ‘It will be nice to be an auntie. Looking after her will help to take our minds off Richard. I miss him so much. I cried and so did Chad, though he told me not to tell anyone. He said a chap has to be brave when he loses a chum, like Doctor Denton is.'

She had not considered that Esmé and Chad might be grieving for Richard, or that the death of his friend would have been felt keenly by Denton. Thinking about it now, her sister and brother would feel the uncertainty that came with his loss more than anyone. Their lives had been unsettled since the day they'd been orphaned. And this little girl she'd brought into the world would also grow up without a father in her life.

‘The baby looks a little bit like Richard, doesn't she?'

Because Major Henry had fathered both of them, and Richard was the infant's half-brother, she thought – a rather shocking thought now it was no longer an abstract one. Thank goodness the resemblance was slight. But there was no way she could charge the major with this crime against her, not even as a last resort. It would mean ruin for all of them.

The midwife said to Esmé, ‘You'd better go back to bed, young lady, else you'll be asleep at your desk in the morning. And your sister needs to rest.'

‘I'm too excited to sleep.'

‘Believe me, you'll be begging for sleep once this little one gets you both trained to her way of doing things. You did a good job and kept your wits about you by all accounts, so well done. But even we nurses need to sleep.'

Livia was the recipient of a hug. Esmé kissed the infant. ‘Goodnight, Meggie. Welcome to the family.'

So, it was to be Meggie, was it? Livia gave a faint smile as her sister left. She didn't mind. It was a pretty nickname for any child to have.

Seventeen

Livia soon got into a routine, as Meggie was easy to please. She'd received several gifts for the child, including a gold bangle from Denton with her name and birth date inscribed on it.

Esmé had made a friend her own age, Suzanne, who'd moved into the village with her parents. The pair spent a lot of time together, and Livia was pleased for her  . . . especially since they both had a place reserved for them at the girls' grammar school in Parkstone.

Beamish appeared on the doorstep, a teddy bear tucked under his arm. She was surprised Florence wasn't with him.

‘She wasn't feeling well,' he said, when she enquired after her.

‘She was acting a bit funny before I left, sort of shifty. If I know Florence, I reckon she's got something on her conscience,' Connie told him. ‘Have you got yourself a place yet?'

‘Yes, we have. It's a house in Palmerston Road, on the other side of the park. It's semi-detached. We're doing it up before we move in, and I'm thinking of buying the attached property and renting it out to give us an income. The captain was a great believer in having property to fall back on. He said it always appreciates in value.'

Connie scoffed. ‘That's all right for those who can afford it, I suppose. Getting ideas above your station, you are, Beamish, and I bet you've got Florrie on your back now you've wed her,' to which he offered a sheepish smile, and the comment, ‘There's nothing wrong in bettering yourself.'

‘I reckon I could do something like that too, but I don't feel the need to better myself, since I've got nobody to leave it to. So what's the point? How's your dad now? Looking after himself, is he?'

‘Missing your cooking, Connie. He wants to know when you're coming home.'

Connie dimpled a smile. ‘Tell him it will be when I'm good and ready.'

December brought gales and rain. It also brought a knock at the door, setting Bertie on a noisy alert.

Livia grabbed him by the collar. ‘You don't have to bark every time somebody knocks at the door. You keep waking Meggie.' She kept a hold on his collar as she opened the door and gazed at her visitor, someone she'd not expected to see again. ‘Bernice! I wasn't expecting you.'

Bernice growled at Bertie. Looking worried by the challenge, the dog skittered off towards the kitchen, his tail between his legs.

Livia laughed. ‘I've never seen that done before. I'll have to try it.'

‘I never thought to ring first. Sorry  . . . is it inconvenient?'

‘No  . . . it's all right. Can you stay for lunch? We usually eat at twelve.'

Bernice consulted a marquisite wristwatch circling a slim wrist, to which was attached a white hand tipped with nails of flamboyant red.

‘I'd like to.' Waving a hand at the car outside the gate, she called out, ‘Return for me in an hour, Jerome.'

‘Come in, Bernice, so I can shut the door and keep the heat in.'

‘Brrrr  . . . it's cold out there.' Taking off her outer garment, an olive green coat that revealed an unseasonal floating cream dress, Bernice went to stand by the fire. She placed a box on the table. ‘It's an ivory teething ring and rattle combined. They chew on it when their teeth are coming through, the salesgirl said. I don't suppose the baby has got teeth yet, though.'

‘No, not yet, but I can feel them in her gums. Meggie hasn't got a teething ring, so it will be useful. She's asleep at the moment.'

‘Denton said the baby arrived a month early?'

Livia was wary. ‘Yes, she did, and the birth was very easy, almost instant.'

‘That must have been awkward, since you hadn't been married very long.'

‘Oh  . . . why should it be? She wouldn't be the first baby to come a month early. Meggie arrived before the midwife and doctor did. She was very small.'

‘People tend to invent scenarios to suit these instances.'

‘Yes  . . . so I notice.'

‘I suppose you're refering to me.' She shrugged. ‘I don't give a damn about what other people get up to. I live my life as I see fit, and if people don't like it, they can go and take a long walk off a short pier.'

Livia felt a sneaking regard for the woman's attitude. But then, she was only responsible for herself, not several others.

At that moment Meggie gave a cry for attention. Livia smiled. ‘I'll go upstairs and get her. I might have to give her a quick feed to top her up. It won't take long. Can you amuse yourself in the meantime? Connie is in the kitchen. She used to be the cook at Foxglove House. Tell her you're staying for lunch, if you would.'

When she appeared over Meggie's cot, the infant contemplated her through deep brown eyes for a moment. Then, as if realizing she'd conjured up the right person with her cry, her smile came and she blew a bubble.

‘We have a visitor, so I hope you're going to behave yourself,' Livia said, and her daughter punched the air with delight at the sound of her voice.