Christmas-Eve Baby (13 page)

‘Two minutes, while I make the gravy. Sit.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said, but she sat anyway and watched him while he dished up, and then she ate everything he put on her plate.

‘More?’

She laughed and shook her head. ‘No, I’m full. No room now with the bump in the way, but Chloe would be proud of you for getting so many calories into me.’

‘I’ll give you ice cream later,’ he said, and shooed her back into the sitting room while he cleared up.

She went quite willingly. Chloe’s news about her weight had worried her, and she realised she probably had been overdoing things. Well, not any more. She needed to give her baby the best possible chance, and if that meant Ben loading the dishwasher alone, so be it.

So she sat, and switched on the television, and after a while Ben came and joined her, and when her eyes started to droop, he carried her up to bed, snuggled her spoon-like against his chest and fell asleep with his hand curved protectively over the baby and the reassuring beat of his heart against her back…

‘There—everything looks fine. There’s not an awful lot of fluid—maybe you need to drink more. But the position of the placenta isn’t a worry, it’s moved up enough that it’s away from the cervix.’

Ben stared, transfixed, at the screen. He could hear Jan
Warren, the obstetrician, talking, but all he could see was his baby, arms and legs waving, heart beating nice and steadily.

‘Would you like to know what sex it is?’

‘No,’ they said in unison, and he laughed awkwardly. ‘Well, it’s not really my call.’

‘I don’t care, so long as everything’s all right,’ Lucy said.

‘Well, it all looks absolutely fine. The baby’s a good size, everything seems perfectly normal—there, how about that for a photo?’

Jan clicked a button, and seconds later handed them a grainy, black and white image of their child. Ben felt his eyes prickle and blinked hard, and Lucy handed it to him. ‘Here—put it in your wallet,’ she said, and he nodded, but he didn’t put it away.

Not yet. He wanted to look at it a little longer, while Lucy—in respectable knickers!—was wiped clean of the ultrasound gel and helped up to her feet.

‘I need a pee,’ she said bluntly, and the obstetrician smiled.

‘Go on, then. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.’

‘Fine,’ she said, and all but ran out of the door. Jan gave Ben a searching look as he gave the photo one last lingering stare and put it away.

‘Can I take it you have a vested interest in this baby, Ben?’ she asked, and he laughed softly.

‘I don’t think it’s going to be a secret for long,’ he admitted. ‘We’re getting married as soon as we can.’

Her face broke into a smile. ‘Well, congratulations.’

‘Thanks. Is the baby really OK? She’s not been looking after herself.’

‘Babies are very good at doing that for themselves, unless the conditions are really unfavourable, and yours is fine.’

‘Good. Thanks, Jan.’ He felt his shoulders drop and, shaking her hand, he headed out into the corridor to wait for Lucy. She wasn’t long, and he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. ‘OK?’

‘Fine. Relieved—in every sense of the word.’

He chuckled and they fell into step side by side.

‘Where are we going next?’ she asked.

‘My office, to phone the vicar? How do you feel about coming down to A and E to see everyone and give them the news?’

‘The news?’ she said, looking up him and sounding puzzled. ‘What news?’

‘That we’re getting married?’

‘Oh! Yes, of course,’ she agreed. ‘I thought you meant that the baby was OK.’

‘No. They don’t know about it, or at least not from anything I’ve said, so if you’d rather not?’

She took a deep breath. ‘No. No, I’d like them to know. I want everyone to know that you’re the father. I’m proud of the fact, and I love you, and I’ve got nothing to hide. Anyway, it would be nice to see them again.’

And slipping her hand into his, she walked beside him into A and E. It was the first time she’d been there since her mother had died, and as they passed Resus, she looked in and paused.

‘Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry,’ he said, immediately picking up on her feelings, but she just smiled at him.

‘Don’t be. It’s fine. It’s just a room, and she’s hardly the first or the last. And I know you did everything you possibly could.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ he asked quietly, and she looked up at him and saw doubt in his eyes.

‘Oh, Ben, of course I believe it!’ she exclaimed, resting a hand over his heart. ‘I know you did everything. Don’t for a moment tar me with the same brush as my father.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Good.’ She looked back at Resus and sighed. ‘I just wish my father hadn’t seen it.’

‘No. That was awful. Nobody should see someone they love in those circumstances. It’s hard enough when you’re detached.’

‘I know. I remember.’ She dragged in a breath and smiled up at him. ‘Shall we get this over, then? Tell them you’re getting married and break the hearts of all the women in the department who fancy they’re in love with you?’

‘Idiot,’ he said, laughing. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he led her away from Resus to the work desk in the central area.

‘Ah, Jo,’ he said, greeting a young woman who was bent over some notes. ‘Jo, this is Lucy. Lucy, my registrar, Jo. Um, we’ve got some news,’ he told her, and she looked at Lucy’s bump pointedly and her eyes twinkled.

‘You don’t say,’ she teased.

He chuckled. ‘Actually, the news is I’d like you to cover for me for the rest of the day. I’ve got some arranging to do—we’re getting married.’

‘Oh, Ben, that’s fabulous!’ she said, throwing her arms round his neck and hugging him. ‘Hey, guys! Guess what! Ben’s getting married!’

They must have come out of the woodwork, Lucy thought, because in the next few seconds the place was swarming with people, many of whom remembered her, and she was hugged and kissed and the baby exclaimed over, and finally they got away into Ben’s office and shut the door.

‘Phew!’ she said, and Ben laughed apologetically and hugged her.

‘You OK?’

‘I’m fine. They’re lovely. Right, can we ring the vicar now?’

An hour later they were sitting in his office at the vicarage in Penhally, and to her relief Mr Kenner was being more than helpful.

‘I’d be delighted to marry you both,’ he said fervently, taking Lucy’s hand and squeezing it. ‘I’ve been worried about you. Ever since your mother died, there’s been such an air of sadness about you and your father, and it’s wonderful to see you so happy. And I imagine you want to move this on quite swiftly?’

She laughed at the irony. ‘I think that would be good. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but I really want my baby—
our
baby—to be born in wedlock. Do they still use that dreadful expression?’

He chuckled and let go of her hand. ‘I think you’ve summed it up very well—and some things are meant to be old-fashioned,’ he added, unwittingly echoing her own thoughts. ‘Ben, I take it you’re quite happy with this marriage?’

‘More than happy,’ he said, and any doubt she’d had vanished into thin air at the conviction in his voice. His arm slid around her shoulders and squeezed, and she leant against him with a smile.

‘Excellent. Right, the procedure is this. The banns have to be read out in church on three consecutive Sundays before the wedding—so as it’s a Friday, if we start this weekend, you should be able to get married in just over a fortnight. So two weeks on Monday would be the earliest, in law.’

‘Can we do it then?’

He hesitated, then smiled. ‘Of course. It’s usually my day off, but under the circumstances, and since I can’t think of a single thing I’d rather be doing than joining you two in marriage, I’d be delighted to do it then. Do you have a time in mind?’

‘No. Well—I don’t know who’s going to be there. Um—can we make it twelve? Ben, what do you think? Then people from the practice can be there, and we can go to the Smugglers’ for lunch perhaps.’

He met her eyes. People from the practice? She could see him thinking it, wondering if her father would come. And in truth she had no idea, but she had to ask him.

‘I think if twelve would be all right with Mr Kenner, it would be fine.’ His eyes flicked back to the vicar, and he nodded.

‘Twelve it is, then. Right, we have some paperwork to attend to next.’

So that was it. They were getting married, and once the banns were read out on Sunday, the whole village would know.

She had to see her father, but not now. Not in the middle of surgery, or while he was trying to get out on his visits, or when he had a clinic. And they had something else to do first, something she’d much rather do, and she couldn’t wait another minute…

‘You know, with a really good scrub and a coat of paint, it would be fine.’

He stared at her in astonishment, and realised she was serious. Absolutely serious, and so he looked again at the house, and realised with an equal degree of astonishment that she was
right. It was dirty, it was dated and things like the curtains and wallpaper and lampshades made it all seem much more dreadful than it was.

But a coat of paint, some new carpets and curtains and a few pictures on the walls and it could be transformed.

‘I had a survey done before the auction, and the wiring and plumbing are both sound,’ he said slowly. ‘The Aga’s awful—’

‘No!’ she protested. ‘Ben, I
love
the Aga!’

‘What—that one? Solid fuel and probably temperamental as hell?’

She weakened. ‘Well, maybe not that one.’

‘So, a new Aga and a new bathroom suite, and we could probably manage for a while. And that way we could be in by Christmas. Even in time for the wedding.’

Her eyes widened, and her mouth made a round O before the tears welled up and she shut her mouth, clamping down on her lips to hold back the tears. It didn’t work, and he laughed softly and wiped them away.

‘Silly old you.’

‘I just— If we could be in here before the baby—it would be so fantastic.’

‘I’ll give it my best shot. They owe me some leave. I’ll take a bit now, and you can have some as well, to put your feet up—’

‘What, while you’re here painting the house? I don’t think so! I’ll be painting, too.’

‘No, you won’t,’ he said firmly, meaning it. ‘I don’t need to be worrying about you inhaling fumes and wobbling about on ladders. You can sleep in in the mornings, and if you’re very good you can bring me over a picnic at lunchtime and we can eat it together and I’ll let you tell me I’m wonderful, and then
you can go off and choose carpets and things for an hour before you go back to lie on my sofa and watch daytime TV.’

She wrinkled her nose, and he wanted to kiss it. ‘I hate daytime TV,’ she said, and he laughed.

‘So spend the time planning the wedding,’ he suggested, and she sighed.

‘Oh, Ben. Do you think he’ll come?’

He took her hand in his and rubbed the back of it absently. ‘I don’t know. Whatever happens, I’ll be there, come hell or high water. But you have to talk to him, Lucy, or I will, because he needs to know, and he needs to come to terms with my role in your mother’s death, because if I have anything to do with it, your father’s going to be there at our wedding, and he’s going to give you to me with his blessing. Now, come on, let’s get out of here and find some lunch, and we probably need to start planning this wedding.’

He pulled her into his arms, gave her a quick hug and steered her towards the door.

T
HEY
went to the Smugglers’ Inn for a late lunch, up on the cliff near the church, and talked to the landlord, Tony, about booking a room for the day of the wedding.

‘Just a small lunch party,’ Lucy said, being deliberately vague.

‘How many?’ Tony asked, and she looked at Ben helplessly and shrugged.

‘I don’t know. Twenty, at the most?’

‘Probably,’ Ben agreed. ‘I don’t know. We need to make a definitive list yet, but would it be possible in principle?’

‘Oh, yes. Mondays aren’t busy. Want to see our buffet menu? It’s very popular for weddings.’

She felt herself colouring. ‘Is that your usual party fare?’ she asked, refusing to answer the question in his eyes, but he just smiled and handed her the menu.

‘Just have a look through,’ he said, and pushed himself away from the bar. ‘Now, let me get you a drink and you can sit down and browse through that and draw up your list over lunch. Are you ready to order?’

‘Mmm—scampi and chips,’ she said without hesitation. ‘I love it here.’

‘And for you, sir?’

‘I’ll have the same. And something non-alcoholic, times two. Lucy?’

‘Oh—apple juice, please, Tony. Thanks.’

‘Make that two.’

Tony set them on the bar. ‘Here you go—look, there’s a table by the fire. Go and warm yourselves and I’ll bring the food over to you.’

‘So—who’s coming?’ Ben asked softly once they were settled, pulling a notepad out of his pocket and flipping to a clean page.

She looked up at him, doubts flooding her. ‘I don’t know. My father, if I can persuade him. Jack, my twin, but I haven’t spoken to him for ages and I know he’s really busy, so he may not be able to get here on a weekday. Ed’s in Africa, so he can’t come. Marco and Dragan, although someone will have to be at work, I suppose. Kate, of course, and Chloe, my midwife, and Lauren, the physio, and Alison—she’s a practice nurse and we’ve worked together a lot on the minor surgery. Melinda—the vet, you remember her, you stitched her arm. Vicky, the hair-dresser—she’ll do my hair, too, if I ask her. Gosh, I don’t know. Mike and Fran Trevellyan? Mike’s family bought the land from my grandmother’s family donkey’s years ago, and they live just up the road from Tregorran House. They’ll be our closest neighbours, and I’ve known Mike since my childhood. I used to think he was gorgeous—he was my hero, and he put up with us trailing around after him with amazing patience. They’ve got a farm shop, and he runs the farmer’s market here every Saturday. Fran’s a teacher—so she may not be able to make it because she’ll be at school, I expect. And, of course, Hazel and Sue and Doris from the surgery. How many’s that?’

‘Fifteen, if everyone comes. If your father and Jack and either Marco or Dragan and Fran can’t make it, eleven.’

‘What about you?’

‘My parents—they’re only in Tavistock, so that’s not a problem. They’re both working, but I’m sure they’ll take the time off. My brother, Rob, and his wife, Polly? They’re in London, so I expect they’ll come down and stay with my parents for the weekend. Rob can be my best man. Jo, my registrar? A couple of other work colleagues. We can always have a big party later on, after the baby’s born and we’re settled in. Maybe a big christening in the summer.’

By which time, she thought, her father might have mellowed a little, Ed might be back from Africa and if she gave him enough notice, even Jack might manage to be there.

‘Good idea,’ she said with a smile. She picked up the notepad. ‘That’s somewhere between twenty and twenty-five, including us. Good guess. What about this menu?’

‘What, the party food?’ he teased, handing her the wedding buffet menu Tony had given them to look at, and she laughed awkwardly.

‘I don’t want to put it around the village until I’ve spoken to my father,’ she said.

Tony came over at that moment and put their meals down and said in a low voice, ‘I think you should know you were seen coming out of the Vicarage earlier, and the people of this village have always been good at adding two and two. If you’re hoping to keep it a secret, you’re in the wrong place, my friends. You’ve been well and truly rumbled.’

They exchanged rueful looks, and then the significance of it hit Lucy.

‘Oh, Ben, I’m going to have to talk to my father now, before anybody else does.’

He put out a hand and stopped her. ‘No. Eat your lunch, and we’ll go together in a minute. Tony, lunch for twenty-five max from this menu will be lovely. Thank you.’

He handed it back to the landlord, who nodded, patted Lucy on the shoulder and said, ‘Don’t worry. We’ll look after you. Everyone’s delighted.’

Everyone except her father. And she still had to find out quite how undelighted he was.

He wouldn’t even talk to her.

‘I haven’t got time to see you,’ he said curtly when she went into his consulting room anyway, leaving Ben outside. ‘Besides, I thought you said everything that was necessary last night. You’ve made it clear where your affections lie, so I suggest you get on with it.’

‘Oh, Dad, please,’ she said, her eyes filling. She blinked the tears away furiously, knowing they would only irritate him, and tried again. ‘I love him. I know you think he was responsible—’

‘No. I
know
he was responsible, and I’m having nothing more to do with either of you. You’ve made your bed, Lucy. Go and lie in it.’

She recoiled in shock, hardly able to believe how much he’d changed from the busy but caring parent he had been in her childhood. When had he turned into this man she didn’t even know? She tried again. ‘Dad, please. I want you to come to the wedding. I need you there. I can’t get married without either of you—’

‘That’s your choice. And you’ve made it. You’re marrying
a man who hasn’t even got the guts to come with you and talk to me. Well, he’s welcome to you. You deserve each other. Now I have a surgery, patients waiting, and I don’t need this. Please go.’

She stood there for a moment longer, unbearably torn, but he ignored her pointedly, and in the end she stumbled through the door into Ben’s arms. She hadn’t let him come in with her, hoping it would help to soften her father, but it hadn’t. It had made it worse.

‘I’m going to talk to him,’ Ben said, his voice shaking with anger, but she stopped him.

‘No. Just get me out of here. I’ve had enough.’

He took her out to the car, opened the door for her, helped her in and closed the door, then disappeared. She looked round over her shoulder and saw him going back inside.

Oh, no! He was going to cause a scene…

He came back out again, opened his door and slid behind the wheel, then started the engine. ‘I just told Kate you’re taking next week off. She’s arranging cover.’ He shot her a quick glance, his eyes troubled. ‘Are you all right?’

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Pressing her hand to her mouth, she shook her head, then burst into tears.

He swore, softly but comprehensively, and drove her home, then held her until she’d finally cried herself out. Then he made her a hot drink, tucked her up in bed and left her to sleep.

She didn’t think she’d be able to, but she was exhausted by emotion, devastated by her father’s rejection, and sleep promised oblivion. She closed her eyes, snuggled down on Ben’s pillow, inhaling the scent of him, and finally dropped off to sleep.

‘I can’t believe it! She actually had the gall to ask me to go to her wedding!’

Kate sighed and closed the door of her office. Nick was pacing like a caged lion, the emotions chasing one after the other across his tortured face, and she didn’t know what to say to him. She never did these days, and certainly not about this. Not about Annabel’s death, but Ben didn’t deserve this, and Lucy certainly didn’t, and she couldn’t just let it go.

‘Why are you punishing your daughter because you feel guilty for letting Annabel down?’ she asked softly, hitting right at the heart of it, and he stopped pacing and glared at her.

‘I what?’

‘You heard me. Annabel’s death was nothing to do with Ben, and you know it. And you really can’t go around accusing him of rigging the inquiry in public—unless you want to end up in court,’ she added, getting into her stride. ‘You’ve got to get a grip, Nick. She’s been in love with Ben for years, since before Annabel died, and he’s in love with her. This has been a long time coming, and with the baby on the way, it’s not a moment too soon. I can’t let you ruin her day for her, or her marriage, or her joy at becoming a mother. Just think about this, Nick. What would Annabel have had to say about your behaviour?’

And with that she walked out, shaking with anger and a whole range of other emotions she really didn’t want to confront, and left him to think about it. Maybe when he’d cooled off and the dust had settled he’d change his mind, but she really didn’t think he would.

The chances of him going to Lucy’s wedding were slim to none, and Kate’s heart ached for her.

Ben had to go to work on Sunday. He was on call, and he couldn’t get out of it, but he hated leaving Lucy.

It was as if all the light had gone out of her, and he was furious with her father and worried sick about her. She’d even talked about calling off the wedding, but he’d managed to convince her it was silly. The wedding wasn’t about her father, it was about their love and commitment for each other, and he was damned if Nick was going to screw up something so important because of his foolish and stiff-necked refusal to recognise the truth.

And then he ended up having to call him, because they had three people, a couple and a man on his own, presenting with similar symptoms of violent stomach cramps, acute nausea and vomiting and profuse diarrhoea, all within three hours of each other, and although the couple were from Exeter and the man from Birmingham, they had one thing in common—they’d all been staying at Trevallyn House in Penhally.

Damn. Ben didn’t want to speak to him, and he was sure it was mutual, but he cut straight to the point. ‘Dr Tremayne, I’m phoning from St Piran. It’s Ben Carter—there’s an outbreak of vomiting and diarrhoea that may be connected to Trevallyn House in Harbour Road in Penhally. It’s run by—’

‘Beatrice Trevallyn. I know. What are the symptoms?’

‘Acute abdominal cramps, profuse diarrhoea—in one of the patients it’s bloody and mucoid—vomiting, headache, pyrexia of 38.5ºC. The first patient in is a man from Birmingham who stayed there last night, the other couple have been there since Friday and were on their way home. They became ill just after they started their journey. There are no other links that we can establish between them apart from Trevallyn House.’

‘Right. I’ll check it out. Have you notified Public Health?’

‘No, I’m just about to. I suspect it’s salmonella, and Public Health will want to inspect the premises. I’m just alerting you as it’s likely you’ll be called by anyone local who may be suffering from it. If it’s not restricted to that one source, we need to know so we can set up an isolation unit.’

‘Fine. I’ll get on it now.’

And Nick hung up without another word. Ben shrugged. It suited him. The last thing he could envisage with the man was small talk!

He went back to the patients, isolated together in one bay, and concentrated on getting fluids into them and monitoring their symptoms. They were all too ill to travel home, and until they got the results of the stool samples from the Public Health lab, they needed to be barrier nursed in isolation. The last thing they needed in the hospital was an outbreak of winter vomiting virus, and the symptoms were similar.

He set up IV fluid replacement, checked them all again to make sure there was no further deterioration, and then he was vomited on.

Great.

He went and showered very, very thoroughly. He didn’t need to take home anything nasty to a pregnant woman who already had quite enough on her plate.

‘Call for you, Ben,’ the charge nurse said through the door. ‘It’s Nick Tremayne.’

‘Take a message,’ he yelled, and towelled himself roughly dry, pulled on a clean set of scrubs and went back out. ‘What did he want?’

‘Mrs Trevallyn is sick, and her son, Davey, is in a state of collapse—he’s got learning difficulties as well, by the way.
He’s sending them in. He says there are no other residents, nobody else has been there in the last seventy-two hours and he hasn’t been called out by anyone from outside the guest house.’

‘Right. Thanks. Looks localised, then. Anything from Public Health?’

‘No. I’ll chase them up.’

‘Do that—and can we get these three up to a medical ward? All five can be nursed together, and if I’m right, that’ll be the end of it, unless it’s meat from a local supplier, in which case we could get many more.’

‘Look on the bright side, why don’t you,’ the charge nurse said with a grin, and went to organise the removal of their patients from the unit.

‘I’ll get a fleet of cleaners in to deal with this lot,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘We’ll need a serious hosing-down of all this contaminated equipment before we can put it back into use.’

‘Good idea.’

And he needed to phone Lucy. He couldn’t leave the department until he had the results back and was sure it was only a restricted salmonella outbreak and not something much worse and more widespread.

It was the best and yet the most appalling fortnight of Lucy’s life. If it hadn’t been for Ben, it would have been intolerable—but if it hadn’t been for Ben, it wouldn’t have been intolerable, so that was stupid.

After Sunday when he was at work, they spent a lot of time together, both at Tregorran House and in his old house in Orchard Way. She was having only three days off, and refused
to take any more despite Ben’s persuasion, so she had to make the best of it. And they were lovely days.

She wasn’t allowed to do anything, but he couldn’t stop her planning, and she ordered a skip and watched him fill it with the horrible carpets and curtains, and made notes for the wedding.

Not that there were many to make.

She needed a dress. She needed flowers—a simple posy would do, nothing much, and as it was Advent the church wouldn’t have flowers. Foliage, then—ivy and eucalyptus and variegated laurel from the garden. She could see plenty of things from where she was sitting, and if she had a few white flowers interspersed—roses, perhaps?—that would be enough.