Page 13 of A Christmas Wish for the Village Midwife

Zoe marvelled inwardly at the calm acceptance in Maisie’s statement. A few weeks earlier, she’d finally confirmed what they’d all suspected – Ezra was deaf. Zoe had been fully prepared to offer extra support and to have to draft in all sorts of services, but apart from the very practical things like learning sign language and about the particular challenges that bringing up a deaf child was going to present, Maisie had been remarkably calm about the situation and hadn’t wanted any fuss at all. She’d simply stated that it didn’t matter because she hadn’t known anything about bringing up a child anyway – deaf or not – and so whatever she was learning, she was learning for the first time, and it would all go in just the same. At Hilltop Farm, Billie had marvelled at her attitude far more vocally, wondering if she’d have been able to cope with the same unfazed practicality, and when Zoe had assured her that she would have done, Billie wasn’t quite convinced.

‘How are you settling in?’ Zoe asked as they followed Maisie and Fern through to the living room. It was decorated in dusty tones of biscuit and beige, a worn, heavily patterned carpet muffling their footsteps. Someone had spread a large blanket over it at the centre of the room, and Ezra was currently lying on it, surrounded by toys and looking as if he’d fallen asleep mid-play.

‘The carpet’s not very clean,’ Fern said. ‘So we’ve put that blanket down until we can afford a carpet cleaner. It’s fine to walk on, but we didn’t want the babies on it, and Ezra’s started to roll over, so…’

‘It doesn’t look very comfy for him,’ Billie said doubtfully as Louisa wriggled in her arms.

‘It can’t be that uncomfortable if he’s fallen asleep,’ Zoe said.

Billie looked unconvinced, but then, Zoe knew Billie had higher standards. And when it came down to it, Billie also had the resources to ensure she could indulge those higher standards. Both Fern and Maisie were broke, and apart from meagre benefits and the local authority house they now stood in, having recently moved in, they had little else of material value. But they had a budding friendship and a joint passion to do whatever they could to give their babies a good, happy upbringing, and in Zoe’s experience, those things were a decent start.

She’d often maintained boundaries with the mothers and babies in her care because her previous job in Manchester had always been so busy, and she’d had so many to look after, she’d had no choice. But Thimblebury was different. Maisie and Fern had become far more than patients or clients or whatever the accepted parlance was at that point. They’d become friends, and in many ways, Zoe had also felt maternal towards them herself. She wanted to see them succeed, and she wanted to play her part in enabling them to do just that.

‘Did you want a cup of tea?’ Maisie asked. ‘Only we haven’t got a kettle yet…’

‘But we could boil some water on the stove,’ Fern put in. ‘It’s just that it takes ages because the flame’s crap.’

‘We’re fine…’ Zoe glanced at Billie, who nodded. ‘No need to stress about it. If you’d said, I could have picked a kettle up for you.’

‘That’s all right,’ Maisie said. ‘Mum said she’s got an old one somewhere – she just needs to find it.’

‘How’s she doing?’ Zoe asked.

Maisie shrugged. ‘She doesn’t hate me, so that’s good. I think she’s sad I’ve moved out. I mean, when my sister moved out, at least she still had me, but now she’s got nobody. Except Dad, of course, but they don’t talk much.’

‘That’s a shame, but I’m sure she’ll get used to it,’ Zoe said gently. She knew how guilty Maisie had felt about the decision to leave home, but she felt it had been the right one, and she hoped Maisie wouldn’t change her mind. And then she looked at Fern and smiled. ‘Corrine too, come to think of it. She and Victor had got quite used to you being around, and I would imagine they’re finding Daffodil Farm a lot quieter now you’ve moved out.’

‘Honestly, they feel more like my parents than my parents ever did,’ Fern said. ‘They’re the best.’

Zoe looked for a place to sit, but the chairs and sofa were cluttered with various items, some related to baby care and some seemingly in piles to be sorted from the move. Maisie and Fern had only been given the keys a couple of weeks before, after many hold-ups and false starts, and so it was to be expected that the two young mothers might take a while to settle in, given their other responsibilities. But then Zoe frowned as her gaze fell on a tattered box labelled Christmas tree standing in a corner. ‘It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it? We’ve got nearly two months yet.’

‘Oh, it was in my room,’ Maisie said. ‘Mum keeps it there because she can’t find space in the loft. She said I could have it because she probably wouldn’t bother putting a tree up this year if I’m not there.’

Maisie looked pained to repeat her mum’s intentions, but Zoe decided not to question it because she didn’t want to make Maisie feel worse. Her mum, Bridget, was doing a great job of that without any help. To an extent, Zoe understood the sentiment, but she disagreed with the airing of it in what was clearly a tactic to make Maisie feel guilty for moving out. What she’d hoped would come of it was anyone’s guess, but even Bridget would have to see eventually that this fresh start was good for Maisie and Ezra, and there was small likelihood she’d change her mind and move back. Maisie loved Bridget, but Bridget was far from easy to live with – even Zoe, with her limited interactions with the woman, knew that. As for Ezra’s deafness, Bridget had hardly been supportive about that either.

There was a piercing cry from the bundle in Fern’s arms.

‘I think someone is hungry,’ Zoe said.

‘I fed him like an hour ago,’ Fern replied, but cleared a section of sofa so she could sit and pull aside her top. Benji latched on and was instantly calm again. Fern gazed down at him, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth even as she winced. ‘I’m a bit sore,’ she said without looking up. ‘He’s hungry a lot.’

‘I can bring something over for that if you like,’ Zoe said. ‘The soreness, that is. I can’t do much about him being hungry.’

As Zoe watched Fern feed her baby, she felt Billie’s hand on her arm and glanced across to see a silent look of solidarity. It had been only a few months since a definitive diagnosis of premature ovarian insufficiency, and though Zoe had had lots of time to come to terms with it, and a few consultant appointments into the bargain, she often felt that Billie and Alex worried about her, especially in moments like this. Which was ironic because her entire career consisted of moments like this in one way or another. She was a midwife, and whether she could have her own children or not, she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of what she’d always believed was a calling rather than a job. It didn’t matter how much it sometimes still hurt – she loved what she did and would never give up that gift.

She sent a silent reply to reassure Billie that she was OK, and was glad when, a moment later, Ezra woke up to become a welcome distraction. He opened his eyes and smiled up at Maisie as she went to collect him.

‘He’s so cute!’ Billie cooed.

‘He’s certainly filled out,’ Zoe said.

‘He’s fat?’ Maisie looked aghast at the notion, and Zoe had to laugh.

‘Of course he isn’t! He’s exactly how a healthy baby should be! You’re not going to put him on a diet, are you?’

Maisie grinned in recognition of the reference. During pregnancy, she’d battled the idea of putting on weight – mostly fed those insecurities by her mother and grandmother. It had taken Zoe’s and Billie’s subtle interventions to persuade her that it was better to be healthy, no matter what that looked like, for her baby’s sake if nothing else.

‘Ow!’