Whatever few minutes or hours she did have spare was spent collecting clothes for the poor. She would then take them back to her aunt’s where Cook and Aggie would sort them into piles and launder any that needed washing. Every Saturday night she spent in the kitchen helping Cook to prepare and bake the bread she would take to the poor surgery the following day, along with the huge pan of soup she now took each week. She had also started to collect donations for the poor from her aunt’s wealthy friends and this, along with what Imogen gave him, went a long way towards helping Jake to buy the pills and potions he prescribed for the patients. Somehow, she never seemed to have a minute to herself. Not that she begrudged a moment of the time she spent helping Jake; she would have walked through fire for him if need be and had been forced to admit to herself that her feelings for him had deepened further. She suspected he felt the same for her but knew that it was useless to even imagine that they had a future together. Somewhere along the way she had resigned herself to becoming a spinster for she knew now that no other man would ever match up to him in her eyes.
As they rounded the corner to the poor surgery, her thoughts were pulled back to the present when they noticed a straggling line of people already waiting for them and Jake chuckled. ‘Look at that. How things change, eh? We couldn’t persuade them to come in at the beginning and now we struggle to see them all each day.’
Richard had also just arrived and was unlocking the door and soon they were all busy carrying the food and clothes they had brought with them in before Richard and Jake saw the first patients. Since she had been helping at the surgery, Emmy had become adept at dressing wounds and administering medicine and she found that she enjoyed it. She certainly seemed to have a calming influence on the patients and sometimes wondered if she shouldn’t go into nursing as a career if anything happened to her aunt. Just the thought of that made her feel sad but she had been forced to face up to the fact that her aunt’s health was deteriorating rapidly despite the constant care that she and Aggie gave her, and she realised that it was just a matter of time before she lost her.
It was late that evening by the time Jake drove her home and they were both feeling tired but satisfied with what they’d achieved that day. They both realised that many of the people who attended only came with mild ailments so that they could go away with a loaf of bread or a much-needed pair of shoes or item of clothing, but others came with more serious complaints and they felt that this was a good thing.
‘Will you come in for a drink?’ Emmy asked when he drew the horse to a halt outside her aunt’s.
He nodded. ‘That would be lovely. You go in and put the kettle on and I’ll be in when I’ve put his nosebag on,’ he answered as he hopped down from the driver’s seat and tethered the horse to the lamp post.
Minutes later they were seated at the kitchen table with steaming mugs in front of them and as Jake sipped at his and stretched his long legs out, he sighed with contentment. ‘Oh, I have to say you make a lovely cup of cocoa.’ He gave her the smile that could turn her legs to jelly if only he’d known it. ‘This is just what the doctor ordered.’
‘Hm, I was thinking, we’re going to need bigger premises if this goes on for much longer. We had more patients than ever today. Soon we’ll be turning them away.’
He nodded. ‘I understand what you mean but I don’t think we can expect Aunt Imogen to do more than she does. She’s already paying the rent on where we are now, bless her.’
They talked of the various patients they had seen for a while until Jake said tentatively, ‘I noticed that you and Richard are getting on well.’ He watched her closely for her reaction.
‘Yes, we are.’ Emmy smiled. ‘He’s so nice, how could anyone not get on with him?’
A little ripple of jealousy coursed through Jake like iced water. Richard had confided that he admired Emmy enormously. Sometimes Jake would catch his friend’s eyes following her around the room and he knew that Richard was developing feelings for her. He also knew that he shouldn’t mind, but he did and sometimes he tortured himself with images of them getting together – not that there was anything he could do about it. Suddenly the precious few quiet moments they had been sharing were spoilt and scraping his chair back he rose abruptly, leaving his cup half empty.
‘I’ll be off then,’ he said shortly as Emmy blinked with surprise. ‘Got another busy day ahead tomorrow.’
‘B-but aren’t you going to finish your cocoa?’
‘No, I ought to be going. Goodnight, Emmy.’
She watched the door close behind him and listened to the echo of his footsteps in the hallway, then lowering her head she sighed sadly.
In Lytham St Anne’s, Abi was slowly recovering from the birth, much to Mrs M’s and Bertie’s relief. The baby was a day old and although Abi was weak, she was now fully conscious. Mrs M was plying her with tasty titbits and nourishing chicken soup, which the dear soul thought was the cure for all ills, and downstairs Bertie was once again trying to persuade the baby to take some milk, although as yet he’d had no success at all.
The doctor had been in twice that day to check the mother and baby but while he was pleased with Abi’s progress he was now gravely concerned about the child. Its tiny heartbeat was as erratic as it had been following the birth and although the doctor hadn’t told them to prepare for the worst, he fully expected it.
‘I was thinking it’s time you met your daughter now you’re properly awake again,’ Mrs M told Abi as she prepared to carry a tray downstairs.
Abi looked uncertain but the kindly woman wasn’t going to take no for an answer and pottered from the room before Abi could refuse.
Minutes later she was back with the baby wrapped in a snow-white shawl and as she approached the bed, she saw Abi flinch as if someone had struck her.
‘I-I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this yet,’ she said in a choky voice as Bertie hovered in the doorway, his face concerned.
‘Rubbish, of course you are.’ Mrs M gave her no more chances to refuse and marching to the bed she laid the child on her mother’s chest.
And then the strangest thing happened, for as Abi reluctantly looked down at her daughter a look of awe appeared on her face and her arms instinctively closed about her, much to the onlooker’s relief.
‘Oh .?.?. but she’sbeautiful!’ she breathed as she tenderly stroked the baby’s soft cheek. A wave of love swept through her and suddenly she was crying as she realised that this child was a part of her and that she would never be able to give her up.
‘Didn’t I tell you so?’ Mrs M said smugly. ‘And now it’s time you thought of a name for her.’
Bertie had come to sit by the bed and as Abi glanced at him, she noted the way he was staring at the baby. She had obviously stolen his heart too, just as she had hers.
‘Right, I’ll leave you pair to look after her for a while. I’m going to have a cuppa and put me feet up for a bit.’ Mrs M smiled with satisfaction and marched from the room, closing the door behind her.
‘Had you got any names in mind for her?’ Bertie asked, delighted to see the way Abi was cuddling the child.
Shamefaced, Abi shook her head. ‘I’m afraid because I wasn’t planning on keeping her, I didn’t bother to think of any,’ she admitted and she began to cry. ‘But howcanI keep her, Bertie? I’d never be able to go home again and people would always class me as a scarlet woman. What sort of a life would that be for her?’
