Christmas In Bluebell Cove

‘Yes,’ Kirstie agreed. ‘We like it in France, but we have no friends there.’

Ethan watched the colour drain from Francine’s face and thought that the children were quite unaware that they’d just dealt their mother a body blow. How would she react?

She’d been warm and drowsy after the cold walk, curled up in a big chair in front of the fire, but what they’d said brought her wide awake. As she was about to speak he motioned for her be silent, and ushering the children towards the stairs told them gently, ‘It’s late. Let’s talk about it in the morning. Your mother has been for a long walk and is tired.’

He went up with them and waited until they were settled, and all the time he was thinking that he should be rejoicing at what they’d said. Francine wouldn’t take Ben and Kirstie back to France if they didn’t want to go. She wouldn’t see her children unhappy, but neither would she be able to exist without them if they weren’t under her wing. They would visit her, of course, like they did him, but he would have the most control over the situation, their roles would be reversed.

‘I’m getting what I deserve, aren’t I?’ she asked in a low voice when he went back downstairs. ‘I put my own needs before those of you and the children and am going to pay the price.’

There was no triumph in him, just sadness as he said, ‘You’ll find that Ben and Kirstie will have forgotten all about what they said in the morning. It was because they were on a high after spending the day with their friends.’

‘You must hate me, Ethan.’

‘Why would I do that? I’ve never had to live in a foreign land like you did, so I can’t pass judgement on that, but I’ve learned one thing and it is that no marriage is a rock. I thought that ours was and it proved to be on shifting sands. I won’t ever get married again, Francine.’ And with that announcement for her to mull over, he went to make them a late supper.

Ethan had been right, Francine thought the next morning as the four of them sat down to breakfast. There was no repeat of the comments of the night before and the children went off sledging on a snow-covered slope nearby the moment they’d finished eating, but as far as she was concerned the words had been said and she couldn’t ignore them.

It was the first time she’d heard anything of that nature, which could mean that the novelty of living in France was wearing off, and if that was the case, what was she going to do? She was feeling guilty enough already for what she’d done to Ethan. She didn’t want to spoil their lives too.

They knew that things were not good between their parents and that the separation was going to continue, but she and Ethan hadn’t explained about the impending divorce as yet. They’d been more concerned with showing them how much they loved them. Yet the day would have to come and she thought achingly that if only he hadn’t called her bluff when she’d taken them to live in France with her and had followed them, instead of letting it happen.

He was seated across from her at the dining table, waiting for any comments she might have, and she didn’t disappoint him.

‘Are you upset that the children didn’t pursue their request from last night?’ she asked.

‘Why? Should I be?’ he asked abruptly. He got to his feet, ‘I’m due back at the surgery this morning so I’ll see you whenever.’

It was like any day after a public holiday at The Tides Practice he thought as the morning progressed, made up of the regulars and people who had succumbed to various ills over the Christmas period.

The two nurses were being kept fully occupied as their third member, Jenna, the bride of Christmas Eve, was on her honeymoon. Lucy Watson, the elder of the two, had been a nurse at the surgery all her working life, and young Maria, a trainee, was the eldest daughter of one of the lifeguards down on the beach.

Leo Fenchurch, the new addition to the practice, wasn’t his usual bright and breezy self and Ethan wondered if it was because he had been partaking too much of the wine during the festive occasion, but that surmise proved to be far from right when the two doctors stopped for a quick bite at lunchtime.

It seemed that Leo’s lack of joviality was connected with something more serious than too much celebrating. His mother, who lived alone, was gravely ill and after a phone call on Christmas morning he’d been to Manchester and back in the last two days to be with her and to sort out a programme of care.

‘What’s the problem?’ Ethan asked.

‘Emphysema,’ was the reply. ‘Mum is only in her early sixties, but she might as well be ninety the way it’s restricting her life. I shall go each weekend to check on her and do what I can, but will make sure I’m back first thing every Monday,’ he promised. ‘I haven’t been here very long and don’t want to mess you about, Ethan.’

‘Look, Leo,’ Ethan said. ‘Do what you have to do for your mother—we’ll cope at this end. How does the saying go? Charity begins at home.’

As he went back to his consulting room to prepare for the afternoon surgery and to make a call to Hunters Hill Hospital for an urgent appointment for a patient, Ethan thought he was the wrong one to be quoting that particular pearl of wisdom. There hadn’t been much ‘charity’ over recent months in his home. Plenty of aggravation, but no charity.

The children had returned ravenous after sledging all morning and as Francine made them a hot lunch she put to them the question that she’d been debating all the time they’d been absent. It was asking for problems if she was going to risk a repeat of their disturbing comments of the night before, she’d kept telling herself, but she had to know for certain if they were unhappy away from Bluebell Cove.

Ethan had been right in his assumption that they wouldn’t mention it again.

So far they hadn’t, but she couldn’t face living on a knife edge, waiting to see if they would say the same thing again at some future time, how they felt about what was going on in their lives, as both of them were aware that a permanent split between their parents might happen one day.

It hadn’t been Kirstie and Ben who’d acted totally out of character because they’d been overcome by homesickness, she thought, and if it had been, it would have been this place they were pining for, not the Paris house.

Ben gave her a chance to introduce the subject by saying, ‘Grandma and Grandad are coming on New Year’s Day.’

‘Yes, I know,’ she told him, smiling across at her son, who had the same kind of dark thatch as his father and the bright blue gaze, while Kirstie had skipped a generation and inherited Francine’s mother’s fair colouring. ‘They’ll be longing to see you both, but we are going back to France the morning after New Year’s Day. OK?’

There was silence and she hoped it was because they were both tucking in to the food she’d just put in front of them, but it was not to be.

‘We don’t want to go,’ Kirstie said apologetically, almost as if she understood how much it was going to upset her, and Ben, with his head bent over his meal, mumbled his agreement.

‘Supposing I said you had to come with me? That you couldn’t please yourselves. What would you do then?’

There was no reply forthcoming and she went into the kitchen and stood gripping the edge of the worktop until her knuckles shone white. Kirstie came to stand beside her and said awkwardly, ‘We could still go to Paris for our holidays, Mum.’ To Ben, who had sidled in behind her, she added, ‘We would like that, wouldn’t we, Ben?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, as long as Dad is there too.’

‘So it’s all right if I go back without you, is it?’ Francine asked, and was rewarded by consternation on both their parts.

‘No! We want you to stay with us. Don’t go back to Paris,’ Ben begged.

‘Why didn’t you tell me before that you weren’t happy there?’

‘Well, we were at first. It was exciting, different, it was like being on holiday, but Bluebell Cove is where we want to live.’

Francine thought wretchedly that to a lesser degree than her own the children she adored had been made to feel homesick to satisfy her own longing. There was no way she could continue to inflict that on them, so what was the answer?

Go back to France alone? She couldn’t bear the thought of it. But if she didn’t do that, it would be a case of returning to Bluebell Cove defeated by her own shortsightedness, and Ethan wasn’t going to welcome her back with open arms, was he? She’d felt like an intruder from the moment of arriving.

Two pairs of eyes were watching her anxiously and she managed a smile.

‘All right,’ she said comfortingly. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve said and see what I can do, but why didn’t you tell me this before?’

Ben didn’t reply, he just stood looking down at the floor, but Kirstie had an answer for her. ‘Because you kept crying all the time, Maman, that’s why.’

They were off sledging again once their stomachs were no longer empty, with a strict warning to be back before it was dark. The moment they’d gone Francine put on her outdoor clothes and went into the centre of the village with a heavy heart, passing the surgery on her way and wondering what Ethan was going to say when he knew that she’d coaxed the truth out of the children.

He would have to be pleased, it went without saying. Only she was devastated by what Kirstie and Ben had said.

When she went into the estate agent’s the face behind the counter wasn’t that of anyone she knew, for which she was thankful. The doctor’s wife enquiring about rental property in Bluebell Cove when from all accounts she’d moved to France would have caused raised eyebrows, though no doubt it would soon get around no matter who attended her behind the mullioned windows that looked out onto the busy main street.

‘Do you have any properties for rent?’ she asked a smartly dressed young assistant.

‘If you’d asked that in summer, the answer would have been no,’ she was told, ‘but at this time of year we do have a few. Top of the list is thatched Thimble Cottage, detached, fully furnished, with three bedrooms, bathroom with shower, sitting room, dining room and kitchen. All beautifully set out to match the age of the property. It is centrally situated next to the church. Are you familiar with the village at all?’

‘Yes,’ she said flatly.

‘Thimble Cottage is available for twelve months. I’m not sure about afterwards,’ she was told. ‘Would you like to view it? I can take you now if you like.’

‘Yes, that would be fine,’ she agreed. ‘If I am interested, I would want to move in immediately.’

The young assistant nodded. ‘That would be no problem. Shall we go? I’ll lock up here for a while.’

Francine had seen Thimble Cottage many times over the years but had never been inside, and when she did her first thought was that the estate agent hadn’t been wrong in the way she’d described it. It was a very attractive property and might go some way towards lifting the gloom that had descended on her after talking to the children.

‘This will suit me perfectly,’ she said. ‘I’d like to rent it for the twelve months it is available, so can we go back to your office and get it sorted?’

When the children came up the drive they were smiling and rosy cheeked from their exertions, but when she opened the door to them the uncertainty was there again in their expressions and any doubts she might have had about what she was intending disappeared.

But it was not yet the moment to tell them. Ethan had to be told first and though she was expecting him to be pleased that she’d had to give up some of her original ideas, she wasn’t sure if he would be happy to have her back in the village, complicating their lives even more by living across the way from him.

When he came in it was half past six and she asked, ‘How was your day?’

‘Long and busy,’ he said evenly, and went upstairs to change.

The children had already eaten. They’d been too hungry to wait and so it was just the two of them sitting down to the food she’d cooked.

When the meal was over and he was relaxing by the fire, she said tentatively, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘I hope it isn’t that you’re planning to take the children back to France before New Year,’ he said immediately, ‘because I won’t allow it. Mum and Dad will be bitterly disappointed if they’re not here when they arrive.’

‘Do you honestly think I would do that, knowing that they are coming?’ she choked out.

His expression was bleak. Returning from a busy day at the surgery and finding her there would have been wonderful if the circumstances had been different. As it was, it had been bitter-sweet and he told her levelly, ‘I didn’t honestly think that you would ask for a divorce, Francine, but you did, so don’t blame me for being concerned about what you might spring on me next.’

‘What I have to tell you is the exact opposite to what you were thinking,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’m not taking them back to France at all, except maybe for the occasional holiday. Are you pleased?’

He was observing her in jaw-dropping amazement.

‘I might be if I knew why you’ve come to that decision, and then again, I might not. So what is going on, Francine? Is it because of what they said last night? Have they been on about it again?’

She shook her head, ‘No, not exactly. I asked them outright if it was true and they said it was. They want to stay here—and want me to stay here too.’

‘I see,’ he said slowly, ‘and what did you say to that?’

‘I didn’t say anything. Instead, I went out and did something. I’ve rented Thimble Cottage for twelve months and am going to live there with the children during the week, which is your busiest time, and will fly to Paris every weekend when they can stay with you. That way we will all be happy. Kirstie and Ben will be where they want to be, you will see a lot more of them. And I—’

‘You will be sacrificing your dream for their sakes and mine.’

‘I’ll still have some of it if I go to France every weekend.’

‘You could have done that in the first place Francine.’

Ignoring the comment, she begged, ‘Just tell me that what I’ve done is all right.’

‘Yes, I suppose so, except for one thing. Why rent the cottage? What is wrong with living here during the week before you go jetting off to Paris?’

She shook her head. ‘It will be easier for us all, doing what I suggest.’ She glanced towards the sitting room where Kirstie and Ben were watching television. ‘So shall we tell the children and put their minds at rest? They were both reluctant to repeat what they said last night, but wanted me to know that it was how they felt.’

‘Yes, all right,’ he agreed, ‘just as long as you are sure you want to do this.’

‘It was the only solution I could think of.’

‘Mmm. I suppose so,’ he said dryly, and thought there was another one that she obviously wasn’t going to consider. She could come back to him and tell him that it had all been a mistake.

But he knew that wasn’t how she felt and he wasn’t sure how he felt either. She’d been his love, the light of his life, and he’d lost her. Not to another man, but to a country and a house.

The children were slow to show their delight at the new arrangements until Francine held them close and told them that she was looking forward to living in Thimble Cottage, but would be going to Paris every weekend.

‘So, you see, the three of us will live in the cottage during the week, and when I’m away at the weekends you will stay here with Dad,’ she explained. Ben gave a whoop of delight, but Kirstie’s expression was still anxious.

‘We did like living in France, Maman,’ she said guiltily. ‘It was just as nice as here. What we didn’t like was Dad not being there with us, and you not with us when we’re here in Bluebell Cove. That’s what was wrong.’ A smile broke through. ‘But what you’ve arranged will be super because we’ll be near you both, and when you go over there at weekends we’ll know that it isn’t for long. So when can we go to see the cottage?’

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