‘But first, the baby needs feeding,’ the midwife said.
Lily looked at her daughter properly for the first time.
‘I’m not sure I can,’ she whispered.
‘Nonsense, every mother can feed her child,’ said the midwife. ‘There’s nothing to it, you’ll see.’
Edward got up to go.
‘I’ll leave you for now,’ he said, ‘and I’ll come back later, I promise.’
At Lily’s insistence, her father was called and Constance Mary Handford was christened within three hours of her birth. But that didn’t seem to satisfy Lily, who was anxious and peevish, and despite her best efforts, totally unable to feed Constance, or Connie as Edward had affectionately named her. Edward sat with them through several long nights, when the baby mewled for lack of food. She was growing weaker daily, and Lily had a set look on her face, sure she was right, and the baby would fail to thrive.
On the third day an exhausted Edward sent out for a wet-nurse, and took over the organization of the care of his daughter; Lily was clearly unable to. He had lost his wife. She had retreated somewhere into a haze of unhappiness and seemed unable to comprehend that she had a living child who needed her attention.
Edward, though, was enchanted with their daughter. As she grew stronger daily, she learnt to smile and laugh and she brought much needed joy back into the house. He was filled with a fierce, protective love that surprised him with its ferocity. But Lily he couldn’t reach. She was so frightened of losing her daughter it appeared she couldn’t learn to love her. All Edward could wish for was time to heal her wounded soul.
As time passed, Connie grew into a lively little girl, who smiled and played and ran everywhere. True to his promise to Lily to plant flowers to mark the births of their children, he’d planted snowdrops in the four corners of the knot garden, for Connie, as a symbol of hope. Lily slowly recovered from her post-birth torpor, and began to engage with the world again. She was often to be found in the garden, picking the heartsease that grew there abundantly and filling in the gaps when plants were lost. But to Edward’s regret, she rarely played with their daughter.
It’s as if she cannot bring herself to love Connie, he recorded in his diary. She is afraid to love her for fear of losing her. So I must love our daughter for both of us.
It was Edward to whom Connie came running when he returned home, when he’d been working away on one of the many gardens he’d been commissioned to landscape. To Edward, that she went crying or calling with her troubles. It was Edward who helped her take her first tottering steps, and listened to her lisp her first words.
Connie rarely bothers her mother, instinctively knowing she is unlikely to look up from the flowers she often draws in the garden and take notice of her. I know that Lily cares for Connie, of course she does, but somehow she cannot manage her in the way that I can. It is as if Lily regards Connie as an exotic creature, somewhat different and distant from herself. I pray in time that will change. But gradually, slowly, my Lily is returning to me. She comes with me regularly into the garden now, and draws plants again, as she once did. Every now and again she laughs at my foibles, and I am reminded of the joy we shared when first we were married, and I am grateful for that at least …
Lily’s diary, May 1898
At last. We have a son. A beautiful, healthy, baby boy. I feel so different this time. When Connie was born, I looked at her little, scrumpled, red face, and my heart was torn in two, so sure was I that she was not long for this world. But despite my fears, she has thrived, is thriving now, and God has seen fit to bless us with a brother for her. A gift that I had not dared hope for. I shall call him Harry after his grandfather. Now I feel my life is complete. After the years of pain and heartache, at last Edward and I have our family, and I can sit in the sunken garden Edward made for me and not feel the need to weep. The sun is shining, summer is here, and my future has been restored to me.
Chapter Thirteen
‘The girls go to bed at 7 p.m. sharp,’ said Lauren nervously. It was a month since Christmas, Eileen’s first proper meeting about the summer fete, and the first time she’d allowed Troy to babysit. Over the last few weeks, Lauren had allowed Troy to regularly make the half an hour trip from Crawley, to visit the twins. Lauren had even included him in a very awkward and uncomfortable Christmas lunch with Lauren’s mum (who’d just about been able to keep her thoughts about Troy to herself) and the girls were gradually getting used to their dad being on the scene. Lauren might never have been ready for Troy to take charge for an evening, if her mum hadn’t gone away for some winter sun, leaving her without a babysitter. Troy had been adamant she had nothing to worry about, and Lauren was hoping that her negative thoughts would prove unfounded. If she was going to let Troy back into her children’s lives he had to be alone with them sometime. ‘They really must go to bed then, or they’ll be too tired for school tomorrow.’
‘I know you think I’m useless,’ said Troy, ‘but I think I can manage to get two four-year-olds to bed.’
‘I don’t think you’re useless – well not entirely,’ said Lauren, ‘but you aren’t used to four-year-olds, and I’ve never left them with anyone but Mum and Eileen before.’
‘I’m their dad,’ said Troy, ‘and I’m going to prove to you that I’m worthy of them and you. You’ve got to learn to trust me.’
Despite herself, Lauren had to smile. It was quite funny seeing Troy being so keen to please her, and rather charming in a way. It had always been the other way round before. And Troy was right, if he was going to play a part in the kids’ lives, she had to learn to trust him.
The doorbell rang. It was Kezzie.
‘All ready then?’ she said.
‘Yup,’ said Lauren, firing last minute instructions until Troy pushed her out of the door.
‘You know when you were telling me about Troy, before he pitched up again, you never once mentioned how good looking he was,’ said Kezzie teasingly.
‘Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind,’ said Lauren. ‘Part of the charm of course. Give me an ugly man any day of the week.’
‘So you’re not planning to get back together?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Lauren. ‘I’ve let him stay over a couple of times when he’s come to see the girls, because it’s a long way for him to get back to Crawley, but that’s it. He keeps threatening to get a job and move over here, but I’ll believe it when I see it.’
‘I know he came for Christmas lunch,’ said Kezzie, ‘so I couldn’t help wondering, and we haven’t had a chance to catch up since.’ Kezzie had disappeared to Spain to see her parents for a fortnight, and had come back looking bronzed and disgustingly healthy.
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’d have been just as nosy if it was the other way round,’ said Lauren. ‘Christmas was only just about bearable. I was treading on eggshells between Troy and Mum and hoping the girls didn’t pick up on it. I don’t think I could cope with a relationship with him. I’m glad Troy’s back for the girls’ sake, but it’s early days, and I’m still not sure it’s going to work.’
They walked down the hill towards the Parish Hall.
‘So is this going to be dreadfully stuffy and dull?’ said Kezzie.
‘Probably,’ said Lauren. ‘But you never know, we might get them to perk up their ideas a bit.’
Eileen was already there when they arrived.
‘Let me introduce you to some people.’ She reeled off a list of names – Lauren knew most of them, having helped out at village fetes before – but Kezzie was clearly slightly overwhelmed by the number