Page 45 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘And your father seems like a good man at heart,’ I tell Estelle. ‘He’s strict, but I expect that’s the result of a Victorian upbringing when things were different between men and women.’
‘Yes, I think they were very much in love back then.’ Estelle sighs. ‘It’s a shame things had to change … ’ She glances over at Angela, who gives her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m not sure when he began to morph into the monster he eventually became. Maybe it began after I was born – I’m the unborn baby, if you hadn’t worked that out.’
I nod, but Ben looks puzzled.
‘Estelle, if you’re that baby, and this is 1918,’ he says slowly, ‘then that would make you almost a hundred years old now, wouldn’t it, if you were born in January?’
Estelle simply nods.
‘My goodness, Estelle, I had no idea,’ I say, astonished. ‘You look amazing.’
‘You are very kind.’ Estelle smiles at me. ‘Now, we must get back to the story. Where were we? Ah, yes, we need to skip forward a few days … so let us go into the hall to do so.’
We all follow Estelle into the hall and immediately hear a baby crying.
‘Is that you?’ I whisper, wondering how this must feel hearing yourself as a baby and seeing your parents as they once were.
Estelle nods. ‘I was born early. This is now the eighteenth of December 1918.’
A woman wearing a large white apron, a pale blue dress and a tall, white nurse’s cap comes down the stairs looking worried. She knocks on the drawing-room door.
‘Come!’ Stephen calls impatiently. ‘Well?’ he snaps before the nurse has a chance to speak.
‘Your child has been born, sir, and I’m pleased to tell you, you have a healthy baby girl.’
‘A daughter … ’ Stephen says quietly. ‘I have a daughter?’
The nurse nods. ‘The doctor is examining her now.’
‘Good. Good,’ Stephen says, still looking dazed. ‘And my wife?’
‘Your wife is fine, but she is running a slight fever.’
‘A fever? Why?’
‘I think it’s best to let the doctor decide that, sir.’
Stephen looks puzzled. ‘But you are our midwife. I know my wife trusts both you and your opinion, Tabitha. What do you think?’
Tabitha looks down at her sensible lace-up shoes. ‘I can’t be sure,’ she says, looking up again with a worried expression. ‘But I think your wife may have contracted the influenza. As I’m sure you know there’s an awful lot of it about right now.’
‘Influenza … ’ Stephen repeats. ‘No, she can’t have. She has hardly been out anywhere recently. She’s been so careful.’
‘Hardly?’ Tabitha enquires.
‘I mean she went to the hospital the other day to drop off some things, and then on to vote. Did she catch cold? It was snowing when she left.’
‘You can’t catch influenza from being too cold, sir. Both hospitals and polling stations can be busy places. I suspect she caught it there.’
‘I voted in the morning and I’m absolutely fine,’ Stephen says robustly.
‘I don’t think it was the actual voting that may have caused her to become infected. More likely someone standing near her at the polling station.’
Stephen nods. ‘Yes, of course. So what happens next?’
‘We wait. The baby seems to be fine, though, which is good.’
‘Thank you,’ Stephen says, ‘I’m sorry if I was curt with you before, Tabitha, but it’s been a worrying time for us. Clara lost our first baby, you see.’
