Page 46 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Yes, I am aware of that. She told me.’
Stephen nods. ‘I … I would offer you some tea and refreshments,’ he says, looking towards the kitchen. ‘But our maid was taken ill yesterday.’
‘Not a problem. I can make some tea for us all if you wish?’
‘Oh could you?’ Stephen says smiling gratefully at her. ‘I’m pretty useless when it comes to the kitchen.’
‘Of course. You say your maid is ill?’ Tabitha asks, pausing in the doorway. ‘What is the trouble?’
‘I’m not too sure to be honest,’ Stephen says. ‘It’s very unlike Ivy to suffer illness of any sort – let alone take to her bed.’
‘Is she up on the top floor?’ Tabitha asks.
Stephen nods.
‘Then I will check on her when I have made the tea. You should be able to see your daughter soon. The doctor won’t be long.’
Stephen nods. ‘Thank you so much, Tabitha, we are all very grateful to you.’
We watch the midwife exit the room and disappear along the hall towards the kitchen.
‘Come,’ Estelle says leading us back into the drawing room.
Stephen is now standing at the side of the Christmas tree by the window. ‘Thank you,’ he says looking upwards through the window at the night sky. ‘Thank you for blessing me with a healthy baby daughter … Goodness!’ he exclaims. ‘ … a shooting star, that must be a good sign. I should make a wish.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘Please let Clara be all right. If she has caught this dreaded influenza, then please let her survive. Our daughter needs her. I need her.’
Someone at the door clears their throat.
Stephen spins around as we all turn and see a kind-looking man, wearing a smart suit, with a white shirt and tie. In his hand he’s carrying a brown leather Gladstone bag.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he says apologetically. ‘I am finished upstairs now.’
‘No, not at all, doctor,’ Stephen says. ‘Please come in and take a seat. Tabitha is just making us some tea, I believe. I hope you’ll stay for a cup.’
‘Please, call me Fraser, and that would be very welcome, thank you.’
‘How is she?’ Stephen asks with a worried expression.
‘Are you enquiring after your wife or your new daughter?’
‘Both.’
‘Your daughter is doing very well, I’m pleased to say. She’s a good weight and she seems very healthy indeed.’
‘Good. Good. And my wife?’
‘Delivery-wise, she did very well. But I’m afraid that she does have signs that suggest a possible influenza infection.’
‘She will be all right, though?’ Stephen insists. ‘Won’t she?’
The doctor looks over towards the window. ‘A shooting star is always a good sign,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m glad you made that wish … ’
Thirteen
Bloomsbury,London
21 December 2018
The room begins to get fuzzy around the edges. Stephen and the doctor begin to blur then fade away as the room changes back to its modern-day self again.
