'I don't want you for that.' Dominic frowned as though in an indictment of her stupidity. 'I want you to take charge of her children. Her husband's out on the hills with his sheep, and she's got twins and a toddler, all under five. I'd ask your mother…'
'Mum and Dad aren't here. They've gone into Alnwick to see some friends.'
She wanted to protest that Dominic had no right to dragoon her into helping him like this, but her heart went out to the pregnant woman isolated from all the protection of modern medicine in her remote home, and somehow she found herself clambering into the Land Rover and holding her breath as Dominic put it into gear and the heavy four-wheel-drive vehicle inched slowly through the deepening snow.
It was a hair-raising journey to the farm—only four miles away from her parents' house, but much, much higher in the hills and consequently even more exposed to the ferocity of the blizzard.
Three times the Land Rover got stuck and both she and Dominic had to get out and use the spades and grit he had packed in the back to get it moving again. Each time, as she wiped the freezing snow from her stinging face, Christy wondered what on earth she had let herself in for.
It seemed to take hours to reach the farm, and on the third occasion they became stuck she couldn't help asking Dominic uncertainly, 'Will she be all right… I mean…'
'She's a very sensible woman, and telephoned the surgery the moment she went into labour, knowing that it was going to be impossible for us to bring her down. Her baby wasn't due for another three weeks, and both the twins and her first child were late, so she wasn't prepared for this one's early arrival.'
Although he sounded calm, Christy could sense that Dominic was concerned and she shivered on a surge of sympathy and apprehension for the pregnant woman.
'Couldn't a helicopter…?' she suggested timidly, but Dominic shook his head before she could finish her sentence.
'Nowhere for it to land ; the house is on a fairly steep hillside. Look, I think you can see the lights from it up ahead.'
By straining her eyes Christy could just about make out the faint yellow gleam ahead of them. Staring into the snow made her eyes ache, and she marvelled at Dominic's skill and stamina in managing to drive them this far.
She could hardly believe it when they finally rolled to a halt in the farmyard.
Two small tow-coloured heads poked round the back door as Christy jumped down from the Land Rover. The twins, no doubt, she decided, following Dominic inside. The kitchen was warmed by an immense Aga, the strain in the face of the woman sitting in front of it telling its own story.
'Sorry about the delay,' Dominic apologised. 'How are you feeling?'
Christy could almost feel for herself the spasm of pain that contorted the woman's body as she bent over.
It was several seconds before she could speak.
'I don't think it will be very much longer. I can't tell you how glad I am that you're here.' She saw Christy for the first time as she stepped out from behind Dominic and smiled wanly at her.
'I brought Christy to keep an eye on the children.' As Dominic spoke he was looking at his watch—timing the contractions, no doubt, Christy thought nervously. She had never had an awful lot to do with babies, and had certainly never been there on the spot, so to speak, when one was born.
'I've got everything ready upstairs, doctor.'
'All right, Mrs Thomson, I'll be with you in a minute. Can you cope down here?' Dominic asked Christy briskly, smiling reassuringly at the three small faces turned up to his with varying degrees of
apprehension.
'Mummy's having our baby,' the largest member of the trio lisped.
'Yes… yes, I think so. Shouldn't I be boiling water or something?' Christy suggested distractedly.
Dominic laughed. 'No…'
It seemed a long, long time since she had heard him laughing naturally, and she could feel her own heart lifting slightly in response as she remembered earlier, more innocent days when she had been content with nothing more than his friendship.
Keeping the children occupied wasn't too hard a task. They were all obviously well-behaved, and the fact that she was a stranger further inhibited them, so that it wasn't until Christy had the brainwave of suggesting that they play Snakes and Ladders when she saw the game on the dresser that they started to relax a little.
Every now and again she glanced upwards, inwardly praying for the safety of Mrs Thomson and her baby.
When she cried out, the twins' faces puckered, and one of the little boys cuddled on to Christy's lap. Too young to really understand what was happening, they could still feel their mother's pain and react to it.
'Mummy cry…'
Christy watched despairingly as the small chin wobbled, but Lyn, the eldest of the three, came to her rescue, saying stalwartly, 'It's all right, Christopher… it's only like when Betsy had her puppies…'