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Once Murray's gone on his way in the tractor, I head back into Talyton, my head spinning, my heart in turmoil. I don't tell Gran and I have the briefest conversation on the phone with my sister just to let her know I'm all right. I can't eat and I don't sleep.
Tonight, Frosty lies heavily on my feet, matching my sighs with hers. She knows I'm unhappy, and I'm not the only person around here who's going to miss Lewis. He's part of Frosty's life too, or was . . . A lump catches in my throat. I stuff the corner of the duvet into my mouth to stifle my sobs. I still love him and always will.

When I wake there are three missed calls from Lewis. While I'm walking Frosty before breakfast, he calls again. This time, I answer.

‘Zara, I had the worst night ever, thinking about what you said,' he begins. ‘You're wrong, you know. You can't impose your perception of how I might feel in three or four years' time on our situation. You can't possibly guess the future. Now, I'm a happy-go-lucky kind of person who takes one day at a time, and all I want is to go back to how we were and do that with you, not worrying about what might or might not happen. I understand you feel more secure knowing you have things planned out as far as you can, but life isn't like that. It has twists and turns, and ups and downs, and I want to go through them with you at my side. Please, meet with me later so we can talk. I miss you so much.'

‘I'm sorry,' I say softly. ‘It's better we don't see each other. There's no point. It will only make things worse.'

‘So you do have feelings for me still?' he says, sounding more optimistic. ‘The baby thing wasn't just an excuse?'

‘Of course I have feelings for you, but that doesn't mean there's
any chance of getting back together. Nothing's changed.'

He sighs deeply and I feel as if I have a knife through my chest. ‘If you're sure then.'

‘I'm sure. I'm sorry,' I repeat.

‘I'm sorry too.' He clears his throat before he continues. ‘As you've made your mind up, I'm going to go and stay with my parents. I don't think I can bear to remain at the farm.' His voice breaks. ‘There are too many memories . . . Goodbye, Zara.'

I cut the call, unable to speak.

The next morning, although it's the last thing I want to do, I crawl out of bed, shower and dress and, having made sure Gran has a cup of tea and breakfast, I drive to the hospital to visit Tessa. I find her on the neonatal unit with Jack and the baby, who is still in an incubator and surrounded by wires and monitors. It's good news, though. Although he's having oxygen through a tube in his nose, I can see that he's breathing for himself.

Jack notices me first. ‘Zara. It's great to see you.'

Tessa looks up from where she's sitting in a chair in a white robe. There's a blue teddy bear in her lap.

‘I brought you these from me and Frosty,' I say, handing her a box of Maltesers. ‘You're looking well,' I go on after she thanks me. ‘How's he doing?'

‘He's doing much better now. In fact, the doctors think that they can delay surgery on his heart until he's bigger and stronger. He will need to have an operation, but there will be less risk of complications.'

‘Have you been able to hold him?' I ask.

‘Show Zara the pictures,' Tessa says, and Jack hands me his phone.

‘He's gorgeous,' I say, a lump in my throat as I study the look on Jack's face as he looks down at his wife and their baby son.

‘I'm sorry. Jack took hundreds. He's so excited, he's told everyone.' Tessa smiles. ‘We're so lucky.'

‘It could have been very different,' Jack says quietly, ‘and there's a long way to go.'

‘I know.' Tessa touches her husband's hand. ‘We'll get there, though. We will.'

‘What have you called him?' I ask.

‘Oliver Jack Steven Wilde,' Tessa says.

‘I won't lie and say that it suits him because I can't tell. You can hardly see him under that hat,' I say, amused. ‘Can I get you a coffee?'

‘No, thank you. Jack can go and get something to eat from the shop later. You get on. I'm sure you have plenty of other things to do.'

‘I'll catch up with you all soon,' I say. ‘All the best.' I leave the new family to continue to bond, knowing that they have many challenges ahead. I have challenges of my own today, not least coping with the aftermath of my break-up with Lewis, as well as Gran and the shop, and my everyday work with my mums and their babies.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Fun of the Fair

Exercise is supposed to make you feel better when you're feeling down, and it's true, because when I return from delivering the papers with Frosty on a cool October morning as the sun is beginning to warm through the mist, revealing a hint of blue sky and a bright day to come, I feel more positive than I have done for a while.

I push the shop door open and let Frosty off the lead just inside. She trots away leaving damp paw-prints across the floor as she heads towards the counter where Gran and Mrs Dyer are talking.

‘How much did you say that comes to, Rosemary?' Mrs Dyer asks. ‘There's a magazine, a bar of milk chocolate and a witch's hat for Hallowe'en— I like to dress up when the children come trick or treating.'

‘That'll be five shillings and six.' Gran frowns as she stares into the till. ‘I've rim out of half-crowns.'

‘Here, let me sort it out,' Mrs Dyer says gently.

‘It's all right. I'll do it,' I say, moving behind the counter to join Gran. ‘Let's start again.' I ring up the prices, which add up to a sensible total in decimal, before taking Mrs Dyer's money and giving her the change.

‘Well I never,' Gran mumbles. ‘Who'd have thought it?'

‘I think you must have had a flashback,' I tell her. ‘You were working it out in old money – it all changed in the 1970s way before I was born. Gran, can I ask you a favour? Would you mind giving Frosty her breakfast?' With tears in my eyes, I glance towards Mrs Dyer. ‘I think she's having one of those days.'

‘I have them all the time,' she says, trying to make light of the issue. ‘Zara, is everything okay? Only Rosemary wasn't having a very good day the last time I came in. She gave me the wrong change. I gave it back, of course, but there may be people who aren't so honest.'

‘Actually, she's becoming a little forgetful,' I admit.

‘I know what that's like. My old mum, bless her heart, went the same way.'

‘I'm going to have to call in sick. I'm supposed to be at work.'

Mrs Dyer takes off her coat. ‘I can help out for the morning.'

‘Oh no, I couldn't possibly—'

‘You go. We're neighbours, part of the community, and we help each other out. Rosemary and I can have a nice chat about the old days.'

‘Thank you so much. I'll find someone to cover the afternoon. I'll be back at lunchtime.' I run, upstairs, change without showering and grab my keys.

I call Emily, but she isn't well. She's been throwing up for a couple of days and doesn't feel up to doing anything, so I brace myself and phone my parents. It's Mum who answers.

‘I hate to do this, but could you look after the shop this afternoon? Gran's in a bit of a pickle and I can't ask James because he's on holiday. It's half-term. Please, I'm desperate.'

‘I'll be straight over,' she says after a pause.

‘I won't be here. Mrs Dyer's holding the fort. You've saved my life.'

As I cut the call, my mobile rings. It's Claire at the surgery and she's in a flap.

‘I don't know where you are this morning, or if you can help, but we have a baby emergency here. It's Rosie. She's in labour. I've called for an ambulance, but I think it'll be too late.'

‘I'll be right there.' I run faster than I've ever run before, reaching the surgery in a record two minutes. Janet opens the door for me.

‘She's in there.' She points to the nurse's room. ‘Ben—'

I don't stop to hear any more, rushing straight through to find Claire's sanctuary rather overcrowded, with Rosie lying on the trolley and Ben, Claire and Adam surrounding her. Ben looks up from where he's examining the mum-to-be, maintaining her modesty with a judiciously placed sheet.

‘Am I glad to see you?' he says, moving over to speak to me. ‘I haven't delivered a baby for years, and mum is very anxious. I think this is your department, but I'll be right back if you need me. Mum is fully dilated and ready to push.'

‘Thank you,' I say, as Rosie utters a scream.

‘That hurts sooooo much!'

Adam, his face pale and his teeth gritted, stands holding her hand.

‘All right,' I say as the contraction passes. ‘There isn't time to get you to hospital. You're going to deliver your baby very soon.' Rosie's crying and shaking. ‘I need you to calm down and focus now.' I glance towards Claire and give her a list of the basic kit that we need, such as towels, clamps and scissors.

‘I'm onto it,' she says.

‘Rosie, with this next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can into your bottom.'

Claire hands Adam a piece of damp paper towel. He wipes his face.

‘That was for Rosie, but never mind,' she smiles. ‘Hang on in there, Adam,' she adds. ‘It won't be long.'

‘Push,' I say. ‘Keep pushing. That's great. I can see the baby's head. Now, pant – that's it. With the next contraction, your baby will be born. Ready?'

‘Noooo,' she bellows as the next pain builds.

‘That's good. Now push!' It doesn't take much effort. The baby's shoulders pop out like a cork from a champagne bottle. I catch it under the arms and lift it onto the towel that Claire spreads across Rosie's chest, at which the baby cries and kicks its legs.

‘This one is a feisty little thing,' I comment.

‘What is it?' Adam asks.

‘It's a girl,' I say, checking. ‘Congratulations.' I clamp the cord in two places and let Adam cut it while Rosie gazes at her baby daughter.

‘She's amazing,' she whispers. ‘I don't believe it.'

I look towards Claire, who has tears streaming down her face.

‘Don't – you'll set me off.' I smile. ‘Well done, team.'

‘OMG, I'm so emotional,' Claire says as the room starts to flash with blue light.

‘The ambulance is here,' Adam says.

‘Too late,' Rosie says.

‘Has baby got a name?' I ask.

‘We're going to call her Isla,' Adam says. ‘Isla Jamelia.'

‘That's beautiful,' I say, having been slightly concerned they were going to choose something much more way out, as my last teenage parents did, naming their daughter Porsche and son Aston. They were also the couple who couldn't comprehend how they could be having twins when they'd allegedly had sex only once.

‘Thank you, Zara, and Claire,' Adam begins. ‘I'm sorry we barged in on you like this, but I couldn't think of anywhere else we could go, and I really didn't want our baby to be born in the butcher's or the baker's.'

‘I'm glad you were with me, Adam,' Rosie says. ‘You were sick. You didn't faint or throw up.'

‘You were great.' Blushing, he leans down and plants a kiss on her lips. I smile to myself. They're going to be okay.

Later, I call Kelly to explain why I haven't made it to Talymouth.

‘I have been working,' I say, going on to explain about the surprise arrival.

‘It sounds like it,' she says, sounding less miffed now she knows I'm not skiving – not that I would. She does occasionally! ‘Do you want to go straight from Talyton to see Lucia and her new baby rather than come here first? She was discharged yesterday.'

‘Yes, good idea,' I say, thinking I can have a quick catch-up with Claire over a much-needed coffee and biscuits and drop into the shop to check Mum's arrived before flying off on the visit.

Claire and I sit outside in the sunshine.

‘That was an eventful morning,' she sighs.

‘In more ways than one,' I agree, telling her of my woes with Gran and the shop.

‘You aren't having a good time at the moment, are you? You're still going around like a shepherd who's lost their sheep.' She gazes at me, one eyebrow raised. ‘Or should that be a sheep that's lost its shepherd? Have you heard from him at all?'

I shake my head. ‘I had the odd text from him at first, but it was too hard. I told him it was better all round to have a clean break. I haven't heard from him since.'

‘I'm sorry for raking it up again, Zara. I was hoping . . .' Claire bites her lip. ‘It's such a shame. You seemed to be so perfect for each other.'

‘Never mind about me. How are you? I haven't seen much of you since you came back from the honeymoon.'

‘I'm feeling much better, at least I was until I saw Rosie in labour. I'm dreading that part,' She grimaces. ‘I've changed my mind about the drug-free homebirth. I want the epidural, pethidine, everything.'

‘Have you finished the nursery?' I'm teasing, but she in all seriousness goes on to tell me how she's washed the walls and chosen the paint. We finish our coffee and Claire takes the mugs inside, while I return to the shop to find Mum in the window with a cardboard box, rubber gloves and a bucket of soapy water, obliterating all trace of my grandmother's display of patriotism.

‘Where's Gran?' I ask.

‘I've packed her off to bed.' Mum pauses with her hands on her hips. ‘We need to talk.'

No. It's on the tip of my tongue, but the look on my mother's face makes me hesitate. She isn't angry with me. She's concerned.

‘You can't go on like this.' She holds up her palm. ‘Let me finish. I know Mum hasn't been her normal self for a while, but today . . .' She turns away, her shoulders slumped, and pretends to wipe down one of the empty shelves.