“I’ll be sure to accept.”
We smiled at each other. His stance—leaning forward, elbows on the table—betrayed his genuine interest. I only wished I could return it. His smile more than made up for his peculiarly shaped head.
“I see you two are getting along?” Bill said, sliding into the seat to my right.
“Just talking about our common interests,” Michael said.
“Midwifery,” I said. “Elizabeth used to be a midwife too,” I told Michael, “before she was married.”
“Is that right, Elizabeth?” Michael called out to Elizabeth in the kitchen. “You must miss it.”
Elizabeth entered the room with a roast chicken on a large brown chopping board. “I do. I was just about qualified when I gave it up. Some of the best times of my life.”
Bill, who sat between Elizabeth and me, raised his head. Elizabeth’s face changed. It was curious. She returned to the kitchen, and a moment later she was back with the vegetables. “Anyway, I’m glad it’s all behind me now,” she said. Her tone was aiming for bright, but not quite getting there. “Married life is wonderful. I certainly couldn’t do both.” She held the knife out to Bill. “Would you like to carve, darling?”
“It seems like an awful lot of effort to go to if you quit before you’re even qualified,” Michael said. “Do you plan to keep practicing after you’re married, Floss?”
“I hadn’t thought,” I answered honestly. “I suppose I would.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth’s voice was tight. “And how would you do that? Abandon your husband at all hours of the day and night, cycling all over town, going into strange houses like a woman of the night. And what about children? What would you do with them? Strap them to the back of the bike? It’s just not feasible, Floss.”
“I don’t know,” Michael said. “A man could cook his own dinner from time to time, surely? And going into strange houses doesn’t make you a woman of the night if you’re there to deliver a—”
“Elizabeth makes a good point, though,” I said quickly. Something about the way she spoke made me nervous. Woman of the night? They weren’t her words. And the stillness that had come over Bill—it worried me. “It’s not always practical.”
“No, it’s not,” Bill said. He moved to the head of the table, in front of the chicken. With a large knife, he sliced the bird in long, expert cuts. “I could hardly have Elizabeth cycling into town while she’s pregnant.”
“No,” Elizabeth agreed. “Of course not.”
For a few minutes, we ate in silence punctuated only by the occasional scrape of cutlery. The mood had taken a funny turn and I wasn’t entirely sure why. So what if I planned to work after I had children? I didn’t have any children, and I was fairly certain my prospects of having them were slim at best. Even if Elizabeth and Bill didn’t know that, were they really so insecure about their own choices that everyone needed to agree with them?
At least Elizabeth was eating. It reassured me. She was so thin, and at this stage of pregnancy, women needed calories. She ate like she was expecting twins—triplets!—though I wasn’t about to point that out.
“This is delicious, Elizabeth,” I said, hoping to inject some life back into the party. “The chicken is perfect.”
“You’re a lucky man, Bill,” Michael agreed, “a wife that can cook like this.”
Bill was looking at Elizabeth. “Slow down, darling. Are you eating for two, or two hundred? You’ll give yourself indigestion.”
Elizabeth’s smile snapped into place, frozen, if not for a slight quiver.
“Must be a boy,” he continued. “That’s my guess. What do you think, Floss?”
I frowned. Elizabeth’s cheeks were pink. Was he trying to humiliate her?
“The gender doesn’t have bearing on the amount of calories the mother needs to consume.” I sat a little straighter in my chair. “Elizabeth needs to eat plenty at this stage of her pregnancy.”
As usual, Bill held my gaze, but this time, it unnerved me. Perhaps I was a little sharp, but I considered it necessary. Silence fell upon the table yet again. Elizabeth wouldn’t meet my eye, or Bill’s. It was as though she were contemplating something very important. Finally, she married her knife and fork and rested them on her plate.
After dinner, I helped Elizabeth bring the dishes into the kitchen. While I filled the sink, she stood beside me. Right beside me. I got the feeling she was leaning on me. Physically (practically) but more so, emotionally. I was happy to prop her up. I had a strange feeling she needed it.
“So how is the pregnancy going?” I asked. I wanted to segue into Bill somehow but wasn’t sure of the best way.
“Oh yes, fine.”
“No issues?”
“None at all.” She stepped ever-so-slightly away from me, scrubbing the same plate four times, front and back. “My blood pressure is fine, my weight and measurements are fine—”
“Actually, you look thin,” I countered. “Apart from the stomach, you look like you’ve lost weight.”
“Morning sickness. Can barely keep a thing down.”
I felt my eyebrows gather. Morning sickness was rare this late in pregnancy, and besides, she seemed fine and well. “Any kicking?”
“Yes. It’s kicking right now.”
“May I?” I stepped forward and lifted the hem of her blouse. Elizabeth stepped back. But it was too late.
I thought I might faint. I cooled from the head down, giving me strange, falling sensation. Elizabeth tried to force down the hem of her blouse, but I held it tight. A purple, mottled bruise—red wine on cream carpet—stretched from her right hip to her navel. An angry bruise.
“It’s nothing.” Elizabeth forced her shirt down. She turned away from me and resumed washing dishes. “I fell on the way to the outhouse, is all. It can be awfully dark at night, and it was raining.”
I stared at her.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Have you been to the doctor?” I asked.
She waved her hand. “The baby’s kicking, I told you that. You have to be tough out here, in the country. I can’t be running off to the doctor with every little sniffle. And keep it to yourself. I don’t want Evie worrying.”
“Evie’s your midwife! You should tell her.” I lifted her shirt again and ran my fingers over the mark. “Does it hurt?”
“No. You’re sweet to be concerned, but my baby is growing beautifully, and it must be tying itself in knots, the amount it’s wriggling about. Don’t tell Evie, Floss. Please?”
“Okay.” I pressed a palm to my forehead. I could hardly force her to tell Evie, but I didn’t understand her hesitation. “But you need to see a doctor.”
“I can’t.” She took the tea towel from her shoulder and started drying dishes and returning them to their places. Still reeling, I picked up another towel and helped her.
“Well, at least come to a prenatal clinic so Evie can give you an exam.”
Elizabeth crashed a stack of plates onto a high shelf. “I’m a midwife, Floss. Why should I ride a bus all the way into town to be told things I already know?”
“How’s it going in here, ladies?” Bill and Michael entered the room. They appeared good-humored, no trace of the awkwardness during dinner. Bill had a way of charming people, convincing them he wasn’t such a bad guy. But now, I wasn’t sure it was true.
Elizabeth placed the last of the cutlery into a drawer. “All done.” She turned, a bright, convincing smile on her face. “Now—who’s ready for dessert?”
“You’re in for a treat,” Bill said to Michael, all smiles. He winked at Elizabeth. “Elizabeth makes the best treacle pudding you’ll ever taste. And after the dinner she’s just had, I’m sure she won’t be able to eat a bite. Help us, Floss.”
“Better not. I have a long ride ahead of me.”
“I can drive you home,” Michael said. “I was going to offer earlier. I’d be happy to.”
“You’re very kind,” I said. “But I must go.”
At the time, it was all I could do to get out of there. Suddenly, standing there in that tiny house felt suffocating in a way that it hadn’t when I’d arrived. What was going on with Elizabeth? I wanted so much to help her. But how could I, with her forbidding me to say anything?
With hindsight, of course, there were lots of things I could have done. But by the time I realized, it was too late.