Forever and a Day

Krissi Morris

Description

Life is never dull in the seaside village of Trentmouth on the Dorset coast. Molly and Alistair await the joyous arrival of another new life into the family and to their friends they are the perfect happy couple. Bertie finally opens his vegetarian beachside cafe with the support of his wife Lucy, a midwife at the local hospital. The Reverend Suzanne has caused quite a stir in sleepy Trentmouth and Lady Isobel has plans of her own at the Manor.Tranquillity is short-lived when Molly has to make some serious decisions about the veterinary practice she has worked so hard to build; Lucy's health is threatened and she is faced with imminent changes at the hospital and the 'Rev' has ruffled one too many feathers.Molly, Lucy and Suzanne continually find themselves thrown together for mutual help and support turning this quiet little backwater of village life upside down in ways they had not expected - will life for them ever be the same again?

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 06 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781398456372
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

F orever and a D ay
Krissi Morris
Austin Macauley Publishers
2023-01-06
Forever and a Day About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47
About the Author
Krissi was born in Yorkshire and now lives in Dorset with her husband Bob. After her career in estate agency and now with her family grown and flown the nest, she spends her time indulging in her loves of baking, walking, the odd G&T and, at last, her passion for writing.
Dedication
For my mum, Doreen (1923–2021), who passed away last year and was full of enthusiasm for my writing and an avid supporter.
Copyright Information ©
Krissi Morris 2023
The right of Krissi Morris to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781398456365 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398456372 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2023
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
It may seem crazy to thank the characters in my books but somehow they would not let me go and I have to confess that their stories are not over yet, as you will discover.
Special thanks however must go to my sister Elizabeth who is the Dean of the Cathedral in Bendigo, Australia for her invaluable help with the intricacies of the Church and its clerics.
Thank you too to the team at Austin Macauley Publishers for all their help and support.
Finally, once again, my grateful thanks to Clair Bossons for her suggestions, corrections and patience.
Chapter 1
“Arrrrrggghh!” screamed Molly wildly puffing and panting. “I hate you, I hate you, I… hate you…” she gasped as the pain seared through her body again, her eyes rolling backwards with the effort of it all. Alistair, totally confused, attempted to hold her hand not knowing any other way to help. He looked at Lucy for answers as Molly yelled once more.
“I don’t understand,” he looked pleadingly for help at Lucy as he patted Molly’s hand.
She snatched it away.
“Don’t touch me; just don’t touch me. This is your fault entirely.” Her head fell back onto the pillow, tears now streaming down her contorted face; as she clutched his hand digging her nails in, Molly let out another yell.
Lucy smiled at Alistair, “Don’t worry, this is quite normal for mothers who are giving birth. I’ve heard much worse; believe me.” She turned to Molly, “Come on, Molly. I can see the head, not much more now, one more push and your baby will be born.” Molly began short fast puffing, her face bright red as she screwed up her eyes with the exertion.
Alistair stared unconvinced. He had never heard Molly like this before; it was frightening. Actually, that wasn’t quite true; he let a smile slide onto his face at the memory of Molly last year frantically packing saying she was leaving him all red-faced and flustered.
She had shouted and cried, blaming him, and to be fair, it was his fault. That was a long time ago now, he had been stubborn failing to see Molly’s point of view, but that was in the past.
Now they couldn’t be happier. Another scream brought his mind back, only to realise that it was himself making the noise this time as Molly’s fingernails dug into his flesh leaving red weals on his arm. He turned to look at Molly just as Lucy safely delivered their squirming, crying baby into the world.
“It’s a boy!” declared Lucy taking care of him as quickly as possible and placing him between Molly’s breasts, forming a bond that would be impossible to break.
Alistair kissed her forehead smoothing her hair back, a wet strand stuck to her face, and he gently lifted it. “A boy, darling; isn’t that wonderful? I love you so much.” He kissed her again. “He’s just perfect.”
“He is so tiny.” Molly kissed his sticky head; her face wreathed in smiles as she looked up at Alistair. Her face suddenly crumpled and contorted as she began to frantically puff once more. Lucy retrieved the tiny bundle handing him to another midwife.
“Here comes the next one, Molly; give me a big push now; that’s it, keep going, keep going; that’s it; nearly there.” Another baby slid out into the world all flailing arms and exercising his lungs letting everyone know that he had arrived.
“It’s another boy, Molly,” said Alistair excitedly turning only to see Molly’s head flop to one side, her eyes dropping shut. “Molly are you alright?” he looked to Lucy for help filled with fear, “What’s happening? Is she alright, Lucy?” He jumped up patting Molly’s hand as a cold sweat slid down his back. Molly lay totally still with her eyes closed. Lucy quickly checked Molly who was breathing; she had passed out from exhaustion.
A few moments later, her eyes flicked open once more, and Alistair allowed himself to breathe as the fear he had held slipped away. Molly gave a faint smile.
“What happened? Are the babies alright?” she asked looking from Alistair to Lucy and back again as she tried to sit up.
“Yes, here you are. You have identical twin boys,” she handed the babies to Molly and Alistair pulled out his phone to take pictures.
“I must look awful,” said Molly, “… please Alistair, you mustn’t show those pictures to anyone.” She kissed each baby in turn grinning up at Alistair. “What are we going to call them?” She looked up as he was now taking a video; she grimaced attempting to smile at him.
He was overjoyed with pride and pleasure at his increasing family, “I don’t know, but you look wonderful to me.” He clicked away again. “It was easy to come up with girls’ names, but I was thinking maybe Oliver and Elliott with middle names George and Trevor after your dad and mine. What do you think?” He traced a finger gently over the heads of both his sons, leaning in to kiss Molly.
“Perfect,” she said, “just perfect.”
* * *
Once home, the next few weeks passed in a blur for Molly, she had so many visitors, all very welcome but exhausting when all she wanted was to be left alone and rest. It seemed that every time the babies went to sleep, the phone would ring or a rap on the door and her nap disappeared along with her longed-for peaceful five minutes. She felt like no one actually wanted to help her; they would turn up with more flowers and chocolates, expect her to make the tea and entertain them! And as soon as one baby woke up, so did the other, and the visitor would disappear saying, “Well, I had better leave you to it!” Only Lucy understood. Lucy was her best friend, and she admired the way she was always nice and calm, never a hint of panic.
What would she do without her?
“Don’t get me wrong,” wailed Molly as she recounted her thoughts to Lucy. “I love to see people, but you know what I could really do with?” asked Molly as she sat feeding Oliver.
Lucy peered around the kitchen door, kettle in hand, “Go on, what?”
“Someone to vacuum the house or cook me a meal,” she sighed, turning from Oliver and staring at Lucy. “Even Alistair walks in asking, ‘What’s for dinner?’” They both grinned before bursting into laughter with each other.
“Men always think that motherhood is easy because after all what do you do all day other than feed and change the babies, and of course sit around watching TV?” joked Lucy.
Molly shook her head, “If only,” smiling she lifted Oliver gently up to sitting to enable her to pat his back to bring up any wind, “… so,” she asked turning an enquiring eye in Lucy’s direction once more “who does the shopping, washing and ironing, cleaning the house, cooking the meals and a million and one other things? Oh, yes, I nearly forgot, and that’s after suffering a sleepless night with two mouths to feed.” Molly began to laugh as tears filled her eyes and tumbled down her face. “If that’s not enough, I look a mess, no makeup and I live in sweat pants,” she blubbered. Lucy came to her rescue.
“Give Oliver to me, and I will change him; Elliott is asleep, so put your feet up and drink your tea,” smiled Lucy. Molly gratefully handed her little squirming bundle over to Lucy and gratefully sank back onto the sofa. She drifted off into a blissful sleep. She dreamt she was relaxing on a sunny warm beach, a gentle breeze blowing, a book in her hand and a cocktail by her side.
Suddenly, a loud noise woke her up; she sat startled for a moment trying to think where she was and what day it was. The noise, it turned out, was her mug of tea falling and smashing onto the tiled floor. Tea had splashed everywhere, and Molly hung her head, shoulders slumped, at the thought of cleaning up the sticky mess. Everything was quiet, eerily quiet; she stood up looking around fear gripping at her heart. There was no sound at all nothing.
“Lucy,” she called out; still no sound; the hou