Page 107 of Christmas for the Village Midwife
‘Exactly, so shut up about it.’
Zoe gave a tired smile. It held as she noticed Billie’s attention switch to the baby in Brett’s arms.
‘Have you got the name yet?’ she asked softly, peering down at the little boy.
‘I’m still working on it, but Georgia’s asleep anyway, so I’d have to wait to get her approval.’
‘He’s cute,’ Billie said. ‘What’s your middle name?’
‘Mine?’ Brett asked.
Billie nodded.
‘I don’t have one.’
‘Oh, well what about your dad’s name?’
‘Ah, I see. We’ve been through all the family names, and Georgia doesn’t like any of them.’
‘Shame. I think I would have my dad’s,’ Billie said.
‘What about your baby’s dad?’ Brett asked, and then Zoe watched as Billie instantly disengaged.
‘I’ve got to make my bed,’ she said, grabbing a duvet and some pillows and taking them to the other side of the room.
Brett looked helplessly at Zoe. ‘What did I do?’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Zoe said. ‘You weren’t to know.’
‘Know what? Shit, have I put my foot in it again?’ He lowered his voice. ‘He’s left her in the lurch?’
‘He died.’
‘Oh.’ Brett looked across the room to where Billie was putting together a makeshift bed.
‘I’d leave her if I were you,’ Zoe said, guessing that he might want to go and make amends. ‘She’ll be all right by tomorrow.’
Brett looked doubtful, and perhaps he had good reason. Zoe wanted him to feel better about his faux pas, but the truth was, Billie was still struggling to come to terms with her situation. She was better than she’d been when she’d first arrived in Thimblebury during the autumn, but there was a way to go. And there was also the not so small matter of what she was planning to do when her own baby arrived. Brett turned back to the little boy in his arms, and perhaps he was thinking about how it might be if his son didn’t have a father. Zoe liked to imagine this was strengthening his resolve to be the best dad he could.
The vicar came over to her with another duvet and more pillows. ‘Where would you like to bed down, Zoe?’
‘I’ll take those,’ she said. ‘No need for you to worry. Does it matter where I go? Anywhere out of bounds?’
‘Perhaps try not to turf the baby Jesus out of his manger to get in there,’ he said wryly, and Zoe laughed.
‘Poor Victor. I’m sure he’s mortified about his joke falling so flat.’
‘Perhaps I was a bit harsh on him,’ the vicar said. ‘I’m not quite at my best and brightest now.’
‘I don’t think any of us are. We can look after everything else here if you want to go and get some sleep.’
‘I might walk along to the vicarage,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind. I’ll keep my phone to hand so you can call if you need anything overnight. I won’t lock up. Of course, anyone who wants to is welcome to come and stay at the vicarage. There’s a spare bedroom.’
‘I think everyone who is here now wants to stay put,’ Zoe said. ‘But thank you.’
‘Yes, well…’ He looked at his watch. ‘Merry Christmas then. I’ll be back in a few hours to get you up – don’t want you sleeping through the Christmas Day service, do we?’
‘Oh!’ Zoe put a hand over her mouth. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that! Will it be a problem?’
