Counting Blessings

Edith knew she was a lucky woman. It was best to look to the future and not dwell on the past . . .

THE farmhouse kitchen was neat as a new pin. Edith had wondered whether the arrival of a baby might have changed things, but Joan was as tidy as ever.

The stone floor had been swept clean, the copperware shone and a vase of wild flowers sat on the old oak table.

As Joan proudly carried in a small bundle, Edith took a deep breath. She knew she should have visited sooner and she must make up for that now, but it wasn’t easy for her.

She was thrilled for her friend, but Joan had been married less than two years.

Edith and Neville were childless, although they had wed as soon as he came back from the trenches, over seven years ago.

They’d married on a warm May morning. Her father had driven her in his horse and cart to the tiny chapel on the cliff. The hedgerows had been bright with cow parsley, buttercups and pink campion . . .

Joan gently placed the tiny child into her arms.

“Edith, meet Dorothy. Dorothy, this is your auntie Edith.”

Dorothy was fast asleep. Edith marvelled at her long lashes and perfect miniature fingers. She kissed the little forehead, inhaling the smell of warm, milky skin, and her heart ached.

“She’s wonderful, Joan. So peaceful.”

“She might be now.” Joan grinned. “But she’s got a pair of lungs on her like her father and she’s hungry enough for two!” Edith smiled. “That’s a good sign. She’ll grow up fine and strong.” Joan nodded proudly. “I thought you might have named her Elizabeth, after royalty,” Edith teased.

Joan was very interested in the royal family and the Duke and Duchess of York’s baby girl had been born earlier that year.

“Well, we might christen her Alexandra, too,” she admitted, “but her first name’s for her grandmother.” Her face lit up. “Talking of family, did I tell you Esther’s staying?” “No, how lovely!” Esther lived up country now, but Edith had always liked Joan’s quiet sister.

When Esther entered the room she looked older, but as calm and elegant as Edith remembered. Her dark hair was cut daringly short in a bob. She went to Edith and took her hand.

“How good to see you again. You’re well, I hope?”

“Very. And you?”

“I can’t complain, thank you, Edith.”

She smiled, but Edith wondered about the truth of it. A few years older than herself and Joan, Esther had married in 1913 only to lose Albert at the Somme, three years later.

It occurred to Edith how much harder this must be for Esther, without children or husband of her own.

When Edith looked at the baby in her arms her heart bled, but she had Neville. She was very blessed. She recalled the day he had returned. She’d received his letter to say he was safe and coming home, but he didn’t know when.

One Saturday she’d just taken a batch of scones out of the oven when she heard a knock at the door.

She thought it was the postman, but when she opened it, there was Neville – thin and tired, but otherwise the same as ever.

He swept her into his arms, covering himself in flour, but neither cared . . .

“What do you think of little Dorothy Alexandra?” Esther asked.

“She’s perfect,” Edith said, smiling at the baby in her arms. “She looks a little like her father, I think.” Esther laughed. “Everyone says that and Joan’s not happy.”

“I don’t want her to look like that huge bear of a man!” Joan pouted. “Still, all babies look like their fathers at first. She’ll be beautiful.”

“She already is,” Edith said.

“She is,” Esther agreed. Joan smiled.

“This may be a good time to ask you both a question.” She took a deep breath. “We’d be delighted if you two would be her godparents. You mustn’t feel obliged, and you can think it over first, but . . .”

Edith and Esther looked at one another.

“Of course we will!” they chorused.

“It will be an honour,” Edith added quietly. At that moment, Dorothy woke up. She stared at Edith with serious dark blue eyes, then opened her mouth, bearing out what Joan had said earlier – she certainly had a fine pair of lungs!

“I’ll change her,” Joan said, removing her from Edith’s arms and carrying her out of the room.

With peace restored, Esther turned to Edith.

“It really was good of you to come,” she said, holding Edith’s hand. “It must be nearly five years now.”

Edith nodded. Yes. Five years exactly next Tuesday. She had only carried him for six months, but she had loved her child dearly.

He had been perfect, too. Much smaller than Dorothy and already turning blue and cold. But each tiny finger and toe was there, a little snub nose and a sprinkling of dark hair.

Edith blinked hard. What was it Neville had told her?

“It’ll be all right, Edith, love. As long as we have each other, we don’t need anything else.”

Neville had come back to her. She would be eternally grateful for that. They had each other and that was much more than some. Esther was looking at her. “I want to tell you something. There’s a man, a miner, who’s asked to marry me. I just wanted you to know. We all get our joys, as well as our sorrows.

“I would rather Albert had come home to me, but now I’m happy with Daniel. You never know what’s around the corner.”

As Edith walked home across the farmyard and on to the lane, a gentle rain was falling.

Despite the damp, her heart was lighter than it had been only two hours earlier, when she’d knocked on the farmhouse door.

She would always grieve for her boy, but she had Neville and the life of a beautiful new goddaughter to share, and she was still young.

As Esther said, who knew what might be around the corner? n