Margery flapped her arms expansively. “Yes, but you’ve fulfilled that maternal role for a long time. Not all families need to be blood related, you know. Look at how Gerald has become a father figure to my Cynthia. He’s always going ’round to help her and Archie make home improvements.”
“Taught the young man how to put up shelves for all their books the other day,” said Gerald proudly. “And I helped Cynthia make a frame for her runner beans. I’m going to build them a greenhouse next.”
“You see?” said Margery. “Look at everything you’ve done for Hedy. You’ve been precisely like a mother to her.”
“Well, perhaps,” said Gertie. “But I would never presume to usurp Else Fischer.”
“No one is asking you to, Gertie. Goodness me, for an intelligent woman, you can be rather dim sometimes.”
“Margery,” said Gerald in a mildly scolding tone.
Margery dismissed him with a flick of her hand. “Oh, hush now, Gerald. Gertie’s used to my forthright ways.”
“I couldn’t imagine a world without them, Margery,” said Gertie, gazing out at the sweeping Sussex countryside.
Hedy’s labor started one evening as they were finishing supper. She let out a loud gasp and clutched her belly. Sam’s face went ashen as he rushed to her side. “Are you all right, my darling?”
Hedy nodded once the pain subsided. “It’s starting,” she said.
The district midwife was called Nelly Crabb, and she smoked Player’s Navy Cut cigarettes during her tea breaks. “We’re in for a long night, dearies,” she told them on examining Hedy. “First babies are always a bit reluctant to leave.” She bundled Sam out of the room. “Best you stay downstairs and keep that teapot topped up, young man. The mother and I will look after your wife, don’t you worry.”
Gertie caught Hedy’s eye, but they didn’t contradict her.
Hedy faced labor and childbirth with the same determined courage she had shown toward everything else she’d had to face over the past eight years. Gertie kept hold of her hand, offering words of encouragement, soothing her brow with a cooling flannel, and watching in reverent awe as this young woman did what thousands of women did every day. When baby Else emerged, announcing her arrival with a bold, powerful cry, Gertie sensed the world around her shift again. New life. New hope. The future opening up before them.
“That’s a voice that demands to be heard,” said Nelly Crabb, as she cut the cord. “This girl is ready to take on the world.”
Gertie and Hedy grinned at each other before gazing down at Else, who looked up at them and then immediately closed her eyes as if reassured that all was well. Nelly opened the door and Sam practically fell into the room. “In you come, Father,” she said. “Congratulations.”
Gertie stood back to let Sam embrace his wife and new daughter. “Oh, Hedy,” he said. “She’s perfect. Well done, my darling.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Gertie.”
“Thank you, Mrs. B,” said Sam.
“Right,” said Nelly, bustling back into the room. “I need to tend to Mother, so if you could take the baby downstairs, but stay in the kitchen to keep her warm.”
Tears brimmed in Gertie’s eyes as she watched Sam take his daughter from Hedy, gazing down at her with such tenderness. “Hello, my beautiful girl,” he said.
Gertie put on the kettle as Sam sat with Else in his arms. Hemingway sniffed the bundle before sitting bolt upright beside them as if ready to guard this precious being with his life. “Do you know, Mrs. B, my daughter is the best thing to come out of this blasted war. She gives me hope after I’d nearly run out of the stuff.”
Gertie put an arm around his shoulders and gazed down at the baby. Else opened her eyes for a moment, staring up at them in surprise. “I know precisely what you mean, Sam. I’m over the moon for you both. It’ll be quite a wrench to go home.”
“Then don’t.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Don’t go home, Gertie. Please stay. We’d both like it if you did.”
“Are you sure?”
Sam nodded. “I didn’t mention it before because I thought you’d want to enjoy your retirement, but now, seeing you here with Hedy, it all makes sense.”
“I don’t want to be in the way,” said Gertie.
“We’ve got three bedrooms, and I know Hedy would appreciate help with the baby. Why don’t you stay for a while and see how you feel? I know the estate agent in town. I’m sure he could find you a house you’d like.”
Gertie’s mind buzzed with possibility. Sam was right. It all made sense, and yet she wasn’t sure she could imagine leaving the place where she’d lived with Harry, where they’d built Bingham Books, where they’d been so happy. The baby squeaked as if offering a different point of view. Gertie smiled. “I’ll stay for a while. Thank you, dear.”
They quickly fell into a routine. Hedy would feed Else as soon as she woke, Sam would leave for work, and Gertie would tend to the household tasks and breakfast with Hedy while the baby slept. If Else was fractious, Gertie would take her for a walk and marvel at the way the sound of the sea would soothe her into slumber. The three of them spent joyful days in the garden or on the beach, taking pleasure in watching Else grow. Her first smile. Her first chuckle. The way she grabbed Gertie’s finger and refused to let go. The way she gazed at Hedy as if she were the only person in the world. Gertie had the strongest sense that she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
She spoke to Margery once a week on a Tuesday at precisely six o’clock. “I have a proposition for you, Gertie,” said her friend a few months after Else was born.
“Oh yes,” said Gertie with a rising sense of dread. Margery’s propositions invariably led to wherever Margery needed them to go.
“Gerald and I would like to buy your house.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your house, dear. It’s perfect. Since Cynthia has married, I’m rattling around this old place like a marble in a drainpipe, and Gerald has always admired your garden.”
“I see. And do I have any say in the matter?”
Margery sighed. “Gertie, are you honestly going to tell me that you plan to return here and leave Hedy and the baby behind?”
“Well. I don’t know.”
“Precisely. As I said, it’s a proposal, but I think we all know it’s for the best.”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“You do that. Give my love to that divine family, won’t you? Cheerio, Gertie.”
“Cheerio, Margery.”
Gertie first saw the man at the far end of the beach but didn’t think anything of it. She was walking with Else while Hedy took a nap. The baby was teething, her gums red raw, and it had been a long night. Now, thanks to a miracle balm gifted to them by the wondrous Nelly Crabb, the baby was asleep, and Gertie was enjoying an early-morning stroll. She paused to take in the view, inhaling fresh salty sea air as the seagulls ducked and wheeled overhead, following a fishing trawler heading inland. The bulky clouds that had blanketed the sky when she woke were starting to lift, revealing the first glimmers of sun. Since moving here, Gertie had come to the conclusion that along with the heady scent of books, the best aromas were the sweetly intoxicating smell of a baby’s head and an invigorating breath of sea air.