The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

‘Just give him a drop on a teaspoon,’ she had advised. ‘It will help him to settle.’

They had duly dispensed the mixture but it made no difference and the doctor was called. Dr Darkins had been Norah’s doctor for as long as she could remember and he had safely delivered her baby. She had absolute faith in his judgement and she watched him now with anxious eyes as he solemnly examined Jimmy.

‘I’m afraid he has developed a chest infection,’ he declared finally, his eyes compassionate. ‘Try to keep his fever down with cold compresses and make sure he drinks plenty of fluids. He may not want to feed so make sure he has water on a teaspoon. Also, keep him upright as much as possible and keep tapping him lightly on his back. It will help prevent the mucous from further congesting his lungs.’

Since that visit, Norah and Arthur had taken turns to hold him against their shoulders, patting his back gently as the doctor had directed. Arthur had stayed home from work, determined to do all he could to help his son and to support his wife who had become almost hysterical at the thought of losing her baby. Indeed, Norah had undergone a complete transformation since she'd realised that Jimmy’s life was at risk. Her previous indifference towards her son had been replaced by sheer terror when the doctor had revealed the seriousness of his condition and a passionate resolve to do all she could to keep him alive. She sat for hours, desperately clutching Jimmy against her breast and reluctant to allow Arthur to take him from her. The rush of love she now felt for him was overwhelming and she wondered how she could have been so self-centred before.

‘Please God, spare my baby,’ she murmured as she stroked Jimmy’s head. ‘I’ll do anything if you let him live.’

Another night passed, tense and nerve jangling. Norah and Arthur sat together, listening to their child’s fast, shallow breathing. His skin had taken on the pallor and sheen of death and they could do nothing more to help him other than pray.

‘I can’t bear it,’ Norah whispered. ‘Surely this is a test of faith no mother should endure?’

Arthur took her hand and gripped it firmly. ‘We’re going to get through this. We have to stay strong, for Jimmy’s sake.’

‘But what if we lose him?’ Tears rolled unheeded down her cheeks.

‘We won’t lose him.’ Arthur spoke with a confidence he did not feel. ‘We’re not going to let it happen.’

The doctor visited again in the morning and pronounced no change which, he told them, was good news. ‘These next few hours will be crucial. If he makes it through another night, then I would expect him to recover. At least, he seems to be a fighter, a good, strong, little chap.’ He patted Norah on the shoulder, shook Arthur’s hand and took his leave.

Jimmy’s condition remained critical throughout the afternoon and his parents were near collapse with fear and exhaustion. They were still taking turns to hold him, patting his tiny back and cooling his feverish brow. Norah had been trying to feed him but he had no interest. She could almost feel him growing weaker in her arms and felt herself sinking deeper into a pit of despair.

As evening fell, she clutched him once again to her breast and squeezed a little milk from her nipple to tempt him. ‘Come on, Jimmy,’ she pleaded. ‘Just try a little. Please Jimmy.’ She closed her eyes. It was hopeless.

Then, suddenly, she felt his lips around her nipple, sucking weakly. She held her breath, not daring to call to Arthur. ‘There’s a good boy,’ she whispered. ‘Just a little more … that’s it.’ Gently, she caressed his head. His skin was no longer clammy to the touch; his fever had broken.

Arthur appeared at her side. ‘It’s a miracle,’ he breathed. ‘Oh, thank God.’

From that point, Jimmy made a swift recovery and Dr Darkins shook his head in amazement when he visited the next morning. ‘The little lad obviously has a very strong constitution,’ he said. ‘I’ve not seen another infant get over such a serious chest infection so speedily.’ He beamed at Norah. ‘I’m very happy to say his lungs are completely clear. This is good news indeed.’

‘It certainly is. Thank you, Dr Darkins.’ Norah gave him a broad smile in return. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way but I hope we don’t have to see you any time soon.’

She watched him shut the door behind him and threw herself into Arthur’s arms. ‘I’m so happy I could sing!’ she declared.

‘Please no! Anything but that!’ he replied, hugging her tightly. Norah’s tuneless singing was a standing joke between them.

She giggled into his chest. ‘Well, if I’m not allowed to sing, what am I allowed to do?’

His grip tightened and he kissed her hair. ‘I can think of something …’

She took a step back and looked into his eyes. ‘Mr Fletcher, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?’ Heat rushed through her body.

‘Why not? Jimmy’s sound asleep and we are married after all.’

‘Oh, I’m so relieved!’ She threw herself back into his arms and kissed him. ‘I thought you had gone off me!’

‘What on earth made you think that?’ he asked, his hands sliding down to her hips.

‘Well, let’s face it, you have proved more than indifferent to my charms ever since Jimmy was born. What was I supposed to think?’

His lips found hers. ‘You can blame Dr Darkins for that. He told me in no uncertain terms that there should be no marital relations, as he put it, for at least a month to give your body time to recover from the birth. I’ve been a saint but now, I think you’ll find, Mrs Fletcher, your time is up!’ he grinned at her and then swept her into his arms. ‘I hope you’re ready to do your duty.’

‘More than ready,’ she sighed blissfully