Chapter 47
Avice
Avice knocked on Catherine’s door, her knuckles rapping loudly on the rough wood.
Joan stood just behind her – a clothing sack slung over one shoulder – munching on one of the apples from the basket full she carried in the crook of her elbow.
It had been Joan’s idea to gather the fruits as a peace offering to her sister in return for staying with her family.
Avice noticed that the good news of her daughter’s wellbeing seemed to have put a spring in her step. That Joan – despite all that had happened to her – seemed to have a weight lifted from her, and shadows no longer darkened her countenance.
Brave. She tossed a smile over her shoulder at the younger woman. Tough.
Joan swallowed her mouthful and plucked her lips up in response, her hand on Bramble’s shoulders for comfort.
The door creaked, snapping Avice’s attention to it. Catherine stood in the entryway, her golden hair cascading down her torso in waves. She wore a neat brown dress, and had a child wrapped around each leg.
“Midwife Avice!” she exclaimed. “I was not expecting—” Catherine looked past her. “By God! Joan, what are you doing here? I was going to visit this afternoon. Are you well?”
Avice side-stepped so the sisters could get a good look at each other. “Goodwife Joan has come for your help—”
Her patient held up her hand. “Thank you, I have this.” She took a deep breath and met her sister eye-to-eye. “I have left Robert.”
Catherine swept her gaze to Bramble, to her sister’s face, and then to the children clutching at her skirts. “Back inside, my darlings. I need to help Aunt Joan with something.”
The eldest child, Lily – her face round and head kissed by golden curls – tugged her younger brother away and retreated into the cottage. Catherine stepped outside and made her way to Joan. She held her face in her hands, a muscle feathering in her jaw.
“What did he do?” she asked.
“He hit me. Then, Midwife Avice and Bramble came, and…”
Avice half-listened while Joan babbled on, recounting the story. Bramble extracted himself from her grip and ambled over to his mistress, sitting at her boots.
“I think this will work,” she whispered down to him, watching as Catherine pulled her sister into a hug.
The pair walked past them as Joan carried on. “…Avice said Hope is doing well. The Well King saved her and…”
Catherine opened her cottage door and shepherded Joan inside. She offered the midwife a grateful smile, before closing it behind her with a clunk.
“Well,” Avice chuckled weakly, “that was exhausting.”
Bramble tilted his head up, his ears flopping back. We could go home, he offered. I would consider that our good deed done for the day.
She roughed his muscular neck. “You are a good boy,” she praised. “While it is tempting. I want to visit all my patients today.”
With that, they struck out for the Barley family’s cottage, squashing down the towering grass with heavy stomps.
Bramble trotted ahead of her. Why the hurry? We could come back tomorrow morning. King Trewoofe is not coming until twilight, after all.
Avice scrambled to find the words. How could she explain to her steadfast familiar that she might decide to stay? That she wanted to make sure things were as well as they could be with her patient’s before they went with Trewoofe into his Kingdom.
“Well, tomorrow I want to take some time to myself,” she began. “Have a walk, think about things.”
You could do both, Bramble observed. Visit the last of the patients and have time to yourself.
“I may stay,” she blurted. “If I go to the Underneath and it feels…” – she tossed her hands – “right.”
Bramble came to a sudden stop in front of her and she nearly tripped over him. You would do that? He looked up at her with sorrowful eyes.
To say Avice was confused at his reaction was an understatement. “Yes. What of it?” she asked pinching her brows at him.
You would leave? he confirmed.
“Have I not done enough?” Her heart picked up into a gallop. She did not want to fight with her familiar. “Do I not get to choose something for myself? To be with someone who makes me happy. Do I not get to put myself first, in just this one aspect?”
Bramble tucked his tail between his legs and whimpered before continuing down the overgrown path.
Avice ground her teeth as she followed him.
She had spent her life in service of others: working herself to the bone until her eyes burnt, her fingers bled, and legs screamed in protest as she trudged through the woods and fields.
To say nothing of the emotional toll her duty wore.
She was ostracised by the village, questioned at every turn, and blamed for deaths.
“I get to choose this, Bramble.”
The familiar stopped in his tracks, ears twitching. It does not mean you should leave Ashling and I behind.
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
He could not possibly think she meant to do that. She wanted all of them to go together.
“Foolish Grim,” she tutted, striding over, and wrapping her arms around his neck.
He tensed under her touch. What was that?
“I always meant for you and Ashling to come with me,” she said into his fur, his little hairs tickling her nose.
He melted into her as soon as the words left her mouth. You think we can come as well? But the Well King said nothing about us.
“Of course he will want you to come. He cares about all of us.” Avice gave him a devious grin. “And if he does not? Well, he will just have to do as he is told.”
She hugged him until he twisted in her arms. Avice?
“Hmmm…?”
If you want time to yourself tomorrow, we should continue to Goodwife Emma’s home, Bramble said as he wriggled free of her iron grip.
Avice knew her services were not needed when Emma opened the cottage door. She had positioned the crystal over her lower belly, wearing it like a sash, and was bright-eyed with colour on her cheeks.
“Goodwife Emma!” Avice sputtered. “You are looking so well.”
Her patient gave her a sad smile. “I am alive, thanks to you.” She tucked a stand of hair behind her ear. “Do you have news of Mary? Is she alright?”
Still bewildered, the midwife blinked out of her stupor. “Yes, the Good Neighbours took her. They will save her and make sure that breathing does not hurt.”
Tears silvered in Emma’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. “I know it was this or death,” she croaked. “But I will miss her.”
A lump formed in Avice’s throat. “I know, and I am so sorry there was no way to keep her with you.”
“Is that the midwife?” Matilda appeared at the door and greeted her with a nod. “The boys are out working in the fields. Would you like to join us for tea?”
“I came to check on Goodwife Emma and you,” she replied.
Avice was not that hungry, as she had munched on an apple on the way over. She did not want to linger for any longer than necessary, as she still had to make the trip to the village.
“It is not needed,” Matilda said, running her gaze over her sister. “I am fine, and I took her stitches out this morning.”
Avice bristled. “You what?”
She chuckled. “Do not look so outraged. When I went to check her earlier, she was completely healed. In fact, they needed to be removed as they were scabbed.”
Avice opened and closed her mouth, then laid her palm on Bramble’s head. She did not quite believe what she had heard.
“Is that from the lessons I gave you?” she asked.
Matilda had five children. By the third, Avice had been exhausted trudging back and forth from her cottage to patch up her rambunctious brood. She had eventually cracked and taught Matilda the basics of wound cleaning, repair, and suture removals.
“Of course,” she replied.
She shook her head in wonderment at the pair of resilient women. She dropped her eyes to the flowers blooming over her grubby boots, then looked above, trying to process exactly what had happened. She watched as a flock of passionate birds darted across the crystal-clear sky.
Avice furrowed her brow. “I do not understand.”
“Understand what?” Emma asked.
“Any of this.” She gestured to Emma then the wilderness of the garden behind her. “I only did what I did to end Winter. I did not think it would—”
Matilda squinted past Avice, her gaze sweeping the garden. “You did all of this?”
“The King of the Underneath and I did,” she confirmed.
“You brought us Eden,” Emma murmured, shielding her eyes from the Sun. “And saved our children.”
Avice nodded. “Children!” She flicked her gaze to Matilda. “I have news of your son. Boarden is doing very well.”
The woman gave her a small smile, and a single tear travelled down her cheek. “It eases the ache to hear it. Are you sure you would not like to come in for tea?”
Avice was tempted, but she was on a mission to see her final patient that day. “No, thank you. If you are sure that you do not need my services, I will continue my rounds.”