The Midwife's Leap of Faith

By Jo Bartlett

The brand new instalment in the top 10 bestselling Midwife series!

Midwife Izzy is devastated to learn that her beloved grandmother is dying. Abandoned as a baby by her own mother, her grandparents have been the only family Izzy has ever known and she wants to spend every last precious moment with them.

New locum vicar, Noah, is a wonderful support – kind, considerate and always there for Izzy whenever she needs a shoulder to cry on. But secretly Noah is battling his own doubts about his faith – how can he offer Izzy comfort if he doesn’t truly believe his own words?

When Izzy and Noah are brought together to support grieving parents, Noah reaches breaking point. He can't stay in Port Agnes and live a lie. But Izzy is adamant it’s the only place she can be….

Will love find a way or will Izzy's hopes of a future be dashed?

Praise for The Cornish Midwife Series:

'Stunning setting, wonderful characters, and oozing with warmth. A triumph from Jo Bartlett.' Jessica Redland

'Perfectly written and set in the beating heart of a community, this story is a wonderful slice of Cornish escapism.' Helen J Rolfe

“I absolutely love the Cornish Midwife series, especially being an aspiring midwife from Cornwall. Despite being fiction, these books never fail to motivate me to carry on studying when things get tough and really become The Cornish Midwife myself.” Tegan from Reading with Tegs (book blogger and trainee midwife)

“I get so absorbed in the books from the Cornish Midwife series, I can’t put them down. The characters are like my colleagues, a tight group of people who love the job they do. The stories are truly captivating and make me feel like I am working alongside the characters, as the series mirrors my working life as a Midwifery Care Assistant so well.” Sandra Twyman, Midwifery Care Assistant and avid reader

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boldwood Books
• Release date: Jun 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9781804837047

Jo Bartlett

Jo Bartlett is the bestselling author of over nineteen women’s fiction titles. She fits her writing in between her two day jobs as an educational consultant and university lecturer and lives with her family and three dogs on the Kent coast.

Book preview

1

Izzy’s grandfather had never been good at keeping secrets. He’d been the one to blab to her, when she was seven, that she was getting a purple bike for her birthday. Pops hadn’t meant to give the secret away, but when he’d taken her to the supermarket with him, he’d picked up some metallic streamers in the toy aisle and said they’d go perfectly with her new bike. He’d clapped his hand straight over his mouth, but it had already been too late. So she’d always been able to rely upon him to make sure that nothing much surprised her – good or bad.

Except now her grandparents were driving her towards Port Agnes and neither of them were giving a hint away about why. Her grandmother had even threatened to send Pops’ Cornish Pirates rugby shirt to the charity shop if he let the secret go this time. He’d worn the top religiously to every match he’d been to and was convinced it was a lucky charm. Izzy had bought him a new one three Christmases before, but he only ever wore that one around the house. The threat of his supposedly miraculous shirt finding its way onto a rack in the Oxfam shop seemed to be working a magic all of its own, seeing as this time he was keeping his lips firmly sealed.

‘Can you at least tell me if we’re going to Port Agnes, or just in that direction?’ Izzy would have known the route from Redruth to the seaside village where she worked even with her eyes closed. Over the past year, working in the midwifery unit, she’d made the journey so many times that every twist and turn in the road felt familiar. The plan had originally been to give up her rented flat in Redruth and move to Port Agnes, but then her grandmother’s health had taken a turn for the worse. She’d been diagnosed with an inoperable tumour that had seemed to spread overnight and it had looked like it might be the end. There’d been so little Nonna had the energy to do that it had broken Izzy’s heart just to leave her to go to work. But then her doctors had put her on some new medication that was part of a trial and it appeared to be even more magical than her grandfather’s rugby shirt. They had warned them not to believe that it really had worked a miracle, but it had bought them some more time together and, even more importantly, it had given Nonna her quality of life back.

Not long afterwards, her grandparents had announced they’d been saving for a house deposit for Izzy and that they’d found a cottage in Port Agnes that looked perfect. The sale had all seemed to be going according to plan, but then the couple selling the cottage had changed their minds just before the contracts were due to be exchanged. It meant relocating to Port Agnes was on hold but, deep down, Izzy was glad. She wanted to make the most of every minute with Nonna and anything else could wait.

‘Why are you so desperate to know what’s going on?’ Her grandmother’s tone was teasing. ‘Just enjoy the view; it’s such a beautiful day today.’

‘It really is Baby Belle, and you should make the most of it.’ Pops finally risked opening his mouth to back her grandmother up, using the nickname he’d had for her from when she was tiny. They were right though, and there was nowhere else she’d rather be than with the two people who meant the world to her.

‘Okay, but I want to know if you’ve thought of any more ideas for your summer fun list, Nonna?’ Izzy ran a hand through her dark hair as she spoke. When her grandmother had first received her diagnosis she’d made a very modest bucket list, but after the new medication had given her so much more energy, Izzy was determined to help her make the most of it.

‘It depends what you think of the surprise we’ve got planned.’ Nonna turned to look at her and dropped the perfect wink. ‘Because it could be the start of a whole list of things we could do.’

‘Now you’re just torturing me on purpose!’ Izzy didn’t really mind. Anything that put a smile that big on her grandmother’s face was fine by her, even if the suspense was driving her mad. When her phone pinged she grabbed it as though her life depended on it and not just because it was a welcome distraction from trying to work out what her grandparents were up to. Toni and Bobby were two of the other midwives at the unit and their first baby was due any day, so every message that came through had Izzy on high alert. But she was already wishing she hadn’t bothered looking at her phone. The notification was to tell her that someone had tagged her in a Facebook post. And that someone was her mother, Kirsten. The post was referencing International Hug Your Child Day and it made the skin on Izzy’s scalp prickle.

Wish I could hug you my darling Izzy. It breaks my heart that you’re on the other side of the world, but you’re my everything and I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.

Izzy’s fingers itched to fire off a reply, but it would have turned into a diatribe of epic proportions, not to mention being completely pointless. Kirsten would never admit she was in the wrong. Her mother loved posting these sorts of messages, and memes about the preciousness of mother-daughter relationships, when her every action screamed that she actually thought nothing of the sort. For years Izzy had made excuses for her and she’d even told other people that Kirsten wasn’t a bad person, but these last few months Izzy had seen a different side to her. All the excuses she’d made about not being able to come and visit Nonna had hit Izzy in a way she’d never felt before.

Kirsten had never been interested in Izzy, not really. She’d had her very young and it was understandable that she couldn’t cope and had left her own parents to raise her daughter as a result – in fact, as far as Izzy was concerned it was the best thing Kirsten could have done for her. But what was less understandable was her dumping Izzy all over again, just before she’d turned sixteen after they’d had a brief period of reconciliation. Kirsten had chosen to head off to Australia with the new boyfriend she barely knew, telling Izzy she was old enough to make her own way in the world. Since then, she had only ever got in touch when she wanted something, or when she wanted to paint a picture of herself on social media as some sort of earth mother, who was devastated to be so far away from her only child. No doubt she revelled in all the ‘Hugs hun, it must be so hard’ messages that her posts attracted, but it just made Izzy want to block her mother altogether. The only reason she didn’t was because Kirsten might drag Nonna and Pops into it, and Izzy didn’t want to cause them any stress.

‘Five more minutes and we’ll be there.’ Her grandfather’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she shut down the app. Her mother had kept her out of sight and out of mind for most of her life, so she was just returning the favour.

‘When we get there, I don’t want you to think there’s any pressure on you. If you don’t want to go through with the surprise, that’s fine.’ Nonna suddenly sounded nervous and Izzy’s mind was working overtime.

‘You haven’t booked us a parachute jump, have you?’ She’d heard about people adding crazy things to their bucket lists, but surely someone with her grandmother’s health issues wouldn’t be allowed to make a jump like that, even if she wanted to.

‘You’re safe on that front sweetheart. It’s nothing as dramatic as that.’ Nonna laughed, as her grandfather pulled into a space on the road that led down to the harbour. Maybe her grandparents had booked a trip on one of the little pleasure boats that took tourists up and down the coast between Port Agnes, Port Kara and Port Tremellien.

‘Come on then my love, let’s show Izz your big idea.’ Pops got out of the car first, linking one arm through Nonna’s and the other through Izzy’s as they followed suit. They were definitely heading to the harbour.

‘This is it.’ The wobble in her grandmother’s voice was back as they stopped next to a boat moored on the opposite side to where the fishing boats and pleasure crafts travelled in and out. The boats on this side clearly weren’t working vessels and the one they were standing next to was a house boat, complete with window boxes and rows of bunting fluttering in the breeze.

‘Have you bought a boat?’ Izzy turned towards her grandmother, widening her eyes. It had always been her grandmother’s dream to live by the sea, but this was taking it to the next level.

‘Not bought, but we’ve rented it for the next three months. Or at least we’ve got the option to.’ Nonna reached out and squeezed Izzy’s hand. ‘You know I always wished I’d moved to Port Agnes and this gives us the chance to spend the whole summer here. It also means we’ll be more likely to hear about any new places coming on the market for you. I want to see you settled in your own place before…’ She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Izzy bit her lip, holding back the words that were threatening to come tumbling out. She wanted to ask if they were sure this was a good idea, whether it was going to be safe or even practical for her grandparents, especially Nonna. But if it was what her grandmother wanted, then she was willing to do whatever it took to make it happen.

‘So, what do you think, Baby Belle? Do you think you can survive three months on a houseboat with us, starting tonight?’ Pops was scanning her face and Izzy nodded. She wanted to spend every spare minute possible with them and, if cutting out the commute between Port Agnes and Redruth gave her more precious time to do that, then she was going to grab the opportunity with both hands.

‘I think it’s going to be brilliant.’

‘Are you sure we won’t be cramping your style?’ Nonna raised her eyebrows and this time Izzy shook her head. She’d already given notice on her flat in Redruth, having decided to move back in with her grandparents until she managed to find somewhere permanent in Port Agnes, so the timing was perfect.

‘I haven’t got any style to cramp!’ It was true and the last thing on her mind was dating. All she wanted was to do the job she adored and to come home to two people she loved even more. And who could ask for a greater adventure than spending the summer living on a houseboat? She just wished it could last forever.

2

The first night on the houseboat, Izzy slept like a log. Maybe it had been spending the evening on the decked balcony at the back of the boat, chatting with her grandparents and watching the sun seem to slip into the sea as it set, or maybe it was the peace and quiet once the fishing boats and pleasure cruisers had stopped for the day. Either way, it already felt like home. Waking up to a view of the harbour had got the day off to a great start too and Izzy was ready for a busy day in clinic. Her first patient was one she hadn’t met before, a woman called Nicole Stroud, who was in the third trimester of her pregnancy and who was coming in for a routine thirty-one-week check-up.

‘Morning!’ Nicole almost sung the word as she came into the room, looking like a poster girl for the theory that the third trimester was when pregnant women started to glow. Izzy had been a midwife for long enough to know there were plenty of women that this didn’t ring true for and who would be willing to slap someone in the face just for suggesting it.

‘Hi Nicole. Come on in, I’m Izzy. How’s it all going?’

‘Nice to meet you Izzy and it finally seems to be going really well! The sickness has completely stopped at last. Thank goodness.’ Nicole grinned. ‘Not that I’ve minded any of the pregnancy symptoms, even the grimmest ones. I’m just so glad to finally be pregnant.’

‘Were you trying for long?’ Nicole’s records showed she’d had fertility treatment, and sometimes women who’d been through a real challenge to have their babies needed a bit more support. If she was willing to talk about her experience, it might help Izzy to give her the best possible care.

‘This was our fourth round of IVF and we both said it was going to be our last, whatever happened.’ Nicole was still smiling. ‘I’m just so grateful it worked and all the wishing and praying paid off.’

‘That must have been tough, but things seem to be going great. All of the screening tests you had at twenty-eight weeks were clear, including the antibody tests.’

‘That’s brilliant news and Gracie seems to be performing somersaults all day and half the night! We’re having a private 4D scan on Saturday afternoon and I can’t wait to see her little face.’

‘Definitely a moment to treasure.’ Izzy loved these types of appointments, where everything with the pregnancy was going to plan and the baby expected was already so desperately loved. If there was such a thing as karma then maybe the pure joy that Nicole was experiencing now was intended to make up for everything she’d been through with the infertility. And Izzy was a sucker for a happy ending.

‘I’m treasuring every little bit of this pregnancy, especially as this is probably the only time we’re going to get to this stage. They’re going to make a recording of Gracie’s heartbeat during the scan and then put it inside a teddy bear, so I’ll always be able to remember what she sounded like when she was curled up in here.’ Nicole patted her bump.

‘That’s a lovely idea and it’s great to hear that you’re feeling so well too. We’ll get your blood pressure and urine checks done just to make sure and then we can have a listen to her heartbeat and check how much she’s grown.’ The start to Izzy’s day had been perfect so far, but she was going to have to shake off the feeling that she just wanted to freeze time. No matter how much she might want it to, this summer – when everything seemed so perfect – couldn’t last forever. But she was nowhere near ready to face what autumn might bring just yet.

The sound of laughter drifted along the corridor long before Izzy reached the staffroom. Anna, the head of the unit, was on maternity leave after the birth of her twins and Toni had recently given up work to await the arrival of her baby. From the roster, Izzy knew that Jess and Georgia, the newest member of the team, were out on home visits and that the agency midwives were covering on-call for home deliveries. Ella, who was the deputy head of the unit and who was covering Anna’s post, had originally appointed another midwife to cover Toni’s leave, but she’d changed her mind at the last minute, which meant they were reliant on agency staff until they could sort it out. Ella and Bobby were covering the birthing suite at the unit, Gwen was running the other clinic, and the two full-time maternity care assistants, Emily and Frankie, were also on duty.

So it was no wonder it sounded as if there was a party going on in the staffroom.

‘Oh good, Izzy’s here; she can have the deciding vote on whether Frankie should go out with the guy who’s messaged her or not.’ Bobby raised his palms upwards, looking as though he’d reached the end of his patience. ‘I’m trying to advocate for her to give the poor guy a shot, but according to Emily he’s a total loser.’

‘He’s fifty-eight and he still lives with his mum, not to mention the fact that he’s got a monobrow that makes him look like a serial killer.’

‘Harsh.’ Izzy laughed.

‘But fair.’ Emily wasn’t going to be persuaded otherwise.

‘There’s more to it than the way he looks, surely?’ Ella, always the voice of reason, was clearly on Bobby’s side.

‘Are you telling me that if Dan had looked like Mr Bean you’d still have wanted to marry him? It’s got to have helped that he looks like a movie star.’ Gwen pretended to swoon and then wrinkled her nose. ‘The only movie star Frankie’s suitor looks like is Danny de Vito, not to mention the fact that he’s two years off sixty and still lives with his mum.’

‘He’s probably a lovely man.’ Izzy looked at the photo on Frankie’s phone. ‘And he’s got a really kind face.’

‘That’s what I said.’ Frankie sighed. ‘What puts me off a lot more is that he’s seen every episode of Star Trek ever made at least three times, and all the Star Wars movies more times than he can count. He asked if I’d ever thought of dressing like Princess Leia, because apparently I’ve got the hair for it.’

‘Run!’ Emily shouted the instruction. ‘As fast as you can!’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers and he’s the first guy who’s shown any interest and not immediately suggested we start exchanging extra pictures.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘I might be naive and I haven’t been in the dating game for years, but even I know what that means.’

‘Maybe you should just practice on him.’ Gwen tapped the side of her nose. ‘You know, get back into the swing of things in the old pass the parsnip department.’

‘Pass the parsnip? You should have been a romance writer, Gwen.’ Ella was clearly trying and failing not to laugh. ‘But one thing you definitely aren’t, Frankie, is a beggar and you should stay as choosy as you want to.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Bobby nodded. ‘It’s going to take someone special to be good enough for our Frankie.’

‘If she waits around for Mr Right he’ll have to clear the cobwebs first.’ Gwen never failed to cut to the chase, or to push the boundaries when it came to discussing someone else’s personal life. ‘Sometimes Mr Right Now is good enough for the short term.’

‘Oh God, I hadn’t even thought about all of that. I can’t imagine ever subjecting some poor sod to seeing me naked. Maybe I should go for the guy who wants to see me fully dressed… even if it is as Princess Leia.’ Frankie sounded like she was going off the idea all together and Izzy didn’t blame her.

‘You could always come to the speed dating night at The Jolly Sailor with me and Izzy.’ Emily made the offer, but Izzy was already shaking her head.

‘All I said was I’d think about it.’ She’d only said it in the first place to stop Emily badgering her to say yes.

‘And if that doesn’t work out’ – Emily didn’t even acknowledge her comment – ‘then I’ll be joining the choir at St Jude’s.’

‘I never had you down as the religious type, Em.’ Bobby grinned again.

‘Oh, I’m not, but did you read in the Three Ports News who’s going to be covering for Reverend Sampson while he gets his double knee replacement done?’

‘No, but I’m glad he’s finally agreed to get the work done.’ Izzy had seen first-hand how badly he needed the operation. With a lot of help from her grandmother, she’d ended up delivering Reverend Sampson’s first grandchild, when his daughter, Abigail, had suddenly gone into labour in the vestry after a charity sing-a-thon at the church. Abigail had confessed to Izzy that she was worried her father would never step away from his responsibilities for long enough to get the operation and that it might impact his relationship with his new granddaughter as a result. So it was good to hear that Reverend Sampson had taken his daughter’s advice at last.

‘It’s the Fit Vic; you must have seen him on Instagram?’ Emily looked stunned that no one seemed to know what she was talking about.

‘He actually calls himself the Fit Vic? Sounds like a complete knob to me.’ Bobby pulled a face that said it all.

‘No!’ Emily scrolled through her phone. ‘Other people started calling him that; there’s an account set up called @thefitvicappreciation and other people hashtag him with #TheFitVic if they’re at one of his sermons. They started with him, but there are three vicars the group follow now, one’s in Essex and the other one is up north somewhere, but the guy who’s coming to St Jude’s is Fit Vic No 1. It’s a whole thing. It’s been in the papers too and I even saw an interview about in on This Morning when I was off work a couple of months back. Here, look.’

‘Now there’s someone who could put the rev into getting revved up!’ Gwen grabbed the phone, but not before Izzy saw the picture. She could admit the new reverend was nice-looking, with dark reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes, but the chances were, he knew it. She was with Bobby on this one; anyone who bought into the description of themselves as ‘fit’ definitely wouldn’t be her cup of tea.

‘Does this mean you’ll be joining the choir too, Gwen?’ Izzy could already picture the scene. The new vicar wouldn’t know what had hit him.

‘Quite possibly, but I think I’ll be going to a lot of services at St Jude’s myself from now on. Barry lies in so late on a Sunday morning he won’t even know I’m gone, but he might get a nice surprise when I get back…’

‘I should be doing something to stop the objectification of my fellow man.’ Bobby laughed. ‘But Poppy Chapman’s in labour and she’s on the way in with her husband, so I’ll just make my excuses and check that everything’s ready to go.’

‘Let me know if you need a hand.’ Izzy hadn’t had as much chance as she’d wanted to get to know the other midwives outside of work, but she liked them all. Usually, Gwen’s antics had her laughing along with the rest of them, and she’d bonded with Emily when they’d started at the unit in the same month, too. But the things that occupied Emily’s time, and Gwen’s insistence that finding love should be Frankie’s number one priority, just served to remind Izzy how different her life was from everyone else’s right now. The only pictures she wanted on her phone were ones of her grandmother getting every bit of fun out of the months ahead as possible. Nothing else was even on her radar.

3

Noah pulled into the passing place on the road from Port Kara, where the view of Port Agnes below was at its most open. This was the first time he’d be overseeing a parish outside of London. It might never have been in any doubt that he’d follow in his father’s footsteps and become a vicar, but he’d never envisaged being the sort who’d open country fetes or oversee a conveyor belt of summer weddings in a pretty parish church that the bride and groom had selected mainly for how good it would look in the wedding photographs. But when the bishop had told him he was being sent to cover Reverend Sampson’s absence in Port Agnes, there hadn’t been any room for debate. And when the bishop who’d engineered the move was also your godfather, it didn’t help. Jeremy had thought this was the best thing for Noah, as had his father apparently, and so that was that. It would only be for four months, though, six at the worst, if Reverend Sampson’s recovery was slower than he hoped. Then Noah would be free to go back to where he could really make a difference.

There was no denying the beauty of Port Agnes, though. The sun was dancing on the water and the sea was as smooth as a mill pond, beneath an azure sky that seemed to stretch into infinity. It was perfect and if he’d been thirty years older, it might even have been the sort of place where he’d want to drift slowly towards retirement. His father was based in a similar sort of parish in Devon, where nothing much ever happened, and the local vicar was still held in high regard. Noah liked a challenge though. He somehow felt more alive when he was being told to ‘eff off’ by someone he was trying to help get off the streets, than he did at any other time. It was those sorts of interactions which could make the doubts that sometimes crept into his mind – about treading the expected path – disappear, and he was already longing to get back to it.

‘Come on then Pabs, let’s go down and get this thing started.’ Noah looked at the little sausage dog, curled up on the front seat, who opened his eyes briefly before going straight back to sleep. Noah might not be thrilled about their temporary move to the seaside, but he had a feeling that Pablo was going to love it. The dog had become his shadow, ever since they’d first clapped eyes on one another and Noah could just picture him, his tiny little legs carrying him with surprising speed across the sandy bay in Port Agnes. Maybe he should treat this like an extended sabbatical and work out what he really wanted to do next. Port Agnes might even be good for them both.

Ten minutes later, Pablo trotted along behind Noah into the vicarage that would be their home for the next few months. There was still plenty of evidence of its previous incumbent – a reminder that Reverend Sampson had every intention of coming back to take over his parish as soon as he could. Noah would be more than happy to leave most of the rooms undisturbed until then. As long as there was a bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, and a couple of comfortable armchairs for him and Pablo, Noah didn’t need anything else.

After he’d finished unloading their stuff from the car, the next stop was to have a look at the church and the grounds surrounding it. It didn’t get fully dark in Cornwall until well past nine at this time of year and he was keen to see whether the church was everything he was expecting. Pablo was determined not to be left behind. His narrow body made him very adept at squeezing through the smallest gaps and following Noah, even when his so-called master didn’t want him to. They both knew who was really boss, but this time Noah didn’t even try to stop the little dog from coming with him.

The pathway down to the church was dotted with dried flower confetti, which must have been from the last wedding St Jude’s had hosted. Reverend Sampson had left the keys and a long list of instructions, which James, the verger, had passed on when he’d been waiting to greet Noah’s arrival. Noah had no intention of going against any of his predecessor’s guidelines, but he was hoping there’d be the chance to add in a few more things to the agenda – even temporarily – to stop him going completely stir crazy down in Cornwall. He’d heard about the sing-a-thon that the church had run the previous Christmas, to raise money for the school in Tanzania where Reverend Sampson’s daughter had worked in the past. Maybe there’d be the chance to carry on that initiative, and to introduce some more outreach work like food banks and a debt advice service. Just because Port Agnes and the surrounding area looked picture-perfect, it didn’t mean there weren’t any problems.

Pablo clearly felt comfortable already and had trotted off down the path ahead of Noah. Then suddenly he stopped, about ten feet back from the porch at the front of the church, his tail going ramrod straight as he started to bark.

‘What’s up boy, is there something there?’ It was probably a squirrel or something. Back in London, he’d discovered people sleeping rough in church porches quite a few times and then there was the day when… He couldn’t think about that. It wasn’t going to happen again, especially not here. It was much more likely to be some local wildlife making itself at home down here.

‘Sorry if I set him off.’ A woman suddenly appeared beneath the arch at the entrance to the porch. By Noah’s reckoning, he’d have put her in her early seventies and she clearly didn’t look like she was in the habit of sleeping rough. Despite all his bravado that there’d never be a repeat of what had happened in London, he still breathed a sigh of relief.

‘No problem at all. Pabs likes nothing better than barking at whatever crosses his path – anything from a feather to his own shadow can do it! I’m sorry if we made you jump. I’m Noah, the new locum vicar covering for Reverend Sampson, and this is Pablo.’ Noah held out his hand as he drew level with the woman.

‘It’s lovely to meet you both, I’m Eileen. I was hoping to go inside the church, but I didn’t realise it would be locked up.’

‘Ah yes, the verger said he’d locked up after Reverend Sampson left, but I’ll let you in now, if you like?’

‘That would be great, thank you.’ Eileen smiled, her shoulders visibly relaxing at the prospect. ‘I suppose it’s a bit of a security risk leaving it open?’

‘Most churches are locked overnight and some of them only open for set services, but I’d like to keep St Jude’s open as much as possible. There’s actually a school of thought that open access keeps the church safer and, more than that, it’s important for the community to be able to visit their church whenever they want to.’

‘That’s a nice idea and I’ve certainly felt the draw to visit church a lot more lately.’

‘Anything you want to talk about? I’m told I’m a half-decent listener, although Pablo’s a lot better if you’d rather just have him for company.’ The little dachshund had earned himself a reputation as an unofficial therapy dog. When people put him on their laps, he’d turn to lie full-length up their chests instead, nuzzling into their necks, as if he was actually trying to hug them back. There was no doubting that his actions had comforted more people than Noah’s words ever had and, if Eileen could benefit from some time with Pablo, the little dog would be more than willing to oblige.

‘I’m dying.’ Eileen had uttered just two words, but the impact was huge. It didn’t matter how many times Noah was faced with a situation like this, it was impossible to find the right response, but he had to say something.

‘I’m sorry.’ Sometimes keeping it simple was the best he could do and he really was sorry about the pain Eileen was clearly going through; it was etched on her face.

‘It’s not so much about me. I’ve come to terms with it in many ways and I’ve had a good life, with a very good man. It’s leaving him and our beautiful granddaughter behind that’s the hardest part of accepting I have to go. I’m the only mother Izzy’s really known and I’d have loved to have stayed around long enough to be there when she starts her own family. When I think about not being there for her, it’s the only time I really panic, but just being inside the church somehow helps. I think it’s the