‘Our child, Forde.’ And as she said it she realised the fear had gone …
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT STARTED to snow again just before lunch, but Forde had cleared a path to the logs and coal and they were as snug as bugs in rugs in the cottage. They spent most of the day curled up in front of the fire watching TV in each other’s arms, eating the provisions Forde had brought and observing Tabitha with her kittens. The little cat was eating like a horse, seemingly intent on making up for lost time, and all three kittens seemed remarkably strong considering the state their mother had been in shortly before they were born.
Mid-afternoon when the snow had stopped and the sky had turned mother-of-pearl with streams of pure silver, they were surprised to hear a knock at the door. The vet stood there, her sturdy legs encased in green wellingtons and thick trousers and her padded jacket making her appear twice as big.
‘I’ve just paid a visit to a farm not far from here so I thought I’d look in,’ she said cheerfully, as though she weren’t standing in half a foot of snow. ‘How’s the patient?’
Melanie made her a hot drink while she examined Tabitha and the kittens, announcing mother and babies to be in remarkably good health considering the odds that had been stacked against them. ‘The little ginger one is a tom,’ she told them, giving the kitten back to Tabitha, who began to give it a thorough clean. ‘And the two black-and-white ones are females. As she seems to be getting on with being a good mother we’ll leave well alone at the moment. Certainly the kittens’ bellies are full and they don’t appear unduly hungry or distressed.’
She downed her coffee as though she had a tin throat and left, remarking as she stepped out into the cold afternoon, ‘All’s well that ends well, I’m pleased to say.’
Forde held Melanie’s hand very tight. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘All’s well that ends well. Merry Christmas.’
They awoke disgracefully late on Christmas Day, having gone to bed early but not to sleep. They had been both playful and intense in their lovemaking, one as eager as the other for the night not to end, until, in the early hours of the morning just before it got light, they’d gone to sleep with their arms round each other.
The morning was sparkling bright and clear, the sky icy-blue crystal and the scene outside the cottage a winter wonderland. In the far distance they could hear the faint sound of church bells ringing, and the world seemed reborn in its mantle of pure white.
Forde got up and went downstairs to check on Tabitha and make some coffee, which he brought back to bed after putting the turkey on, causing Melanie to feel deliciously lazy. Her languorous air was abruptly shattered when she saw the small but beautifully wrapped gift next to her coffee and toast, though. She shot up in bed, her voice a wail. ‘Forde, I haven’t got you anything. You shouldn’t have.’
‘Yes, I should.’ He smiled at her, amused at the very feminine response. ‘Besides, I had a slight advantage over you, didn’t I? I knew I was coming here. I was going to leave this somewhere for you to find after I had gone,’ he added softly. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to throw yourself on my bosom and beg for my help, nice though that was, I hasten to add.’
‘What is it?’
He joined her in bed, handing the little box to her. ‘See for yourself, but first—’ he took her in his arms and kissed her very thoroughly ‘—happy Christmas, my darling.’
She undid the ribbon and pulled off the paper before lifting the lid off the box, gasping as she saw the exquisite brooch it held. The two tiny lovebirds were fashioned from precious stones forming a circle with their wings and their minute beaks were touching in a kiss. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. ‘Forde.’ She raised shining eyes to his. ‘It’s so perfect. Wherever did you find it?’
‘I had it specially commissioned.’ He put his arm round her, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘It says what I want to say every day of my life to you.’
The stones were shooting off different colours in the shaft of sunlight slanting in from the window, making the birds appear alive, and as the baby in her womb kicked suddenly Melanie had a moment of pure joy. They were going to be all right, she thought with a deep thankfulness. They had weathered the storm and come out the other side. She could believe it.
It was a perfect Christmas Day. Forde prepared the dinner while they listened to carols and Christmas songs courtesy of Melanie’s CD player. He wouldn’t let her lift a finger, expertly dishing up the food once it was cooked, and flaming the plum pudding with brandy and making her squeal with surprise.
Tabitha tucked into her portion of turkey and stuffing with gusto, and when Forde put down a saucerful of cream for the little cat it was clear she couldn’t believe her luck. She seemed to have settled with the kittens and hadn’t moved her little family again. Melanie hoped it was because Tabitha knew she was safe and secure now.
After lunch, with Tabitha and the kittens fast asleep in their basket in front of the fire in the sitting room, Melanie and Forde built a snowman in her tiny courtyard as the sun began to set in a white sky, sending rivers of red and gold and violet across the heavens. The air was bitingly cold and crisp and somewhere close a blackbird was singing its heart out, the pure notes hanging on the cold air.
For a moment Melanie knew a piercing pain that Matthew wasn’t with them. He would have probably begun to toddle by now, she thought, lifting her face to the sunset. He would have loved the snow.
‘You’re thinking of him. I can always tell.’
She hadn’t been aware that Forde was watching her, but now he enfolded her into his arms, holding her tight, as she murmured, ‘I would have loved to tell him that we love him, that we’ll always love him no matter how many other children we have. That he’ll for ever be our precious little boy, our firstborn.’
‘You’ll be able to tell him that one day and give him all the cuddles and kisses you want, my love.’
‘Do you believe that?’ She pulled away slightly to look into his dark face. ‘Really believe it?’
‘Yes, I do.’ His eyes glinted down at her in the half-light. ‘But for now we’re here on earth and we have to get on with our lives and care for and love other children we’re given. We are going to become a family when this child is born, Nell, and although the grief of losing Matthew will never fade you will learn to live with it and stop feeling guilty that you can still experience happiness and pleasure.’
‘How do you know I feel like that sometimes?’ she asked him, her eyes wide with surprise.
‘Because I felt the same at first,’ said Forde softly. ‘I think all parents must in the aftermath of losing a baby or child. It’s not only a terrible thing, but it’s unnatural too, the wrong order in life. A parent should never outlive its child.’
She leant into him, needing his strength and understanding. ‘It will be all right this time, won’t it?’ she said very quietly. ‘I couldn’t bear—’
‘None of that.’ He lifted her chin with one finger, gazing deep into her eyes. ‘We are going to have a beautiful son or