A long drawn out snort, followed by a deep snore floated from the farthest sleeping bag. Patrick and Shelagh locked eyes and both covered their mouths to muffle the laughter.

"Well that's Timothy asleep." Patrick confirmed.

Shelagh looked over to Angela's sleeping form, "Two down," She rubbed her swollen belly, "One to go."

"Is our little boy restless?"

"He's a boy today, is he?" She laughed quietly. "Yes, all the excitement of camping in the living room appears to be having an effect."

"We do take our children on the best holidays." Patrick said sardonically.

Shelagh gave him a withering look that was interrupted by an almighty yawn. "I think I should be going to sleep too. Patrick will you help me blow all these candles out, I'd rather our lovely new home didn't catch fire."

"You stay where you are, I'll take care of the candles."

"Thank you, dearest."

When Patrick returned, carrying one solitary candle to light the way, he saw that Shelagh had done some rearranging. "Shelagh, what on earth are you doing?"

"I noticed that you didn't have any cushions to sleep on and I seem to have the monopoly on them."

He looked at her dumbfounded, placing the candle carefully to the side. "That was by design, love. You are pregnant!"

"Thank you, Patrick. I had noticed."

"You can be as indignant as you like, Shelagh but-"

They both froze as Angela turned over and muttered something unintelligible before her breathing evened out again.

When he spoke, Patrick's voice was no more than a whisper, "Please Shelagh, it's already not ideal having you sleep on the floor, at least let me make you as comfortable as possible."

Shelagh, not one to give in that easily had a counter argument prepared, "What about your back, this hard floor isn't going to do it any favours and you are going to have to handle most of the lifting tomorrow."

They locked eyes, and Shelagh raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"How about a compromise?" Patrick offered. "We put all the cushions together, open your sleeping bag and we can sleep together, using it like a duvet. You can half lay on me, I'll be your cushion."

Shelagh studied him with suspicion, "I'm undecided as to whether you're being gentlemanly or just wanting to abandon your sleeping bag."

He smiled, "The smell of wee really is overpowering."

"Come on then," Shelagh conceded, "It's not like we could possibly scar Timothy anymore than we already have." She pointed looked at her stomach.

"That's the spirit, Shelagh!"

They moved quickly and quietly, creating a sufficient bed space for the two of them to be comfortable, relatively speaking. When they were settled, Patrick blew out the last candle, cloaking the unfamiliar room in darkness. As Shelagh rested her head on his shoulder, he reached down to her stomach stroking soothing circles, "Baby is excitable."

"He'll calm down soon." Shelagh mumbled.

"So, you think it's a he too?" Patrick teased, smiling to himself smugly in the darkness as he felt the flutters against his hand lessen under his ministrations.

"I've so much love for this little one already; you know all I want is for them to come out healthy, girl or boy." After Shelagh's time in hospital and everything they had experienced with the parents and babies affected by the vile drug, Thalidomide, that sentiment had never rung truer.

Patrick sensed a, "But?"

She strained her head up to see him better while she confessed, "I'd quite like to experience raising a boy, from birth I mean. To see all the little differences that you noticed between Timothy and Angela as babies."

He hummed in agreement, "I can say for certain that I got covered in less wee with Angela!"

Shelagh muffled her laughter in his neck. "Another baby girl would be lovely too, though. Angela put in a request for a kitten when I asked her if she wanted a brother or a sister."

Now it was Patrick's turn to muffle his laughter. "That would certainly be a trick, dear."

They laid in comfortable silence for a few minutes and just as Patrick thought that Shelagh had fallen asleep, she surprised him by asking, "Are you sad to leave the old place?"

He thought about it for a few seconds and answered honestly, "Yes, I've certainly had some of the best moments in my life in that house," he squeezed his wife closer, "but also some of the hardest. After Marianne died I wanted to move but it just wasn't practical and would have been an upheaval Timothy didn't need to contend with. Like I said to Tim, the memories, the good and the bad, they come with us."

"I didn't think I would be sad." Shelagh admitted. "It was too small for our growing family and it made practical sense to move. Now that we have left I think I might miss the way the floor sloped slighting in our bedroom, or the kitchen cupboard door that would only shut if you lifted it just right. It had character."

Patrick shuffled slightly so himself and Shelagh were eye to eye. "Sweetheart, the sloping floor drove you mad because none of the furniture sat right and that cupboard only did that after Timothy slammed it in a little temper tantrum."

"Oh, I forgot about that." Shelagh smiled, that was the first time that she had reproached Timothy for talking back and he'd been so shocked that he'd slammed the cupboard and stormed off.

"With two children and a teenager, we're in for plenty more broken cupboards, and crayon murals on the walls, and mud tramped everywhere, and pets sequestered from the garden."

"I could do without another frog incident." Shelagh declared, voice weary. "You're right though, our family will bring the character to this house."

"They will indeed." Patrick curled Shelagh into his arms. "We don't have time to be sad, sweetheart. We have another new beginning to enjoy and I think it's going to be a good one."