Wallaker's Discovery

By S. Faith, © 2014

Words: 63,000 (in nine chapters and an epilogue)
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 7


Thurs, 12 December 2013

Scott woke not three hours after they'd finally gone to sleep for good, and felt unexpectedly refreshed, body and soul. He looked to where she still slept beside him, in front of the embers of the fireplace, and could not help thinking of how the night had unfolded; it combined the hot white flame of requited desire with the cosy comfort of someone he'd known and been around all his life. The image of her dressed in that sexy black slip would stay with him forever, as would the feeling of peace as he'd finally confessed to another living soul, to her, about the tragedy and the aftermath of the accidental attack in Afghanistan that had decisively caused him to leave the service. She had listened intently, had asked questions out of a gentle curiosity; she'd seemed to understand and sympathise with the pain it had caused him, and had offered only comfort in return, not judgment, not scorn.

He had also told her how he'd just wanted to come back to London, have a quiet life. How teaching the children had been just the thing, until he had gotten disillusioned by the competitive likes of Mrs Martinez. But then that day in the park, the children trapped in the tree, had shown him her true colours, beautiful shining colours, and that life could be enjoyable, if not fun again.

She had asked him if he liked his life now. He could only reiterate, with a peppering of kisses on her skin, that he absolutely, positively did. Especially the cuddling.

He rose and stretched, went over to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee before putting the rest of the soup Martha had left into a storage container then into the fridge; he figured if it was still edible at five in the morning, it was still okay now.

He also set about making some breakfast; between pouring pancakes on the griddle, he located and folded her discarded clothing in the hopes of salvaging them somewhat from the wrinkled ravages of the floor for her journey home.

As he finished he heard her rouse and wake with a start.

"Are you okay?" he called, switching off the hob, walking towards where he'd left her.

"Oh, yes, just fine," she said; as he approached, she was getting to her feet. "For a moment there… I forgot where I was and why Mabel hadn't wakened me yet. Oh, God."

"What is it?"

"I'm, er—" She blushed. "A bit sore."

"We're neither of us used to sleeping on the…" He trailed off as she shook her head.

"Not sore from that," she said sheepishly. "Have you got, I don't know, a robe?"

"Why?"

"To cover up."

Again he asked, "Why?"

She blushed again. "Because I'm… chilled."

"Nonsense," he said. "It's plenty warm in here. Thermostat reads… almost twenty-five. The fire didn't go out that long ago."

She pursed her lips but did not object further, simply sat down again.

Scott said, "I made coffee. Pancakes. Shall I bring you some?"

She nodded, and when he did, she smiled. "And none of it burnt. What a delight. Thank you."

"After we're done…" he said, spearing pancake with a fork, then looked towards the back of the flat. "Shower?"

"Yes, but oh God, it must be a quick one. I'm already going to be late picking up Billy and Mabel."

"Ah."

"What do you mean by 'Ah'?"

"What they'll think of… you and me."

A smile found her features. "Billy adores you. Mabel gave you a spontaneous hug and a chocolaty kiss. I wouldn't worry."

He did worry, a little, as he never wanted them to think he was ever trying to replace their father.

"I do wonder…" she began, then stopped.

"Wonder about what, Bridget?"

"About your sons. What they'll think of me. I don't even know their names."

"They're Matt and Fred," he said with a smile.

"Oh." She sipped her coffee, then drew it away quickly again to continue talking, an urgency in her voice, an eagerness to know more about them. "I mean, what do they like? What are their hobbies? How old are they?"

"I suppose they like what many boys their age like: football, music, Xbox, and they're a little older than Billy, twelve and ten. No, eleven. Fred's just had a birthday."

"Oh, Xbox," she said. "Which games do they like?"

"I… can't remember. Whatever it is that boys like to play, I'd guess." He reached and placed a hand on hers. "I think they're going to like you—and Billy, and Mabel—just fine."

"I just don't want to be thought of as the wicked stepmother," she asked, real worry on her face.

"No chance of that," he said, fully aware of what she was saying less than a day after they'd gotten together.

When they finished their food he pulled her to her feet, took her by the hand and led her into the shower, where, mindful of the time, he took care to wash her thoroughly and otherwise leave her with a smile on her lips for the rest of the day.

"So what about you?" he asked as he zipped up her dress; he had slipped into some clean trackie bottoms, sat shirtless on the bed.

"What about me, what?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder.

"I… you had a rough time there, I know," he said, trying not to be indelicate. "But I wonder, do you like your life now?"

She turned to face forward; he had the disadvantage of not seeing her face. But then he could tell from the way her profile changed that she was smiling. "Yes, Mr Wallaker, I think that I do."

He put his hands upon her waist. "Stop calling me Mr Wallaker," he chided gently.

She laughed, stepped away, smiled at him. "Since I don't have time to be Cautioned right now," she said, echoing his words of the night before, "as much as I'd like it, I suppose I'll have to concede for now… Scott."

She pulled on the chocolaty coat as she instructed him to pitch the sausages that had never made it into the refrigerator; he was sad she had to go, though of course knew and understood that she had obligations to her children.

"There is also the matter of the bassoon," he said in a mock-serious tone as she buttoned the coat; he stood leaning against the door jamb, arms folded across his chest.

"Oh, right, the bloody bassoon," she said. Then she grinned. "Perhaps you could drop it by."

"Perhaps I could," he said.

"But not tonight."

"Say the word, and bam, bassoon delivery." Then he pushed himself forward, took her face in his hands, and dropped a kiss onto her lips. "I love you," he said, simply and unequivocally.

He saw her eyes go glossy again, but she said in a strong voice, "That might shock me more after only a day if I didn't love you too."


Sun, 14 December 2013

Despite the fact that school was over for the term, since so many people had seen them together at the carol concert—then leave together—Scott and Bridget decided it would be best to bring the children in on the nascent relationship sooner rather than later, before they found out from a classmate. Scott was pleased, in a way, that she agreed so readily to have this conversation with them already, when he considered how long she had waited to introduce the children to Roxster.

So it was decided that he would come over for lunch on Saturday, they would talk to the children, and if all went well, he could stay overnight. It was no exaggeration to say that Scott was more nervous than he'd been even the night of the carol concert. If it didn't go well with them…

He tried not to think about that.

Billy and Mabel were quite stunned not just to see a teacher outside of school, but coming to their own home. "Am I… in trouble?" Billy asked.

Scott smiled. "You're very much not in trouble, Billster."

"What about me?" asked Mabel.

At this, he couldn't help laughing. "You aren't, either."

"Mr Wallaker—" Bridget began, shooting him a glance. "—has come to have lunch, because we both want to talk to you about something."

Billy looked serious. "It sure feels like I'm in trouble, Mummy."

"I promise with all my heart that you aren't," she said.

The plan had been to have this talk after lunch, but the sudden pall cast over both of them, as if prepping to mount the stairs of the gallows, seemed to necessitate a change in that plan. Scott looked to her, saw the nod as if agreeing with his thoughts, then he began to speak. "What your mum is trying to say is… what we wanted to let you know is…" Scott suddenly couldn't find the words.

Bridget saved him. "Mr Wallaker's going to be my boyfriend."

He thought he saw a smile on Billy's lips. Mabel, however, was thoroughly confused.

"What's dat?" Mabel asked.

He heard Bridget laugh lightly. "Well," she said. "It means that he'll come over here to visit outside of school a lot, maybe even help with dinner…"

"Maybe take Mummy out for dinner," Scott added, "or to the pictures."

Mabel looked scandalised, her little mouth dropping open. "You'd take Mummy without us?"

"We could all do a lot stuff together," Scott said. "But sometimes, adults want time to themselves."

Mabel clearly gave this a lot of thought, her features screwed up in concentration, until she started to smile a little. The extra consideration that Billy gave to the matter, however, soured his expression, and he said, "Couldn't you have time to yourself after our bedtime?"

Scott looked to Bridget who, he swore, was fighting a laugh. "Well, yes, that will happen too, I'm sure," she said, "but not everything can be done in the evenings after eight-thirty." Then her expression sobered before she offered a tender smile. "I'll be here to tuck you in just as always."

"Except if you go out to dinner or the pictures," Billy said. He was frowning now. "It's not fair. Mr Wallaker's supposed to be my teacher at school."

"But you like Mr Wallaker, don't you?" Bridget asked.

Billy looked extraordinarily conflicted, which transformed into frustration. Without answering, Billy dashed out of the room and up the stairs, presumably up to his bedroom.

"That," said Scott Wallaker, "did not go as smoothly as I would have liked."

Bridget stood there looking stunned.

At that moment Mabel said, "I like you, Mr Wolkda." With that, she stepped forward, wrapped her arm around his legs and hugged him as best she could.

Scott reached down and placed his hand tenderly upon her small head. "That makes me very happy, Mabel," he said, "because I like you, too."

"I know Billy likes you," said Bridget, exasperatedly. "I can't believe he—"

"Oh, I can," said Scott. And he could. And as she stood there, he could see her features change with the realisation of why Billy had behaved as he had. Billy was used to having his mother more or less to himself. Scott wasn't sure, but he suspected Bridget had presented Roxster to the children as more a friend, if anything, so Billy had no experience with his mother being anything but a single woman. Billy was also used to his teacher being an authority figure on whom he could depend at school, and the prospect of sharing him with his mother and with his sister in his own home might have suddenly been too much to bear. He might feel like he was being forgotten. Like he was losing something. He needed to know he was not losing anything at all.

"Why don't I go and—" Bridget began.

"No," he said, holding up a hand. "I think this is something he might need to hear from me."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

She sighed. "I just can't bear thinking of him upset over this," said Bridget.

"It'll be okay," he said with far more confidence than he felt. "If you'll just peel Mabel off of my legs…"

She smiled, nodded, and drew Mabel away.

Scott ascended the stairs, got to the children's bedroom. The door was closed, so he knocked. "Billy, may I come in?" Scott asked.

Silence, then, "I don't know."

Billy didn't shout at him to go away, which he took to be a good sign, so Scott slowly pushed the door open slowly to see Billy sitting on Mabel's bed, looking glum. "So, Billster," he said, trying to sit beside him without bumping his head on the upper bunk, "seems like you're upset about me spending time with your mum. I'm sorry about that. Never meant to upset you."

Billy didn't say anything in response.

"You know I'm awfully fond of you and your sister."

"I know," Billy said.

"And you know your mum isn't going to love you any less."

Billy didn't respond right away. "Yeah," he said at last.

"You don't sound like you believe it," he said. "You know your mum would do anything for you or your sister. Just like the song, right?"

The corner of Billy's mouth twitched in a smile. "Yeah."

"She loves you so very, very much," he reiterated, "but sometimes she… well, sometimes grownups need other grownups. Like…" He struggled for an example. "…how Finn's mum and dad need each other."

"He's never even home," said Billy.

"That doesn't mean they don't still need each other. I bet when he gets home, she's really happy to see him."

"Yeah," said Billy. "I guess."

"Having someone in her life she needs like that does not diminish her love for you or Mabel one single bit," he said.

Billy looked very thoughtful again, maybe even a little sad, then he turned to look directly at Scott. "Jake goes away to play music. My daddy's in Heaven."

Scott realised in that moment he might have made a misstep in mentioning Jake. "I know, and I'm really sorry about that," he said; he moved to place a hand on Billy's shoulder, but then thought he'd better not. "Actually, you make an excellent point. Nothing could ever take away how much you still love and miss him, right? Not even when you make new friends? Or when I showed you how to do the long jump?"

Billy nodded.

"The very same feeling is true for your mum… even when she decided she wanted me to be more than just a teacher at your school." He took in a deep breath. "And your daddy… I would never want you to love or miss him less," he said tenderly, not moving his eyes away from Billy's. "I would never want to take his place. He will always be your daddy. But since he's not here, and I am… I think it might just be okay if you liked me, too, or if maybe I do for you some of the things a daddy might do." He smiled.

An unexpected voice interrupted their discussion. Bridget's. "You know, Billy," she said tenderly, "I think Daddy would be glad that Mr Wallaker's here, since Daddy… can't be." He looked to her, standing in the doorway with Mabel at her side; Bridget's eyes were glossy but she had a smile on her face.

Then two things happened:

As quick as lightning, Billy leaned forward and threw his arms around Scott, catching him unawares, and he started to blubber with tears a little; Scott took the boy into his embrace, to pat his back reassuringly.

Then Mabel spoke. "Hey, Billy, dat's my bed."

It was just the right thing at that moment to lighten the mood and one by one, they all started to laugh. Bridget took a seat beside Billy and hugged him (and Scott). Mabel jumped up onto Scott's lap. "I wanna hug Billy, too," she said petulantly.

"You never did like being left out," Bridget said, leaning forward to kiss the fine hair at the top of her head. Then, looking up to meet Scott's eyes, she leaned further and gave him a peck on the lips.

"I told you it'd be okay," murmured Scott.


Weds, 18 December 2013

There was really no putting off asking her any longer.

Scott was due to drive out to pick up his boys from school when their winter break began, and with the amount of time he was spending with Bridget, they were bound to notice his changed (happy) demeanour. The week since they'd acknowledged their feelings, since they had gotten together, had been wonderful beyond his imagining; after smoothing everything out with Billy, Scott had stayed over at the Chalk Farm house more often than not. He felt like they were already a little family.

Something about the prospect of telling his boys about Bridget made him a bit nervous, though. It was irrational, he knew; it was not as if she didn't know he had children. Maybe it was more to do with how the boys might react. If Matt and Fred never met her, they'd never decide they didn't like her. This was, of course, a ridiculous notion; he wouldn't want his boys not to meet her or know her. He knew they would benefit from her presence in their lives, and he was very confident in how positively they would react, so he had no idea why he was feeling this way.

"What's on your mind?"

This quiet voice in the dim of the amber-lit room, her warm breath skating along his skin… it rather amazed him how one short week had changed everything so much, how she could already sense when something was troubling him.

He looked down to where she rested against him to find she was looking up at him. In that instance, his nervousness slipped away. "It's about my boys."

"Are they all right?"

"Oh, they're fine," he said. "They'll be home for the Christmas holiday soon. I go and get them Friday."

"Oh, how lovely," she said.

"I want you to meet them," he said. "As soon as possible, if that's all—"

"Yes, oh yes, of course! I'd love to!" she interrupted with a bright expression. It didn't take long, though, for her smile to fade. "But what if they don't like me? It was so easy to tell Billy and Mabel—they know and like you already. I mean, aside from the little hiccup with Billy—"

"Shhh," he said. "You're rambling, Bridget. I already told you it'll be fine."

"I'm not rambling," she said, rather too defensively. "I just don't want them to think I'm some kind of evil witch nightmare Baroness von Schrader."

At this he laughed out loud, hugging her tight—he was a great convert to cuddling and to The Sound of Music—and could only think with even more conviction that they would adore her. How could they not?

"It's not funny," she said; he could hear the pout in her voice.

"You'll think it's funny," he murmured, "when you meet them and you realise how unfounded your fears really are."

They decided then that Bridget would see if her mother could take Billy and Mabel for at least part of the weekend. "I'll get the boys," he said, "and we can all have dinner together that night."

She agreed it was a good idea and kissed him; they then helped each other to take their minds off of their respective worries. It was just another way in which they were eminently compatible.


Fri, 20 December 2013

"Dad, something wrong? You're really quiet."

In the course of mentally debating exactly what to tell Matt and Fred what awaited them that evening, he realised he hadn't said anything at all to the boys in the ten minutes since they'd begun the drive home. With the traffic being what it was, it seemed silly not to say something now.

"Nothing's wrong at all," Scott said. "Quite the opposite." He glanced into the rear-view mirror. "We're having company for dinner tonight."

"Oh really?" asked Fred.

Then Matt asked, "What, have you got a girlfriend?"

The question was obviously meant as a joke, but when Scott didn't deny it as they clearly expected him to have done, they started asking questions.

"Really?"

"Who is she?"

"What's her name?"

"Is she pretty?"

"Do we have to wear a suit tonight?"

That last one caught Scott off guard. "What?"

"You know, best behaviour at some posh restaurant," said Matt in an exaggerated hoity-toity voice.

"We're having dinner at home," he said. "Martha's cooking. She'll meet us at the flat. Bridget will, I mean. That's her name." He smiled a little. "And yes, she's very pretty. I do hope you'll like her."

When they arrived to the flat, after a warm hello to Martha, the boys immediately took their bags back to their room, then spent a little time in front of a mirror, combing their hair, washing up, and generally making sure their appearance was impeccable. With dinner prep complete, Martha got her things together, said her goodbyes to the boys then to Scott, adding, "Have a wonderful night. I'm sure it'll go so well."

Just then the bell for the door went off, so Scott went to buzz her into the building, then let her in when she rapped at the flat door. Bridget set down the carrier bag she'd brought with her, gave him a quick kiss before shedding her coat, all the while looking nervously around herself like the boys might pounce upon her from behind the sofa.

"Hello and good night, Bridget," Martha said, slipping into her own coat; she'd tried calling her 'Ms Bridget' before, but Bridget would have none of it. "Have a wonderful time."

"I hope to," said Bridget.

When Martha had gone, Scott was finally able to appreciate how stunning Bridget was in a navy silk dress, flattering to her figure and swishing about her as she moved. "Where are they?" she asked in a whisper.

"They're preening," he said. Her hair was down, and he took advantage of the opportunity to affectionately comb it back over her ears with his fingers. "Shall I call for them?"

She nodded. "No time like the present."

He turned his head, inadvertently invoking his schoolyard voice: "Matt! Fred!"

There was a slight scramble from the back of the flat, then one at a time, Matt—taller, more confident—and Fred—hiding a bit behind his brother—came out to meet Bridget. "This is Matt, and this is Fred," he said to Bridget. To his sons, he said, "Boys, this is…" He paused. They hadn't really discussed together how they should address her. In the end, he decided on, "Mrs Darcy."

Matt looked confused. "She's married?"

"No," said Bridget with a kind smile. "I'm not. And I'd like it if you just called me 'Bridget'."

They nodded. "Okay," they said in unison.

Fred's gaze moved towards the door, landing on the bag she'd brought. "What's that?"

"What's—oh, the bag?" She laughed lightly. "I brought dessert. Chocolate cake. I would have baked one, but I thought it might be bad form to poison everyone our first time meeting."

The boys looked oddly stunned; they looked to one another, then to their father. He realised why.

"Boys," Scott said, "she's joking."

"What?" said Bridget in surprise as she turned pink. "Oh my God, of course I'm joking."

The two boys shared a quick, incredulous look—not surprising, as their mother had very little in the way of a sense of humour—then at last they began to giggle.

"It's really nice to meet you," Bridget added.

Scott could tell she was feeling self-conscious, so he spoke up. "Why don't we sit down and eat? Dinner's ready."

"Sounds great," she said with a smile. "Show me the way."

Scott took the bag she'd brought, set the cake box within it on the counter, as Matt showed her where the dining table was. Scott normally kept the leaf out of it, kept it to four seats, so it was a bit smaller, more intimate, with the boys there; Matt and Fred each took a seat to one side of her, putting her across the table from Scott.

"Wine?" he called to Bridget.

"Oh, God, yes please," she said.

He pulled the pan of lasagne out of the oven, where Martha had left it to stay warm, then drew down a pair of wineglasses and got the white wine from the refrigerator. First he brought the wine glasses over, then the boys' fizzing soft drinks, before he cut the pan of lasagne and served up two plates at a time.

"Thanks, Dad," they said, practically simultaneously.

As he sat, he noticed Bridget looking a bit wistful, but only for a moment before she snapped out of it and offered a smile. "Thanks," she said. "This looks delicious."

"Martha's a really great cook," said Scott. "Isn't she, boys?"

They nodded, but kept mostly silent as they ate.

"This is delicious," said Bridget, then picked up her glass and took a sip of wine. She looked thoughtful. If Scott had to guess, she found the silence as uncomfortable as he did, perhaps even more so. "So, Matt, Fred," she said at last, loading her fork with more lasagne, "I hear you are very fond of your Xbox. What's you're favourite game?"

Once again the boys looked surprised. "Do you like the Xbox?" Matt asked.

"I've tried it a bit, but I'm not very good," she confessed. "My son, Billy, now he's a whiz. He can kill my guy in the game in about thirty seconds flat."

"You have a kid?" Matt asked, his eyes growing wide. "How old is he?"

"Two kids," she said. "Billy's a bit younger than you—he's seven. And I have Mabel, who's five."

"Mabel's a girl's name," said Fred, confused.

"That's because Mabel's a girl," she said with a smile.

Matt laughed and poked his brother under the table with a toe; Fred reacted with a sharp, "Hey!"

"Now, come on, none of that," said Bridget. "You don't have a sister, so why wouldn't you think… oh, do you have any little girl cousins?"

They both shook their heads.

"Oh," she said. "Well, Mabel will probably be disappointed to hear that."

"Is she pretty like you?" asked Fred.

Scott saw a faint tint of pink wash over her cheeks. "Sort of a loaded question, but thank you," she said. "I do think she's quite cute, but I'm a little biased, being her mum and all."

"So why didn't they come to dinner?" asked Fred.

"Are they with their dad?" Matt added.

Scott felt his stomach drop out. The boys were well familiar with divorce. Of course they didn't think of other possibilities; maybe he should have explained the situation more beforehand. He looked to Bridget; fortunately, she didn't look too troubled by the question, but he knew that sometimes the pain didn't easily show. "Boys," he said, "it's something she doesn't like to talk about."

"No, it's okay," she said, setting down her fork, reaching to place a hand on each of their forearms. "Mr Darcy, their father… he died."

They looked a bit confused; in their experience, old people—grannies and grandpas—died, not dads to five-year-olds.

"It was an accident," she said, which he supposed was the best way to describe it to them. "And it's okay if you didn't know. I mean, it isn't like you're psychic, right? How could you have?"

Fred cracked a small smile.

"So Billy and Mabel are with my mum today. I wanted to meet you both on my own, first. You can meet them soon, if you… if you'd like that."

"Yeah, he could play Xbox with us," said Matt.

"Does Mabel play Xbox?" wondered Fred.

"Or football. Does he like football? We play football in the summer with our cousins—"

With that, the boys and Bridget began a steady stream of conversation that continued during dinner and well into dessert. She even agreed to try a bit of the Xbox game, and though she wasn't very good at it, he and the boys could tell she was having fun trying. She mimicked the voices from the game, too, with funny impersonations that made the boys laugh like madmen. Scott couldn't help noticing how quickly they had warmed to her during dinner, and especially while playing the Xbox.

When the game ended, she set the controller down with a sigh. "I told you I was crap. Oh." She brought her hand to her mouth as the boys giggled again. "Sorry."

Scott said with a grin, "I think it's okay to say 'crap'."

"Since when?" piped up Matt.

"It's okay for adults to say 'crap'," Scott amended.

"Well, that hardly seems fair," said Bridget, smirking.

He caught Fred stifling a yawn, bringing Scott's attention to the time. It was now well past their bedtime. He said, "Xbox and 'crap' is all well and good, but it's bedtime for you two. Come on. Time to get washed up."

Predictably, they groaned.

"Say goodnight to Bridget, then off you go."

"G'night, Bridget," said Matt. "It was nice to meet you."

"It was very nice to meet you too."

Fred simply stood there, staring up at her, before surprising everyone by launching forward and giving Bridget a big hug. "I'm glad you're Dad's girlfriend," came his muffled voice from where his face was buried against her arm.

Bridget looked to Scott, stunned. "Thank you," she said. "I'm pretty glad about it, too."

"Will we see you tomorrow? Will we meet Billy and Mabel?" asked Matt.

"I wanna meet Billy and Mabel," said Fred, stepping back.

"I guess that all depends on when they're back from their grandmother's," said Bridget, looking to Scott, "but I'm game if your father is."

"I'm game."

"Maybe you could… come over to our house."

"I like the sound of that," said Scott.

After Matt and Fred retreated, Bridget quietly said, "Will their mother be all right with that?"

"With what, exactly?"

"Well, first of all, is she okay with them meeting me," Bridget explained, "and will making plans for tomorrow with Billy and Mabel throw a wrench into their seeing her?"

"To answer your questions in order: I didn't ask, and they're not seeing her," he said.

"You didn't ask?"

"She doesn't run every boyfriend she has by me, and I have much better judgment than she does," he said wryly.

Bridget continued, "And what do you mean they're not seeing her?"

"I mean they'll see her, I'm sure, if she's not off on some holiday."

"But it's Christmas break."

Only then did he piece together what she was really asking. "They're not going to their mother's place for the term break. They're staying here."

"Oh," she said; her surprise quickly turned to consternation. "So she may not even be around for Christmas? That's awful!"

He smiled, then drew her into his arms. "She showed up drunk to Sports Day," he said. "In case you hadn't noticed, she is not exactly Mum of the Year."

"It just seems unnatural and wrong, that's all. Oh, and speaking of Mum of the Year…" She drew away and went for her handbag. "Need to ring up Mum, see how they're doing."

"I'll go make sure they're in bed and not goofing off while you do."

He slipped the boys' door open to see them dressed in their pyjamas and pulling back their duvets. Matt climbed in, pulled the covers up. "Just checking in," he said. "Making sure you're actually getting ready for bed."

"We are," said Fred.

"Good." He sat down on the end of Matt's bed as Fred burrowed under his own covers, then turned over to look at his father. "Going to ask you a question," he said, "and I want you both to be honest. What do you think of Bridget?"

"Is she for real your girlfriend?"

This question astonished him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she's so… not like Sarah."

"Do you like Bridget, though?"

They both nodded vehemently. "Totally."

"And you're not just saying that because you think it's something I want to hear," he said.

"No way," said Matt, as Fred nodded in agreement with his brother. "She doesn't talk to us like we're idiots."

It was true; she didn't. She didn't even talk to her own children that way. "Well. All right then. Good night." He stood, kissed each one on the head, turned off the light, then shut the door behind himself.

"Dad!"

Fred's voice. He went back in. "Yes?"

He had the duvet up to his nose. "Will you put on the night light?"

"Sure thing, Fredster."

When he joined Bridget again she was packing the rest of the cake back into its box. "Thought I might negotiate space in the fridge for it," she said. "It'll make a great breakfast."

He chuckled. "How are Billy and Mabel?"

"They were sound asleep when I called. Mum said they'd been angels. That they wanted to know how you were and to tell her to say hi." She pouted a little. "And my mum wants to know who you are."

"You hadn't told her?"

"It hadn't really… come up."

"But you told me you told your friends," he said. "We're all having drinks tomorrow night, unless you've forgotten."

She pursed her lips, then explained the long and difficult relationship she and her mother had always had, how they had only recently hammered things out and come to a more adult understanding. "My friends weren't insane about this sort of thing, and she was. It's habit not to tell her," Bridget explained. "She used to be so critical of every man I tried to see, tried to fix me up with so many unsuitable men…" She smiled, though it was a wistful one. "She did succeed once." Then she looked to him. "She'll want to meet you for Christmas."

"I would love to meet her," he said, bringing her into a hug. "I would love, actually, to spend the whole holiday with you. In fact, you, Mabel, Billy, and even your Mum if she wants, up at Capthorpe House. You can meet my brother, his boys, his wife."

"That's a bit sudden," she joked.

"Isn't it all?"

"I suppose it is," she said.

"But when it's right, it's right," he added.

"And you know, if Sarah is around, she should come too," she said. "No one should be alone on Christmas."

"You're lovely," he said, "but honestly, I'd rather she didn't."

Then he kissed her, because she was kind, she was generous, and he loved her. She encapsulated the simple life he had wanted… even if she were anything but a simple woman.