Chapter Ten

I walked for hours and hours, until my feet ached, until the sun faded, and still I walked. I stopped only to pop into a fish shop for some fish and chips that evening, eating them as I continued to walk.

As the hour got later, the people on the streets became rowdier and when the pubs let out, I was catcalled and propositioned quite a few times. I realised that I must be in a bad part of town but I wasn't fearful. These people were nothing compared to what was now growing inside me.

My eyes alighted on a hotel and since it was nearing midnight, I went in and booked a room, pulling my wallet from my jacket and paying with a card. When the receptionist gave me an odd look, both because of the lateness of my check-in and the fact I had no bags, I told him I had broken down nearby.

The rooms were nice and clean, but very basic. I didn't care.

I kept the lights off as I sat in a chair by the window and looked out over the town.

I would like to be able to tell you that I ran away the next day, that I went home and cut Thomas out of my life, but I didn't, because I didn't want to do this alone. I didn't know if I could raise a child on my own, especially one as special as this.

Call me cowardly, but that's the truth.

I also believed Thomas when he said that he made this deal to save me. After all his deceptions, I know how stupid that sounds, but I couldn't talk myself out of feeling that way.

Maybe one day, I would learn to trust my intuition again but right now, I simply had to disregard my personal feelings on truth and base my decision on evidence because the real question was, could I trust him? It didn't matter if I forgave him or not because if I couldn't trust him, I knew I couldn't be with him, no matter how strong my feelings.

I was about to have a demonic child and there didn't seem to be a way around that. I wasn't exactly happy about that but then I wasn't happy about dying either. This was the lesser of two evils and I had to make the best of it. Luckily I was good at doing that.

My conscience told me that I had to raise said demonic child, and love her as best I could, regardless of her origins. I had a duty to raise her well and teach her to be a well-rounded, kind, caring adult. Someone who, despite what she was, would be able to love and value humanity.

It didn't feel as if my odds were particularly good but I had to try, right?

Thomas could certainly help with that. He had grown up with Lucille and knew better than I what to expect. Even if he wasn't a good parent himself, just having a second pair of hands would take some of the stress off me, making it easier for me to parent well.

At some point in the night, I moved to the bed and, lying fully clothed on top of the covers, I dozed off at some point in the early hours.

I awoke to kids shouting and laughing outside and since I didn't have my phone or a watch, I turned the TV on and saw that it was nearly 9am. I left the TV on but sank back into the bed, needing a little time to fully wake up.

I probably had to go back today. I could put it off for longer, but what would that accomplish?

After about fifteen minutes of the BBC Breakfast presenters mindless chatter, I was ready to get up and made my way to the bathroom for a hot shower, then I brushed my teeth as best I could with my finger.

I had no idea where I was, so I asked reception to call me a cab and directed it to the car park near the church.

As I drove back to the hall I felt pretty numb, to be honest and as I turned into the driveway, I paused to look at the house for a few minutes, more certain than ever that I was doing the right thing.

As I opened the door to our apartment, Thomas sat up on the sofa rubbing his face; clearly he'd spent the night there.

"You're home," he was about to smile but the hand I held up and my rather sober expression stopped him from becoming too joyful.

"We need to talk," I told him, but first I needed tea, so I headed into the kitchen. While the kettle boiled, I went to brush my teeth properly and take yesterday's make-up off.

When I came out I saw that Thomas had made a pot and brought the mugs and my sweeteners to the dining table.

"You sure it's just tea in here?" I asked as he passed me a mug.

"I give you my word."

'Because that really counts for a lot these days,' I thought but didn't say.

He sat opposite me and poured his own mug from the same pot, but I waited until he took a sip before doing the same.

"I was so worried," he said sincerely.

"I was so angry," I snapped in reply.

"And you have every right to be. I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"But not for what you did?"

"I did the only thing I could, it was the only way to save your life."

God, he sounded so sincere.

I sighed. "Look, I'm not saying you're forgiven or anything like that, but if we are to have any chance at a life together, two things have to happen."

"Anything."

"First, you have to promise me you will be the best dad you can to the baby. And I don't mean just spoiling her, I mean doing what's necessary for her, which will mean disciplining her sometimes and being the bad guy but… well things have changed a lot since your day. Dads now are hands on, they help raise the children every bit as much as the mums do. I want that from you."

"You'll have it," he assured me. "What else?"

"Next, you have to destroy that weird ingot stone thingy, that ties Lucille to the other dimension."

"You want to cut her off from that place?"

"We have to."

"You're right,", he nodded slowly. "If she is to have a normal life, we have to get rid of the things tethering her to her demonic side." He looked me in the eye. "To that end, I think we have to destroy this house."

I gasped. This place was huge, a mansion, and someone else's property, we couldn't just destroy it.

"This house has sentenced generations of my family to misery and no good will come of it remaining."

"What about the souls trapped in the other dimension?" I asked

"Better they're trapped there than we let her take them to hell, no? And if we don't stop this now, how many more souls might join them?"

I considered all his points but destroying the house wasn't really what worried me.

"Okay," I agreed. "But if we do this, you better not get caught. You are not leaving me holding the baby."

"I never had any intention of doing that," he said sincerely. "I'm very much hoping that before she baby comes, we can be married. I realise there are a dozen reasons why that might not happen, but I will not abandon you or the baby."

I nodded, satisfied with his answer. "So how do we do it then?"

"It won't be easy, we'll have to bring the whole structure down, make sure nothing survives."

"You're an engineer, and you know this place better than anyone."

"Yes, and it's definitely possible but it will take planning. We'll also have to make sure no one is inside when it happens."

I agreed, pleased that he had brought it up before I needed to.

"The ingot should be melted down separately," he advised. "We can't be sure the house will burn hot enough or long enough to totally destroy it."

He really was really putting some serious thought into this.

"The house used to have coal gas lighting, which could easily be built up enough to create an explosion, and with the judicious placement of combustible sources, we could ensure the entire house burned."

"I don't think we use coal gas any more, but the fireplaces here all run on natural gas. The problem is we now add a pungent scent to the gas, so any leaks can be quickly detected."

"I'll find some way to do it," he assured me, and from the determined gleam in his eye, I believed him. "I'll manufacture nitroglycerine if I have to."

"Nitro what?" Wasn't that a wrestler?

"Dynamite," he explained. "Actually…" he frowned.

"What?" I asked.

"It's possible there is still some in the mines, they were finally closed off in the 1880s but they were literally just boarded up, not emptied out."

"But they mined clay here, why would that need dynamite?"

"Because sometimes they had to go through a lot of rock to get to the clay."

"Isn't dynamite supposed to be really dangerous though?"

"It is," he nodded. "But I would be careful. In fact…"

"What?"

"That could be our cover, unexploded nitroglycerine in the mines under the house will be blamed for the explosion."

That was possible. Probable even. But I was pretty sure I remembered seeing something on TV that old sticks of dynamite could explode really easily and as angry as I was at that moment, I didn't want him to die.

"Are you sure it's safe?" I asked. He was the engineer so if he assured me it was safe, I would trust him.

"I'll be as safe as I can be, darling, I have no desire to die."

That would have to do.

The next day, armed with a claw hammer and torches, we visited the mines together and found three boxes of dynamite in a storage room. Thomas carefully pried the wooden lid off one and I could see that they were packed in hay.

"It looks good," he told me. "It's quite cool down here so it hasn't sweated much."

"Sweated?"

"Not much nitroglycerine has leaked."

"And cold helps with that?" I asked him.

"Nitroglycerine freezes at 56 degrees, which makes it more stable. It's when it thaws that you have a problem."

I put my conversion hat on, that was about 13 degrees Celsius. Given the northern climate, there weren't that many days a year where the outside temperature got above that, especially at this altitude and so far underground.

"So we can use this?" I asked, just to be sure.

"Not only can we, it's in much better shape than I expected."

"And is that enough?" I asked.

"More than enough."

"And can you place it under the house?"

"There are two mine shafts that run directly under the house, plus the lift that goes up into the house. If I also place some in Mother's hiding places, I can bring the whole structure down, and what doesn't break will burn."

"Don't you mean 'we can'?"

Thomas turned to me, directing his torch at my face.

"No. I've gone to a lot of time and trouble to save your life, Katherine, I'm not letting you risk it again."

"But-"

"No 'buts'," he said, sounding angrier than I can remember. "This is not a discussion. I am going to destroy the house, but I will do it my way, understood?"

"Thomas-"

"No, no arguments. Do you understand?"

He seemed genuinely distressed and I nodded, albeit reluctantly.

Thomas actually sighed with relief and put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my forehead. I didn't even think to stop him because he had seemed so worried about me.

"Come on, let's get back to the house," I suggested.

We checked out of the hall a few days later, reasoning that it was better to leave and return. I brought Thomas home to my little house in Yorkshire, a cottage on the outskirts of a small village. It only had two bedrooms, a kitchen and a living room but at least both were a decent size, and the back porch was as large enough to double as a utility room. At the rear it had a walled garden with a small region of decking near the house, flower beds around the walls, and a tiny section of lawn in the centre. He seemed to love it.

I set him up in the spare room for now. I would rather have sent him off on his own but since I had brought him to this time, I felt a responsibility to look after him until he was acclimatised. At least, that's why I told myself I was keeping him around.

In truth, I knew I would forgive him eventually and it was taking all my willpower to maintain my distance from him, but I couldn't let myself love him again until I knew for certain that he could be trusted.

While I worked on my articles and usual website activity during the day, Thomas spent his time devising a remote control detonation device for the dynamite, using my Amazon account to order most of what he needed. Remote control technology fascinated him and he ordered a few different toys that used it, taking them apart so he could see how they worked.

He tried to explain his plans to me but I could only understand it in the most basic terms; science and engineering are not among my strengths.

When he wasn't working on his plan to demolish his family home, he helped me around the house and was always eager to please, going the extra mile to make me smile. When he made a pot of tea, he always included a biscuit for me on the tray. When he walked to the village shop, he always brought something back for me. Sometimes he bought me a little something from the shop, sweets or a drink he thought I'd like, other times he would bring me back a flower he had spotted on his walk.

It would have been so easy to just forgive him and take him back. He was so solicitous, so charming, and so considerate that it was sometimes hard to remember that he had betrayed me.

To his credit, he never pressed for more, although he did grin ridiculously every time I thawed a little more towards him.

I maintained an emotional distance however, and kept our relationship platonic… It's totally normal to watch a movie with your head in your male friend's lap while he strokes your hair, right?

Oh, who was I kidding? Thomas was like a drug and I was having trouble maintaining a safe distance from him. Luckily for my battered heart, I am also a stubborn bitch when I want to be so although some barriers I had erected broke down, no way was I taking him back until the house and the ingot were history.

The second one was actually far easier to accomplish, and with the metal ingot in hand we took a day trip to an iron foundry (Thomas told me it was made from iron, not lead as I had assumed). Thomas explained to the foreman that it was an heirloom that held very bad memories for us and asked them to melt it down. An odd story (for an odd relic, come to that) but the foreman agreed thanks to Thomas's charm, and they even allowed us to watch as it was added to the furnace and melted down, blending with the other molten metal.

I imagined it issued an odd sort of scream as it melted down, a little like the whistle on an old kettle, but higher pitched and quieter, although no one else seemed to hear it.

I felt a little easier as we left because Thomas hadn't once hesitated to destroy it. Maybe he really was on my side after all.

It was 5am and I waited by the fire alarm for Thomas's signal to pull it. We'd had a busy night all ready and after a visit to the mine,

we had stolen a set of keys and placed sticks of dynamite into all of his mother's hiding places that we knew about. Thomas had carefully selected only dynamite that wasn't 'sweating' and therefore was safest. I'm still not entirely sure why, but sweating dynamite is dangerous.

After that we had visited the basement and partially severed the gas lines, then closed the doors so the gas would slowly fill the room down there.

Thomas had then returned to the mines, where we had placed the remainder of the explosives around the tunnels and in the lift shaft, which although blocked off, wasn't bricked up and would carry the force of the explosion through the building, setting off the other charges we had placed, and reducing the whole structure to burning rubble.

Once he had set up the radio activated detonator, I was supposed to pull the fire alarm to make sure the place was evacuated, then we would both meet at a safe distance and set off the explosion.

I was wearing black jeans, jumper, coat, gloves and even a balaclava. The colour was so that I wasn't easily visible at night and the mask so that no one could recognise me if I was seen. I felt like a pantomime villain though, dressed the part but doomed to fail through ineptitude. The longer I wanted, the more certain I became that something had gone wrong.

It was gone 5 o'clock in the morning and it wouldn't be long until staff would begin arriving for the day, to get breakfast started, prepare newspapers to be left outside of various rooms, man the reception and check the restaurant was ready. If Thomas didn't call me soon, I was afraid someone was going to turn up and find me.

I checked my phone again, just to be sure I hadn't missed a call.

I'd bought us both cheap burner phones, so what if I'd programmed the numbers incorrectly and he was trying to call but couldn't? What if he'd had an accident? What was I going to do if he was hurt, I could hardly call an ambulance while we were in the middle of committing a crime. What if one of the sticks of dynamite had gone off before he'd placed them?

What if, what if, what if!

I was sweating, my clothing was great for outdoors but not so good for being indoors and in full on panic mode.

Then, as if by a miracle, my phone vibrated and I looked down at the screen. I had a text which read "On my way, see you soon."

That was our code for pull the alarm and run like hell, which I did, pausing only to open the basement door and free the built up gas (that smell was sure to get people exacuating, then I ran out through a fire exit and towards the closest trees.

Once there I paused to look back, just to make sure people were leaving and they were. I watched and waited until the flow of people dropped from a flood to a trickle, then stopped all together. We had checked the occupancy and although I did my best to count the heads that had assembled in the garden, they were milling around and I couldn't be 100% sure I hadn't counted some people twice. The longer we waie though, the greater the chance people might try to go back in, so we had to chance it. I texted to say 'see you soon,' our code for 'blow it to smithereens.

Seconds later I heard the first boom and the ground trembled. Evidently others had heard and felt it too, and they moved even further away from the building. That one bang was quickly joined by others which built to a crescendo, then cracks could be heard as the structure of the building weakened, then flames erupted from the house as it began to crumble.

People were screaming and thick red tinged smoke filled the air as I watched in awe while the house collapsed in on itself.

A scent of sulphur hung heavy in the acrid smoke, polluting the air around it, and I felt as though I could literally see the evil burning.

The explosions must have weakened the mining tunnels and moments later, the house fell into them, although the flames were shooting easily fifty feet into the air from the crater

As much as I wanted to wait around and witness the destruction, I knew I had to leave before the authorities arrived, so I headed for the meeting point Tom and I had arranged.

Truth be told, he hadn't wanted to bring me, but he couldn't drive and it was too risky to take public transport here, so he'd had little choice. I'd got the safe job though, of pulling the fire alarm.

Thomas was waiting for me in a little clearing he had first shown me when we toured the grounds. I pulled my mask off as I approached and fell into his embrace, hugging him tightly.

"Are you alright?" we both asked at the same time as we pulled away.

"I'm fine," I assured him, knowing he wouldn't answer me until he was satisfied that I was okay.

"Me too," he assured me.

We both looked back towards the flames, which were lighting up the night sky, and I rested my head against his shoulder while we watched.

"I can't believe you actually did it," I murmured softly.

"I never liked that house," he confessed as he tightened his embrace. "I felt responsible for it but it was like a millstone around my neck. For the first time in my life I feel… free."

He placed a finger under my chin to encourage me to look at him, which I did. "I swear I never will."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lowered his head and I closed my eyes, anticipating our first kiss in over three weeks. It was soft at first, gentle, and Thomas let out the most contented sigh that I have ever heard.

The kiss quickly turned passionate, but even after so long apart we both knew this wasn't the time or place. We had a long walk back to where we left the car, down a country lane, and we needed to get started.

By the time we got back to my little cottage we were both exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. I knew we couldn't though, not yet, because we both smelled heavily of the smoke that had hung in the air. I ordered Thomas to shower first while I took his clothes and started a wash, stripping my own clothes off in the utility room. Our coats were a little harder but I liberally doused them in Febreze to get rid of the scent and hung them in the porch cum utility room, leaving the back door open a crack to allow a breeze in.

There was a real nip in the air and I hopped from foot to foot while I waited outside the bathroom for Thomas to be done in the shower, and luckily he finished quickly.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked as he came out, hair damp and wrapped in a cosy dressing gown.

"You need to burn your sketches and notes in the wood burner."

He nodded and I dashed into the bathroom. I scrubbed quickly, washing my hair, then braiding it so it didn't dry like a bird's nest while I slept.

I might have been a little paranoid about the smell, but I would rather be paranoid unnecessarily than lax. It wouldn't do to have the police turn up on our doorstep, perhaps having had a report of my car in the area, and smelling both Thomas and I reeking of the sulphuric smoke from the blaze. I'd also stopped in at an automatic car wash on our way home, to wash the mud from the country lane off, and paying in cash so there was no record of the transaction.

When I emerged from the shower, Thomas had made tea and we sat at the kitchen table to drink it.

"How do you feel?" I asked him.

"Relieved," he answered without hesitation. "I was used to the house but there's no denying that it, as you might say, freaked me out. There are parts of the house I hated visiting but I confess, I feel far more relieved that I expected to. I feel as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders."

"I know what you mean," I smiled tiredly at him. We had taken a nap in the afternoon yesterday but we hadn't slept for long as it was unnatural for us both. "Come on, let's get some shut eye," I suggested, finishing my mug and standing up.

Thomas followed suit and I took his hand and led him to my bedroom.

"Are you sure?" he asked me as I closed the door.

"Well I'm not up to much yet," I said with a wry smile, "But yeah, I'm sure."

"I know it may be hard to believe, Katherine, and I have a lot of work to do to earn back your trust, but I want you to know that you will always come first with me. Always."

I was so relieved, and maybe just a tad overemotional after the night we'd had, that I felt tears pricking my eyes.

"I believe you," I said, because I did; my intuition told me he wasn't lying.

"Can you ever forgive me, darling?"

"I'll try my hardest but you have to believe me, Thomas, if you ever lie to me again, there won't be any third chances."

"Understood."

We removed our robes and slipped into opposite sides of the bed, meeting in the middle. We kissed gently but neither of us was alert enough for sex right now, and by unspoken agreement we snuggled into each other.

"Thank you," Thomas murmured as we settled.

"I love you," I answered without thinking.

"And I you, my darling." The arm around me tightened to emphasise his point.

Maybe it was Thomas, or maybe it was because I was so tired, but I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept so well.

Epilogue

The blaze made headlines around the country and once the fire was out, the news stations had aerial footage of the site, which showed that the house was little more than a scorched crater now.

There had been three minor injuries from flying debris caused by the explosion, but no deaths, which was a relief to us both.

Speculation was rife as to the cause. A gas leak was one suggestion, because many people had smelt it as they exited the building. Surprisingly, old dynamite from the mine was another possible reason given. I thought it would take them longer to suspect that but evidently one journalist had done his research and found out that the house was built over a mine.

I didn't know much about arson investigations but it was obvious from what had been seen and heard that something had exploded, I just hoped they would rule it accidental and not intentional. Could they tell the cause in this case? Ordinarily they could, but with the house now little more than ash in a crater, maybe not. If they could, it seemed fairly obvious it would be ruled an accident, because no one used dynamite these days, it was too dangerous.

Thomas and I kept our heads down, got on with life and muddled through as best we could. I finally took a pregnancy test and, surprise surprise, it was positive, so I went to my GP. Thomas insisted on coming with me to all my appointments. I think he cleaned Waterstone's pregnancy and baby section out, and he read voraciously, determined to be a good dad.

After three months, we auctioned off the first batch of Thomas's mother's jewellery; we had decided to sell everything in dribs and drabs so as not to draw too much attention to ourselves. He didn't have proof of ownership but then I doubted that anyone had receipts for Victorian jewellery. The important thing was that none of it had been reported stolen and he could tell the auction house where or when most of it had been made, so they didn't question his assertion that they were family heirlooms.

With a very decent cushion of money behind us now, I purchase a stolen Australian passport for him on the dark web, which Thomas used to register for residency in this country. Since he had ample funds behind him, the government weren't too bothered and allowed him a visa. Our marriage licence was slightly harder but as Australia is part of the commonwealth, not too difficult.

We married one month before the baby arrived in a small ceremony at the registry office. We invited only a few friends and family, mainly because we didn't want to face too many questions but also because Thomas didn't have friends and family in this century. Our reception was in a nice restaurant, nothing so expensive as to raise awkward questions but equally, not too cheap.

My mother and brother came. They loved Thomas, as did most people we met, and they were happy for me. They asked why he didn't have an Australian accent (he used a fake one when we were interviewed by immigration, but not in everyday life) and he explained that his parents had been English, and he had picked up their speech patterns over his school friends' Australian drawl.

It still troubled me that he could lie with such ease, but no one ever seemed to question his truthfulness, so I pushed such qualms aside.

Thomas was working as an inventor and used some of the money from the sale of his mother's antique jewellery to fund a prototype for a new, energy efficient washing machine, which filtered and reused 90% of its water, as well as reducing power consumption by half.

He already had a few firms interested, and rather than go into manufacturing he intended to sell a licence to make his patent, and earn royalties on their sales. He worried that people investing in him would do too through a background check and might discover that his identity was fake. This way they would only check into his technology, not the man himself.

And honestly, inventing was his passion. Although I could see him as a CEO, I couldn't picture him happy in that role.

I had to cut back on my holidays and visiting hotels for travel reviews, and instead I took on more writing for publications and websites. My travel knowledge was still top notch and I could write on almost any topic, from '10 Places to See Before You Die', to 'European Cycling Holidays'. My blog and work were well known enough that I was easily able to get an agent who helped keep the work rolling in. Because of the personality I injected into my blog, she even got me a publishing offer for a book of first person accounts of some of my travels, sort of a female Bill Bryson, and I was very happy to accept.

Things were settling down and I was adapting to my new situation in life, but my tension grew as my due date approached, not because I worried about the labour or because I thought the demon spawn would eat its way out of me or anything, I worried about something much more fundamental. Would I be able to love her?

Thomas had tried to reassure me, after all he had loved Lucille and to an extent, even after everything she had done, he still did, so he had no qualms about being able to love the baby. I couldn't be that certain, and nothing he could say would assuage my fears.

My concerns were answered after a 6 hour labour (one of the easiest the midwife had ever witnessed for a first baby, she said) and as they placed her in my arms, I knew immediately. I loved her.

Once I put her to breast, I knew that I loved her enough to lay life down for her, and I would do whatever it took to make sure she had a good childhood.

Thomas was also smitten, gazing adoringly at us both as we lay in bed, recovering.

He doted on me for the first few days, until I had to tell him that he was smothering me a little. He backed off but was never far away when I needed him.

We called her Felicity.

We turned Thomas's old bedroom into her nursery, decorating it ourselves, using bright colours that made Thomas positively gleeful. As elegant as Allerdale Hall had been, it was also rather dark and forbidding, so I could understand his enthusiasm for pastels and bright colours.

Shopping for baby things though, was almost as bad as when we had first gone food shopping. Thomas was amazed by the choices on offer, for everything from clothing to toys. We usually left the store with far more than we needed. We had three papooses, for example, although I doubted I would even use one. However it wasn't as if we were short of money these days. We weren't Bill Gates-rich, but Thomas had already sold the rights to two inventions, and we had the money from the jewellry auction.

When we brought Felicity home I nearly took the baby monitor back to the shop because we never use it. We were both enamoured with the little redheaded beauty that had entered our lives.

Don't get me wrong, we were both exhausted, often grouchy, and covered in baby sick, but it was more than worth it.

To my surprise, we did use one papoose often, because Thomas insisted on 'wearing' Felicity whenever he could. He was besotted with his daughter and insisted on taking her to the local mother and baby group every week, held in the village hall. He was very popular with the other mums, let me tell you!

He never gave me a second's reason to doubt him or feel jealous though.

We often took it in turns with Felicity, which gave us both a chance to work in peace. Thomas did Tuesday and Thursday mornings, I had Monday and Friday mornings. She generally slept in the afternoon, and we shared he other three days, then Thomas did bed times, while I did the mornings.

I had to work hard to truly forgive Thomas for what he had done and not keep holding it over his head in any disagreement, but I did my best and I got better with time. Every morning I reminded myself that he had lied in order to save my life and I had chosen, of my own free will, to invite him back into my life after I found out. I didn't have to stay with him, I was free to leave any time I wanted, but I chose to stay, and resenting him for my own choice ridiculous. I also made gratitude lists, reminding myself of how Thomas encouraged me, supported me, was kind to me, and still blew my mind in the bedroom.

My tactics helped a lot and I slowly let go of my resentment towards him, but these days I always listened to my intuition. Luckily Thomas hasn't given me a reason to doubt his integrity again.

The truth is that aside from some odd foibles (mostly caused by having been raised in a different time) Thomas was about as perfect as it was possible to be. Yes, I still had my doubts occasionally, because this was surely too good to be true, but Thomas could always tell when I was getting lost in my own doubts and fears, and he would coax me out of my mood, reassuring me and caring for me, determined not to let my worries overshadow our marriage and our family.

"Darling, are you nearly ready?" he asked, poking his head into our room. Felicity, who was sitting on his hip, gurgled in greeting.

"Nearly," I had just sat down to put my shoes on. "You know, it kind of negates the point in hiring a nanny if you walk around with your daughter while she's here."

She only worked three days a week, Wednesday, Saturday, and Thursday evening, allowing us time alone so we could focus on each other. I had been doubtful but Thomas had been insistent, and I now agreed that these little interludes did wonders for us, both in terms of our relationship, and in just being able to relax and destress for a time. Of course, it had taken is two months and too many candidate to count, before we found someone we were happy with. Mrs Farrell was wonderful and Felicity certainly seemed taken with her.

It was Thomas, who had suggested this, who seemed to resent her being there, even if only very slightly. I found it endlessly amusing.

"There," I said, standing once the last strap of my shoe was done. "Will I do?" I was in a stretch burgundy velvet, A-line dress, which came to mid-calf and skimmed my (still overly full) curves.

"You look stunning," he said, smiling so proudly at me that I believed him.

Felicity gurgled her agreement and I took her from Thomas so I could say goodbye.

"You'll be a good girl for Mrs Farrell, won you?"

"Goo ba!"

"Good girl," I pressed a kiss to her head, then rubbed my cheek against her baby soft hair. Everything about her was so cute and soft and silky, that she seemed entirely designed to be held and kissed and caressed.

Thomas came up and put his arms around both of us.

"My girls," he said softly.

I almost didn't want to go, thinking how much nicer it would be to curl up on the sofa and watch a movie, with me lying on Thomas and Felicity lying on me.

But the table was booked and the nanny was here. Maybe tomorrow night.

Right now though, as I snuggled closer to Thomas and inhaled deeply, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I'd made the right decision.