AN: This is the big one I have been talking about as regards Mary! For that reason the chapter is slightly shorter than usual as the plot is the significant part.

I hope you enjoy it and thank you all for the lovely reviews and favourites that show your support!

She should have known something was wrong. Mary wasn't one for inviting her parents over and she certainly wasn't one for offering the olive branch after disagreements. All that being said Cora knew therefore that she should have seen this coming and the look on Robert's face told her that he realised the exact same thing.

"Mary, you're scaring me. What do you mean there's only limited time. Is this something you've got to do before the baby arrives?" The look on her daughter's face tells her that her strange quip about 'limited time' was not to do with the nearing of her delivery date.

"I'm not saying anything until Matthew brings the tea. It's his story to tell anyway. Not mine." That seemed to rule out there being any problem with the baby but it didn't change the haunted look that hung over Mary. A look Cora is beginning to wonder hadn't been hugging at her daughter's eyes for some while, she had just failed to acknowledge it.

She pushes her fingers into her lap, tracing the outline of the purple flower sat on her knee before pulling her skirt straighter just for something to do. She's pleased to see that Robert too is uncomfortable, flopping back in the settee and keeping his eyes trained on a picture on the mantelpiece which he then jumps up to inspect, hands shifting from his pockets to his nose and back again.

Even more awkward is Mary, eyes wide fixed on her fingers. Watching as the nail of her index finger claws at the cuticle of her thumb. Matthew comes in bearing the tray and lays the mugs of steaming drink before them. Mary makes an immediate grab for hers, wrapping her hands around the dotted porcelain.

"I fear I've kept you all waiting." Matthew lowers himself to sit beside Mary as Robert retakes his seat, the soft furnishings falling about as he disrupts them once more. "I fear that could be a common theme for the rest of my life. Waiting." He half laughs but it's only to himself, Cora stares back at him unsure, Robert she notes is doing the same. Mary places her cup down and her fingers snarl at each other again before her head lifts and her chocolate eyes fix to Cora's own as strongly as a hammer makes contact with a nail.

"You have both been rather anxious since you heard about my pregnancy. Indeed, Mama you went a great way to talk me out of it not so long ago." Cora feels her stomach tighten. An unfamiliar, long lost companion of dread settling between its folds, amongst the cereal and juice she'd had for breakfast. "You think I am doing wrong; throwing away my life."

"I'm not sure there is much point in going over what has happened Mary." Robert reaches forward for his coffee, his words echoing a million of Cora's thoughts but delivering them in a less disjointed way. He sounded so calm, so ready for whatever this conversation was really about. Yet for Cora bubbles in her stomach kept threatening, anticipating. Making her feel the sickness over what could only be a deadly fear of the unknown.

"The point is that there is a reason why I'm pregnant now. Do you remember Mama when you said that Matthew and I should enjoy life for a while just us two?"

"Yes and you said that was what Matthew wanted too." She spies her son-in-law's frown at her last statement, the glance of confusion he makes towards Mary. It all sits within her stomach with the dread. She can feel it bubbling over, threatening at the very base of her throat.

"Except I lied. It wasn't Matthew that wanted to wait, it was me. Matthew has been suggesting since the moment of our marriage that we should start bringing children into the world. Even before the wedding in fact, it was that which made me so nervous on the holiday because I knew you that was what he would want. The only thing he would want." Her shoulders shake, her hand reaching across her lap from Matthew's. Cora sees her own hand shaking in her lap and reaches for her tea. She takes two large gulps of the burning liquid while Robert seems to, as always, voice the opinions of the room.

"Why did you lie to us Mary? Why did you not just say on the holiday that was the problem? Or tell your mother it was Matthew that wanted children?" Mary droops her head in a soft way, a wayward tear falling to her lap as she clutches harder at Matthew's hand.

"Because I was holding out hope that it would be alright and-and because I couldn't bear the looks of pity I would get. I see the way you look at Edith and I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me in the same way." Cora's eyes close and her neck slackens. Her fingers reach to steady the bridge of her nose—trying to force the tears back—at the same second Robert knits his eyebrows together, his face flitting from one to the other of them before resting on her, asking with her eyes what he was not understanding.

"Matthew-" That's the only word she can get to crack from between her lips that seem to beg to remain sealed. The furies in her stomach catch alight, racing properly to the back of her throat and into her mouth.

Matthew nods his head at her, a soft look fluttering in his eyes before he closes them to address Robert's haunted look and Cora's swirling worries.

"I have a brain tumour." Cora gasps despite her being slightly more prepared than Robert for the news. She hadn't thought that it would be quite so life threatening quite so soon. She had been hoping that maybe it was just a diagnosis, that there might be a problem but no, Matthew seemed quite sure. "They thought it had gone but it hasn't and treatment is next near to impossible. Two check ups in the last four months have shown a clear increase in size. The doctors give me more than five years but well, I do want to see my children."

"Thought it had gone...?" Robert stutters over the words and indeed they were ones ringing in Cora's own mind.

"The diagnosis was first given five years ago. I had surgery to remove it. They assumed it was gone, as with other similar cases but-but...it hasn't." Cora feels her head nodding stupidly, unthinking. She chews at her lip, not seeing anything but the way Mary's hands move over her rounded stomach.

"Treatments have improved so much though, surely-" Robert's voice was breaking up, that was clear to anyone. Cora can't say anything to comfort him, not because she can't think of anything but because her own throat is sore and dry, rigid against the weight of a short six letter word.

"I'm afraid not. And with the rate of growth of the tumour surgery is not possible this time around. It would grow back almost immediately. Radiotherapy is too dangerous since the tumour is in exactly the same place—the brain will not be able to work through the side effects and chemotherapy will only keep me alive for so long."* A silence settles over them although Cora is completely unsure how, her heart is hammering and there is a wetness in her eyes blurring the only thing she can look at—Mary's circling hands as she softly mother's her unborn baby. The baby was to be a new year miracle, due in January but it was beginning to feel like miracle was all the wrong word. He or she would be a miracle for Matthew maybe but one that would no doubt make his burden much heavier to carry. To meet your own child that you knew you would never see grow old seemed beyond heartbreaking, beyond fairness.

"You said 'children,' the idea is to have more than one?" Robert seems to realise that wallowing in his own gruesome thoughts was not worth while. Indeed Cora agreed, but unlike him she was so much worse at shaking bad images. They seemed to haunt her, eating away at her mind without finding an outlet. While Robert might go home and cry she would be unable to and before she knew it her existence would just feel hollow.

"Yes. Hopefully two in the next couple of years. Matthew and I already wanted two or three and it seems we are just going to have to bite the bullet." Robert smiles and makes some comment about them being such good parents. Cora can't bring herself to look at any of their faces instead she stares at the photographs of Mary and Matthew around the place; wedding and holiday and she feels the same heaviness all over. The weight of a life that was to be unfairly cut short and another one to be left in limbo, crushed and worn without her loved one to support her.

Robert's fingers curl into hers. Holding them tightly, the only constant it seemed in this ever changing world. A world that seems to threaten her family at every turn. It wasn't worth thinking about how close she and Robert had been to being the first brick to crumble.

Edith's bubbling face was something he needed to see this week. He really did need the reminder that love and fun did still exist beneath the veil of gloom that had never left Cora's face for the last week. Ever since Matthew had said the word cancer.

He and Cora had fallen out two days ago—she had accused him of being unfeeling—as if he hadn't noticed that this would mean another of his darling girls was raising children without a father. Unfortunately for Cora, or maybe it was fortunately, he was more realistic than she sometimes. He could see that Mary had gone into this with open eyes, she had known this was a likely outcome and indeed she and Matthew were seeming to make the best of their situation. Yet Cora seemed to think she was responsible, that she should have found these things out and supported Mary with the matter more. She was worried now that she would look bad in Edith's eyes when she eventually ends up helping Mary with however many children she has when Matthew does pass from them, that Edith will think this unfair (she has had to cope with her Aunt for support). What was hitting her hardest though was the thought of Mary's heart being broken. Cora had been murmuring for hours at a time about whether she would be able to cope, her whole life and purpose of the last few years taken away and that was when he'd snapped telling her she was being ridiculously childish, Mary wasn't going to have a choice she was going to have to learn to cope, which was when she'd hurled the unfeeling card his way.

The problem was he supposed, their children had been Cora's whole purpose in life and now that things were out of her control she wanted nothing more to snatch the girls back into their cradles. He was, by comparison, able to see that life did take dreadful turns but that with family and friends around every obstacle was avoidable—he'd learnt that with Cora, anything was possible.

"You look gloomy Pa?" Edith falls onto the settee beside him, her legs swinging in the air as she pulls her scarf off. "Still haven't made up with Mum then?"

"No. You're looking chirpy though, nice evening?" She was glowing all over. Her tangerine dress was really quite something but Robert did wonder if it wasn't a bit over the top for the cinema and pizza he knew had been her 'date'.

"Very. Bertie is really quite funny although I don't think he means it half the time." She half laughs to herself and then stops, tipping her head back. Robert knew this meant there was a 'but,' a problem that was making her doubt herself, or him.

"But-"

"Nothing. It's still early days yet. I just, I can't seem to...never mind." She sits back properly on the settee, twisting the silk of the scarf between her hands. Edith was the daughter he'd always found easiest to understand. Her habits were a mixture of his sisters and Cora's. The only two women he'd ever been able to understand. She was quiet and honest and had a habit of keeping emotional things more curled up inside than anybody realised, something his wife and sister were both too good at. Then, in a wave of anger Edith would burst just like her mother and aunt.

The bright blue and orange scarf would not have been something Robert might have picked out for her but he could see that it suited her. It flutters and twitches of its own accord when she releases it and he becomes mesmerised by the way the dim light of the living room—he only had the lamps on—made the colours seem more green and yellow than they were.

"You can't seem to forget Michael?" She sighs at that, the scarf rising and falling as she shifts her hands up in the air and back down again.

"Funnily enough I can, very easily when I'm with Bertie anyway. And that's one of the problems. I don't want to forget him. He's the father of Marigold for goodness sake. I can't forget him. For her sake I must remember." Her voice seems to shake, her eyes looking far into the distance, wide and unblinking. When she turns her gaze to him he sees the wetness, the fragility that she kept so well hidden. He reaches his hand into her lap and is unsurprised when she takes it, her eyes following her hand, looking at their clasped ones. "But it hurts so much to remember and I love very much the freedom I have from those memories when I'm with Bertie. I forget sometimes that I'm even a mother and...and that's nice, I suppose. But well, who knows."

"Michael would have wanted you to be happy. I know it is cliché but he would have wanted that." She grips his hand affectionately and she nods very slowly, her gaze fixed on their joint fingers, a nail from her other hand tracing the knuckles of his hand.

"It's not cliché. You're perfectly right. He would have wanted Marigold to have a father too." He hadn't realised she was beginning to think so clearly about her future again. He knew, from Cora, that she had been very forward planning with how she was going to rent out Michael's flat and possibly move into it one day. He hadn't realised that she had also been assessing what Michael's more personal wishes might have been, wishes he couldn't write in a will. "But I just can't see quite that far yet. Bertie is wonderful, very different to Michael but I have absolutely no clue if there is future there and at this moment in time I still have my darling girl to think about." She stands, kissing him on the forehead. "And you Pa have more important things to worry over than my failed love life. You've got your own to sort. The two of you are complete nightmares when you're in disagreement so for goodness sake sort it out." Robert rolls his eyes but secretly he can't help but agree.

The problem is he was not likely to make the first move not after she had been so very insulting.

Unfeeling.

As if he was unfeeling! He always trod around the house like a feather, at the beck and call of any or all of the women he lived with, or indeed is related to. Above all else he had dedicated the better part of half his life to Cora and the girls, never complaining that sometimes he was pushed aside in place of the girls by Cora.

It's there that his thoughts stop though, that wasn't strictly true. Misunderstandings had led him down the wrong path before now, had resulted in perhaps the worse fallout of his marriage, his life. Thinking back on those months wasn't there even moments when he had thought, although never said, that she was unfeeling.

He finally stands with what can only be called a huff, perhaps it was time he admitted, he did so want her back. He'd kept himself at a distance, sleeping in a spare room rather than sharing her bed—just to try and prove a point. Maybe it was time he made the first move seeing as she clearly wasn't planning on it.

He's more than surprised, startled would be a better word, therefore when he stands up only to find Cora stood in the doorway, her dressing gown loose on her shoulders revealing the red silk he'd purchased her for Christmas. Her hair is loose too, the curls he so rarely saw cascading down her shoulders. Aside from her height she always had managed to look so tiny. Her figure doesn't fill so much as a third of the doorway—though it was a big doorway—her pale arms held together in front of her, long but fragile. As for her waist he could get one arm right around her back although he had to concede she had retained some of the weight from Edward's birth and he was pleased for it, though he may never admit that to her.

"Edith said you were still up." She walks further into the room. "I wanted to apologise for what I said I-"

He reaches out his hands to her and she clasps them. He doesn't really want to say anything. All he feels like doing is pulling her to the settee, or better still pushing her against the door frame and just kissing her. Somehow it wasn't even a sexual need, it was just to have her close, to smell the perfumes of her skin.

"It doesn't matter. I've forgiven you anyway."

"That's doesn't mean I was right to say it. You're not unfeeling Robert. No man who helped me through my woes twenty-nine years ago could ever be unfeeling." He half laughs to himself, stroking his finger over the soft curve of her cheek. "Now, we both need some sleep. Edward will no doubt be awake nice and early tomorrow morning." He laughs once more as she takes his hand. They walk to the stairs and its with no surprise to him at all that she takes a left at the top rather than a right. She wants to check on Edward first.

He goes with her and upon entering the cool room and spying Edward quite fast asleep he can't help but smile. When Cora leans over and adjusts his bedding before kissing her one finger and pressing it to his lips he grins still wider. He truly was blessed.

"Sometimes I can't quite believe we have a little boy." Robert smiles, pressing his hands against her hips and leaning his face over her shoulder, both of them watching Edward sleep.

"Yes. Sometimes I can't believe I'm married to you." He doesn't need to look to know she's rolling her eyes. "Did I ever tell you what happened that morning a few days after Edith was born and I told you that you weren't to touch Edith again until you'd had two hours sleep?" She swivels in his arms, taking his hands and moving the two of them to the door.

"Tell me in bed."

Edith had so far been so much quieter than her sister. Doctors and nurses might have put it down to he and Cora being more prepared for parenthood the second time around but Robert was well aware that at least on Cora's part nothing had changed. She is as attentive two days after Edith's birth as she had been two days after Mary's.

Robert himself knew he was more prepared, watching her feed Edith hadn't distracted him as it had the first time. If anything he felt perfectly comfortable lying beside her in the bed as Edith nurses.

"Are you disappointed?" His eyes fly apart, he hadn't realised they'd been shut, clearly the periodic awakenings to Edith were having more of an effect than he thought.

"Disappointed?"

"Yes." Her fingers twist over Edith's blanket her gaze fixed firmly on their baby girl's nose. "About being outnumbered. So many girls." He raises his eyebrows and then finds himself biting his lip, fiddling with the edge of the duvet as he tries to think of a way to calm her agitation. "I see, you are disappointed." He shakes his head furiously—he'd dropped his gaze which had clearly given the wrong impression—adjusting himself to a sitting position and shifting himself so he can see Edith.

"No Cora. You misread my expression. I was trying to think of a way to prove that I'm not disappointed and I was also thinking about how sweet it was that you are worried about such a thing. Believe me when I say there isn't another man who's as blessed as I am. First you as my wife and now two beautiful girls." He strokes over Edith's forehead.

"But when a man has taken on a wife and he already has one daughter I know it would be nice for him to have a little boy." He shakes his head again pushing a stray curl behind her ear as she once more looks away.

"Cora. Don't get hung up on this please, it doesn't bother me. Besides, we have plenty more time and if I remember correctly you wanted four children. Who says one, or both of them, won't be boys?" He pushes his nose against her hair. Kissing her ear. She seems to give up her thoughts though and instead, with a very soft—not quite full smile—leans back over Edith.

"You still want that many though?" Her questioning eyes peer up at him again and he can't help but sigh rather grandly, an exasperated sound escaping from between his lips.

"Of course Cora. Goodness, what has gotten into you. I think you need to sleep." He reaches out his arms for Edith and at first she offers some slight resistance before releasing her.

"She needs-"

"Winding. Yes, I can manage." She readjusts her nightdress before once more reaching her hand up to smooth over Edith's tummy. Robert shakes his head and lifts himself from the bed. He pulls the bedcovers about, helping her to settle, resting Edith in the crook of one arm. "Now, you sleep. Edith is not going to lie in yours arms again until you've slept for two solid hours." He ignores her grumble, the rolling of her eyes, instead he shuts the door behind him and makes his way down to corridor. He rubs gently over Edith's back as he does so.

Mary will surely be awake at this early hour, when she hears her father alighting for breakfast was her usually hour to cry out. She was on the whole a very well behaved one year old but in the mornings she did like to make it known that she existed.

"Dada." She is stood up in the cot already, although no sign of any tears. One hand grips the rails for support as she bends over to pick up the toy that must have been what had been keeping her calm since she woke—Rosamund's dog—or as he was more affectionately called, 'Row.'

"Morning Mary." He manages to sweep her out from the cot in one easy motion before standing her on the floor and taking her hand. She gestures that she wishes to be lifted, her chubby fingers tugging at his pyjamas but he shakes his head. "I'm carrying Edith."

She seems to understand and upon reaching the stairs sits down and swivels into her crawling position, legs facing downwards before she moves. He and Cora had shown her how to take the stairs safely, and it seems she has taken it on board or, as Robert thought more likely, she still wasn't quite confident enough on her feet to think of walking them.

Robert knows what is needed the second he enters the kitchen and he grabs the banana from the bowl and takes the milk from the fridge. Mary liked to have fruit in the morning with him—she rather like mashing the chopped banana about on her plate and then eating what was on her fingers. She also liked to have a second, more extensive breakfast, with Cora when she came down. Cora had been breastfeeding Mary until the last few months, when the pregnancy and then Edith's arrival had been too much but the doctor had simply said that Mary could drink full fat milk. This was the part Mary particularly enjoyed as she liked hearing the sucking nose her special baby cup made and she could often laugh at the sound.

He leaves Edith in her carrier as he lifts Mary into her seat and passes her the items. She immediately tucks in and Robert returns his attentions to young Edith as the kettle boils over for his coffee.

A ring at the doorbell at such an hour therefore comes as quite a shock. It would only surely mean that there was a large parcel that needs signing for? He takes Edith with him to the door hoping and praying that Mary wouldn't cause a mess in his absence.

After fumbling with the key he is all ready to apologise to their rather mature postman only to find his mother stood on the step. His mouth falls shut.

"Oh good, you're up. I was worried I was too early." Robert doesn't even bother to gesture to his front, to his pyjamas, what would be the point? This was his mother, she wouldn't listen, nor would it make her feel bad about the fact really and truthfully she was indeed a little too early.

She finds her own way to the kitchen, or rather marches her way there. Nor does he find it the slightest bit surprising when she takes his mug of coffee from the sideboard and begins drinking.

"We need to discuss Cora." Her mouth forms a prim line. "I imagine she might be a little disheartened?" She pauses as if waiting for Robert's reply. But he can't form one, it seemed as though she had been spying, goodness, could she read his mind? "Only I imagine she thinks you wanted a boy. I hope you have told her you are perfectly content. A boy would be nice of course. But there's time." Robert only nods stiffly. She taps her glasses gently on the table as she looks up at him but he doesn't meet the gaze. The skin on the back of his neck tingles and he can't bring himself to look at her. His mother always managed to hit him right on the nerves. "I also hope you're going to make sure she starts taking her pill again soon."

Robert is pleased he'd placed Edith in her bouncer otherwise he might have dropped her.

"I don't see that any of this has anything to do with you Mother."

"Despite my reservations your marriage is a successful one, I can see that clearly. I don't want it to fall apart becomes Cora is left at home day in day out dealing with more children than she can cope with. Two is quite enough for the moment."

"I still don't see how any of this is your concern. I certainly don't see why you should waltz in here and tell me what you think Cora should be doing!"

"Oh Robert! Keep your pants on. I'm trying to point out to you what you may not know. You work a lot. Cora deals with the children and it's a great deal of work. Two under fives will be harder for her to manage than she even thinks. If you add a third she will flounder and your marriage will follow. She might feel it is a necessary step in the hope of having a little boy." He turns away, exasperated. Mary munches away across the table, watching intently her father and grandmother.

"I appreciate your point Mum. I do. But I don't see that you needed to open it with Cora's contraception. That was too close to things far too private to be discussing with my mother." She only raises her eyebrows and cocks her head to one side.

"Yes. But I'm no idiot Robert. Roughly three months after Mary was born Cora fell pregnant again. It's easy to forget taking pills when you haven't been for months but if you remind-"

"For heavens sake!" He bangs his fist to roughly on the table, Mary's eyes and mouth begin to shake with the beginnings of tears and Robert lifts her from her high chair. He lowers his voice, aware that he'd told Cora she was to rest, he certainly couldn't have her thinking he was angry with the girls. "Cora doesn't even take the pill. She has a reaction to it. You know one of those 'one is so many people have this.' She...never mind...this isn't a discussion to have. I'm not comfortable having this discussion." He rubs over Mary's back. Soothing his mind more than he is keeping his daughter content. She wriggles, though thankfully not crying, as she points to the ground.

"That all makes more sense now. So that's why Edith happened so quickly. You know Robert you should have really taken the initiative and used another method of-"

"Mother. That's quite enough. I'd really rather you went home but I can't imagine that you'll listen. So please, just drop the subject." She smiles smartly, a soft laugh escaping her lips. Robert doesn't bother asking what that is about. He has two girls to look after, he didn't really have time for dealing with his mother as well. She was best avoided at the best of times.

"I'm only asking you to be careful. Moments of passion can easily be regretted, I'm just pointing out that if you don't keep your head clear you might be a man that lives to regret one." He pretends to ignore her, his mother was one of those people that gave up when she thought she wasn't being listened too. The problem is of course, she is far too near to the finer points of his marriage than he would like.

* I have done a large amount of research on the topic and this is true for a tumour in the brain that redevelops in the same position as a previous tumour. Surgery is not carried out a second time and radiotherapy is too dangerous, therefore survival rate greatly decreases.

I would like to note at this point that I do love MM but this story was always intended to follow a version of canon, so here we are! Please leave your thoughts, it would be great to hear them particularly as I have just thrown us into the wind with the plot!