Twenty three

Born with the moon in Cancer
Choose her a name she will answer to
Call her Green and the winters cannot fade her
Call her Green for the children who've made her
Little Green, be a gypsy dancer


© Little green Joni Mitchell

Bronwen John, hated being alone in the offices.

It was true that despite everything, she worked with varying people everyday and in everyway, but much to her own surprise, she discovered it bored her more not to have a constant companion compared to someone always with her.

At this moment, Tom was busily recording his new songs, so any thought of any sneaking out for illicit rendezvous was out whilst Angharad was much too busy with illicit activities with her new husband for Bron to dare ring her.

Which was why at this moment, she was listening to the loud resounding beat of 'Sympathy for the devil'.

"Got some taste at last then?" Bron turned in her seat slightly, to see Mick Jagger leaning on the door jamb. He looked good for his age, and in Bron's opinion, he shouldn't have lived as long. 'What are you doing?'

"Nothing… I think that's why I'm listening to this crap." He chuckled at her sense of humour, before entering properly and plonking himself comfortably on her chair. He crossed his legs, while Bron smirked.

Mick had always been there for her. When Jane had (by hook or by crook) managed to procure Bron from Peter's family when Jenn had been suffering from stress when Bron was barely 3 months old, it was him who often sat with her in NME, nursing her on his skinny knees and gently chatting to her. He still popped in to check on her, at her mother's bequest.

"What do you want?" she asked, putting her boots on the table and resting them there. Mick imitated her action, making her break her usual grin. 'Why are you trying to cheer me up?'

"I know you're worried about the fertility clinic." The smile vanished, but Mick raised his hand. 'Bronwen you can't lie to me. You know you cant.'

"I'm not going to…" Bron swung her boots off the table and stood. 'Why does everyone assume I'm worried about it?'

"Because I see it in those eyes of yours…" Mick sighed. He realised that Bron wasn't going to listen to him, years of experience warned her of this. 'Want to go out for coffee?'

"I thought you'd never ask."

**

Tom finished recording a few days later, and two days after the fertility clinic fiasco. Bron had thrown herself into her work, and Tom found himself ostracized from Bron's office for the moment.

Jogging lightly upstairs, he found the offices unusually quiet, although the usual form of Alexis, was sitting on the desk. He studied her with laconic laziness.

"Al, is Bron in?" He asked.

Alexis didn't even look up from what she was typing on her small laptop. 'She's free as well…'

"You don't need to tell me about that," Tom smiled as he walked through.

Bron was sitting head hunched over some work. She sighed, and put it aside, pinching the bridge in-between her nose. Tears threatened to slip from her watery eyes, and Bron chewed on her lip to resist the urge.

The doctors had brutally and coldly informed her and Tom, that although her reproductive organs were in full functioning order, the removal of the spleen had left her with a high risk of miscarriage in the early stages of pregnancy.

The news had left Bron cold and unable to cry, until now. Earlier that morning, she'd walked into her office, placed her hand in the open filing cabinet and slammed it shut three times, just to get herself to cry. The grief she felt for a child who would never arrive was overwhelming.

"Hey," she looked up into Tom's dark eyes, and he smiled weakly at her. 'What you doing?'

"Kitty's adopted, and she was showing me…" Bron bit her lip in thought. 'Well… I know it's daft….'

"No," Tom walked over and planted a firm kiss on her lips. 'What were you going to do?'

"I was going to suggest going to see this place," Bron held up a photograph. 'It's of this adoption agency… I wanted to have a look and see if I could write an article on it…'

"I don't mind," Tom kissed her on the cheek.

The adoption agency, was exactly, how Bron imagined it. The loudness of shouting children and laughter. She smiled, as she followed the head of the agency, Mrs. Taylor, down the corridors.

"As you can clearly see," The woman dodged aside as a small child hurtled through, and Bron smiled at the obvious affection the woman had for these kids. Tom hung back chatting to some teenagers, who were doing work experience here. 'Well hello?'

Bron turned to see a young nurse, holding a small child in her arms, who was wailing rigorously. Bron smiled at the little one; which the Nurse obviously noted and placed the child in her arms.

"I'm…" the baby miraculously stopped crying, as Bron looked at it. The pink defined it as a girl, and Bron smiled at it. 'Have you got a seat?'

Mrs. Taylor laughed and nodded, before directing Bron to a seat. Bron sat, nursing the little one and chuckling as it felt her hands. Tom watched idly from the doorway. Tears burned in his eyes; and he shook his head. She rocked the little one.

"How old is she?"

"Only four months... no one seems to want her, because she's a buy one get one free."

"Buy one get one free?" enquired Tom.

"Twin; she's got a twin brother called Paul."

Bron smiled at Tom and winked, although she didn't properly turn her attention to him. She merely giggled at the little one. 'What's her name?'

"Jude."

Later on, Tom sat in bed, quietly reading over some paperwork for recording, although his mind couldn't have been more distanced from this if he had tried. Sighing he put aside the paperwork, turning slightly to look outside.

"Something wrong?" Bron asked, as she entered the bedroom.

"My back is killing me," he complained to her, although this truly didn't show what he was concerned about. Bron furrowed her eyebrows, knowing this, as she left the room once more.

"Then take off your shirt and I'll give you a nice massage. I'm sure you could use it."

Tom unbuttoned his shirt. It really did sound alluring, the massage did. "Alright then..." he sighed as he manoeuvred into position.

Bron came out in a few minutes, wearing a fine red Egyptian cotton robe, which draped elegantly on her frame. Tom was lying on his stomach, and couldn't see, but when he did figure out what she was really after, he warmed up to the idea immediately.

It proved to be an interesting night, to say the least.

"You know after having a fantastic sex," Bron whispered. 'Do you ever think what's the point?'

Tom shrugged next to her, sitting up and pulling her close to him. 'Sometimes why?'

"Because the point of sex is to have kids..." Bron choked.

Tom merely kissed her head. 'We'll find a way Bron.'

"What about those twins?" Bron turned and looked up at him. 'We could adopt.'

Tom chuckled darkly. 'We'll see.'