First of all, so sorry for the long delay in updating. Have been trying to update for ages, but I kept losing the passion-hopefully, I have once again found it and this chapter will make up for the long delay.

Secondly, big thank you for all my reviews and to all my readers and a super massive thank you to Vader's Mistress and SSLE, (sorry I forgot to spend the draft to you-have had a stressful few months) for being this story's biggest supporters.

Hope everyone enjoys.

'Lucy,' smiled Thomas, as his mind seemed to forget everything that had passed since that snowy day in December. He forgot the pain of being told they could not be together, the heartbreak of being told that their baby was dead, of having to marry Jane and the pretence of being happy. In fact, for a brief moment, the existence of his expecting wife, sat at home, trying desperately to make conversation with his friend, who refused to speak English, was the last thing on Thomas' mind. For as he saw those bright blue eyes again, he was back at Eltham Palace, excited to be once again with the only person who truly understood him, 'Lucy, I...'

'You shouldn't be here, Thomas,' whispered Lucy, looking away from him as quickly as possible to Elizabeth, whose hand she still held tightly as she tried to suppress tears, 'you swore he didn't know?'

'I...' started Elizabeth, as stunned as Lucy by her brother's presence, but she had a notion about where Thomas had received his information from, though in her state of shock, she could not grasp what she should do or say to easy the situation, 'I...'

'John told he,' interrupted Thomas, still with a smile on his face as he rushed forward, feeling nothing but joy as he placed his hands on the side of Lucy's now fully rounded belly. He knew his brother's words had been shouted at him in spite, but it did not matter now. John's words had been true and well placed-Thomas knew he was well deserving of such scorn- but more importantly, they had revealed to him the truth and united him with all that he thought lost, 'and I am glad he did. Lucy you should have told me our child still lived,'

'It ain't our child, Thomas,' muttered Lucy, knocking her former lover's hands away, as she felt the baby growing in her womb kick the spot where its father had placed his hands, 'its my child,'

Thomas watched Lucy shuffle away from him, the smile being replaced with a look of complete dejection, for Lucy had pushed he away just at the moment, when he felt his child connect with him. It had been such a strong tap, that at that moment Thomas had thought that his life suddenly made sense again-only for it to once again be taken away from him.

'Lucy, since when did you become so cruel?' he replied, watching her as she walked over to the small window. He could tell by the struggle for quickness in her steps, that she wanted to run away from him, only the baby was preventing her from doing so, 'it is my child, as well as yours. As you said yourself the night you told me, you did not get the child there yourself. I...'

'And what of you wife, Thomas?' she whispered, placing her hands tightly round her belly as she did so, 'what about the baby you are going to have with her? Don't you think that this is cruel to them? And what about me and this baby, ain't this cruel to us? We ain't and can't be a family ,'

'Lucy...,' Thomas started, but he then stopped as he suddenly saw clearly the path, which laid before him. He had a wife sat at home, waiting for him to return that evening as her delicate fingers tried frantically to sew together clothes for their unborn child, tears falling from her pale eyes as she found her stitches too poor to hold cloth together. But it was not just the tragic image of his young wife, trying desperately to show the world and more importantly her husband, that she could be a good wife and mother, which caused him pain-it was the fact that Thomas had completely forgotten about her very existence!

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have forgotten about Jane and their baby? They were his life now, they were his duty, his chance to demonstrate to God that he was still worthy of the lights of Heaven-yet all it had taken was a single word about the whereabouts of his forbidden love, and he had gone running back, with all the old thoughts and feelings once again stirring in his body-emotions, which had brought him to the state of sin. But that being said, how could he abandon Lucy and their child now , '...we were friends once,'

'And look were that brought us!,' cried Lucy, turning to face Thomas, running her hands over her large belly, emphasising her point to him. She did not want to be cruel, it broke her heart to be sharp, for Thomas was only there wanting to love and support them-something most men in this situation would never offer-but Lucy for the first time, wished Thomas was like the others. She wished he had just forgotten about her and their child, abandoning to them to hand of fate, whilst he continued in his life of perfect appearances with his sweet little wife and their legitimate baby. Lucy hated herself for thinking such things, but it was way things needed to be. Thomas could not be the dotting and loving father to their child that he desperately wanted to be, for it would only bring them all misery and pain, with the added suffering of witnessing Thomas destroy himself over the guilt of their sin.

'This time though, it will be different,' croaked Thomas, trying to make his voice strong and convincing, but as the words fell from his mouth, even he did not believe them, 'we know we cannot stray this time. We will just be friends, wanting to care for our child,'

'And do honest believe that, Thomas? Can you honestly stand here and swear before God, that you feel nothing for me but friendship?' replied Lucy, trying to look her former lover in the eyes, but she found the pain in her heart too much to bear and she turned away as quickly as her belly let her, 'because I know I can't,'

'Lucy...' Thomas started, only once again he could not finish, for he knew every word of her's was true and for that, he hated himself. Staring down at his shaking hands, he loathed himself with every ounce of his being-he was nothing but a miserable sinner. He could not even look after his own child nor help its mother, because he could not stop his heart from loving her. With Lucy, even under the surface of all this formality, he still felt the same passions for her, which he had always felt when she was in his presence-feelings that he had held for her ever since the first time he had laid eyes on her, as she had shouted at him in the middle of that busy London street, '...I...'

'I think we should return home,' interrupted Elizabeth, tiptoeing over to them and taking hold of her brother's hand, 'come Thomas,'

Only moments ago, Thomas had burst through the door, itching with longing to see Lucy, wanting to be with her and their unborn child, which he had long given up for dead and condemned to limbo. And for a brief moment, he had forgotten all that had past, all the heartache and the torment of thinking he needed to repent for his breaking of God's holy laws. In those fleeting moments, it had been last year and he had been rushing to met his future-the beautiful seamstress with the bright blue eyes and the child they had created. But now it was back to the cold present and Thomas remembered all, only this time he was not seized by a frantic panic. There was now heart stopping fear as Thomas felt the flames of Hell licking at his skin as he tried to atone for them all. As he let his sisters lead him away, he felt nothing except a hollow emptiness as if there was no longer anything left of his heart and mind; he was just a shell, hollow as if dead inside, destined to spend the rest of his days pretending to be something he was not. Pretending that he was content with Jane and the children that they would have. Pretending that he was not in love with someone else. Pretending that everytime he looked at the children that Jane would bear him, that he looked at them with the unconditional love and not with a selfishness, where he would constantly be wondering what had become of the child he had created with his true love.

'It's for the best, Thomas,' he heard Lucy say, her crystal voice echoing through his mind as he let Elizabeth and Johanna guided him to the door, 'its bett...ah!'

As the three siblings reached the door, they all stopped to be as stills as statues, as they heard Lucy's cold voice suddenly crack into a cry of pain.

'Lucy,' said Thomas, as he slowly turned around to once again face the woman, who had only just said they should never see each other again-only he could not leave her, for something was not right, especially as he saw that her teeth were biting down on her bottom lip, 'are you well?'

'I am fine,' she replied, turning away, praying under her breath that the tug of pain she just felt, was just a scare. Yet as Lucy though her body was once again returning to its usual calm, she was soon seized by another rush of pain, 'I...I...ouch...I am fin...ouch!'

As Elizabeth and Johanna looked on with equal concern as Lucy once again bite down on her lip as she gripped the back of a chair trying to steady herself, Thomas rushed over to her.

'Lucy, you are clearly not fine,' whispered Thomas, trying to put his arms around her shoulders as he saw how white her knuckles were as she tried to suppress the pain she was trying to hide, 'Lucy I cannot leave like this. Please let me in!'

'Thomas I am fine. It's just a stitch. Now Thomas, please go,' she pleaded, letting go of the chair with her right hand as she tried to knock her former lover's hand away, but as she grab hold of his arm, a bolt of pain rushed through her body causing her to collapse into Thomas arms with a scream-and it was a pain that was not unknown to her, for she had felt it some years before, 'oh God Thomas, I think the baby's coming!'

As she spoke, she dug her nails into Thomas' clothes with another twinge of pain, that ended with the dripping noise of water. With the gushing sound echoing, all looked down to Lucy, whose left hand flew to the wet patch on her dress.

'Oh, Thomas, its comings,' she sobbed, as her other hand clung even tighter to him, 'please help me!'

'I will get the Sister,' gasped Elizabeth, usually so calm but realising the two things she had never prepared for happening, where now unfolding before her eyes and quickly she rushed towards the door.

'I'll go too,' echoed Johanna, as she hurried off after her sister, leaving Thomas alone, with the lady who only moments earlier, had told him to leave her. But now as he felt her body shiver with pain against him and heard low whispers as she tried to suppress her cries of pain, he felt he could not abandon her.

'Come on,' Thomas managed to say calmly, holding on to Lucy even tighter as he tried to guide her, 'let us get you two, to a chair,'

This time Lucy did not protest, this time she willingly let him lead her to the chair and gently sat her down. The pains were becoming sharper now and moving closer together, in such a short space of time-Lucy could only hope that unlike her time with Georgie, this labour would be quick. Last time, it had lasted all day, with Joan, auntie and cousins Elizabeth and Katherine taking it in turns to hold her hand and whisper about how it was all going to be well.

Lucy's husband had been a brute. He had beaten her black and blue on many of occasions, not to mention the games he liked to play with his vile words. He would have made a poor excuse for a father, but that did not stop the fears following through Lucy's mind as she gave her baby life. She was alone, yet God was about to trust her with the responsibility of looking after and caring for the most beautiful of all his creations-and all Lucy could think about as she gave Georgie life, was that she was not strong enough to fulfil this purpose. And time had shown that she was not strong or worthy, for she a lost had lost her little boy, but then she had found Thomas and for those brief few months, Lucy had found peace and strength, which she had managed to hold on to as it had all crumbled around her. Lucy had thought she could carry on that conviction as she gave birth and brought up her new child, but as she felt the pains of birth start to rip through her body, Lucy suddenly felt scared.

'Thomas,' she pleaded, looking up at him as she grabbed hold of his arm even tighter, 'please don't leave me,'

'Lucy,' replied Thomas, kneeling down beside her and ignoring the tiny voice in the back of mind, which was pleading with him to return home to Jane, he placed a hand gently on the side of Lucy's frightened face, 'of course I am not going to leave you,'

Despite the Sister's belief that the baby would soon appear, three hours passed and there was still no sign of the poor little creature, despite the horrendous screams coming from Lucy. Her cries sounded as though she was being tortured, like some poor wrench shackled to the rack as she struggled to separate herself from her child.

Outside the chamber, Thomas paced the hall for the first hour, but as neither of his sisters or any of the nuns appeared to tell him he was a father, he had dropped to his knees and prayed. Lucy screams, shouts and tears echoed around his mind as he prayed feverishly to God to deliver their child and keep Lucy safe from harm. He prayed to them all, to God, his son, the Virgin and St Margaret all asking them to save Lucy from sharing the same fate that her mother and countless other women suffered.

'Lucy, you have to push,' he heard Johanna pleaded through the a jarred door, 'please, you have to push,'

'I'm trying, I'm trying,' Lucy cried, her voice sounding drenched in fear, 'I'm trying. Oh Holy Mother, help me, I'm trying,'

'Come on, Lucy,' Elizabeth echoed, 'you have done this once before, you can do it again,'

But her mother had given birth to her first child with no problems, only to die along with the child at her next pregnancy-what, thought Thomas, if history was to repeat itself with her daughter.

'What the bloody Hell is he doing here?!' boomed the voice of Lucy's father, causing Thomas to hurry to his feet as he heard Lucy's family and Joan arrive, 'I'll kill him for this!'

'And hows that helping Lucy, brother,' sighed Lucy's aunt as she hurried towards the chamber, where Lucy continued to scream, 'now Tommy stay with your uncle and for the love of God, stop him from doing anything foolish,'

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas watched as Lucy's aunt disappeared behind the door as wishing he himself could withdraw from the scene. But he could not leave Lucy, not now she needed him more than ever, besides he could never willingly contemplate leaving her-at the moment, she was the most important thing in his world. She was the only thing that matter, it did not matter that she did not feature in the what the world deemed to be Thomas' life, he need to stay with her until he knew she was safe and well.

'Oh my poor little lamb,' cried Lucy's aunt, bring Thomas out of his thoughts, 'haven't you pushed that little mite out yet,'

'I'm trying, I'm trying,' sobbed Lucy, in between screams, 'but it won't move! It won't move!'

'It's got its feet well and truly under the table,' laughed Tommy, scuffing his feet along the stone floor, only to stop once one of the Sisters appeared in the hall as if from nowhere, passing him with a disapproving look knitted on her brow, causing the smile to leave his face as did the colour as he quickly withdrew to the window seat, 'dear God, how do they do that?!'

'Oh will you be quiet boy!,' snapped Geoffrey, with more of a wretched sigh, than anger as he flopped against the wall, before sliding down it's cold stone surface till he was sat on the floor, he weathered face in his hands.

For a moment, Thomas just watched as this usually angry man, slumped on the floor his body shaking slightly, wondering what had occurred to alter this man's manner. From the first time they had met, on the doorstep of Lucy's old house, Goodman Glossop had been convinced that Thomas was out to ruin his daughter. Perhaps he had been right to try to warn Thomas off-after all, the mess that they were all now in was a clear sight of that-but Thomas had never set out to ruin Lucy or their soon to be born child, he had only wanted and still did want to love and care for them...the same as Lucy's father. Was that what altered his mood, that he too was frightened over the future of Lucy and the baby?

Slowly and carefully, Thomas approached Geoffrey Glossop, hoping that they could finally make amends for Lucy's and the child's sake. However, as Thomas went to place an arm on the man's shoulder, Geoffrey grab hold of his wrist and twisted it in his grip, so that Thomas felt a sharp pain run up his arm.

'I'm sure Lucy told you, that her mother died giving birth to our second child,' he said coldly, his worn blue eyes turning red with a suppressed anger, 'and if my daughter follows her mother's path to the grave; if they have to cut a dead child, you placed there, out of her broken body, I will kill you with my own bare hands,'

'Oh leave him be, it took two of them to get the baby there,' sight Tommy, trying not to raise his voice high for fear that one of the Sisters would return, 'besides Lucy won't die. She would never leave us. She knows we all need her too much. The baby will be here any moment, just you wait and see,'

Only the baby did not appear and despite Tommy's assertion that Lucy would get through the birth, as the hours drifted by and the day became night, it seemed that Geoffrey's fears for his daughter were taking a step closer to becoming true. Her cries and screams were becoming weaker as her body became tired and longed for a rest that the painful, protracted labour, refused to give her. As the candles became lit around them, even Tommy seemed to lose his faith that his dear cousin would pull through. Leaving Tommy trying to suppress tears and Lucy's father, who was constantly shaking in dread of losing his only child, Thomas slipped away to a small chapel at the end of the corridor.

Alone in the darkness of the small chapel, dedicated to the nunnery's patron saint, Thomas threw himself at the altar and on the mercy of the cross. Throughout his life, Thomas had never pleaded with God to save the life of anyone. When his mother had died from that growth in her left breast, he had just excepted it as God's will, only ever praying that she be spared the pain she was in. However, now he broke all the rules, for he could not think of anything worse than losing both Lucy and their child. They were not to blame for what had happened. It had all been Thomas' doing. It was his failure to control his lust that had brought them all to ruin-if only he had fought his urges, then on that long ago stormy night, he would have slept on the chair, instead behaving as if Lucy was his wife. Now they were all ruined, with the terror that Lucy and child would be taken from this world, without them being given a true chance for Thomas to show that they were worthy of the lightly of Heaven.

Canticum graduum De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine;
Domine, exaudi vocem meam. Fiant aures tuæ intendentes
in vocem deprecationis meæ.
Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine, Domine, quis sustinebit?
Quia apud te propitiatio est; et propter legem tuam sustinui te, Domine.
Sustinuit anima mea in verbo ejus:
Speravit anima mea in Domino.
A custodia matutina usque ad noctem, speret Israël in Domino.
Quia apud Dominum misericordia, et copiosa apud eum redemptio.
Et ipse redimet Israël ex omnibus iniquitatibus ejus.

'There you are!,' cried Lucy's aunt, rushing into the chapel and disturbing Thomas' prayer, 'come on, Heaven can wait, cause I need your help!'

Thomas did not have a chance to protest, as the older woman grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him to his feet, dragging him out of the chapel and away from God. As they hurried along the lit corridor, Thomas noticed how tired the woman looked, her greying hair hanging limp around her face, whose skin was sunken and flushed with heat, but it was her eyes that alerted Thomas to the worry, that something had gone or would soon go badly wrong. They were sunken and the flesh around them black-and not just from the black eye her husband had given her that morning.

'I'll kill him!,' roared Geoffrey, appearing out of nowhere and suddenly back to his usual self, grabbing Thomas' collar, ripping him away from his sister and throwing him with a loud thud against the hard, stone wall, 'you killed my daughter! You killed my little girl!'

'For Christ sake, leave him be!, shouted Tommy, surprising Thomas that he was strong enough to pull his uncle off him, but Thomas saw that both uncle and nephew had been shedding tears, 'none of this is his fault!'

'Lucy's not...,' Thomas started, as Tommy once again, tried to stop his uncle from taking a shot at Thomas, who did not flinch as strong fist came within striking distance. After all, if Lucy was dead, which seemed to be the only clear reason for why emotions had reached such a pitch, what did it matter what anyone else did to him. Before he had met her, Thomas had felt himself a mere actor reciting lines others had written for him, but with Lucy things had felt so different. On those moments with her, he had let himself be the person he truly was, he had spoken his true words, he let the thoughts, which were constantly shooting around his mind, tumble from his mouth and when together, Thomas felt as if he truly belonged to the world and that it was a world which wanted him. Their separation had caused him so much pain, that sometimes he found he could not breath, but as long as he knew she was alive, as long as Thomas could believe that Lucy was somewhere in the world, with a chance to smile and laugh again, then he could carry on...he never though for one moment he could lose her forever. For to lose Lucy to the veil of death, would mean that he would have lost any right to mourn her, for as with the day he lost his mother, he would never dare to question the final word of God.

'No she not,' snapped Lucy's aunt, the harshness of her voice revealing her strong south London accent, which she always tried to hide, for fear that she would be deemed less respectable to those around her, but now she did not care. Her brother, bar her son, was the only man whoever truly cared for her. Their father had turned on the two of them when their mother had died, so much so that he had grown to hate his children, that at the moment when she was old enough and Geoffrey was away from the house, their father had sold her to that brute of a husband of her's. Geoffrey had tried to rescue her, but it was too late and besides her brother was not strong enough to fight off Walter, not that it mattered. He was always there for her, always giving her food and money and beds for her and the children every time she had tried to runaway-he did not deserve to loss the only thing he had in this world. Dau was determined that Lucy would not die, 'but she will be, unless you help me,'

'I fail to see...'

'You fail to see a lot, don't you!' replied Dau, her greying hair swirling wildly around her pale and weary face, 'look, the reason my niece can't push your little mite out of her is cause she's terrified. Terrified that she won't be able to look after the little one, once its here. Scared that she won't be able to give that poor little babe a life,'

'But Lucy is a good mother,' stumble Thomas as he fought to get his words out. It was true that he had never met her first child, but he saw the way she was, not just with children, but with everyone else around her. She was kind and caring, not to mention patient-you had to be to be friends with the likes of Joan-and standing for no nonsense. Lucy would have been a good mother and she would be again, 'she will be a good mother,'

'Then for the love of God!' cried Lucy's Aunt, pushing him towards the chamber, were earlier Lucy's shouts of torment had sounded from, 'tell her!'

Once again as she shouted at him, she pushed him hard and with such force, that despite the weakness of her sex and the twenty years she had over him, Thomas flew forward, so that he was now perched on threshold of the chamber were Lucy was struggling to give their child life. Only now her once strong cries had been replaced by low whimpers, that sounded like a wound creature struggling to break free from the poachers trap. Yet it was not this that made Thomas wince and stumble back, but it was the smell of blood, which hit him and embedded itself his nostrils. It was the smell of torture and death-all things, despite the beauty of the icons that depicted the Virgin and child, that could easily be associated with the deathbed.

At Thomas' emotionless state, Lucy's aunt once again shoved him, this time sending him cluttering through the door and into the small, bear chamber. There, almost directly in front of him, looking fragile was Lucy, laying on a single bed, sheets and blankets stained red with the blood that was seeping out from between her thighs, causing Thomas to quickly look away.

He was not sure what was worse about the sight of his lost love, whether it was sight and smell of pain or the look of complete despair on Lucy's beautiful face. Her skin seemed to be so pale, that Thomas swore he could see her bones, whilst the beads of sweat, caused her blonde hair to darken and stick together in lumps and to her fragile face. She looked so small. Not even on that final morning, when he had held her hair back as he watched her be violently sick into a chamber pot, had he seen Lucy looking so ill. Suddenly as he watched her try to lift her head off the sweat drenched pillow, the image of his dying mother flashed before his eyes, causing him to stumble back, nearly knocking Lucy's aunt off her feet.

'Men are so weak!' she sneered, push Thomas forward, 'all too easy they give into lust and then they can't stomach the fallout,'

'Thomas,' whispered Elizabeth, coming forward and taking hold of her brother's hand, 'mother did not die in childbirth, you must not...'

'She still died in pain though,' he muttered, letting go of his sister's hand and slowly walking towards the bed, saying a prayer under his breath as he felt in his pocket for the tiny gold cross that had once been Lucy's mother's, 'Lucy, I do not know much about having babies, but I believe you need to push,'

'I can't Thomas!' groaned Lucy, frantically tossing her head from side to side as if trying to escape from some terrible nightmare, 'I can't, I can't!'

'Yes you can, Lucy!' cried Thomas, suddenly finding some strength as he found the cross, clasping it tight as he did, 'I know you can!'

'I'm tired, Thomas,' Lucy pleaded, grabbing hold of Thomas' arm and squeezing it tight, 'let me rest. Please just let me rest!'

'You know I cannot let do that. If I let you rest, you and our child will die and I cannot let you do that,' continued Thomas with a surprising amount of calm as he placed the cross in Lucy's trembling hand, 'and I know your mother would not want that,'

'Thomas...' Lucy started, staring down at the cross her mother's former employer had given her many years ago, but before she could ask how he had in his possession, she felt his cold hands on her hot sweaty face.

'Lucy, listen to me,' Thomas pleaded, remembering everything they had once shared as he looked into her tired but still sparkling blue eyes, 'you are strong. You are one of the strongest person I know, if not the strongest! You have more strength than most men! You are going to a great mother, the way you were with Georgie! Remember how it felt when you held him in your arms for the first time! Remember all that love you felt! Remember all that belief and courage you had!,'

'But Thomas...'

'I know you blamed yourself for what happened, but remember all we said on that first night- you were not to blame. You were a good mother to Georgie, everyone knows that and you will a good mother to our child too. Lucy...' Thomas paused and suddenly in the heat of the emotions running through him, he leant forward and kissed Lucy gently on the lips, 'you know you can do this, I know you can do this and God knows you can do this,'

'Thomas,' Lucy choked, shocked by Thomas' actions, but at the same time, despite the pain and exhaustion, she found her despair gone and that she had a smile on her lips, 'I better push our child out then,'

'I guess you should,' smiled Thomas, sitting down on the edge of the bed, still feeling calm, 'beside you are not the first woman to have a baby,'

'Thomas!' started Lucy, put decided the urge to push was stronger than breaking the moment, 'ahhhh!'

'Good girl!' cheered Lucy's aunt, slapping her niece's leg as she looked with the Sister between Lucy's legs at the giver of life, 'now push again,'

'Ahhhhh!'

'I mean,' continued Thomas, still in a manner that his father would call having his head in the clouds, 'childbirth is the your punishment for Eve's crime, so given it origins, you should be embracing the pain, not fighting it,'

'Thomas!' hissed Lucy though gritted teeth as she grabbed a handful of Thomas' doublet, 'at this moment I can honestly say that I embrace God for the blessing that you will never ever get me in this state ever again! Ahhhh!'

'I was just trying to help you,' muttered Thomas quietly, trying to free himself from Lucy's grasp, whilst noticing that he was getting no sympathy from the chamber full of women, even from the Bride of Christ, 'I thought...'

'No you didn't think!' snapped Lucy, letting go of Thomas' doublet and grabbing hold of his hand, squeezing it so tight his fingers started to turn purple, 'now be quiet and hold my hand! Ahhhh!'

'Thats it!' cried Lucy's aunt, squeezing her niece's ankle in encouragement, 'only two more big pushes,'

'Ahhhhh!'

'Thomas!' suddenly squealed Johanna excitedly, 'I can see the head! Come look,'

Thomas briefly glanced down at the bed, with its sheets that were stained with blood and shit and felt his stomach lurch. With the colour draining from his face at the horror of what he saw, he decided to focus his attention on a painting of the Virgin that was hanging lovingly on the wall-consoling himself that there had been no hint of fluids at the Nativity.

'I chose not to,' he replied, suppressing the bile in his throat, 'come on, Lucy, just one more push,'

'Come on, Lucy!' cheered Joan, grabbing hold of her friend's other hand, kissing her on her hot forehead as she did so, 'give it some welly girl!

'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!'

'Go on,' whispered Lucy, with a tired smile on her face, 'someone should welcome our daughter into the world,'

'I...I...,' Thomas stuttered, the world around him still not seeming real as the newborn baby...his daughter, cried loudly as if announcing her arrival to the world. It was as though he had stepped out of his life and was now just watching a play before him, in which the ' hero' realise that he still loved the woman, who had just given birth to their child. Lucy looked so beautiful, lying back on the sweat soak pillow, her usually blonde hair almost brown with liquid sticking to her radiant face-watching from his position from the audience, deducing that the 'hero' was realising at that moment that he was still in love with her, 'I do not think I can do this,'

'Well you should have thought about that, before you took my niece for a tumble in the hay,' dismissed Lucy's aunt as she descended on the two of the with a cry bundle of sheets, 'now, look after your daughter, while we clear up her poor mother,'

'But I have never held a child...,'

But Thomas did not have a chance to finish, for Goodwife Cromwell shoved the wriggling mass of sheets into his hands, before turning her attention to Lucy, who was still lying amid the soiled sheets. As the newly released limbs started get use to their freedom, Thomas felt as if she was trying to escape from his grasp.

'You need to support the poor mite's head,' shouted Lucy's aunt over her shoulder, as she helped Lucy sit up, 'and for God sake, calm down or you're going to hurt her!'

'Oh sorry,' whispered Thomas, rearranging his hands, so that he had a better hold off the little moving bundle. He felt his heart beat frantically as he tried to clear his confused mind. Amid the crumpled mound of sheets, laid a little girl, who was one half his and was counting on him to look after her. And he wanted to as well. Thomas wanted to love and protector her, but how could he? He had betrayed her, from the moment of her conception, he had casted this new life into a even deeper pit of original sin, than one God had originally intended. Because of Thomas' inability to control his lusts, he had forever wreaked the chance of salvation for his child, 'I am sorry little one, I ...,'

But Thomas did not have chance to finish his solemn apology to the little babe, whose life he felt he had ruined before it had even begun. For as he looked down at the sheets, trying to find the source of the little, shrill cries, which were coming from the bundle in his arms, Thomas found himself struck complete down by the tiny little face that he found looking back at him. She was so small, looking just like the dolls Elizabeth and Johanna use to play with, only she was more beautiful and as Thomas stared down at her, he was struck by how much this little angel was the perfect image of her mother. The same pale skin with the perfect round face, and as she opened her eyes, Thomas was convinced, that as she lifted her little eyelids for the first time, he would see the sparkling blue eyes of Lucy looking back at him. Only Thomas was wrong-for as he looked into her eyes, he saw her eyes had not inherited their colour from her mother-instead, she possessed the grey eyes of her father!

'Lucy!' he gasped, holding the little bundle tenderly now, as the overpowering sensation of love took over his body, driving away his fears, 'our daughter has my eyes! Baby Margaret has my eyes!'