Mags goes back to school in September, and Aurora misses her during the day far more than she expected to. Misses her voice through the window on sunny days, and her companionship on rainy ones. She expects to feel the walls of the house close in around her again, now that all three of the others are heading out the door with a purpose in the mornings, but somehow that never quite happens. It takes her a few days to realize it might be because she no longer feels like she's alone in the house.
She's too aware, now, of the baby as a physical presence inside her, another life with its own little mind sharing the space with her. A part of her attention seems to be with it always, no matter how she tries to focus on her work, on other tasks. She still can't bring herself to speak to it as Alfred does, but she tracks its movements, finds she's able to picture its position inside her, knows its hands from its feet when it kicks and prods. Imagines it sleeping when it's quiet. Notices when it begins to respond to things in the outside world. Music from the radio, Alfred's voice, changes in her position. The food that she eats. Realizes one day she can see the movement under her skin when she's sitting still as well as feel it.
And as the drafts of her project progress to a state approaching finished, she starts to read them aloud. Partly to check the flow of the words, the progression of the arguments, but partly also to give the baby the sound of her voice during the quiet morning hours. So it can become familiar with the cadences of French as well as English.
And she realizes after a week or two that she's actually glad of the time alone in the house. There's something about this thread of connection she's building with the life inside her that feels so fragile, so personal, she's hesitant to share the experience of it with anyone else. Even Alfred. Though she finds it both fascinating and delightful to watch him build his own ties with the baby. A communication that happens through her skin, by voice, by touch, but that is no longer necessarily mediated by her.
So it's several weeks before it even occurs to her to share some of the experience with the other members of the family. Before the self-consciousness of this new relationship has eased enough that she's willing to invite anyone else in.
But on one rainy Saturday late in September, when Mags is grumpy and restless because she and Lizzie can't go out to play, Aurora finally realizes the kicks that have been distracting her all morning might just distract Mags as well.
"What is it?" Mags grumbles, when Aurora calls her over.
"Someone wants to say hello. Here, give me your hand."
Aurora takes Mags' palm and lays it against her side. And Mags' eyes go wide, her bad mood instantly forgotten.
"What was that?"
Aurora can't help a laugh at Mags' surprise.
"That was the baby."
"It poked me!"
"It's learning how to move around, I think. And it's all knees and elbows, just like you."
Mags is still growing. Taller, almost, by the day and stuck in the middle of a clumsy phase, no longer entirely sure where her arms and legs end. Aurora, her own body growing and changing on her at a similar rate, speaks the words with all the empathy in the world, and Mags doesn't so much as bristle at the gentle teasing.
Just kneels down beside Aurora's chair and places her second hand next to the first, waiting for another kick.
"Does it hurt?" she asks.
And Aurora shakes her head. "You got it right, I think. It's a little like getting poked from the inside. But it's not uncomfortable yet."
"Will it be?"
"Mrs. Rossiter says it can be. But I haven't done this before. You'll have to ask me again in a few weeks."
She reaches out and gives Mags a playful poke of her own, and Mags squirms aside giggling. The baby, seemingly playing along, squirms too.
"That was another one," Mags says, all focus suddenly back on her hands.
She pokes back gently in the spot the baby kicked, and the baby moves again. Aurora herself falls still, almost afraid to intrude on this basic code they're tapping out through her skin.
"Did you feel that?" Aurora asks her.
And Mags nods. "The baby answered me."
"I think it did."
They repeat the poke-and-response two more times before baby seems to tire of their game and goes quiet again.
"What's it like in there, do you think?"
Aurora glances down at Mags in surprise. It hadn't occurred to her to wonder.
"I don't know," she says, considering. "Dark, probably. And warm. Alfred says he can hear swishing sounds, like when you put your head under water in the bath."
"Could I listen, too?"
Aurora nods, lifts her blouse out of the way, so Mags can press her ear against skin. Mags listens in silence for a long moment.
"What do you hear?"
"Swishing," Mags confirms. "And gurgles?"
"That's probably my stomach."
Mags giggles. "It's noisy in there."
"The baby can hear our voices, too. Alfred talks to it sometimes."
Mags lifts her ear and turns her head to place her mouth close to Aurora's belly instead.
"Hello, baby."
She looks up at Aurora. "Can it understand us?"
Aurora shakes her head. "No. Not yet. Not until months and months after it's born, I think. We should ask Mrs. Rossiter."
Another item on her endless list of questions. For a moment, Aurora despairs of ever feeling ready, of ever having the answers she needs in the moment she actually needs them.
"How long is it now? Until the baby comes."
"A little over two months. Not long, now."
Mags scowls up at her. "Yes it is. Two months is forever."
"It's less than seven. You said seven was forever."
Mags sighs. "Aurora."
"What was that tone for, young lady?" Neil says, a teasing half-smile on his face as he steps into the living room from the hall with his coat in his hands.
"Uncle Neil! Come and feel the baby move."
Neil lays his coat over the arm of the sofa, but hesitates before crossing to join them. Catches Aurora's eye over Mags' head, as though he's waiting for her to stop him. As though he shouldn't be trusted. And Aurora finally recognises in his fear an echo of her own.
She takes a breath and waves Neil closer. Manages a crooked smile.
He hesitates again when he reaches Mags' side, and for a moment Aurora shares his awkwardness. There's something uncomfortably intimate in asking him to place his hands on her skin. This is not the usual shape of their relationship. But Mags' takes hold of his hand with no qualms at all and pulls it forward to place it where her own had been.
"It might be sleeping now," she says, with great authority. "But it answered me earlier when I poked it."
"You poked it?"
Neil looks faintly horrified, and Aurora finds herself struggling not to laugh.
"To be fair," she says, "the baby started it."
Aurora shifts position in the chair to better accommodate them, and that's enough to start the baby moving again. Neil's hand isn't in quite the right position to feel it, but all three of them see her skin jump at the baby's kick.
"Did you see that?" Mags whispers.
Neil nods. Removes his hand from Aurora's skin to rest it on Mags' hair instead.
"I remember when that was you," he says quietly. "I came back from Shanghai not long before you were born."
Mags turns her face up to stare at him. "When my daddy died?"
"That's right. I came back to help your mum. So we could all be together. She used to say you were bound to be a happy baby, because you kicked so much you must be dancing in there."
Neil rarely speaks of his sister, and Mags is clearly a little overwhelmed by the sudden turn in the conversation. Aurora reaches out to catch Mags' fingers in gentle reassurance.
"And was she?" Aurora asks quietly. "A happy baby?"
Neil sucks in a rough breath, distancing himself from the memory once again.
"She was. Most of the time, anyway." He tweaks Mags' braid, trying for a smile. "You were certainly loud."
Mags' face bunches in protest. "Uncle Neil, all babies are loud."
"I guess we'll find out, won't we." He turns his attention back to Aurora. "I'm just heading out to run a few errands. I'll be back later."
She nods. "There's an umbrella under the stairs."
"Ta." He kisses the top of Mags' head before turning away to retrieve his coat. "Be good."
Mags is still a little unsettled, and the idea of talking to the baby has clearly lost its charm for the moment.
"What do you think," Aurora says. "Shall we follow him out? Brave the rain and go to see what's playing at the cinema?"
And Mags' eyes light up with what is at least partly relief. "Yes, please!"
"You get the coats. I'll go and see if Alfred wants to join us."
"Can Lizzie come too?"
"If Mrs. Rossiter says it's okay."
"I'll go and ask her!"
"Coats first, please."
"But—"
"No buts. We'll stop at the Rossiters' on the way."
Mags sighs dramatically, but does as she's told. Hands Alfred his coat when he comes down the stairs. Dashes ahead as they step out into the drizzle, her earlier upset already forgotten.
Mags' interest in the baby and its movement restores itself within a couple days, and soon she and Aurora build a new little ritual together. When Mags comes in after school for a snack before heading back out to play, she and Aurora spend a quiet half-hour together, and Mags invariably asks to listen to the baby, or to feel it move. To tell it tidbits from her day. Aurora can't quite read what's driving Mags' fascination, but she seems to be building a connection of her own with the unborn child in much the same way Alfred is.
Neil is another matter, though, and Aurora begins to wonder if she should push him a little on the subject of his sister. It's clearly on his mind, and he is gruff or pensive around the house by turns. When he's home. He takes to disappearing out of the house in the evenings, heading either down to the pub or off for a walk.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she finally asks one night.
She's been finding it harder to sleep as her discomfort grows, and tonight even the baby inside her is restless. She noticed the light on in Neil's sitting room as she headed downstairs, and he waved her in when she knocked.
He shakes his head in answer to her question. "I just didn't realize how much all of this would remind me of her."
"I never knew that's why you came back to England."
"I was sending money home from Shanghai to help out. But when Bill died, it just seemed the thing to do. I was too far away."
"You're a good man, you know that?"
He shakes his head again. "It was selfish. I should have stayed in China. When I got the job with the Met in London, the whole family moved south with me."
"Neil. It's not your fault."
"How do I explain that to Mags?"
"There's nothing to explain. You made the choices that would keep you together as a family. She'll understand that. She just wants to find the connection to her past, and you're the only one who can give her that."
"Does she, though? You saw her face. She was only five when Sophie sent her back north. I wonder sometimes if she remembers her mother at all."
"She remembers. She's only frightened because we never talk about it. Because it's painful for both of you. But that will get easier the more you do it."
Neil falls silent. Considering. Aurora fidgets with the corner of a cushion on the couch, wrestling with questions of her own. Uncertain still whether she should voice them out loud. But if ever there was a time, this is it. And she's not sure she'll ever get up the courage to try again.
"Does it bother you?" she manages finally.
Neil glances over at her in surprise.
"I never wanted. I'm not trying to replace your sister. You know that, don't you?"
He takes a breath, drops his gaze.
"It's strange sometimes. To see you with Mags. It should be her, you know?"
"I know. I'm sorry."
He struggles for a moment with the words, and Aurora's heart pounds into the silence, a driving rhythm of fear and guilt.
"But when I think what it would have been like to try to do this alone. Without you. Without Alfred. There are things I just. I can't do for her."
Aurora's smile is sad. "Between the three of us, our broken pieces might fit together well enough to make one whole person."
"I'm trying." He sighs, frustrated. "It doesn't bother me, Aurora. It hurts sometimes, but it doesn't bother me. I'm glad she has you. That you're willing to… to mother her. It's not what I expected."
Aurora laughs a little, because she doesn't want to cry. "Me either."
Neil falls silent again, but it's an easier one this time, gives them both a chance to catch their breath. And finally Neil meets her eyes again, manages half a smile.
"You should go back to bed. You look tired."
She sighs. "I am tired. The baby, unfortunately, is not."
He stands and offers her a hand to help her to her feet. "That part is only going to get worse, you know."
"I know."
He reaches out a hesitant hand and taps lightly on the curve of her belly.
"Hey you," he says gently. "It's late. Time to let your poor mother get some sleep."
She laughs. "The voice of authority. If it works, I'll make you do it every night."
"Gladly." He follows her out the door, heading for his own bedroom. Kisses her cheek before they part on the landing. "Goodnight, Aurora."
She squeezes his hand. Starts up the stairs. "Goodnight."