"Granny wants to know," Pip said, poking his head around the nursery door, "if you want the green quilt or the one that's that shade of yellow that looks like the mustard pot's exploded all over the fabric. Mrs Dale's washed both ready for you."

His mother looked up from where she was admiring the cot and chuckled. "Green, please. Much more soothing for a newborn, one imagines."

"Righto." He looked at her narrowly. "Are you all right? Should you really be doing all this standing about? You know… in your condition?"

Edith stretched, pressing her knuckles firmly in to the small of her back to work out the kinks in it. "I'm pregnant, not on the verge of collapse, thank you very much. And I've miles and miles of time to go yet, anyway." This pronouncement, however, did not seem to do anything to smooth away the worry on Pip's face. A month, his pursed lips seemed to reproach her, is not 'miles and miles'. Edith sighed and offered, "I'll sit down and put my feet up all evening, if you like."

"I would," Pip said firmly. He shook his head, looking for a moment like a much older man. "It's all right for you - it won't be your hide Papa tans when he gets back, if he finds out you've been wearing yourself to death. Oh no, that'll be my fault. Just you wait and see if I'm not right."

"I wouldn't be so sure, dearest. He's been rather strict with me lately, if you must know." Anthony's letters over the last months had been filled with repeated injunctions to be careful of herself; to let the others do the heavy work; to make sure she was resting and eating well and sleeping plenty and -

Really, Edith was getting rather tired of it all. After the initial queasiness had subsided, she'd just felt a little tired in the evenings occasionally. Certainly nothing to warrant the fuss Pip and Anthony were making about it all. "Well," Pip sniffed, "are you finished in here? Then for goodness's sake, come down with me now - I can bring the silly old quilt up later for you. The last thing I need is you going top over teakettle down the stairs as soon as I've turned my back."

Edith let him take her arm to lead her downstairs. "Poor darling! I pity your future wife, you know. Be sure and tell me when you think you've found a nice one, Pip, so I can warn her in advance."

Pip's fingers squeezed tight against her elbow and he paused on the second landing. "I just… I just want everything to go safely for you." His mouth was a touch tight. "Already lost one mama, haven't I? Be bloody careless of me if I lost another, wouldn't it?"

"I'm not going anywhere." Edith gripped his chin firmly and made him look at her. "You know very well that if I ever did anything as silly as dying, your papa would never forgive me. So put the very idea of it out of your head, Master Pip."

The use of that old nickname pulled a faint smile from him at least. "I'd feel a damned sight better about all of this if Papa were here," he admitted as they continued downstairs together.

Edith felt her throat tighten a little. "So would I, my dear," she whispered. "So would I."

"Pip… mentioned Maude to me, this afternoon," Edith told Anne that night. She was busily sewing yet another nightgown for the baby and only looked up at her mother-in-law's sharp intake of breath.

"I… see." Anne spread her hands out helplessly when Edith did not seem about to continue. "Well, it's hardly to be wondered at, is it? He was at such an impressionable age when she died, and… to have it happen while she was expecting… I suppose it's natural for him to be… anxious, now that you're in the family way too. Added to which, you know how he takes after Anthony. I think we're getting a very good picture of how your husband would be behaving, if he were here, and not stuck in a trench."

"That's just what I was thinking," agreed Edith. "But… he's so young, Anne. Not even seventeen yet. He oughtn't to be having all this worry on his shoulders, but… it seems to me that he's been taking on so many of Anthony's jobs over the last year or so… and fretting over me is just one more responsibility he's decided is his. I'm not entirely sure there's anything to be done about it."

"No," Anne sighed. "I don't think there is. You might as well tell the sun not to set, as tell Pip that he needn't take the whole world on to his shoulders. I do wish Anthony had the prospect of a bit of leave, though."

"You and me both. How many boys are there around the country, I wonder, who are having to grow up too quickly, like this? Be 'the man of the house', because their fathers aren't there to be?"

"Much more than there ought, my dear." Anne shook her head. "And I'm afraid we'll see more still before this awful war is done with. Will you write to Anthony about it?"

Edith bit her lip. "I don't… I don't want to worry him, or to make him feel guilty. I want all of his attention focused on keeping himself and Stewart safe and sound, so that they can come back to us in one piece, after all this is over."

"Hmm…" Anne murmured - but she did not sound convinced.

Dearest Anthony,

I pray that this finds you safe and well, and in good spirits.

Edith is blooming, and I can report, as asked, that when she said in her last that she was hale and hearty, she told you no less than the truth. You have married a strong and capable woman, my dear, and you have no need to fear that being in the family way is causing her anything beyond the usual mild complaints of late pregnancy.

In fact, our main concern, this past week, has been Pip. He is quite safe and well, but Edith and I are troubled that he seems to be bearing much more than his own share of worry for her and the baby just now. It's all dredging up memories of his mama, of course, and no wonder, but I think what this situation really requires is a very firm, very reassuring letter from his papa. Make him see that you don't require him to bear the whole household on his shoulders, please, Anthony, or I fear he'll have fretted himself half to ruination by the time his little sister (Edith is convinced, and I won't gainsay her) arrives.

I am sure you see the necessity of writing such a letter, my dear. Edith doesn't want you troubled with it, but quite frankly, I think you must be. While Pip worries so dreadfully about her, Edith is worrying for him equally dreadfully - and what that means, unfortunately, is that in the long run, you might have more to be concerned about. Don't say a word to Edith - but a letter to Pip, just hinting, might be timely.

With my fondest love,

Mama

My dear Pip,

It occurred to me the other day that I hadn't written you a letter of your own for some time - just ones to be shared equally between your mother and grandmother and you. So, here is one - a talk man-to-man, if you like.

Being the lone grown male in a house of women, especially expectant ones, can be rather wearing, sometimes, can't it? Not that your mother and grandmother aren't wonderful - but they won't, and can't, understand the worry we men feel, around such times. Sometimes, they even get cross at us, when we try to manage things as we see fit, because they think we're being overbearing brutes. (Not that we sometimes aren't, you understand.)

I know that you will want, in these last few months before the birth, to give your mother all the care and attention you think she deserves, and that is an admirable wish, and not one I would dissuade you from wholly. But it did cross my mind that you might also feel that that responsibility had doubled, because of my being away and unable to take a share in it practically. That isn't the case, Pip. I know that you will do all you can for your mother, but if things were to go amiss in any way, there would be no reason for me to reproach you for any of it. I am glad that she has you with her, just as I am glad she has your grandmother, but I don't expect you to take on the anxieties of a husband. That is a role that you aren't fitted for, yet, and I hope it will be at least ten more years before you are required to play it.

I wish that I were there myself, to take care of you all, especially just now, and I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am that I am not, and that I have been forced, by necessity, to leave your mother and the baby to the care of others. All I ask, Pip, is that you love her, and write to me if there is anything at all that is worrying you.

I hope to see you very soon.

Papa