Chapter 4 – Biscuits and Bouncing

*Come home with us for a while?"

I'd asked without really believing he would agree, but to my amazement he has. I'm trying not to let my wild delight, my hope that we are making progress, shine so bright that it puts Yan off.

I have the pushchair. Ianto is walking beside us. I hope he will notice the admiring glances we are getting as a family.

Ianto is so beautiful. Our children are beautiful too. They have his hair colour, my skin tone, blue eyes and the cutest noses. I love pushing them round town, they always draw admiring glances. I'm so proud of the babies we made. So proud too of the man I married.

Kynan has fallen asleep. Tegan is paying attention though, pointing and clapping whenever we pass an animal, someone's dog usually. I wondered whether to get them a pet, but I decided in the end that they are too young yet. Making a decision like that should be done with Ianto's agreement anyway; I don't want to give him an extra excuse for staying away from us, like being allegic to whatever pet I might choose. He'd probably hate having a pet anyway, what with the hairs and the smells and so on.

We reach the gate and I put in the extra effort needed to get the child-filled pushchair up the slope to the door. To my surprise, Ianto has his key out and he opens the door for us, even helping me to manoeuvere the pushchair over the threshold. This is going much better than I expected.

I take Ianto's coat off him and hang it up. Between us we release the children from their pushchair. His hand grazes mine and I have to resist the urge to grab it and squeeze his fingers. I hoist Kynan out of his seat and carry him upstairs, before he can wake. It's a risk, leaving Tegan and Ianto alone in the hall, but it's rare now for Kynan to sleep in the day and we might do better if Ianto only has one of our babies to deal with, for now. I can tell he's already tensed up and tuckered out from his morning with them.

I see that Tegan has taken charge of her Tad by the time I get back downstairs and is tugging him towards the kitchen. She knows our routines, even though it's been a while since we all were here together like this. I can't help smiling. I wish Ianto would smile too.

Small talk gets strung between awkward silences as I make us some tea. Tegan gestures to show me she wants a biscuit. I check my watch and decide it won't spoil her tea if she has something now. Ianto clearly doesn't approve, though. I deliberately put a plate of biscuits at his elbow for him and start dunking my own into my tea. It's petty, but I can't help myself; if he chides me, at least we'll be communicating, not just filling the distance between us with meaningless pleasantries.

Ianto watches as Tegan sucks at her biscuit. She's doing so well, managing to hold her juice cup in her other hand at the same time. She bestows a huge smile on her Tad; I try not to be jealous, she smiles at me too a lot of the time. It's him she loves most though, I think.

I think of our bed upstairs. It's an out-of-place thing to think of. It's not relevant to our current situation. I need to be glad of getting him into the house, that's progress enough for now. I want to touch him, to kiss him, but those are privileges I'm not confident of trying to claim any more.

I want to ask him to move back in. There's room enough, he could have his own space. He could come and go as he pleases. Even if he wanted to stay out some nights, I'd deal with it...

Tegan disturbs my train of thought. She wants a bounce. "Ianto, would you like to bounce her?" It slips out before I can stop it. To my amazement, he rises from his seat and picks our daughter up out of her high chair. The look he gives her as he lifts her rips at my heart, though.

He bounces our baby on his knee. She smiles and wafts her hands around. He wiggles her from side to side, a gesture that should elicit giggles. She stays silent, as always. He keeps trying though, bless him. He tosses her up and catches her again. He rubs noses with her. Not a sound.

Finally he puts her back in her chair and flops back down on his own seat. He heaves a huge sigh. "How do you cope, Jack?" He asks me. His voice is shaky and his eyes are dull and damp. "How do you stand the silence?"