It's a Sunday night in late November. Tonight Miles came along. He often does that on Sundays, he comes at the end of the afternoon with a bottle of liquor under his arm, or a box of chocolates, and stays all night. He eats with them, plays sometimes chess with Thomas, or they're talking and drinking. Miles tells them about his endless conquests and entertains them with gossips and crazy stories.

And this night, Joan and Anton also turned up unexpectedly. They're free from prison, now for a few months, and they're still living in London. They meet each other regularly and to Thomas's amazement, he and Anton are getting along very good.

So they passed the evening with them fives, by talking, listening, laughing and discussion. It was a pleasant evening, Kitty thinks when she is already lying in bed.

She dozes off, Thomas comes in from the bathroom in his pajamas, ready to go to bed. Then Kitty, suddenly wide awake, says: "Hey."

Thomas: "What is it?"

"Your son kicked me."

"My daughter," says Thomas plain.

Kitty smiles, as Thomas sits down on the edge of the bed, placing his hands on her belly, asking: "Where?"

Kitty lays his hand on the right spot and he feels it too. A little, soft plop on the inside of his hand. He smiles and says with satisfaction: "In any case, a true living little Scot."

Kitty thinks aloud: "I'm getting horribly thick actually. Your son will become a big, heavy baby. "

"Daughter," said Thomas unperturbed. "A robust Scottish lass."

"Does it matter to you what it is ?" asks Kitty.

Thomas says tenderly: "No, honey, as long as everything goes well for you, it doesn't matter to me, Even though you'll deliver five sons at once, I will be glad when you and the baby are healthy. "

Kitty rolls her eyes and says: "Wow, you have really big ideas. Thanks, but no, thank you."

"Okay, one boy then. And the rest of them girls," he teases with a smooth face. He puts his head along her belly, listens and says: "The sound of that heart is like a small locomotive."

Kitty smiles and tosses her hands through his hair.

"We too need to think about names."

"No, we don't, " says Thomas.

Kitty looks surprised: "Huh?"

"We just call her Kitty. It's the most beautiful name there is, isn't it?" He grins, gets up and dodges the pillow that she throws at him.

"What on earth have you been drinking tonight?" she asks him. "You're impossible."

He stretches, yawns, puts the large light off and gets into bed. "Nothing," he says innocently." Miles and Anton were doing the drinking for me."

"Can't believe that."

She switches her bedside lamp off. It is dim in the room. She crawls against him, he wraps his arms round her, yawns again and says: "Honey, I've got you, I don't need anything else to feel good."

"Mm-mm" she says.

The next day on his work, Thomas is walking in a hurry down the hallway, a stack of files under his arm, back from a meeting. He hates it, he is not good at meetings. Ideally, he is in the operating room, and he practices what he's good at. But unfortunately, meetings are a part of his job.

He nearly collides against a man in a wheelchair. He mumbles a quick apology and wants to go through, when the man looks at him and says, "Well, well, captain Gillan. Now I finally have the opportunity to thank you."

He looks at the man and sees something familiar, but doesn't know who he exactly is. So many men who have gone under his hands, he can't remember them all.

Then this man says: "Crecy, Boulogne, Fall 1915," and Thomas know. The Major who lost his legs and tried to bleed to death by removing his dressings.

"Ah yes," he says. "Major Crecy. How do you do."

"Good," said Crecy. "Thanks to you then. Maybe you can't recall, but at the time I wasn't so happy that you had saved me. Now, however, after a few years, I'm glad that I'm not in a grave somewhere in France. "

"So, thank you."

"You're welcome," says Thomas.

Crecy asks: "And what about you? You've left the military I see? "

"Yes, after the war."

"I heard you're married? With that girl Trevelyan? "

Thomas is silent. He thinks, frowns, to what refers that man? "Yes," he stated briefly. "We're married."

"Good thing," says Crecy. "Well, if you'll excuse me? Since today I'm on the Board of Directors of this hospital. I was on my way to a meeting "

Thomas steps aside, Crecy wants to roll away, waits a moment and then says, "I meant it, Gillan. I am in your debt."

"I was only doing my job, sir," says Thomas shortly. "But thank you."

Then Crecy rolls on and Thomas goes back to his work.

In the evening, he talks about it with Kitty. She remembers Major Crecy and especially his wife: "That day I got the letter from my mother, in which she told me that I am dead to her," she says. "I had that letter to be read to her."

"Really?"

"Yes. Perhaps that's why she remembers?"

"Possible"

She changes the subject: "Thomas, there is a letter from your mother. She's asking for us to come to Glasgow at Christmas. What do you think of that idea? "

"What do you think?"

"I think it's a great idea. Then I can finally meet your sisters. And Christmas in London, I do not really want to think about that," she says with a gloomy face.

"How were your Christmases when you were young?"

"Going to the church, unpack presents, well, if there were any presents. However, we went to the Christmas party of the Sunday school. I've got my first orange there." He smiles at the thought.

"And yours?"

"When I was a child, I loved Christmas. It was fun. Presents under the tree, my grandparents came, my brothers were home from boarding school, so much happened in the house.

With Elliot, well, Christmas was mostly boring. And when Sylvie grew up," she holds back, frowns her forehead, thinks back.

"You know what," she then says quickly, "Let's go to Glasgow with Christmas. Let's create some new memories there. It'll be nice." She pushes the thoughts of Sylvie away and smiles at him.

He looks at her thoughtfully. "Sylvie," he says, "That's the reason you don't want to stay in London for Christmas, isn't it?"

"Yes," she replies.

"Perhaps I need to get used to the idea that I will never get to see her again. Maybe she thinks I'm dead, or that I didn't love her anymore, or whatever they have said to her. Maybe she's forgotten me.

It is now more than four years since I've seen her. I wouldn't even recognize my own child, I think, if I would see her. And she will certainly not recognize me "

He stands up and sits down on the arm of her chair, his arm over her shoulder: "She has not forgotten you. A child never forgets his own mother."

They both fall silent for a moment. Kitty thinks on her mother. Would her own mother still be thinking about her? She does not know.

"You know, I want us to have a good time at Christmas. It's not fair to wish that things were different. We live now, in the here and now. We, the two of us, the baby," she says. "Apparently I associate Christmas in London with Sylvie. With sadness too. And although I will never forget her, I also want us to be happy."

He hugs her close to him: "Maybe, fate will turn. Don't give up your hope on her."

She shakes her head. "I will not."

"Are you sure you can manage?" he then asks, as he puts his hand on her pregnant belly.

"Oh yes," she says. "We'll manage."

There's a wandering thought in his mind, something with that Crecy today, what was it that man said again? He pushes the thought away, stands up and says: "So, Christmas in Glasgow then, well, let's do it ."

So, I hope you've enjoyed reading this. If so, please tell me. Any feed-back, comments, questions are very welcome!

And thank you for your review, Kate!