All i can say is sorry for the delay - back at work now = rubbish!

Chapter 47

1990

It took some effort for Elsie to push herself up and out of her chair. So much so that she stood for a moment, leaning on the back of the chair in order to catch her breath.

Her ankles were so swollen she felt like she could hardly move her feet and the pain in her hips was unbearable. For almost seven and a half months it had been a relatively straightforward pregnancy. No real sickness. No backache or odd cravings. Now, as she approached her delivery date, she felt like her entire body had been blown up.

She set off across the lounge heading for the kitchen. She needed tea and a snack, preferably something sweet. It was a long, slow Saturday. She couldn't do very much of anything anymore and, even though the nursery was ready to go, she felt agitated, as if she should be filling every second of her day with useful tasks before the birth. Packing in as much as she could before she ran out of time.

There was no point in denying it or pretending any different – she was nervous, in fact, terrified. The thought of having this new life reliant on her. Another human being completely dependent on her. At times it became too much. Whenever she watched the news she started to fear what kind of world her child would grow up in. The things she couldn't control or protect them from.

She'd just settled back into her chair and opened the mini roll when the telephone rang. Pushing heavily on the arms of the recliner she got to her feet once again and headed for the phone table, answering it after the sixth ring.

"Hello?"

"Is he there?" A female voice, young, agitated.

"Who?" Elsie leant back against the wall.

"Joseph of course. Is he there?"

Elsie swallowed, licked her lips. "I'm his wife. Whom, may I ask, is calling?"

"Oh, never mind." She said, irritated. "I'll call him at the pub."

The line went dead and Elsie stood helplessly, the receiver dangling in her hand. After a minute or two she put it down and moved to sit, glancing up at the clock, 19:35 and she'd been on her own all day.

She picked up the cake and then put it aside again, no longer hungry. The woman's, maybe even girl's, voice kept going round and round in her brain. Who was she? What did she want? And where was Joe? Which pub? How did she know he'd be there? Elsie had assumed he'd been at the farm all day working.

A sharp kick to her abdomen reminded her of the life so close to being in her arms and she rested her hand on her bulging stomach feeling the ripple of movement beneath her skin.

Some things were more important to her than worrying where her husband was. Every kick and movement concerned her now, wondering if this was it, if her baby would be born that day, that night.

Oddly, it never even occurred to her to worry about the fact that she might be alone when she went into labour or that she might end up giving birth alone without Joe at her side. She had no fears regarding the birth; in fact the thought of it comforted her.

She'd no longer be alone in the world.

Present Day – April

Hunched up on the couch Elsie huffed, frustrated as she lifted one sheet of paper, laid it on the floor and then started on the next. Report checking: dull, repetitive and time-consuming. And certainly no way to spend a Sunday morning.

She'd already been at it for almost two hours and her usual speed and patience with such a task had passed its limit a long time ago.

Leaning back, she stretched out her legs and chewed on the end of her pen as she scanned through the document.

At the other side of the house she heard a door open, and then Charles' mumbled voice – clearly he was chatting to the kittens. She smiled, taking the pen from her mouth; as much as he'd protested about getting them he was absolutely smitten. He'd been gardening all morning and the pair of them hadn't left his side, following him around from border to border as he chatted to them and pulled up weeds.

She jerked her head back as she felt something cold tap her cheek and closed her eyes as William brushed his head across her face.

"Well, hello baby." She cooed, kissing his damp fur. "You been rolling in the grass have you?"

"Hey, get down from there." Charles chided as he entered the room. "Your paws are filthy."

"Daddy told you off, didn't he?" Elsie teased, reaching round to rub his neck. "Well, you just ignore him and do what the hell you want."

"They always bloody do." He lifted William from the arm of the sofa. "Go on, there's tuna in the kitchen." He said, sending him on his way.

"Tuna?" Elsie questioned. "Spoiling them?"

He shrugged, lifting her feet and seating himself on the end of the couch, her feet placed in his lap. "It's Sunday."

"It is indeed. So that'll mean roast chicken later, I believe?"

He smiled, yes there was a chicken sitting in the fridge waiting for him to prepare for dinner, as she very well knew. "They don't necessarily need to have any…"

"Ah, but we both know you'll cave in eventually and let them have it." She wiggled her feet against his leg until he started to rub them.

What are you doing?" He asked, watching her face.

"Checking reports."

"Looks dull."

"Painfully so." She sat back, slipping her glasses off as his thumb pressed into the muscle below her big toe. "That feels good."

"Can I have you for a while?" He asked hopefully, shaking his head as she smirked at him. "Not like that." He shook his head. "Always filthy."

"Filthy!" She dug her heel into his leg. "What do you want me for?"

"Well, as odd as it may seem in these modern times, I rather fancy spending some time with the woman I live with."

"What a revolutionary idea." She smiled.

"Isn't it? I believe it's a called a 'relationship.'"

"Ahh, so that's where I've been confused." Lifting her feet from his lap she leant over and deposited the rest of her form reports on the coffee table, before curling her legs beneath her and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. "What do you want to do with me?"

He resisted the urge to once again mourn the fact that whatever he wanted to do with her in the comfort of their bedroom still remained elusive to him, and instead brushed her hair back from her face. "Go for a walk. It's been a nice morning, you've missed it sitting in here."

"That sounds nice. I guess we do have all this beautiful countryside around us to indulge in."

"Nothing better. A Sunday walk then roast chicken for a late dinner." He kissed her. "Go get changed then Ms Hughes."

"Will you still call me that when we're married?"

"When being the operative word."

"Mmm, I guess we should consider a date. I had thought…" she bit her lip, "…we could try and book for next Easter."

She actually thought he pouted.

"An entire year away."

"I know. But it gives us time to plan things, make sure we get what we want. The church, you said yourself, is always booked up early." She squeezed his hand. "It'll go fast."

"I suppose so." He shrugged, "Still, it'll seem forever."

"Honey, we've waited this long."

"My patience must know no bounds. Took me seventeen years just to get a date – what does another year matter?"

She laughed, "Good way to look at it. I'll go change."

"You spoke to Anna today?"

"Yes," she got up from the couch, stretching her back – a couple of hours walking would do her good. "Nothing's happened. She's fed up but fine. Reminded me of myself at this stage – bloated and fed up. Only at least she knows John is completely devoted to her."

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it." She saw the look that passed over his face and stopped herself. They didn't shut each other out of anything anymore. Not even when it was an awkward or painful topic. They'd made that particular promise on a freezing cold beach in Cornwall. "When I was due to give birth to Anna, literally weeks away, I realised Joe was sleeping with other women. Well, at that time I thought just another woman."

"Does that…" he swallowed, sat forward on the sofa. "Does it still bother you?"

She folded her arms across her chest, "Not in the way you think. It bothers me that I ignored it, that I knew and didn't confront it. But then, it bothers me that I put up with so much. I convinced myself it was okay, you know, that it was just how marriage was." She stepped forward, her knees resting against his. "I never dreamt there could be this kind of relationship."

He gave a slight nod of his head. "Thank you for telling me."

"I'll tell you anything now, you know that, you only need ask." She reached forward and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll go change, we can talk more if you want, as we walk."

"Tell me, why you're worried about him." She asked later, when they were breathing deeply from climbing the hill, their cheeks ruddy and chapped.

He'd strode ahead, and she'd followed more slowly, watching him dig his hands into his coat pockets as he gazed out at the view. They could see all the way down to their house – how small it looked in the distance – it made her realise how lucky they were though, surrounded by all this peace and beauty.

"Sometimes, I feel he's like some spectre – like I'm waiting for him to make an appearance."

"Good lord, Charles, you don't think I'd ever go back…?"

"No, no, not that." He turned to face her, his hair blowing forward in the breeze. "Of course not that."

"Then what?" She crossed over to him, hooking her arm through his as they began walking again.

"I don't know. It's irrational really."

"But you're going to tell me anyway." She instinctively held him tighter, pressing into his side.

He smiled, of course he was. "I worry sometimes, that somehow he can still have an influence. Ruin what we have. What I've finally got. I know that sounds ridiculous, maybe even selfish."

"It doesn't, and he won't. I won't let him. He's out of my life."

"But not Anna's, and by extension, yours, ours. This baby will know him as granddad."

"He or she will know you as granddad."

"I don't want to be in competition. I don't want to feel I'm being compared to him."

She was quiet for a while mulling this – irrational or not these fears were in his head and she wasn't entirely sure how she could calm them. She couldn't promise Joe wouldn't be in the baby's life. According to Anna he'd turned a corner, had reached out and offered the olive branch.

"He has his own life," she finally plumped for. "A wife, a son on the way."

"Does that bother you? Him having a child with somebody else at his age when you and I…"

She narrowed her eyes, "Does it bother you? Surely you aren't jealous of him?"

"No, of course not. Well, not in that way."

"In what way then?"

He turned his face away from her, embarrassed by his own stupidity, it sounded childish now to say the words aloud. "That he had you for all those years, as a wife. That he had so long with you. And he treated you badly and I would've…" He sucked in a tight breath, "I would've cherished you, you know, I just would've –,"

She touched his hand, "You don't have to explain. I know. But you have no reason to be jealous of him Charles. What we've shared over just two years has been far more powerful and significant than all those years with him. You do know that, don't you?" She stopped their walk, making him turn to face her. "I've never believed in soul mates Charles, it seems an altogether ridiculous idea considering how many people are on the planet. But you are in my heart. In my soul. And that won't ever change."

He pressed his lips to her forehead, eyes closed.

"He never even got close." She added. "The longer we were together, the less of my heart he had."

He nodded, kissing her again. "And this baby, his son?"

"I have no reason to feel jealous of that, never, I made my choice…"

"What choice?"

"That I wouldn't have anymore children with him. I chose not to."

His brow furrowed, "You chose not to?"

Nodding, she tugged on his arm, moving them forward through the thickening grass.

"I knew, pretty much as soon as I'd given birth to Anna, that I didn't want anymore. Not with him. All that time I'd been able to ignore the reality of it all. And then with her there, totally reliant upon me, I had to face things. And there was no way I wanted another child – I didn't even want my daughter in that environment. So I spent the next twenty years trying to hide it all away from her. Protect her." She shrugged. "Contraception wasn't the best option in the situation, I had to hide it from him, but it was all I could do and besides, I don't think he really cared. I tried different things over the years, saw different Doctors. I guess, just like any other normal woman, trying not to get knocked up."

"There was nothing normal about any of that Elsie, nothing."

She paused for a moment, letting his words turn over in her mind as they set off back down the other side of the hill. "Yes, I know."

1990

It had only been five weeks, five short weeks, and yet her life had changed irrevocably.

With the announcement that she'd had a girl, with the sound of the first sharp cry and gulp of oxygen, her heart loved completely for the first time. That squirming weight placed on her chest with dark eyes and fair hair and a scrunched up rosebud mouth and everything had changed. There was nothing she wouldn't do, nowhere she wouldn't go, nothing she wouldn't try to get for her.

Anna. Her grandmother's name. It had been so easy, in the end, to decide.

Things had been better between her and Joe, oddly. Like her, he'd fallen in love, and she wondered, when she sat and watched him bathe Anna in the baby bath set up in the lounge by the fire, if he'd ever loved before. If he'd ever loved her.

She thought she loved him. When they'd met and he'd promised her the world and saved her from the farm and her parents – it had felt like love then. And there were times, when he'd hold her at night watching television or bring her flowers home and dance to the songs on the radio, it felt like love then. But that love appeared fleeting, as changeable as the weather. At times strong, at times fulfilling and passionate. Other times that love was painful, suffocating, and she wanted to be rid of it. Times her heart ached, times when she felt emptied by his love.

In contrast, her love for Anna was pure. Consuming. As boundless as the very air that she breathed.

When he'd come to her, four weeks and four days exactly after giving birth, slightly drunk, and woke her for sex, she'd kept her eyes closed. He'd pushed up her nightgown and she'd let him get it over with because that's what you did, as a wife, that's what was required of you.

After, he'd slept beside her, one arm on the pillow by her head and she'd stared at his nails – dirty from working on the farm – and felt the faint tang of disgust in the back of her throat.

She rolled out of bed, gave Anna her feed, and rocked back and forth on the chair in the nursery with her daughter in her arms. She remembered snatched conversations from when she was a child, out with her mother and her aunts shopping one Saturday and there had been a café in the afternoon and she'd had strawberry milk and shortbread and swung her legs as she sucked on the straw in her glass.

And the women had been laughing, giggling, and she hadn't understood why, what was so funny. But she'd kept quiet as she'd listened and drunk her milk, seven years old and blind to the ways of the world. And her mother had said something about having to put up with it, it was what wives did. Everyone did it. Every woman did it. And they'd all laughed.

She'd wondered what every woman did. What every woman put up with. But smiled along with them.

When she was fourteen she remembered keenly studying Mercutio's Queen Mab speech in her Literature class: "This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, that presses them and learns them first to bear, making them women of good carriage." And by then she understood what it all meant. She'd heard enough, seen enough.

As a child she'd always felt distant from her mother, not unloved, just at arm's length. As a teenager she didn't understand her, at times she hated her for the decisions she made. As a wife perhaps she understood her better. Choice wasn't always so straightforward or clear cut. Some choices were made when your back was up against the wall and a knife at your throat. Some paths were rocky and painful but still easier than the alternative.

It was the woman's role to bear. And lord knows there were things her mother had bore that Elsie never could. At least her husband didn't beat her. At least her husband loved his daughter.

Marriage wasn't all hearts and flowers. No literary romance. The reality of it was harsher. She'd learnt that as a child, watching her parents maneuver around each other like birds of prey. Maybe, when she was just twenty and preparing to wed, she'd imagined her marriage a different way. Had pictured a partnership, lifelong companionship and respect, but the years had taught her not to expect too much.

Life would go on. And she had this now, motherhood, more precious than anything else could ever be.

Present Day – Sunday evening

Elsie had finished her work when they returned from their walk, Charles had prepared dinner, and by the time it was ready she'd packed her school bag and left it in the hall ready for Monday morning. They had an evening together and she looked forward to it.

They'd shared wine over dinner and she was glad they'd been no more talk of Joe. They'd spoke over the changes that were coming – of summer with a baby, of their first Christmas as grandparents, of their potential wedding come the following Easter.

After doing the dishes she'd gone for a shower, leaving him to warm treacle sponge and make custard.

Her eyes were closed and her face under the faucet when she heard the door open. She didn't turn, waited for the touch of his fingers against her spine before she made any sign she knew he was there.

"I thought you were making dessert," she said gently.

She felt his lips touch her shoulder, the brush of his Sunday stubble against her damp skin.

"It can wait." His arms curled around her waist, his belly pressing against her lower back.

For a long time they remained that way, him holding her whilst the warm water swam down her body, surrounded by the fragrant steam.

"I'm sorry for earlier." He said, his lips against the side of her neck, her wet hair against his face.

She turned slowly in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest and lacing her fingers together against the back of his neck, "You've nothing to apologise for. Nothing."

Lifting her face to his she kissed him soundly, the water on their lips mingling.

"He isn't our life Charles, he never will be."

"Sometimes I feel like… like we're not quite rid of him. You aren't."

"I've spent enough on therapy this year to realise I am. Sometimes, alright yes, maybe there are things I'd like to say, questions I'd like answering. But then I realise I don't need to know, I don't need answers." She bit her lip, pondering her next comment. "In ways I still blame myself," she finally admitted.

He frowned, "Oh, but you mustn't. Never."

"I know," she nodded, "but I let him, I lived that life and I accepted it. I thought that was what marriage was, that everyone was hiding something behind closed doors. I was raised thinking that's what wives did. They coped and put up with things. They didn't speak out. It took me many, many years to realise how wrong I was. And by then it didn't matter anymore."

"Why not?" He asked, keeping his voice neutral, being careful.

"Because it had stopped, for the most part. I was older and he had other women. I feel guilty though… you know, I often wonder if he'd hurt other women, girls, and for that I feel guilty."

"You have to be selfish every now and then Els, heal yourself and not the world."

"I feel healed." She said. "I know I'd never go through anything like it again. I'm stronger. I'd fight. And you know what," she tickled the back of his neck. "I'm incredibly happy. That's not down to any amount of therapy."

He swayed her against him. "You do realise I've never had this before?" He said. "I've never been this close to anybody – in every sense of the word. As close as two people possibly can be."

She smiled broadly, "And you think I have been? Charles this is as new for me as it is for you."

"Pretty wonderful, isn't it?"

She nodded, her smile stretching, "Yes. Pretty wonderful." She ran her hand down his back. "Now, who's washing whose back first?"

Late 1990

"Well, Mrs Burns, you seem to be doing very well." The doctor said as he moved around his desk and took a seat. "And Anna too, are you managing to get some sleep?"

"Yes. Thank you. We've got our routine now."

"Good. Good." He muttered, scribbling on his notes.

"That wasn't the reason I made an appointment though."

"Oh?"

"The thing is Doctor, I…" She bit her lip, looked at Anna for a moment asleep in the pram beside her and then resolutely said, "I don't want any more children."

The Doctor smiled indulgently, "It can be quite daunting Mrs. Burns, especially the first year. I'm sure many new mothers have felt that way."

"No Doctor, I'm not… I appreciate what you're saying but I'm not feeling overwhelmed or stressed about having Anna, she's the most precious thing, I couldn't ask for a better baby. That's not the reason. Look I just know I don't want any more children."

"Well, of course we can discuss contraception and what would be best for you."

"I want to be sterilised." She interrupted.

The doctor's mouth fell open as he stared across the desk at the pretty young lass. "You're a healthy woman Mrs. Burns we don't just…we can't just sterilise."

"That's what I want."

"There are plenty of other less permanent answers."

"Are any of them 100%?"

"Well, I…"

"Are they?"

He shook his head. "We can't guarantee one hundred percent. But some are –,"

"That's what I want."

The doctor folded his hands atop of his paper work. "Is there something you want to tell me, Elspeth? Something I can maybe help with?"

She looked to her lap and squeezed her hands together shaking her head, "I just don't want to be caught."

"I feel there's more to this," he prodded, "and I can't help if I don't know what it is."

She snapped her head up, steely blue eyes meeting his, "I've made my decision doctor. Will you help me or not?"

The doctor licked his lips, feeling heavy-hearted as he delivered his words, "I can't. I'm afraid. There's no reason for it, none at all. I can help you with contraception, we can discuss that now, arrange it before you leave. That's all I can offer, I'm afraid."

She got to her feet, turning from him, needing space. Beside her Anna gurgled in her sleep and she instinctively moved to check her, placing a hand gently on her daughter's stomach. "My husband can't know," she whispered, without looking up.

He doctor nodded, "Nobody needs to know Elspeth."

Present Day – Monday

She's bolt upright at the first ring of the phone, the lamp on, the receiver in her hand.

Charles is bleary. His eyelids heavy and refusing to co-operate as he turns the clock to face him, 3:44, who the hell rings at 3:44 in the morning?

And then it dawns and he's out of bed and pulling on trousers and she's looking at him with her head tilted to one side, chewing the end of her thumbnail as she listens to the person on the other end of the line.

"What are you doing?" She mouths.

He stops. Shrugs. Because he doesn't know really. He doesn't even know who's on the phone; let alone what they're saying.

When she puts the receiver down she's smiling at her, bright-eyed.

"What's happening?" He feels frustrated, like the whole world knows something he doesn't and they're purposefully leaving him in the dark.

"She's in labour. We can head to the hospital."

"Okay. Right." He zipped his trousers up. "Good."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed."

"You've not put any pants on." She smirked.

"Haven't I?" He unzipped again and checked. "You're right. I haven't."

Chuckling, she crawled across the bed to him, kneeling and resting her hands on his shoulders. "Honey, you need to relax. Don't get agitated. Don't worry. It's a good hospital, Anna's a healthy girl, the pregnancy has gone fine. And besides, I need you calm in order to keep me calm. Okay?"

He nodded, his mouth dry. "Okay."

"Let's get dressed then. Get over there."

"What day is it?"

"Monday. I'll need to contact work and tell them I'm not going in."

"Monday's child, fair of face." He said, finding out a shirt and turning to look at Elsie brushing her hair. "Though, I would never doubt that. Look at his or her grandma."

"Ha. Yes, bags under her eyes and in need of a shower when I greet the child. You want to have a bet before we go? Boy or girl?"

He shook his head, "You wouldn't bet the whole way through, now you will?"

She shrugged, "Didn't want to risk anything. So, what do you think?"

"I don't know. I'm not guessing." He huffed, buttoning up his shirt.

"Spoil sport." She pulled a dress on, watching him in the mirror. "Charles. He won't be there, you know. You don't have to worry."

He looked up, holding her gaze. "I know. I'll worry anyway though, about other things."

"Such a sweetheart." She finished his top buttons for him, smoothing his collar. "Who'd have thought two years ago we'd be in this position?"

"Who would have? Two years ago I was lonely and slipping rapidly through middle-age. Wondering if I'd ever pluck up the courage to ask you out."

She smiled gently, "And a year ago, Dubai, and everything changed."

"Everything changed."

She leant up and kissed him, "Shall we go, then?"

"Absolutely."

The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky as they parked. Shards of orange speckled the milky sky and Elsie took his hand as they crossed to the entrance, interlacing her fingers with his.

"Don't get nervous now," he whispered, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Just for this walk to the ward, then my brave face will be on. Promise."

And she was true to her word. As soon as they were shown to Anna's room the nerves were pushed aside and a bright, sunny demeanour adopted. Charles couldn't help but marvel at it; she sure could act when the need arose.

"Ahh, hello, hello, hello, my darling!" She chirped as she entered the room, leaving him outside in the corridor feeling redundant.

"You seem high for four-thirty in the morning mother, have you been smoking pot?"

"Ha bloody ha, where you get this cheek from I have no idea." She kissed Anna's head, resting her hand on her forehead as she'd done ever since she was a child. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit and scared as hell – you?"

"Yeah, pretty similar. But don't tell anyone."

Anna suddenly reached over and held her mum's hand and whispered seriously. "You won't leave now, will you?"

"In for the long haul honey."

"Where's Charles?" Anna said, looking around.

"In the corridor, he felt odd about coming in."

"Why? The only time he should feel odd is when my legs are up in the air and there's all sorts of weird stuff coming out of me."

"Such as our baby?" John laughed, sitting beside the bed and handing Anna a beaker of water.

"Such as blood and weird gunky stuff."

"Best not mention that to Charles. Think of his heart." Elsie said softly.

"Fetch him in, I want to talk to him." Anna insisted.

Putting down her things Elsie went back out, he'd wandered off down the corridor and she called his name, beckoning him from the door.

He'd never much liked hospitals, he knew everyone said that and he hated to be a cliché, but it was the truth of the matter and he was nothing if not honest. It was the smell, more than anything, a mix of something like bleach and aeroplane food and then the faces of everyone you passed – always misery, always stress.

Nobody wanted to be there. Even the staff, it seemed.

And besides, he'd had rather a recent experience with this hospital, one he didn't wish to repeat in a hurry, and being there reminded him of how it felt to be an invalid.

"She wants to talk to you."

"What, now?" He felt his face flush. "What for?"

"I don't know." She patted his cheek. "Don't worry so. She isn't naked or screaming in agony yet, you'll be fine."

When they entered the room John got up and headed to get hot drinks, leaving the three of them alone.

Anna indicated his empty chair and Charles sat down, feeling a little like a schoolboy.

"I want to talk about the shop." Anna said. "You mentioned that I could bring in some art and I've been thinking more and more about it."

"You want to talk about that now?" He asked, confused.

"Yes. I want to get on with it. As soon as I get home, I'd like to start clearing the second floor, make some room, you know."

Charles nodded, but glanced over at Elsie who shook her head and shrugged, implying he should just go with it.

"You know I'll come work with John, you know that." He said earnestly. "You'll need time with the baby and it'll be busy, I know that. I can manage a few days helping out."

"No, that's not what I mean. What I mean is of course we want the baby with us, and we think we can work it, we've got our system in the shop now and it works for us. But we thought, well, maybe if you don't mind, you could have him or her a few hours a week. When it's bigger of course."

Elsie was re-folding Anna's clothes and laying them in her travel bag as she listened, she knew that as soon as she held that baby in her arms she wouldn't want it out of her sight for even a second let alone hours at a time. But she bit her tongue, there were times you had to let your children discover things for themselves and this was clearly one of those times.

"I hadn't thought of it." Charles said honestly. "I'd never imagined you'd want me to."

"Well, can you think of it now?"

"I guess –," Charles didn't get the chance to finish his sentence because Anna suddenly grabbed his hand and squeezed the hell out of his fingers.

"Oh shit!" She cried, her head falling back. "Mum!"

"I'm right here sweetheart." She took her other hand, "Breathe, see, how we practised… There we go. Nice and steady." She looked over to where Charles stood at the opposite side, gripping Anna's hand, his face white, eyes wide. "One. Two. Three." She counted calmly.

Anna's eyes were closed and Elsie watched as Charles' free hand came up to rest on Anna's forehead, his thumb gently brushing back and forth as he focussed on her face.

"Okay, see, there we go. Almost over." She let out a deep breath as she felt Anna's hand soften in hers. "Not too bad, was it?"

"It's fucking awful!" Anna moaned. "Why the fuck would anyone do this more than once?"

"Definitely your daughter." Charles said deadpan, still holding Anna's hand, and the two women looked at his serious expression and collapsed with laughter.

Charles was beginning to wonder what would give in first – his frayed nerves, his picked nails or the soles of his shoes as he paced back and forth.

It had been almost two hours since he'd seen Elsie and nobody had told him a thing. One nurse had relieved another, opening and closing the sterile, white door. Relatives on corridors had sipped tepid tea from polystyrene cups. Newspapers had been read. The radio listened to.

And behind the door life is coming into the world, he kept thinking, behind that door was all of his life.

He's sitting with his head in his hands when he hears his name come from a stranger's voice, "Mr Carson?" And he stands immediately, abruptly, facing the young nurse.

"Yes? She's okay? Anna?" He realises his voice is gruff, the exterior adopted to cover the internal fear.

The nurse smiled sympathetically, "She's fine. I think you're wanted in there." She pushed the door slightly and it took him a moment to move from the spot. His hands were in his pockets and he almost shuffled forward, feet like lead. His heartbeat appeared to have adopted a strange rhythm and there was a ringing in his ears. He wondered if this were the on-set of another heart attack – Lord, please no – or just that he might faint.

He lifted his hands from his pockets, took a deep breath and pushed the door, the nurse remaining outside as he stepped in.

To his right – Anna. Propped up in bed, exhausted and flushed, John beside her, his arm about her shoulders, her head lolling against him.

Before him, Elsie. Facing him. Standing in front of the large window. With the early morning sunshine framing her she appeared ethereal to him.

"Hello, granddad." She spoke softly, and his eyes cast down for the first time to the tiny bundle of white cradled safely in her arms. He swallowed, felt something burst in his chest he'd never encountered before.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out and Elsie stepped towards him, crossing the short distance between them.

"I think there's somebody who'd like to meet you."

He lifted his arms instinctively, felt her press this tiny weight into the crook of his arm.

"Your granddaughter." She said gently.

He couldn't lift his eyes from the baby's face. Her scrunched up nose and pursed red lips, the blotchy skin, the wide, dark eyes. Instant love.

"Charles," he heard Elsie say, her voice cracking, and then he felt her fingers brush his cheek. He realised he was crying and he snuffled, embarrassed.

"A girl." He finally said. "And she's here."

Elsie smiled widely, her hand gripping his elbow as they looked down at the baby together. "She is. And she's perfect. Beautiful and healthy."

He lifted his head up, looked to Anna. "And you are…?"

She smiled crookedly, "Exhausted and in need of a shower." But then she added, "Happy." And Charles nodded in recognition, the word didn't come close.

John kissed her head, "Should we tell them what we decided?" He asked gently, his fingers laced with hers.

"A name?" Elsie asked hopefully.

"We'd already picked before she was born but now…" He looked up at the pair of them, standing there holding his minutes old daughter. "It is pretty perfect."

"It is." Anna agreed. "We thought we'd call her Charlotte."

Elsie heard Charles gasp, his strangled attempt to hold in his tears, it wouldn't do to sob in front of them.

"Charlotte Elspeth Carson." Anna finished.

"Oh my goodness." Elsie's voice was a whisper as she brushed her little finger against the baby's cheek. "Our namesake."

"Quite wonderful." Charles said, and she felt him lean in to kiss her head.

Sometimes she forgot John was a Carson. For years he'd adopted his mother's surname – Bates – but as time had gone on and he'd resolved his issues with his father, he'd finally taken his birth name, his given name. How perfect it seemed now, that Charlotte would be a Carson, as would Elsie, and maybe, likely, Anna too.

She laughed suddenly, and Charles looked up at her questioningly.

"You worried so about Carson's books not being that anymore." She shrugged. "It just occurred to me it still is."

"And likely to remain that way for the foreseeable." John added and for the first time Elsie regarded this man with an entire feeling of affection. That he'd come into their lives and caused such disruption still rattled her, but he adored her daughter, he'd taken over Charles' beloved shop, giving him peace of mind, and now there was this – her granddaughter – the most precious gift.

They left not long after, reluctantly. But Charlotte slept and Anna needed rest and they'd be thrown out before long by the staff. Elsie snapped pictures on her phone, had a moment alone with her girls, and then they said their goodbyes and promised to return in the afternoon if allowed.

In the car park, by the side of the hospital, she'd stopped and pulled him into a hug and he'd cried openly then on her shoulder. Relief, happiness, love, cascading into one overwhelming feeling.

Nothing would ever be the same again. He'd never be alone again. Never empty.

"I can't tell you how much I love you," he whispered by her ear. "What you've given me..."

She took his face in her hands, brushing his tears away with her thumbs, offering him a watery smile.

"Let's go home." She said softly.

They crawled into bed as the rest of the country was heading to work. The kittens fed and chasing each other in the kitchen. Their clothes discarded as they curled beneath the cool sheets, exhausted and overwhelmed.

Elsie lay with her head against his chest, staring up at the ceiling, glad of his presence, of his arms around her. She needed that security now, when she was emotional and shaky.

In a way she couldn't really imagine having to go through all of this alone, but then there were so many things she'd never imagined herself doing over the years and somehow she'd managed, somehow she'd made it through. She'd realised that she was a lot stronger than she ever thought she could be.

"My daughter's a mother," she whispered. "And I can't quite believe that."

"I can't believe there's a little person in the world, only been in this world a couple of hours, and I've never loved anything more." He said honestly, and once again she was glad he was so open and honest with everything. It had pained her so when he'd shut off from her following the accident, it was so unlike him and she'd missed their bond.

His hand folded with hers and she closed her eyes, recalling the sound of the first cry, so like when Anna was born. The feel of Charlotte in her arms, the smell of her, the colour of her eyes.

"Her hair's going to be the same colour as yours." He said.

"What makes you think that? She could be blonde like Anna."

"I'm telling you, I can tell."

"And will you do it?" She asked as she turned over, her chest pressed to his. "What Anna asked?"

"I don't know, what if I'm bad at it? A poor carer?"

"That's likely, is it? Look at how you've cared for our babies."

"Kittens are slightly easier to handle."

"That's not what you said at the start."

He smiled, threading his hand into her hair. "I can admit when I'm wrong."

"That's a first."

"You know you bully me."

"Do I?" She pushed herself up so she could reach his mouth. "I am sorry about that, honey, because I love you very much." She kissed his chastely. "I'd never mean to bully you for even a second." She kissed him again before sliding back, meaning to return to her earlier position, but he held her upper arms, kissed her properly.

"Don't go anywhere yet Elspeth."

"That poor girl with my name."

"Lucky, lucky girl." He said, rolling her onto her side and moving with her, his arms encircling her waist.

She mirrored the hold, pressing against him, enjoying the long, lazy kisses, all the more meaningful in their current blissful state.

When his leg pushed between hers and his knee nudged her thigh, she was more surprised than anything else. There'd been nothing of that nature since the disaster on the couch – and he'd been so vey crestfallen, so very embarrassed over it all, that she'd hadn't pushed the issue.

So now, feeling him against her leg and his obvious need for her, filled her with yet more joy.

Nothing was rushed or forced. Gentle kisses deepening to passionate ones, fingers upon skin, practiced movements and familiar sensations.

Rolling over and him falling with her, over her, inside her. Her gasped name upon his lips, the reverent way he showered kisses over her chest, her breasts, her neck. Slow and easy as they made love in the morning light. Her fingers grasping his shoulder, her thighs curling around his waist and everything worked – as natural as it could be.

After, when he was lying on top of her, mumbling words of devotion against her neck as she stroked his back, she suddenly burst into fits of laughter and he looked up to her face in confusion and concern.

"What? Not my best performance but marginally better than last time, surely?"

She held a hand up to cover her mouth as she giggled, "No, not that. It's just…" She laughed again.

"What?"

"Well, we're grandparents now. We shouldn't be doing this. Sex at mid-morning. And like every cliché before it when something is forbidden it's a whole lot more enticing, and suddenly you can… you know."

He raised his eyebrows at her, "I don't care what caused it. And I'm not even that bothered that it didn't last that long. All I know is it's working again and I thank God it is."

She laughed even more at the clash between his stoic face and words straight from a teenage-boy's guide to sex.

"You're still laughing at me."

She shook her head, then nodded, her giggles turning to hysteria. "I'm so happy Charles." She gasped, her arms lifting to hug him. "So unbelievably happy."

3 to go...