"I understand Mr Biffin is unwell," Anne addressed the school governors at the village hall. "As you know I have taught here before." At their expressions of doubt, she continued. "I know it's unusual to employ a married woman, ordinarily they are busy running their home and unable to teach. As you may know that's no longer my situation. Now, I'm not available for the whole year, but I could provide a stopgap until the end of the school year. That'll give Mr Biffin time to recover, or for you to find a replacement. It doesn't sound as though the current situation is providing our children with the best education. I am prepared to start next week, if you are amenable." Having put her case before them, she departed leaving them to come to their collective senses.

"Goodness me, Anne," Marilla said when Mr Smythe, the chair of the Board of Governors departed Green Gables having had a frank discussion regarding wages, since Anne insisted on being paid a full wage rather than the lower women's one. "You are dark horse, I must say. Fancy demanding full pay."

"I don't want them believing I'm a way to save money. These children deserve a proper education, not one that comes at a cut price."

"How long are you planning on working?"

"Just a few months, it's not forever. Now if you don't mind, I have some lessons to plan." Marilla looked on in some shock, but thought, no it's good, she needs a nice project to occupy her. She's never been the type to lay about.

Dora was delighted at the news. "Goody," she said clapping her hands in delight. "You're such a good teacher, Anne. There's never been anyone like you."

"Will we have to call you Miss Shirley, again, Anne?" Davy asked, cheekily.

"No, young Davy," Anne replied. "It's Mrs. Gardner to the likes of you."

"Oh," Davy replied, ashamed that he had forgotten.

Setting off before the children had finished their breakfast, Anne made her way over to the little school room. Someone had already been by to set the fire, so the room was suitably warm. She proposed to set a spot test that morning to determine where each child lay within the curriculum which would give her a good idea where their strengths and weaknesses lay.

It was not a popular move, but with some disgruntlement the children set about completing their task. Some of the older students knew Anne from before, but for the younger ones she was completely unknown. They found in her a firm but forgiving teacher with boundless imagination. For her part Anne relished being of use once more, that it got her out of the depressing housework was an unexpected bonus.

The worst part about it was this crushing exhaustion. Diana had mentioned in with regards to her pregnancy, "I just wish I wasn't so tired all the time," she'd said. "It wasn't so hard last time, if I needed to sleep, I could just lay down for a nap. Now I have you," she waggled a finger Fred-wards. "So, there's no time. I fall into bed each night completely spent." Anne had heard tell of the dreaded morning sickness which happily did not appear to afflict her, but not of this which for her was nearly as debilitating.

"Anne," Gilbert took her hand in his. "There is something I want to say to you."

Gasping, Anne nodded.

"Will you promise me that someday you'll be my wife?"

"Oh Gilbert."

Anne murmured in her sleep and jerked violently. Marilla woken suddenly reached out to calm her. "Shh, Anne, it was just a dream." Calming down almost immediately, Anne's thoughts shifted into something quite innocuous.

In the morning Marilla asked if she remembered. Anne thought hard, the memory of Gilbert's face in front of her, but not much else came to mind. "I don't think so," she said coyly. However, the thought of him kept her going all that dreary day.

Her students misbehaved, even Davy had to be chastised. It's always like this around this time of year, Anne recalled. The end of the year is in sight and they're getting restless. Still, it did not make for a happy class. Each activity she tried was rebuffed, even things that ordinarily were met with enthusiasm. At lunch, Gilbert's face swam before her minds' eye, a vision of beauty in an otherwise difficult day.

He inspired her that afternoon. Recalling dull afternoons in her favourite teacher's classroom she roused them all. "No need to sit back down, we're going out for a biology lesson." Instantly the mood changed as they gathered their coats and shawls and surged outside. Having not really thought it through, Anne let her students guide her, following them on their discoveries and explaining how the world changed each season. This, of course, was particularly apparent in springtime, so there was lots to occupy them.

On her walk home she wondered if Gilbert would be home during summer. It's been too long. I haven't heard that he's with anyone, thought I doubt I would have anyways. With a renewed spring in her step, she walked on hoping that he might still be single. I made a terrible mistake, and he may not forgive me. Eyes cast skyward she thought, I pray it's not too late.

Unaccustomed to other women's bodies, even Marilla could not help noticing the swelling of Anne's belly and her breasts. Her usually slim daughter was filling out. "Anne?" Marilla asked wonderingly, looking pointedly at her stomach one night as they were getting ready for bed.

Anne glanced down and sat heavily back on the bed. "Yes."

"Don't tell me you're, you're?"

"Yes, you're right, I'm having a baby. I, we, thought, well we stopped thinking it was possible. We tried and tried; well I won't go into specifics. All that waiting, anguish, longing. Mother Gardner said I must have been barren because I wasn't bearing her grandchildren. They even intimated it had to be the result of my difficult start in life." Marilla made a noise. "But I don't think there's anything the matter with me, Marilla. Must've been him, there must have been something wrong with him. I was just about to break the happy news when he didn't come home. You know," she added. "I could never do anything right. Roy was always finding fault. We'd practically stopped talking. Though I know he and his mother were close. It was just exhausting."

"You never said so in your letters."

"No, I didn't want to worry you. There wasn't anything you could do, there seemed little point upsetting you. I needed someone to believe the lie, to believe that I was happy as if, if someone felt that then maybe it could be true. If you felt it, if you believed it then maybe in another world, I would be happy. It was a lie, I apologise."

"You did what you had to do. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I'm just sorry you endured it. I couldn't have done anything, I just wish I'd known, I would've been more supportive."

"You've always had my back, from the beginning."

"Well."

"Please stop beating yourself up over that. Can't we move past it?"

"I don't think I can. I feel such guilt about that time. I'll feel that in my heart until the day I die." Marilla paused, trying to control her tears. After a while she continued, "well, what are we gonna do now?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to do."

"We have to tell the children, they'll have to know, we can't hide it forever."

"What shall we tell them?"

"The truth I suppose, or some semblance of it."

Rachel was delighted, she absolutely loved babies. Finally, her extensive experience would be useful. Anne broke the news to the twins that weekend. "Darlings I shan't be your teacher forever, you know." The twins looked disappointed. "You won't mind the reason, I promise."

"Oh?" they said, wonderingly.

"The reason why is," Anne paused for effect. "The thing of it is," all of a sudden, she wasn't sure how to put it. "Well, the reason is, I'm having a baby."

"I thought," commented Dora reflectively, "I thought you needed a mother and a father to make a baby."

"It did have a father," replied Davy, scornfully. "Remember. Roy was its father."

"Of course," said Dora with some exasperation. "But now it doesn't have one. I mean I thought you'd have to be able to meet your father even if he didn't live that long." This table of orphans knew better than most how fleeting parenthood could be. "I didn't know babies could be born without their papas nearby. How do babies come to be, Anne?" she cast an inquisitive look at each adult in turn. Anne looked back at her frankly considering her response while Marilla shifted uneasily in her seat. She found such discussions upsetting, as though she were less of a woman for not having had that experience.

"Well, darling," Anne started. "While it is better to have a father around, that's not always possible. Biologically speaking..."

But Marilla feeling the conversation had already gone too far, interrupted, "this isn't the correct place. We don't talk of such things at the kitchen table." Meekly Dora looked down at her plate. However, Davy was frustrated, "but."

"Uh uh," Marilla said firmly with a warning look.

"How are you coping?" Rachel asked when Anne returned home one afternoon. "I recall overarching tiredness those first few weeks." Stifling a yawn, Anne nodded. "You'd be better off taking it easy, but now you've gone and committed to a big job."

"I know," replied Anne. "I think I bit off more than I can chew."

"Oh?" asked Marilla. "Is it as bad, as all that? I mean you've been sleeping in on the weekends, I just thought you needed a rest after the week." The other women looked at each other and then at her before giving each other the sort of look she most despised. The one that cut her out of their gang.

Much as she wanted to, Marilla was unable to quell the twins' curiosity. Before bedtime they whispered between themselves wondering whether it was better to ask Rachel or Anne.

"Mrs Lynde has had ten children, she'll know."

"But Anne is a teacher, she's better educated."

"It ain't a matter a book smarts."

"But." Dora's point was cut off when they heard Marilla's distinctive tread. "Well, I best be off to bed," Dora said in a slightly louder tone than normal. Marilla came in and looked at them both in turn, eyes squinting making them feel distinctly guilty.

Those children are plotting," Marilla declared when she returned to the kitchen. "I don't know what they're up to, but I don't like it."

"It's obvious isn't it. We should tell them."

"It's unseemly Anne. What would the neighbours think?"

"We've never been the most conventional family, Marilla. I think we ought to let them know. Just the basics of course. Plenty of their peers will know at least that. They've seen their mothers' bear children."

Marilla pursed her lips, "I don't like it."

"Look at it this way, I'd rather they had the facts than make up the sorts of stories children tend to out of sheer ignorance. I am with child; Marilla and they understandably have questions. They've never lived with anyone in this state before, so it's never come up. Plenty of their friends will have. I don't know what their mothers told them, who knows maybe they used the cabbage patch or stork. I'm not a fan of those euphemisms myself, let them know; what's the harm? They must know one day, they're not children anymore."

"Very well, but I will be the one to tell them."

Anne blinked, "ah," she nodded, "um, alright."

"There's no need to be so shocked. I know enough. But if I tell them, I know they won't hear too much."

"I mean of course you do," replied Anne, knowing full well she didn't. It was one thing to read or hear about such things, but quite another to experience them.

"I'll do it after dinner, in the parlour. I'll sit them down and explain the process, in a proper Christian manner." Inwardly Anne rolled her eyes, but Marilla was their mother, ultimately she had the final decision. Anne just wondered how the plan would go, she had a feeling Davy would send it off the rails.