Chapter Sixteen
It was a little over half-an-hour’s drive to the pretty village on the edge of Dartmoor where Natalie’s parents lived.
Liam had slid an audio CD of one of Robyn’s favourite stories into the CD player to keep her entertained as they drove along the narrow country roads with their high Devonian hedges.
The Brayley’s home was a pretty whitewashed cottage surrounded by a low stone wall.
The lush garden was full of buddleia and roses and hollyhocks and chrysanthemums, with spikes of delicate pink veronica and bright cosmos.
Liam pulled onto a patch of rough ground on the opposite side of the lane.
“Here we are!” he announced brightly.
He could do this.
Those lingering memories of last night were safely tucked away in the back of his brain.
He unfastened the seatbelt on Robyn’s child seat, and took her hand as she scrambled out of the car.
She skipped along beside him as they crossed the road and opened the garden gate.
“Granma!” She broke from him as the front door opened, and raced up the path to be caught in a smothering embrace.
Sylvia Brayley was in her early sixties, with soft grey-blonde curls and her daughter’s soft blue eyes.
“Ah, my little cherub. How lovely to see you.”
“Granma, we brought you flowers.”
“Though it’s a bit like bringing coals to Newcastle.” Liam laughed, glancing around the colourful garden.
“Oh, never mind that. They’re lovely.” She took the bouquet and put up her cheek for a kiss.
“Come on inside. Martin,” she called back over her shoulder.
“They’re here.”
“Can I go find Grampy?” Robyn pleaded.
“Of course, darling. He’s in the garden.”
Liam followed Sylvia into the sitting room.
It was a cosy room, old-fashioned, with flower-patterned wallpaper, a comfortable three-piece suite in front of the fireplace, lots of flourishing pot-plants on the sideboard and several small occasional tables.
And photographs, of Natalie and her two older sisters — as toddlers on a beach somewhere, smart in their school uniforms in school photos, as bridesmaids at each other’s weddings.
And then grandchildren.
A happy family.
And there was the one he had given them, in pride of place.
A copy of the one on Robyn’s bedside table — of Natalie and Robyn on the sun lounger by the pool of their hotel in Greece.
He felt that familiar twinge of guilt.
If he had been quicker .
.
.
And the guilt that he was still living, while Natalie was gone.
He knew that Natalie wouldn’t have wanted him to feel that.
That Sylvia didn’t.
But it never quite went away.
He could only imagine how it must be for Sylvia, to have lost her youngest daughter.
He knew how he would feel if anything happened to Robyn.
“Go and sit down while I put these in a vase,” Sylvia urged.
“Then I’ll fetch in the tea.”
The sun was streaming in through the window, and he could hear Robyn’s voice out in the garden, chattering away to her grandfather, nineteen to the dozen.
He smiled to himself.
It was important to keep up these regular visits.
It always would be.
Though he suspected that in ten years or so a teenage Robyn would grumble and pull a face: Must we?
Then a few years after that, driving her own car, she would happily drive over herself to see her beloved grandparents.
Heavens, he was pushing the time away .
.
.
!
“There.” Sylvia came in with a pretty flower-painted tea tray.
On it was a teapot and milk jug, three dainty teacups, and a plate of chocolate biscuits.
She set it down on the low coffee table.
“I brought orange juice for the baby.”
“That’s good. Thanks.” Just don’t let her hear you call her a baby .
“So how have you been?” She smiled at him as she poured the tea.
“Well enough, thank you.” He always tried to calibrate it carefully between assuring her that Robyn was happy while not appearing to have forgotten their loss.
“She’s started in the reception class now. She loves it.”
“Goodness, how the time rushes on! Is she still with her little friends?”
“Amy and Noah — yes. They’re all in the same class.”
Robyn came running in, dragging her grandfather by the hand.
“Granma, I saw a butterfly! A really pretty one.”
“Did you, sweetheart?”
“It was this big.” She held her thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart.
“It was blue.”
“That’s lovely. Come and sit down now and have your orange juice.”
The child bounced up onto the sofa beside Liam and took the glass he handed to her, her little face creasing into a frown.
“Don’t I have cola please?” she asked.
“Not right now, sweetie.” Liam flicked a glance towards Sylvia, registering the hurt on her face.
“You like orange juice.”
“But I like cola better.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Sylvia looked genuinely distressed.
“I don’t have any cola. I forgot to get it.”
“That’s fine,” Liam insisted firmly.
“You can have cola another time, but drink up your orange juice now, and say thank you to Granma.”
To his relief, the sweet side of the child’s nature came to the fore, and her beaming smile appeared like the sunshine.
“Thank you, Granma.” She drank the juice, leaving an orange moustache on her top lip.
He laughed, pulling a tissue from his pocket to wipe it clean.
“There you go.” He bent to drop a kiss on the top of her head.
“Good girl.”
Tea and biscuits finished, they all strolled out to look round the garden, admiring Martin Brayley’s immaculate flowerbeds.
Then they walked down to the small park beside the river to feed the ducks and for Robyn to play on the slide and the swings.
“Ah, bless her.” Sylvia smiled fondly as she watched the little girl swoop backwards and forwards, squealing with excitement, begging her grandfather to push her higher.
“Thank you for bringing her over. It means so much to her granddad to see her.”
Liam smiled to himself.
What she really meant was that it meant so much to her, too.
“Sometimes it seems like it was only yesterday that Natalie was here, playing on those swings with her daddy.” Fumbling in her pocket for a tissue, she dabbed at her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m being stupid. I don’t mean to cry.”
“No, no. It isn’t stupid at all,” Liam assured her gently.
“It isn’t something you ever really get over. I still cry myself sometimes.”
She dabbed at her eyes again, watching as Robyn jumped from the swing and ran over to the slide.
“Look at me, Granma.” The child waved, full of excitement.
“I’m going down the slide!”
“She’s growing so fast,” Sylvia sighed.
“And she’s adjusted so well. You’ve been such a good daddy to her. But I suppose . . . No, no.” She shook her head.
“It’s none of my business.”
“What is it?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“It’s just . . . I suppose one day . . . You’re still a young man. I suppose one day you’re likely to think about getting married again.”
Oh lord.
His breath seemed to have locked in his chest.
“I don’t think so,” he managed.
She glanced up at him, her mouth a little crooked.
“You don’t have to say that just so as not to upset me. I’d understand. It’s just . . . You would still bring her to visit us, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
Robyn was zooming down the slide and Martin caught her at the bottom, swung her up in the air then set her on her feet to race round for another go.
Liam felt a knife twisting in his gut.
Any lingering thoughts he might have had of flying off to Australia with Cassie really were out of the question.
“Oh, take no notice of me.” Sylvia smiled resolutely and tucked the tissue back in her pocket.
“I’m just being a silly old thing. I know you’ll always do what’s right for her.”
They strolled back from the park, Robyn between her two grandparents, holding both their hands.
After lunch they had a very noisy game of Snap and then settled down to watch CBeebies, Robyn snuggled on the sofa between them.
They stayed to tea, then drove home.
It had started to rain quite heavily, and Robyn dozed off when they were halfway home.
She woke as he parked the car beside the garages, and they laughed as they splashed together across the yard and into the kitchen.
His mother glanced round with a smile as they came into the house.
“Hi. Did you have a nice time?” she asked Robyn.
The child nodded vigorously.
“I went on the swings and the slide. Can I have cola please?”
“Of course, sweetie.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a can.
“Here. What do you say?”
“Thank you, Nanma. Can I watch KrazyKat?”
“Yes, sweetie. Ask Gramps to put the DVD on for you.” As the child scampered away she arched an eyebrow at Liam.
“How was it?” The note of restrained sympathy in her voice reminded him that she knew it was likely to have been difficult.
He shrugged and went over to the coffee maker in the corner, and poured himself a mug.
“Much as always. They’re a really nice couple. It must be so hard for them.” He sipped the coffee.
“She was talking about . . . would I still take Robyn to visit if I ever got married again.”
“Oh?” An arch of an enquiring eyebrow.
“Is that on the cards?”
He shook his head decisively.
“No. Not for the foreseeable future. Maybe never. ”
“And Cassie?”
There was a teaspoon on the counter beside him.
He picked it up and absently stirred his coffee with it.
“What about her?”
“Julia said you were dancing with her out on the terrace last night. And you didn’t come home until this morning.”
“I’m an adult, Mum. I can stay out all night if I want to.”
“Who said you couldn’t? But you had a thing with that girl . . .”
“Ten years ago.”
“Ten years ago. And since she came back . . . I’m your mother, Liam. I can read you like a book.”
“Okay. Well, yes, since she came back it’s stirred up some of the old memories. But I’m not going there, Mum. Once was enough.” He put the teaspoon down.
“I think I’ll go and watch KrazyKat. That’s about as much as my brain can cope with at the moment.”
* * *
It had been raining since Sunday afternoon.
Cassie sat on the window seat in her bedroom, Barney snuggled up beside her.
Outside, the view of the bay was obscured by the darkness and the thick raindrops trickling down the glass, distorting the glow of the coloured lights along the Esplanade.
It perfectly matched her mood.
So much hope, so quickly destroyed.
For a moment she closed her eyes, then opened them again to look down at the piece of paper in her hand.
Her airline ticket, her return ticket to New Zealand.
Dated the day after tomorrow.
She had kept it tucked in her poetry book for the past six weeks, with that strip of old photographs.
She had known it was there, but she had chosen not to think about it, not to mention it.
But now .
.
.
“Hello, dear.” Her mother appeared in the doorway.
“I’ve brought you a cup of coffee and these last few bits from the wash.”
She smiled thinly.
“Thanks, Mum.”
“You haven’t finished packing yet?”
“Not quite.”
Helen came over and sat down beside her on the window seat.
“You’re really going?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“It’s just . . . I wondered . . . with Liam . . .”
“Nothing with Liam.” It was a struggle to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“It’s just . . . You were with him on Saturday — at the wedding. And?”
Cassie laughed without humour.
“Nothing gets past you, does it, Mum?”
She got one of those patented ‘mother’ looks.
“I’m your mum.”
Cassie was silent for a long moment.
“Yes, we stayed the night. At the hotel. And in the morning when I woke up, he was dressed and ready to leave. He didn’t say a word. So . . .” She shrugged in careless dismissal.
“You’re not going to give him a chance to explain?”
“What’s to explain? It’s been three days. Three whole days. More than enough time, however busy he might be, if he wanted to speak to me. Clearly he doesn’t.” Her mouth quirked into a crooked smile.
“I chose to walk away ten years ago. I could hardly expect to come back and pick up where we left off. So, message received and understood.”
Her mother nodded slowly.
“Please don’t stay away for ten years again.”
Cassie reached over and took both her hands, squeezing them tightly.
“I won’t, Mum. I promise.”
* * *
“Okay, that ought to do it.” Liam carefully withdrew the nasogastric tube and dropped it into the disposal bag.
After endless weeks of sunshine, the weather was catching up with itself.
It had rained continuously for three days, and was still pounding heavily on the corrugated roof of the stable.
He stood for a few moments watching the pretty roan.
She had got to her feet, and already she seemed a little more settled, her breathing beginning to slow to a steadier pace.
He tucked the earpieces of his stethoscope into his ears and put the diaphragm against the horse’s heart.
The rhythm was almost back to normal.
“Are they going to be all right?” Penny asked anxiously.
“They should both be fine in a few days. Give them warm, clean water, with the electrolyte. If they won’t drink it, make up a dilute bran mash and try them with that, two or three times a day. Put a few bits of apple or carrot in it, if you like.”
The girl nodded solemnly, taking in everything he was saying, though he had a print-out to leave with her.
He sympathised.
Colic was a nasty condition for horses.
It must have been horrible for her to see her beloved horses rolling on the ground, sweating and clearly in pain.
“No grain feed for a few days. Watch their droppings. Feed them about a quarter of their normal amount of hay, walk them for about fifteen minutes several times a day, and turn them out to the paddock for an hour or so, building up to a couple of hours. Any concerns, ring me at once.”
“I will.” She brushed a tear from her eye.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“No trouble.”
The roan whickered and nuzzled against her cheek, and she stroked her hand down her neck.
“Oh, Elsa. I’m so sorry I let you get ill.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Liam assured her gently.
“I know your horses are very well cared for. It’s likely it was the change of feed that caused it.”
“We had to change it. The place we were getting it from has closed down.”
Liam nodded.
“The thing is, if you have to change their forage, it’s best to do it gradually. Mix some of the new in with the old so their stomachs can get used to it. If you’d like to try them with organic feed, I’d recommend Cullens.”
“Cullens? Oh, yes. Dad uses them for the pigs. I didn’t know they did horse feed too.”
“They do the whole range. Anyway, I’ll come back on Friday.” He pulled out his phone and checked his appointments.
“Two o’clock, if I can make it.” He folded up his ultrasound scanner and ran through the rain to stow it in the boot of his SUV, coming back for his equipment case and the disposal bag.
“Goodbye then.”
“Goodbye.”
She stood waving to him as he drove away.
The clock on the dashboard told him it was almost ten o’clock.
It had been a long day, starting early with a call to another colic case, followed by a crashed horsebox on the main road.
Fortunately, there had been no more damage than a bruised fetlock and a bit of a fright.
At least keeping busy had left him no time to think about Cassie.
What could he have said?
What should he have said?
An apology, at least?
Or would she have taken that as an insult?
He had never intended it to be a one-night stand.
He hadn’t really intended anything.
He hadn’t been thinking at all.
He had just let himself be swept away by his own need.
He had hurt her, and he regretted that, but perhaps it was a good thing after all.
It had put an end, once and for all, to any forlorn hope that might be lingering that there could be some kind of relationship between them.
And now she’d soon be gone, back to the New Zealand sunshine, and he could try to find a way to go on with his life.
He’d done it before — twice.
He could do it again.
He shook his head, accelerating as he turned onto the main road, his headlights stabbing through the darkness, the windscreen wipers splishing and splashing against the rain.
The only important female in his life was Robyn.
That thought was still uppermost in his mind as he turned into the front yard and parked the car, and splashed around to the back of the house.
In the mud room, he kicked off his boots and hung up his dripping jacket, and changed his work clothes for something to relax in, then strolled into the kitchen to pour himself a coffee.
His mum and dad were watching television in the sitting room.
“Hi, Mum.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
She glanced up.
“Ah, hello, love. You’ve had a long day.”
“Tell me about it.”
“If you want some dinner, there’s some lasagne in the freezer. You just need to pop it in the microwave.”
“Great, thanks. I’ll just nip up and look in on Robyn first. Did she go down okay?”
“No trouble.”
“Thanks.”
He climbed the stairs and walked quietly down the corridor.
Robyn’s door was slightly ajar, the pink glow of the night-light spilling out, and to his surprise he heard her voice.
He paused, listening — he could just see her without pushing the door further open.
She was kneeling up on her bed, talking earnestly to Hobo.
The dog was sitting in front of her, very still, his whiskery grey head on one side, listening intently.
“. . . I could be a bridesmaid like Amy. And Amy says that when people get married they can have a baby, so if Daddy got married, I could have a baby sister too, like Noah.”
He reached out to open the door, but then drew his hand back.
“And if Daddy got married I could have a proper mummy like Amy’s mummy and Noah’s mummy. I know I have Mummy Natalie, and she’ll always love me, but she isn’t here — she’s in heaven. And if he married Auntie Cassie, she’d be the best mummy ever, and she’d play with me and help me build sandcastles and read me stories and tuck me up in bed.”
He drew in a slow, silent breath.
This was something he hadn’t anticipated.
He pushed open the door.
“Oh!” Robyn dived under the duvet.
“I was just going to sleep, Daddy. Truly.”
“That’s all right, sweetie.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, easing Hobo aside.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to read your bedtime story.”
“Nanna read it to me.”
“That’s good.” He paused, thinking what to say.
“Robyn, do you want me to get married?”
“Yes. Yes, please.” Those angelic blue eyes were wide, gazing up into his.
“If you married Auntie Cassie, she’d be my mummy and she’d really love me and I’d love her.”
Oh .
.
.
The urgent pleading in his daughter’s voice struck right into his heart.
And with it came a sudden thought.
He’d assumed that Cassie would be leaving, but he hadn’t actually asked her to stay.
And didn’t he know her well enough to trust that if she said she would stay, she would keep her word?
Edie Channing had said it — you only get one life.
Don’t waste whatever chances you might have.
It was a risk.
If he asked her to stay, she might just throw it back in his face.
But if he didn’t take this last chance, Edie would have called him a fool.
He smiled down at Robyn.
“Well . . . we’ll see. You go to sleep now, eh? Do you want Hobo to stay here?”
“Yes please.”
“Okay.” He bent and kissed her rosy cheek, then tucked the duvet around her shoulders.
“Night night then.”
“Night night, Daddy.”
Outside on the landing he stood for a moment, feeling the beat of his heart.
Cassie .
.
.
He loved her.
He would be crazy to let her slip away without a word.
Huffing out a breath he hurried back down the landing and down the stairs.
His mother looked up, startled, as he strode across the room.
“You’re going out again? Another emergency?”
“Yes. An emergency.” Somehow he knew that it was urgent that he see her.
“I’ll see you . . . later.”
“Hope it goes okay . . .”
It was still pouring with rain, but he hadn’t stopped to pick up his jacket.
He ran down the lane, past the hotel and the Memorial Gardens, and along the Esplanade, the buffeting wind almost strong enough to knock him off his feet.
The sea was rough, white-capped waves rushing in from far out in the bay to thump against the sea wall and throw up fountains of spray.
There was no one else around.
Who would be daft enough to be out in this weather?
He raced up Cliff Road.
There were lights on in the sitting room of number nineteen, and a light up in the dormer window that he knew was Cassie’s room.
His jumper was soaked, rain was dripping from his hair and trickling down his neck as he waited on the doorstep for someone to answer his urgent ring, but he didn’t care.
Footsteps.
Her mother opened the door.
“Ah. Hello, Liam.” If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it.
She stood aside.
“You know where to find her.”
“Thank you, Helen.”
He took the stairs two at a time, breathless as he reached the top.
The door to Cassie’s room was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open.
There was a backpack on the bed, half full, and she was folding a sweater ready to go in it.
She turned sharply, her green eyes wide and shocked when she saw him standing in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“I . . . You’re packing.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going back to Australia.”
“New Zealand.”
“Don’t go.”
* * *
Cassie stared at him.
“You’re wet.” Stupid, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.
“It’s raining.” He ran a hand back over his hair, sprinkling raindrops everywhere.
“Don’t go.”
Her laughter was bitter, humourless.
“You’ve left it a bit late. Couldn’t you have said this on Saturday night? Or even yesterday?”
“I should. I can’t give you any excuse. I was stupid.” He took three paces across the room towards her, but seemed to sense the invisible ‘don’t touch me’ forcefield she had spun around herself.
“Ever since you came back . . . I’ve been an idiot. I was so sure you’d leave again that I was afraid to take the risk of asking you to stay. But I’m asking you now. Please don’t go. I know I’m not offering you anything more than I did before, and it wasn’t what you wanted then. But . . . Maybe . . . Might you change your mind?”
She sat down heavily on the bed.
Even if she could have thought of something to say, she doubted it would get past the tension in her throat.
He knelt and took both her hands in his.
“I loved you before, but we were not much more than kids then. I was hurt when you left, but I recovered. Now . . . I love you as a man loves a woman — truly and for ever. So I’m asking you to stay — I’m asking you to marry me. That’s all I have.”
Cassie didn’t realise that there were tears streaming down her face until they splashed on her hands.
Her globe of the Earth was there on the table beside her, lighting up all those places she had dreamed of going, all those adventures.
But she had done that now.
It was time for a new adventure.
“Yes.” The word had slipped out before she had consciously realised she was going to say it.
“Yes, I will.”
* * *
Cassie had had a dream, many times, that she was walking down the aisle of a church to her wedding, but the aisle kept getting longer and fading into a distant mist.
It wasn’t like that today.
Cassie glanced up at her dad with a crooked smile.
He returned the smile, his eyes warm, and patted her hand where it rested on his arm.
“Ready?”
She drew in a long, deep breath.
“As I’ll ever be.”
She really was walking down the aisle.
In a long white satin dress with a boat-shaped neckline and bracelet-length sleeves, and a skirt that flowed out into a short train, her hair coiled up on her head and laced with small white silk flowers.
The church was gaily decked out for Christmas, with the nativity scene she remembered from her childhood in its usual place on one side of the altar, a large Christmas tree on the other.
The end of each pew was trimmed with a garland of holly, shiny scarlet baubles and a bow of scarlet ribbon.
The pews were fuller than she had anticipated, with family and friends of both her and Liam.
They hadn’t wanted to separate them into his and hers, so everyone was jumbled together.
Natalie’s mum and dad were there too, smiling bravely and dabbing away a tear.
And there at the front was Liam, turning to look back at her and holding out his hand.
She put hers in it, feeling the reassuring squeeze of his fingers.
As she drew level with him she managed a flicker of a smile.
“I can’t believe we’re going through this pantomime just to get married.”
He laughed softly.
“I know. You’d have preferred to slip away to the Register Office and get married in jeans, wouldn’t you?”
“So would you.”
“Right.”
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
His eyes lit with amusement as he nodded his head slightly down towards the small blonde angel standing behind them in a pretty pink dress of crinkle chiffon, with a puffed-out skirt and a satin sash at her waist, and an expression of pure rapturous delight on her sweet face.
“Oh, yes.”
He lifted Cassie’s hand to his lips and placed a light kiss on her fingers.
“Let’s do this.”
Eva stepped into her place in front of the altar.
“Dear friends and family, we welcome you today to witness and celebrate the marriage of Cassandra and Liam.”
Yes, she really was doing this.
Never mind all the fuss about flowers and dresses and getting her hair done — that was all just froth.
She was marrying Liam Ellis, the love of her life — for better or worse, richer or poorer.
And as he slipped the slim gold ring on her finger, and she slipped a matching one on his — to rest beside the one Natalie had put there seven years ago — she felt as though they were exchanging pieces of their hearts.
The formal ceremony seemed to be over very quickly.
Eva was pronouncing them husband and wife, and Liam was kissing her, and she felt as if she was dancing on air as they walked hand in hand back down the aisle and out to the churchyard, blinking in the cool December sunshine.
Then it was all laughter and kisses and photographs and people blowing bubbles that glittered and shone like miniature rainbows in the crisp December air.
Cassie posed with Liam, with Liam and Robyn, with Liam and Robyn and both their set of parents, then both their families.
Then everyone crowded together for a large group photo, slapping their hands together and hunching their shoulders, and smiling against the cold.
* * *
At last there was a moment of peace as the photographer lined up various groups of guests which didn’t need to include the bride and groom.
Liam glanced down at Cassie, laughing.
“Phew. Maybe we should have opted for the Register Office and jeans after all.”
Her eyes danced.
“Never mind, this bit’s nearly over now. Then it’ll be cake and champagne.”
“I could go for that!”
“Daddy.” Robyn was tugging at his jacket.
“Can I put my flowers on Mummy Natalie’s garden?”
He felt a pang as he smiled down at her.
“Of course, sweetheart. That would be lovely.”
He glanced across at Cassie, but she was smiling too.
How lucky was he to have found two such loves, and the second had accepted without doubt or question that the first would always have a space in their lives.
He took her hand, and they followed the child over to the grave.
It was in a sheltered corner beneath a tall beech tree, holding up its bare branches like a net of lace against the pale-blue sky.
Natalie’s parents were there.
Sylvia was quietly dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
As they approached, she glanced up with a slightly watery smile.
“Oh . . . It was a lovely wedding.” She reached out and took Cassie’s hand.
“I . . . I hope you’ll be very happy.” She glanced down at the grave.
“Natalie would want you to be.”
He could see that Cassie was struggling.
“Thank you.”
“I can see how Robyn’s so fond of you. Take good care of them both, won’t you?”
“I will.”
“Come on then, dear.” Martin Brayley patted his wife’s shoulder.
“Let’s go home.”
“You’re not staying for the reception?”
“No, dear. It . . . would be too much.”
Liam nodded and shook his hand, watching as they walked away.
* * *
Robyn crouched down beside the headstone and carefully laid her small posy of white roses and mauve gerberas on the ground.
“Here you are, Mummy Natalie. These are for you. They’re my bridesmaid flowers, but I want you to have them.”
Oh lord, she was going to cry .
Cassie was struggling to breathe, watching the child at her mother’s grave.
But then with the joyful resilience of childhood, she jumped up, having spotted little Amy, and hurtled off to join her friend.
“She’s having a lovely day,” Liam remarked.
Cassie smiled.
“She is. It wouldn’t be the same in jeans.”
“Daddy,” the child called to him.
“Come and have your picture taken with me and Amy.”
“Another one?” he murmured dryly, but obeyed the instruction.
Cassie lingered a moment longer, looking down at the grave.
“I will take good care of them both,” she whispered.
“I promise.”
She scooped up the long skirt of her dress, tossing it over her arm, and walked back to where everyone was still milling around the church porch.
On the steps, she had paused to chat to Julia, her new sister-in-law, when Robyn came hurtling down the aisle of the empty church.
“Mummy, Mummy, come and see the navity scene.”
Mummy .
.
.
She felt her heart flip over.
It was the first time she had called her that.
She glanced uncertainly at Julia, who smiled and nodded.
“Go on, Mummy ,” she urged softly.
Robyn had taken Cassie’s hand.
“It’s got sheep and a donkey, and the baby Jesus. We’re going to have our picture taken beside it.”
Cassie allowed herself to be towed down the aisle to the pretty arrangement next to the altar — the stable, the animals, the crib and the little figures, with a slightly chipped angel presiding over the whole.
The photographer was laughing, shaking her head.
“She insisted.”
“She can be very insistent.”
Cassie hunkered down beside the small wooden stable, and Robyn came to pose beside her.
She put her arm around Robyn’s waist, and the little girl laid her own arm around her neck.
And as the camera clicked, she turned her head and put a kiss on Cassie’s cheek.
“Mummy, why are you crying?” she asked anxiously.
“Oh . . .” She brushed one tear away with her finger.
“They’re happy tears, sweetheart.”
“Like Auntie Debbie cried at her wedding, and Auntie Vicky cried at hers?”
“That’s right.”
“Do ladies have to cry when they get married?”
Cassie laughed.
“I guess they do.” She glanced up as Liam came to join them.
“Daddy, come and have your picture taken with me and Mummy by the navity,” the child pleaded.
“Okay.” He knelt on one knee beside Cassie.
“I’ll be next to Mummy, shall I?” His eyes held amusement, and something deeper — love for his small family that was binding together in so much warmth.
“So, are you looking forward to Christmas, Robyn?” the photographer asked.
The little girl beamed.
“We’re going on our honeymoon.”
“What, all together?”
A vigorous nod.
“We’re going to the North Pole to see Santa.”
“Oh . . . that’ll be nice.”
“Lapland,” Cassie explained quietly.
“Ah. And what do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”
“A baby sister!” Robyn declared without hesitation.
Beside her, Liam spluttered as he tried to suppress his laughter.
“Maybe we’d better get a move on with that — she’ll give us no peace,” he murmured, his breath soft against Cassie’s ear.
“It . . . um . . . might be a baby brother,” Cassie cautioned, her own laughter bubbling up.
The child thought about that for a moment, her head on one side.
Then she shrugged her small shoulders, spreading her hands.
“Whatever.”
THE END