Their Miracle Baby. Caroline Anderson

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      It often happened, she’d been told. Miscarriages were common, and her first, three years ago—well, that had just been one of those things, they’d said. It probably wouldn’t happen again.

      And it hadn’t, of course, because she hadn’t conceived again, and so they’d undergone endless intrusive and humiliating tests, all of which had proved nothing except that there wasn’t any obvious reason why they hadn’t had a baby yet.

      So they’d gone through the difficult and challenging process of a cycle of IVF, and she’d become pregnant, and then, just like before, she’d lost it.

      Not unusual, they were told again, especially with IVF, possibly because the embryos weren’t always as perfect as they might be with a normally conceived embryo, and this, it seemed, was probably what had happened to theirs.

      All very logical, but she didn’t feel logical about it, because there was nothing wrong with either of them, they just hadn’t managed to make a healthy baby yet, and it was tearing her apart.

      Looking on the bright side, they hadn’t made an unhealthy one either, so if that was why the embryos had both failed, maybe it was for the best.

      Small consolation.

      Whatever the reason, she’d lost the embryos, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to go through it again. If she had another miscarriage…

      And, anyway, they still had Sophie coming to visit them and bringing so much sunshine into their lives. OK, it wasn’t like having her own child, but Sophie was gorgeous, and she loved her to bits. Was it greedy to want more?

      To want a child of their own who would come home from school bubbling with excitement and giving them some little blob of modelling clay to treasure?

      She dragged in a breath, pressing her fist against the little knot of pain in her chest. Not now. She couldn’t think about it now. Blinking hard, she put the little box in a safe place, opened the fridge and started pulling things out.

      Supper. Practicalities. Forget the rest.

      Just like the funny, amazing little present, she had to put her feelings in a box and put the lid on and put them all away.

      It was the only way to survive.

      They were sitting at the kitchen table.

      Mike had finished milking on Saturday morning and he was hurrying back to join them for breakfast. Glancing through the window, expecting to see them cooking, he was surprised to see them seated side by side, Sophie’s untamed blonde curls close to Fran’s sleek, dark hair, and he could hear them laughing.

      They were busy wrapping something that could well have been the little box Sophie had been brandishing yesterday so, instead of kicking off his boots and going in, Mike opened the door a crack to give them warning and said, ‘Just going over to the shop to make sure everything’s OK. Anything you need?’

      ‘Daddy, go away, you can’t see!’ Sophie shrieked, plastering herself over the table.

      ‘I’m not looking, I’ve got my eyes shut,’ he said, squashing a grin and screwing his eyes up tight. ‘Want anything, Frankie?’

      ‘Bacon?’ she said, a smile in her voice. ‘I thought we could have a nice cooked breakfast if you’ve finished milking.’

      ‘OK. I’ll be five minutes.’ That should give them long enough to wrap whatever it was, he thought with the smile still tugging at his mouth.

      ‘Fine.’

      He went out, leaving Brodie behind to fuss over Sophie, and had a quick chat to his sister-in-law, Sarah, in the farm shop. She was just about to open up, and she threw him a smile as he went in.

      ‘Hiya. How are you? Looking forward to tomorrow?’

      ‘What—getting older, you mean? I can’t wait.’ He chuckled and picked out a packet of local dry-cured bacon. ‘I’ve been sent to fetch breakfast,’ he told her. ‘You OK here? Need anything?’

      ‘More blue cheese from the store, when you’ve got time. It’s gone really well this week and we’ve only got half a wheel left.’

      ‘I’ll drop it in later,’ he promised.

      ‘Oh, and eggs? We’ve had a run on them—must be all those desperate women in Penhally making you a birthday cake in the hope of tempting you away from Fran!’

      He chuckled again. ‘Hardly. But I’ll get Sophie on it right after breakfast. She likes collecting the eggs. We’ll do it in the next hour or so, OK?’

      ‘Fine. See you later.’

      He sauntered back, whistling cheerfully so they could hear him coming and get the present out of the way, and when he opened the door a crack and called through it, Sophie dashed over and opened it, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

      ‘We’re all finished. You can come in now,’ she said primly, and he tweaked one of her curls and hugged her against his side.

      ‘I’m glad to hear it. Give this to Fran, could you, sweetheart?’

      She skipped across the kitchen with the bacon in her hand. Fran turned and met his eyes over her head, and they shared a smile.

      ‘Here,’ Sophie announced, handing it over, then sat down on the floor next to Brodie and sang, ‘Bacon, bacon, bacon, we’re having bacon! Do you want some?’

      ‘Of course she does but she’s not allowed,’ Mike reminded her.

      ‘Not even just a teeny, tiny, weeny little bit?’

      ‘Not even a sniff.’

      ‘Oh. Never mind, Brodie,’ she said comfortingly, and cuddled the dog, who promptly rolled over and sprawled right in front of Fran.

      ‘Come on, guys, out of the way,’ she said patiently, and they decamped to the far end, Sophie propped up against the wall, Brodie propped up against her, both watching the bacon intently.

      ‘Time to wash your hands,’ Mike reminded her, washing his own and laying the table while Fran finished the cooking. He made a pot of coffee, poured some juice for Sophie and they settled down to eat.

      Well, he and Fran did. Sophie couldn’t even eat quietly, humming and jiggling while she ate, making appreciative noises and pretending that she wasn’t sneaking bits of food down to Brodie, clamped firmly to her side.

      ‘Brodie, go and lie down,’ he said, and the dog, crestfallen, went and flopped apparently casually in a pool of sunshine and watched Sophie’s every move.

      Poor old thing. She adored Sophie, loving every moment of her visits, and she’d wander around like a lost soul after she’d gone, looking for her.

      She wasn’t allowed in the bedrooms but somehow, when Sophie was here, she seemed to find her way out of the kitchen door and up the stairs to the foot of her bed, and there she slept, one eye on the door and grinning manically every time they went in to tuck Sophie up, rolling СКАЧАТЬ