by Rosie Harris
‘Of course!’
When he reached her bedside Sandy didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to worry her by repeating anything that Dr Richman had told him, yet he wanted her to know how much he loved her and that he understood how brave she was being.
Winnie had already been sedated. She was lying there looking drowsy, her stomach a huge distended mound. Sandy took her hand, his throat tight with emotion. He tried to hold back his tears as he kissed her tenderly on the brow. He felt guilty that she was doing this for him, possibly sacrificing her life to provide him with a family.
She smiled and murmured something, but because she was so drowsy her words were slurred. He made out his own name and ‘love you’ before he was firmly elbowed out of the way. Then he watched helplessly as they wheeled her through to the operating theatre.
He wanted to call after them and tell Dr Richman to save her and damn the baby, but he knew that was not what Winnie would have wanted so he bit back the words.
It was mid-afternoon before Sandy was allowed to see Winnie again. Four long hours while he fretted and paced backwards and forwards, up and down the hospital corridors. All his thoughts were with his wife, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.
His heart turned over when they finally let him back into the ward to see Winnie. She was lying propped up in bed, her thick wavy hair framing her face and fanning out over the white pillow like a black shawl.
As he bent down to kiss her brow her eyes fluttered open and he felt himself drowning in their brilliant luminosity as her gaze locked with his.
She was so beautiful, and she meant so much to him. He would have wanted to die, too, if she hadn’t survived the ordeal.
Almost reverently he kissed her on the lips. He wanted to hug her close, but she looked so fragile that he was afraid to do more than take her hands in his and squeeze them gently.
‘Hello,’ he whispered. ‘How are you?’
‘Very sore and very weak, but very happy,’ she told him softly.
‘And very brave,’ he added.
‘And very clever!’ she boasted. ‘Have you met our beautiful daughter yet?’
‘No, not yet. I was more concerned at seeing how you were.’
Winnie used a bell-pull at the side of her bed to summon a nurse. ‘Could you let my husband see the baby?’ she asked.
‘Of course. I’ll take you along to the nursery, Mr Coulson. Will you come this way.’
‘Couldn’t you bring her in here so that we can all be together,’ Winnie begged.
The nurse hesitated.
‘Please!’ Winnie pleaded, giving her a persuasive look that became a beaming smile as the nurse agreed to her request.
‘I’m sorry that I’ve put you through all this, Winnie,’ Sandy murmured contritely the moment they were alone. ‘I feel so guilty …’
She placed a finger over his lips. ‘Wait until you see your daughter and then tell me how you feel,’ she smiled.
The nurse returned, carrying the baby in the crook of her arm. ‘I’ll let you do the honours and introduce her to her dad,’ she said as she lowered the bundle into Winnie’s arms.
‘Come and take a peep at her then!’ Carefully, Winnie pulled back the shawl and Sandy found himself gazing down at a tiny pink-and-white oval face topped by a fuzz of dark red curls.
‘She’s beautiful!’ he exclaimed in awe. He touched the baby’s tiny pink hand and smiled as she grasped at his finger.
‘They change your life, remember,’ Winnie reminded him.
‘This one certainly will!’ He looked dazed. ‘I can’t believe that she is ours,’ he said, bemused.
‘You’ve only got to look at her to see that she is!’
‘Yes, your elfin face and my carroty hair, poor little mite!’ he teased.
‘Give her time! She’s going to be as pretty as a picture and have all the boys falling in love with her,’ Winnie told him confidently.
‘It’s a good job we’re planning to move to a better area then, isn’t it,’ Sandy grinned.
‘Yes,’ Winnie looked proudly at the baby, ‘now we really must try and find somewhere nice to live. I don’t want her growing up in the Liverpool slums, or running around with barefoot kids, even though we did when we were small.’
‘No, this little princess is going to have a bedroom of her own and live in style,’ Sandy assured Winnie.
‘We’ll look for somewhere the minute I’m out of here,’ she promised.
Sandy cleared his throat. ‘I’ve already found the ideal place,’ he said gruffly.
Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘You have?’
He nodded. ‘It’s at Seacombe, right on the riverfront. You’ll love it. It’s big enough for us to use the bottom part as a café, and there are five rooms up over that where we can live. It means we can expand our business at the same time as moving somewhere better.’
Winnie stared at him in amazement. ‘When did you find the time to arrange all this?’
‘I’ve been looking for the perfect spot ever since we first talked about moving,’ he confessed.
‘And you never breathed a word to me, not even after you found it?’
‘Well, I wanted to take you to see it before I agreed to rent it, but you weren’t fit enough. You’re going to love it, though. It has wonderful views out over the Mersey. In fact,’ he grinned wickedly, ‘you can see straight across the river to our café here in Liverpool. As soon as we move in I’m going to fix up a flag pole so that we’ll be able to signal to each other.’
‘What makes you think I’m going to have time to do anything of the sort! I’ll be too busy looking after our daughter, and I certainly won’t have time to run a café or whatever you intend to open over there.’
‘You’ll have no choice! We’ll need the money now we have an extra mouth to feed,’ he told her with mock severity.
‘Slave-driver! It sounds like it’s going to be a lot of hard work for me!’
‘Not really! In fact,’ he confessed, ‘it’s already organised and should be up and running any day now. I’ve already taken on a manageress, a cook and a couple of waitresses. All you’re going to have to do is keep an eye on them and decide what we’re going to call the place.’
Winnie pursed her lips thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling as she looked from Sandy to the baby in her arms. ‘I’d like to call this precious little bundle Peg, in memory of our own dear Peg,’ she told him. ‘So what about calling our new café Peg’s Place?’ she suggested with a broad smile.
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Copyright © Rosie Harris 2004
Rosie Harris has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
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First published in the United Kingdom in 2004
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