Their Miracle Baby

by Caroline Anderson

‘Good to be up and about. They gave me a walking cast the other day—it’s so much better, but I must say I’m a bit scared about my toes. I’m used to steel toecaps, and I feel a bit vulnerable.’

  ‘Mmm. I did when I broke my leg. Right, Sophie, let’s get you a hat sorted out and then pop you up on your pony. You’re riding Bracken today.’

  ‘Oh, goody, I love Bracken! He’s really nice.’

  ‘She says that about every one of them,’ Mike murmured as Georgina took Sophie to get her hat. ‘She’d love us to buy her one—that’s the trouble with bringing her here, we’ll have nothing else for the rest of the week, and there’s no way she’s having a pony part time, it just isn’t fair. Apart from anything else, I’ve got more than enough to do without pooh-picking and grooming and changing rugs and so forth, and that’s never the end, is it? There’s always another one, and then another one, because the first is too small and then the next one will be lonely and then you can’t get rid of the old one and it just goes on. I know so many farmers who’re overrun with their children’s first ponies and they just can’t get rid of them.’

  Fran chuckled. ‘Sounds to me like a done job,’ she teased, but he shook his head.

  ‘No way, Fran. To tell you the truth, I don’t really like her riding. It’s dangerous, and the odd ride from time to time is OK, but all the time? She’s only six—it’s too risky. So I’m just going to keep saying no to her own pony and letting her come here instead. She’s too precious to us.’

  ‘I have to keep her safe, Fran,’ Mike said, and she heard the little catch in his voice.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll back you up.’

  His hand found hers and squeezed. ‘Thanks.’

  The lesson passed without incident. Well, more or less. One little girl ended up on her bottom in the sand school, but she was all right and got up laughing, and another ended up in tears because her pony ran off with her and wouldn’t stop, and a boy wanted to change ponies because his wouldn’t go, and Georgina refused and told him that when he gave the pony the correct cues, it would understand. And of course, eventually, when he got it right, the pony trotted forwards nicely and Fran suppressed a smile.

  ‘Know him?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I know most of them. He’s a bit of a bully. It’s nice to see something big enough and stubborn enough to beat him. Take him down a peg or two. It’ll do him good.’

  ‘OK, everybody, that’s it now. Give your ponies a nice big pat and take them back out and tie them up. Well done, all of you.’

  Georgina opened the gate, and the ponies filed out.

  ‘That was so cool! Daddy, can I have a pony? I really, really want one!’ Sophie said, the pleading starting before she’d even dismounted, and Mike rolled his eyes at Fran and gave a hollow laugh.

  ‘Kids,’ he said under his breath. ‘Do we really need another one?’

  ‘Oh, hell, Fran, I didn’t mean that! Darling, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ she said, struggling to find a smile. ‘I know it was a joke.’

  ‘No, it was a stupid, thoughtless remark—I’m so, so sorry, Fran. I don’t know what I was thinking about.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not here, Mike. Not now. I’m fine—really. Just let it go.’

  But it put a dampener on the drive back and, while Sophie chattered happily about the pony and how she wanted one of her own and what she was going to call it, Mike stared straight ahead, and Fran tried to concentrate on driving and wondered just how much of a joke it really had been, and how much he’d meant it.

  Many a true word is spoken in jest, she thought. Maybe he really doesn’t want another child after all and he’s just playing along with me out of pity? It would explain the way he’d kept his distance all these last months, and although he’d said it was because he was afraid of getting her pregnant again, that he couldn’t bear the possibility of her having another miscarriage, maybe that was just an excuse, something legitimate he could use to hide his real feelings behind.

  They got back to the farm, and Joy was just coming out of the farm shop as they pulled up.

  ‘Grannie!’ Sophie yelled. Sliding out of the car, she ran over to her grandmother and started telling her about her riding lesson.

  Mike opened the car door and swung round, eased himself out and hobbled over to his mother. ‘Are you busy?’

  ‘No, not at all. Why?’

  Fran watched them, heard his words, saw his mother nod agreement and look up, meeting her eyes with concern.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ she was asking, but Fran couldn’t take any more. She turned away and, locking the car, went into the house, leaving Mike to follow her.

  He couldn’t believe he’d said that.

  Of all the crass, stupid remarks!

  He limped into the house, calling her name, and found her eventually in their bedroom, stripping the bed with fierce concentration, her movements almost savage. He went over to her, took her hands in his, held them against his heart.

  ‘Frankie, talk to me.’

  ‘No, you talk to me,’ she cried, wrenching her hands away and stripping off the pillow case with enough force to tear it. ‘You tell me what you really feel, what you really want. Because I thought I knew, and then I suddenly realised that maybe I didn’t know at all, maybe you don’t really want a baby with me despite all the stuff you’ve said over the last few days, and I have to know, Mike,’ she said, throwing down the pillow with a ragged sob. ‘I have to know!’

  Her eyes were filled with tears, and with a rough sigh he hauled her up against his chest and hugged her tight. ‘I want a baby,’ he said emphatically. ‘I want your baby. Our baby. And what I said was just a knee-jerk reaction to kids in general, and nothing to do with us. I know it was stupid,

  ‘No, I don’t, Mike,’ she said, her body still and unresponsive in his arms. ‘I really don’t, not any more.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ He sighed, and let her go, frustration at his stupidity making him want to scream. He paced away, then turned back to her, scrubbing his hands through his hair. ‘How can I prove it?’ he asked desperately.

  ‘Let me try again,’ she said. ‘I know you said you couldn’t bear the thought of me having a miscarriage, but it isn’t you that has to bear it. It’s me. So let me. Or, at least, let’s think about it, because for the last few days we haven’t talked about it at all, and I want to, in the context of our relationship now. Not what it’s been, but what it is now. I know you love me. I know you want me. But I need the truth from you about this, Mike. I need to know that you really, really want a child with me, not that you’re just going along with me, humouring me. Indulging me.’

  ‘I’m not,’ he said instantly. ‘Never. I want a baby with you, Fran. I’ve said it over and over again. I know what it means to you, how it’s tearing you apart, but it means a lot to me, too. It’s not just for you. I want a child as well—a child who’ll live here with us, a child to share every moment of our lives, not just the odd weekend. I adore Sophie, and I wish she could be here with us more, but if I’d stayed with Kirsten I would have wanted more children. Sophie shouldn’t be alone, and this house needs kids, Fran. Either ours or somebody else’s. And if we can’t have a baby of our own, then I’d like to adopt one—or more. Maybe disabled in some way, a child nobody wants. Not necessarily

  ‘So, yes, I do want a child. With you. And I’ll do whatever it takes, for as long as you want to try. And failing that, I’d like to adopt, because I want to be a full-time father. I love being a father. It’s part of who I am, and I want to share it with you. Does that answer your questions?’

  She stared at him, then gave a scratchy little laugh. ‘Pity I wrecked the bed,’ she said, ‘because I could just do with lying down in it with you and having a really big cuddle.’

  ‘Oh, you idiot,’ he said, his voice cracking. Limping quickly back to her, he grabbed the pillows off the floor, shoved the quilt out of the way and lay down, pulling her down after him. ‘Come here,’ he said gruffly. Wra
pping his arms round her, he sighed deeply and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Forgive me?’

  She tilted her head back and smiled. ‘I forgive you. Actually, I more than forgive you. Maybe I need to push you more often, because you get really honest then, and tell me all the things you’ve been keeping to yourself. Like this adoption business. How long have you been thinking about that?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Ages. Years, probably. Since I married Kirsten.’

  ‘Then let’s do it. If I have a baby, great. If I don’t—well, we’ll do as you said. Maybe do it anyway.’

  He looked down at her, saw new determination in her

  ‘It’s all right, Mike,’ she said. ‘You won’t wake up one morning and find we’re running a children’s home, but it’s something to think about. Something for the future.’

  She settled her head down on his chest. ‘Now go to sleep. We’ve only got a short time before we have to get ready to go to the Carters’.’

  ‘Seems a shame to waste it,’ he murmured, and she lifted her head again and looked up at him.

  ‘Are we making up for lost time?’ she asked.

  He chuckled. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘No problem,’ she said, and kissed him.

  The baby was gorgeous.

  Sophie was captivated, and when the men wandered off to look at the fields, Fran asked Lucy if there was anything she could do to help and ended up with Annabel in her arms.

  ‘Oh, that’s better. She can pull your hair instead of mine,’ Lucy said with a laugh, kissing the baby’s nose and making her giggle deliciously. She clapped her chubby hands in delight, and Fran caught one of them and blew a raspberry on it, making her giggle even harder.

  ‘I want to blow a raspberry,’ Sophie said, and Fran crouched down so Sophie could reach, and the baby giggled again and grabbed Sophie’s curls.

  ‘Ouch!’ Sophie said with a laugh, gently pulling her hair out of Annabel’s fingers. She danced over to Lucy and said, eyes sparkling, ‘I’m going to have a baby too!’

  ‘Oh!’ Lucy spun round, her eyes also sparkling, and

  Oh, lord. ‘Um…it’s not me, it’s Kirsten—Sophie’s mother,’ she explained, wondering if everything today was going to be destined to floor her, ‘but congratulations! That’s really lovely for you.’

  ‘Oh, well—it’s a bit quick. Fran, I’m really sorry,’ she added, her eyes conveying her regret.

  ‘It’s a shame it’s not you and Daddy,’ Sophie chipped in, looking up at her with wistful eyes. ‘That would have been so nice.’

  Wouldn’t it just? Fran thought, and banished it. She was going to enjoy herself this afternoon. One thing at a time, Mike had said, and she was starting now, having a lovely cuddle with little Annabel to fill her achingly empty arms.

  ‘But perhaps you could have one too,’ Sophie went on, as relentless as ever. ‘Daddy said maybe one day, so maybe it could be a soon maybe instead of a never maybe. He usually means never, though. Like the pony. He said maybe once, when I was four, but now he just says no.’

  Lucy laughed a little awkwardly. ‘I think a baby’s a bit different, Sophie. I’m sure Fran and your father will have a baby when it’s right for them.’

  ‘What if it’s never right?’

  ‘Then you’ll have your mother’s new baby anyway,’ Fran pointed out. ‘And, like your father said, it might be nice to come to us and have a bit of peace.’

  Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘Amen to that,’ she said fervently. ‘This one still doesn’t always go through the night and by the time she does, I expect I’ll have the other one.’

  ‘All right, girls?’ Mike asked, scanning their faces and picking up on the atmosphere.

  ‘Fine,’ Fran said.

  But then Sophie opened her mouth and said, ‘Guess what, Daddy? Lucy’s having another baby!’

  ‘So—what do you think about the fields, Mike?’ Lucy asked.

  They’d finished eating, Annabel had been put down for a nap and Sophie was standing on the other side of the track, talking to Amber through the fence. The adults were all sitting round in the shade, sipping a nicely chilled rosé.

  ‘Oh, I think we should be able to do something,’ he said, very conscious of the need for money so they could afford another IVF cycle, and yet wondering how they could possibly charge the Carters the going rate for a bit of land that was little more than useless to the farm.

  ‘You’re having a fit of conscience,’ Ben said astutely, narrowing his eyes. ‘Don’t. We want it, you’ve got it—it’s called supply and demand, Mike.’

  ‘I think we need an independent valuation,’ he said, wondering if he was shooting himself in the foot and if they’d end up without the land and with not enough money to do anything. Not that losing the land mattered, because the bit the Carters were most interested in was essentially worthless to the farm. And that was the problem, of course. Oh, damn.

  ‘I’ll get the auctioneer who sold us the house to have a look, shall I?’ Ben said. ‘Unless you’ve got a better suggestion?’

  ‘No, he’s fine. He’s the man, I would have said.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘No. I’m still on painkillers. I shouldn’t, really,’ he lied, although he had taken one the night before after chasing Sophie up the stairs, so it wasn’t really a total lie.

  ‘Fran?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine, Ben, thank you. It was lovely.’ She looked at Mike. ‘We ought to go, darling. I promised Sarah I’d give her a hand to restock the shelves in the shop, and Sophie could do with a bath. She’s covered in cow slobber.’

  ‘Right. Ben, I’ll have a chat to Joe—I might see him tonight. He’s doing the milking. I’ll talk to you when we’ve got the valuation.’

  They took their leave, Sophie reluctant to drag herself away from Amber and wanting to stay until Annabel woke up. But Mike bribed her with the promise of hot chocolate in the bath, and Fran drove them home and went over to the farm shop, leaving Mike to deal with Sophie.

  He was clearing up the bathroom while Sophie was getting into her pyjamas when Joe called up the stairs.

  ‘Sophie, come down when you’re ready,’ he said, sticking his head round the door, and he hobbled downstairs to the kitchen.

  ‘Hi. I’m glad you popped in. We’ve been with Ben and Lucy, and he’s walked me over the fields and shown me what he wants. I’ve got the plans.’

  ‘OK.’

  He looked at his brother’s face, wondering what was wrong. Something, that was for sure, because Joe was

  ‘No!’ Joe laughed awkwardly. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—oh, hell, bro, I don’t know how to tell you, so I’m just going to say it. Sarah’s pregnant.’

  Oh, God, not another one. Mike stood motionless for a second, then forced his face into a smile. ‘That’s really great news,’ he said, but his voice sounded hollow and Joe couldn’t fail to notice.

  He didn’t. He said something very rude, and then added, ‘You don’t have to lie. I know what this news means to you, and I’m so sorry. It wasn’t really planned, but actually we’re thrilled to bits—or we would be, if it wasn’t for you guys.’

  ‘You be thrilled to bits,’ Mike said gruffly, grabbing his brother and hugging him hard. ‘It’s fantastic news, and I really, really am pleased for you. Just because we’re having trouble, it doesn’t mean nobody else in the county can have a baby.’

  ‘But it’s not just us, is it?’ Joe said quietly. ‘Sarah told me Kirsten’s pregnant.’

  ‘And Lucy,’ Mike said flatly. ‘But, hey, that’s life. We’re all the right age, it’s bound to happen. Anyway, we’re talking about maybe trying the IVF again. That’s why I want to talk to you about this land. We’re getting the agent who sold the house to have a look and value it, but I don’t know what we should ask.’

  ‘How about splitting the difference between agricultural rates and what it would add to the value of their house?’ Joe sugg
ested. ‘That would seem fair. And if it isn’t enough, we don’t have to refit the kitchen. It all works—

  ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘Life isn’t. Sometimes it sucks. And if you need help, you just have to ask. This is more important than the kitchen, and the clock’s ticking, Mike. We don’t want Fran to run out of time because we want some fancy new cupboards and a bigger fridge.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Got to go, I’ve still got to feed the calves again before I can stop. Let me know if there’s any news on the valuation.’

  ‘Will do. And tell Sarah congratulations for me.’

  Joe nodded and went out, leaving Mike alone with his thoughts. Not a happy place to be. He couldn’t believe it was happening again.

  It was going to kill Fran. And once again he was going to have to be the one to tell her.

  ‘Everything all right, Fran?’

  His eyes held hers for a second then slid away, something that could have been guilt lurking in their depths, and Fran stared at him, her heart breaking. He knew. He actually knew, and he hadn’t said anything! He’d been upstairs putting Sophie to bed when she’d come back from helping Sarah, and just when she’d needed him, he hadn’t been there.

  And now she discovered that he’d already known, and he hadn’t told her. Just when she’d thought there were no secrets. Why hadn’t he told her?

  ‘Oh, just peachy,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Fran, I’m sorry,’ he began, but she cut him off.

  ‘How long have you known?’

  And he was, she could see that. His throat was working, his eyes were sad and he held out his arms to her. She walked into them, laid her head on his chest and sighed, the fight going out of her and leaving only sadness.

  ‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said. ‘Sorry I jumped down your throat. I thought you’d been keeping it from me for a while.’

  ‘No. So I take it Sarah told you?’

  She gave a strangled little laugh. ‘Not exactly. I found some coffee that was past its sell-by date and handed it to her, commenting on the lovely smell, and she dropped it and ran. Bit of a give-away, really.’

  He rubbed her shoulders with his hand, the other hand lying lightly in the small of her back and holding her against him comfortingly.