by Penny Jordan
In the evening, if he wasn't out working, Diana helped him with his office work. Two days a week she drove into town to check on Susie's management of the shop. Mary now worked there full-time as well, and between them both girls were making an excellent job of it. After Christmas she intended to see if she could find a tenant for the living quarters upstairs.
She and Jane also had big plans to redecorate the farm, but like everything else, these would have to wait until after the birth of the baby.
Upstairs, in a room off their own, the nursery was being prepared. In a shop in Hereford, the cot and pram and the rest of their equipment had been chosen, to be delivered in time for the baby's arrival.
Summer had given way to autumn, with clear crisp days and fresh sharp scents in the air.
Marcus's cowman was predicting an early winter, and sure enough, late in October they woke up to a hard frost, and by the end of that week the distant Welsh mountains had their first powdering of snow.
In November, the temperature dropped sharply, and there were fresh falls of snow in the hills.
In the middle of the month, Diana began to feel tired and tetchy. However she sat or lay she felt uncomfortable, and a visit to the GP confirmed that her baby was ready to be born.
The hard frosts had delayed the autumn ploughing, and when she got back Marcus was out somewhere on the farm.
When Marcus eventually did come in, looking tired and drawn, she decided to keep Dr Thomas's warning that her baby was likely to be early rather than late to herself.
Ann and Michael were coming round for dinner, and Diana urged him upstairs to shower and change.
'No chance of you coming with me, I suppose?' he asked with a grin, surveying her newly made-up face, and the fluid lines of her one and only remaining fitting party dress.
'None at all,' Diana confirmed with an answering smile. 'I can hear a car, I think Ann and Michael have arrived.'
'My sister always did have excellent timing,' Marcus grumbled, disappearing in the direction of the stairs.
Later, Jane was inclined to blame the heavy meal; Ann opined that it was her visit to the hospital and subsequent examination that was responsible; while Diana merely said placidly that it was neither, it was simply that Mother Nature had decided for herself that the time was right.
Whatever the cause, the pangs of discomfort she had suffered on the way home worsened throughout the meal, combined with another and more insidious ache that gradually spread in waves that surged and then receded, quietly and occasionally at first, with increasing urgency later.
It was Ann who discovered Diana in the kitchen, almost doubled over the sink whilst she made the coffee.
'Marcus! Michael!' she called out anxiously, her practised eye taking in the situation at a glance.
Both men came running.
'Diana's gone into labour,' Ann told them. 'Marcus, bring round the car.'
'No!' Diana shook her head, trying to breathe deeply.
'Diana, don't be a fool,' Marcus told her grimly. 'I know you've got this bee in your bonnet about having the baby here, but…'
Between gritted teeth Diana told him bravely, 'It's too late for hospital… there won't be time.'
A long look passed between them, and Ann, who had been timing her new visible contractions, interrupted briskly.
'Diana's right.'
'My God, you must have known,' Marcus was standing beside her and looking at her with a narrowed, despairing expression, and she couldn't lie. She had known—almost from the moment she got back to the farm. Her waters had broken ages ago, and all through dinner the contractions had strengthened.
'It's too late for arguments,' Ann interrupted firmly. 'Michael, how much difference is there between delivering a baby and delivering a calf?'
'Not much,' Michael told her, with a grin for Marcus's bewildered expression. 'You go and ring Dr Thomas, there's a good chap. Diana, can you manage to get upstairs?'
She could and did… perfectly content now that she knew her child was going to be born at home where she had wanted it to be born.
The midwife and Dr Thomas arrived just in time to see Marcus holding his daughter for the first time, a look of dazed wonder on his face.
Afterwards when the three of them were finally alone, Marcus looked challengingly at his wife and asked, 'You never intended to have her in hospital, did you? You're one stubborn and determined lady, Mrs Simons. I suppose I should have known that from the moment you invaded my hotel room and seduced me.'
'I seduced you?' Diana protested indignantly. 'I like that!'
'So did I!'
She laughed weakly. 'Oh Marcus, you make me so happy. I love you so much.'
She reached out for his hand and together they looked at their sleeping daughter.
'You've given me so much. You've given me back my faith in life and in love. I'm not afraid any more.' She held out her arms to him. 'What are we going to call her?'
He looked down at the sleeping child and then at her. 'Leslie?' he suggested quietly.
'Yes…'
The baby stirred, and the poignancy of the moment was lost beneath their shared wonderment in the small daintiness of her.
Life went on, grief dimmed and faded; that was the natural order of things, and now, in addition to one another, they had this new life to cherish and love. She had been given so much, Diana thought gratefully. So very, very much. Out of great pain had come great love, and she would never cease being thankful for it.
