The Christmas Surprise
Page 31

She heard footsteps in the hallway and tried to dampen down her excitement, but then, to her irritation, she heard a chorus of coos and the footsteps stopped. Curses! Sure enough, Ada Lumb, Millicent Miller and Carmel Smith had already gathered round, their hands stretching out towards the little bundle Rosie was carrying like three old witches trying to steal the power of youth, thought Lilian crossly. She had never had a child of her own – had only ever wanted Henry’s, couldn’t give a fig for the rest – but those women who had been mothers seemed, as age crept up on them and their faculties left them one by one, still to have a yearning deep inside to hold a baby, to feel the soft weight in their arms once again. It was one of the last things to leave them.
Lilian made her way slowly to the door.
‘Don’t crowd that child,’ she barked loudly. ‘You’ll drown him with lavender.’
Rosie looked up, her face tired and pale but somehow soft, happy, gentle and fuzzy round the edges with an odd kind of quiet, proud joy.
‘Aunt Lilian,’ she said softly.
‘Well bring him in,’ said Lilian. ‘He won’t be used to that cold air out there.’
‘He’s getting used to it,’ said Rosie.
She moved quickly and kissed Lilian’s soft, powdery cheek, then gave her a hug. Lilian could smell Rosie’s shampoo, but also the mild, milky fragrance of the baby. They went into the sitting room together.
‘Needlepoint?’ said Rosie sceptically as she looked at the arm of Lilian’s chair.
‘It’s a great passion of mine,’ said Lilian, who had grabbed it hastily once she’d seen the Land Rover pull up.
‘Right,’ said Rosie, smiling. ‘Okay … are you ready?’
‘He’s only a baby, Rosie, not the second coming.’
‘Says you,’ said Rosie. ‘And he’s your second great-great-nephew!’
‘Well, quite,’ said Lilian. ‘The novelty factor has completely worn off.’
Rosie was rolling him out of his blanket and his sling and his knitted overcoat, all the many layers she’d needed to take him out into the frosty Lipton evening. Woken up from his half-slumber, Apostil looked around, blinking, his mouth opening and shutting. He made his little mewing noise, then twisted his head round to check on his mother, who smiled at him. He smiled back, waved his good hand in the air and grabbed a handful of Rosie’s hair.
Lilian gave an involuntary smile too. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t known what to expect, tending to think that he would be a little mite – the kind of baby you saw on adverts for charities. But this chunky, strong-looking little fellow with the huge dark eyes and the incredibly long eyelashes … well, he was something else altogether. He was …
‘He’s beautiful,’ she said, cursing her cracking voice.
‘I know,’ said Rosie, grinning widely. ‘It is a total bonus. Do you want to hold him?’
Lilian sat down.
‘He’s huge. Are you feeding him too much?’
‘Yes,’ said Rosie. ‘Cherry cola in the morning, then liquidised Mars Bars at night. Why, am I doing it wrong?’
‘Don’t be cheeky.’
‘I’m not being cheeky, you’re being cheeky. He’s a baby. He drinks milk. When he’s had enough milk, he throws up the rest. Don’t fret.’
Lilian arranged herself carefully on the sofa, her legs looking very thin.
‘Go on, then.’
Carefully Rosie propped him up on Lilian’s lap, Lilian putting her arms under his back to support him. For a long moment, he and Lilian regarded each other.
‘The older I get,’ said Lilian crisply, ‘the more surprising life becomes.’
Apostil made a grab for her pretty watch.
‘Ah, you have an eye for quality,’ said Lilian. Carefully she lifted the little body towards hers and gave him a cuddle. Apostil twisted his head anxiously to look for Rosie, but she shushed him gently and gave him an encouraging smile, then quickly whipped out her phone to take a photograph to add to the seventy-five million she’d already taken. Angie phoned angrily if she didn’t get one every two hours.
The other old ladies were hovering anxiously around the sitting room door, Ida Delia notable by her absence.
‘Come on in then, hubble, bubble, toil and trouble,’ said Lilian, and Rosie went forward to thank them all for all the knitting, then Cathryn came in, her ruddy face breaking into a smile as she implored Rosie to bring him by as often as she liked, it did everybody good to have a baby around the place, and Rosie promised that she would, and left on cloud nine, Lilian again making sure to stay in the hall, watching them all the way as they went. It was why Cathryn had built up the fire.
Rosie was still floating on a happy cloud as she walked in through the front door. Even though she knew there was a long, hard winter ahead, there was still something about seeing the smoke puffing out of their little chimney that made her feel so happy and cosy.
Stephen was sitting at the little table, frowning over a huge pile of papers.
‘Hello, love,’ she said, planting a kiss on his handsome head. ‘Too much marking?’
Stephen sighed.
‘If only,’ he said. ‘Tea?’
He put up his hands for Apostil, who was fussing, and patted him gently into his shoulder.
‘I’ll make it, I need to do his lordship’s bottle anyway. Oh my God, the girls at the home went NUTS for him, I swear.’
‘They want to drink his blood,’ said Stephen.
‘They do not! They just wanted to see a young face.’
‘Ha, and yours no longer counts.’
Rosie stuck her tongue out at him.
‘Obviously not.’
She let the kettle boil and pulled the bottles out of the steriliser.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Ah,’ said Stephen. ‘You know we keep saying we’re going to have to sit down and have a serious chat about our finances?’
Rosie’s nice, happy feeling dropped out of her body immediately.
‘Um, yeah?’
Stephen held up a whole sheaf of bills with his free hand.
‘That time is probably now.’
‘Oh bugger.’
She looked around.
‘What’s for tea?’
‘You mean supper?’
‘No, I mean TEA.’