by Sk Quinn
‘Sweetheart,’ says Alice. ‘I’m not sure you’re going to have much choice—’
‘I want to go into the garden!’ I say, pushing myself to my feet and staggering out of the living room.
‘Sophia,’ Marc shouts. ‘You should be indoors—’
‘No Marc. I have to be outside. With you. Just the two of us.’
The midwife nods. ‘Whatever helps you cope. We’ll give you a few minutes. Shout if you need us.’
Marc takes my arm. ‘Let me help you.’
Somehow, I manage to get through the French windows and into the garden.
I sink onto the beautiful, cool lawn. As my knees touch the grass, my waters break.
‘Oh my god!’
I feel my insides go berserk and I’m hot with pain.
Marc squeezes my hand as I kneel on the grass.
Weird as it is being naked out here, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.
Suddenly, the pain stops and I want to push. And I do. I push and push, grabbing Marc’s hand the whole time.
‘Sophia,’ says Marc. ‘We should call the midwife.
‘No Marc,’ I say. ‘Please. Just stay with me. Just stay with me.’
I keep pushing, every time I feel the urge.
I don’t have any self-consciousness about anything. I don’t care about being naked. Or the fact my waters have broken around my knees. All I care about is that Marc is here.
Something shifts inside me and my hands come between my legs.
‘Marc!’
I feel the baby’s head in my hands, and then the rest of its little body slides out.
‘Alice!’ Marc calls, helping me cradle the baby’s head. ‘Dr Christian!’ He takes the baby from my hands and holds it to his chest.
‘Is it okay?’ I ask. ‘Is it breathing?’
Suddenly I hear the tiniest cry. Followed by a choky little cough.
I fall back on my haunches.
‘She,’ says Marc, smiling. ‘She is breathing. And she is beautiful. Just like her mother.’
82
A tiny, grouchy looking little baby, with brown hair, lies in Marc’s arms. She’s bright pink and covered in white stuff. Her skin is white and her lips bright red. Her eyes are tight shut and she puckers her lips into an annoyed little cry.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
‘Can I take her?’ I reach over and cradle our little girl in my arms. ‘Hello beautiful girl,’ I say. ‘Hello.’
‘So do you have any girl’s names lined up?’ Marc smiles. ‘Because I don’t.’
‘Well lucky for you I was open minded,’ I say, gazing down. ‘And I have the perfect name.’
‘Which is?’
‘Ivy.’
The next few weeks are sort of a blur. But a happy blur.
I spend a few days at the townhouse eating toast and drinking hot chocolate, and then we relocate to our country home – which has been perfectly prepared for our new arrival.
I’d been nesting for months before Ivy came, so our country house is spotlessly clean and full of every baby thing imaginable.
Marc and I spend all our time together with baby Ivy, watching her sleep and feed.
I do absolutely no cooking at all, on Marc’s insistence, and a chef comes every meal time to prepare the most amazing, healthy food. And the odd pizza.
It’s a whole new world, waking up every few hours every night, and a bit daunting. But I’d do anything for Ivy. Anything at all. And I know Marc would too.
Before we know it, Christmas is upon us.
We insist the whole family come to our country home for Christmas dinner. We invite Denise too, of course. And Tom and Tanya, whose families are both overseas. And Michael.
On Christmas morning, I carry baby Ivy down to see the Christmas tree and lights. Marc watches me like a hawk on the stairs. He’s still petrified I might get too weak and drop her.
I tell Marc over and over that I’m fine, but he still won’t quite believe me. I think the birth freaked him out a bit. Seeing me so frail. But I’d go through it again next week if it meant having Ivy with us.
I smile at the pile of Christmas presents under the tree. Marc has bought half of London for baby Ivy. She’s going to be the most spoiled little girl imaginable. But I’m going to work hard to make sure she has good values. And appreciates everything she gets.
‘You know, I don’t think Ivy understands presents just yet,’ I tell Marc. ‘She can’t even smile.’
Marc frowns. ‘My daughter will have the very best of everything. Are you sure you’re okay carrying her on the stairs—’
I laugh. ‘For the millionth time, yes.’
We open some of baby Ivy’s presents. Expensive clothes, toys and toiletries. But Ivy doesn’t understand what’s going on. I think she likes the Christmas tree better than anything.
‘Since our daughter seems to like trees and lights better than presents,’ says Marc, ‘perhaps you’d like to open your gift now.’
‘Marc! The tradition in our family—’
‘You have a new family. Me and Ivy. And I say our tradition should be opening presents first thing in the morning. Children shouldn’t have to wait all day.’
‘Fine. Just this once. But we’ll talk again next year.’
‘Glad to see you still do as you’re told Mrs Blackwell. At least some of the time. Here.’ He passes me a small box wrapped with beautiful cream paper.
‘You know, I didn’t quite manage to get you a present,’ I admit. ‘Ivy here came a little quicker than I thought. And with the movie and everything … I was disorganised this year.’
‘You’re forgiven,’ says Marc. ‘Now open your present.’
I tear off the paper and find a purple jewellery box.
‘This looks beautiful.’
‘You haven’t even opened it yet.’
When I open the box, the smile leaves my lips. In a good way.
‘Oh Marc. This is … oh wow.’
Inside is a silver necklace with aivy leaf and rose hanging from it.
‘Turn it over,’ says Marc.
I do, and see an engraving on the back of the ivy leaf.
It says, ‘Light and dark together forever, Marc.’
I bite my lip.
‘You don’t like it?’ Marc asks, his eyes wide with concern.
I shake my head, feeling tears coming. ‘Oh Marc. I love it. I just don’t want to cry.’
Marc laughs and puts his arms around us.
‘I will always look after you and our daughter. You know that don’t you?’
‘I know.’
83
It turns out to be the most amazing Christmas day ever.
Dad, Denise, Michael, Annabel and Daniel, Jen and Leo and Tom and Tanya all end up sitting in our huge living room, in front of the roaring fire.
We talk and laugh and drink and eat, and spend a lot of time watching baby Ivy.
‘This is the happiest I’ve ever been,’ I tell Marc, snuggling up by the fire.
‘Do you think Ivy might be too hot?’ says Marc, ever the anxious parent.
‘I think she’s just fine. Look at all the love in this room. How could she ever come to any harm?’
Marc’s jaw hardens. ‘I’d die before any harm came to her.’
‘I know. Me too.’
Jen gazes at Ivy, her hand tight in Leo’s.
‘Maybe we could have one of these soon?’ says Leo, giving Jen a playful wink.
‘Are you kidding me?’ says Jen. ‘I’ve literally just started my business. And we haven’t even got married yet.’
‘So let’s hurry up and get married. Fly to Vegas tonight. Get it done and dusted, then have a baby.’
‘LEO!’ says Jen. ‘I’ve been planning this wedding for months. It’s going to be the event of the century.’
‘So un-plan it. You know what they say. The cheaper the wedding, the longer the marriage.’
‘I know. So let’s do it.’
Jen rolls her eyes. ‘Leo! Sometimes things have to be planned.’
‘But the best things are always spontaneous.’ Leo plants a loud kiss on Jen’s cheek. ‘If we have a baby next year, it will be the same age as Ivy here. They can be best friends.’
‘Mine and Sophia’s children will be best friends no matter what their age,’ says Jen confidently.
Baby Ivy is on best behaviour when our family and friends are around. But as they say their goodbyes, she begins to get restless.
No amount of feeding, rocking or shushing will calm her down.
‘Perhaps she’s coming down with something,’ says Marc, his voice full of concern. ‘I should call the doctor.’
‘Marc. It’s okay. She always gets like this at the end of the day. Let’s just take her for a walk.’
‘It’s freezing out there,’ says Marc.
‘And you’ve bought her enough thermal outfits to survive the Antarctic,’ I point out. ‘Come on. She just needs some fresh air to help her sleep.’
Reluctantly, Marc helps me bundle Ivy into the pram, wrapped in clothes and blankets.
We push her outside over the gravel and I look up at the clear, black sky.
The second Ivy hits the fresh air she quietens down.
‘See?’ I tell Marc, pushing the pram over the gravel. ‘She just needed a walk. That’s all. Let’s take her across the fields.’
Marc and I push Ivy along dark country lanes, watching her beautiful pale little face as her eyes gently close. Pretty soon she’s fast asleep.
‘I am going to give this little baby everything,’ says Marc. ‘I will take care of her for the rest of her life.’
‘Don’t spoil her,’ I say.
‘Of course I’ll spoil her,’ says Marc. ‘That’s my job as her father.’
‘You’re not disappointed you didn’t have a son then?’ I ask.
‘What do you think?’
‘I know you’re not.’
‘I said all along I didn’t mind about the sex. But I suppose I just assumed … the Blackwell’s always have sons first.’
‘Well I guess she’s not a Blackwell then.’
‘Oh yes she is. But she’s my rose too. Just like you.’
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Obey Mr Blackwell will be released in Winter 2015.
But before then, here’s an exclusive working sample of my new paranormal romance series …
SEXY DEVIL
“A devilishly beautiful and sizzlingly sexy paranormal romance by bestselling author, SK Quinn.”
Eve has always been a good girl and a model university student. So when devilishly charming Lucien Burns starts pursuing her, she’s wary.
Charismatic and seductive, Lucian is known for his wild parties and serial seductions.
But there are rumours. Lucian is powerful. He can get into people’s heads. He’s dangerous. And things happen when Lucien is around. Things that can’t be explained.
Soon Eve begins to wonder who she’s falling for …
“You’ve never met a bad boy like this … Lucien is dark, dangerous and sexy as hell.”
1
‘And the Devil will walk among us …’
When I was little, my nana used to tell me about angels and devils. She told me to watch out for handsome, charming men. Because they could be devils tempting me from the right path.
‘Lucien Burns? Who’s he?’ I hug books to my chest.
Kitty and I are leaving the campus bookshop, having just blown our book budget.
I bought all the books on my reading list.
Kitty bought ‘How to Win at Poker’ and three sci fi novels.
‘How can you not have heard of Lucien Burns?’ Kitty asks. ‘He’s notorious.’
We cross the big snake mosaic that covers the campus main square and head over a stone bridge.
I read a sign on the moat house.
Grail University – for exceptional students.
I’ve never felt exceptional. Okay, so I do well at exams. But I’m so ordinary it’s ridiculous.
For a time, nana thought I might change – like my mother did. But if I was going to change, I’d have changed already.
‘What exactly is this Lucien guy notorious for?’ I ask, as we head through the herb garden. All sorts of plants grow here. I smell lemon and lavender.
We cross another bridge and the moat becomes a river – Grail River. It runs from campus down to Grail town.
‘Oh – many things,’ says Kitty. ‘But mainly sleeping with half the female students.’
Kitty is my best friend. We met on our first day at university and just sort of clicked. She looks sort of like a punk pixie, with her cropped pink hair. Basically the opposite of me, with my nice-young-lady clothes and long blondey brown hair.
A pigeon flies towards us.
‘Hey look.’ Kitty points. ‘It’s Florence.’
At the beginning of term, I found a baby pigeon on our balcony. I made the mistake of feeding her and giving her a name. Now she’s all grown up and brings me presents.
Crap presents.
Florence lands on the grass beside me and drops a muddy shoelace at my feet.
‘Thank you,’ I say, pretending to admire the shoelace. ‘Go find food now Florence. You shouldn’t waste your time bringing me things.’
Florence cocks her head.
**‘You want me to put it in my pocket, don’t you?’ With a sigh, I push the sopping wet shoelace into my dungarees.
Satisfied, Florence flies off.
‘That bird thinks you’re her mother,’ says Kitty.
‘I know. I’m an idiot. But I love that bird.’
‘You’re many things Eve, but an idiot you are not.’
2
Across the lawn, I see our campus accommodation.
Kitty and I are staying at the Tall Tower, which is a beautiful curved-brick building on the edge of campus. It has little arched windows and turrets and couldn’t be more perfect.
I literally hugged myself when I found out I was staying there. Hugged myself and shrieked down the phone to my nana, who shrieked right back.
Eve, that’s where Gabriella stayed! Oh … it’s perfect.
My mother, Gabriella Lightfoot, went to Grail in the 1970s. There are no pictures. But that’s another story.
‘So anyway, this Lucien guy. Why would he be asking about me?’
Kitty shrugs. ‘Maybe he’s heard you’re a goody-two shoes and wants to see if he can get you into bed.’
‘A goody-two shoes?’
‘You do spend every evening studying. Or playing netball. Or visiting your grandmother …’
‘Family is important.’
‘You haven’t had one night out since we started uni.’
‘I have actually,’ I point out. ‘That club night at the beginning of term. Remember?’
‘You left at ten o’clock.’
‘Okay. Yes. I did. But nana wasn’t feeling very well -’
‘And you wore the sort of dress most people would wear to a wedding. It went all the way down to the knee.’
‘It was elegant.’
‘It was old. I’d kill to have legs like yours. And those curves … if you’ve got it, flaunt it. This is your time to do wild, rebellious stuff. Do you want your only university memories to be of your bedroom walls?’
‘I have to study hard if -’
‘I know, I know. You’re going to solve world hunger. I’m not saying don’t study. I’m just saying don’t miss out on the fun stuff.’
‘Maybe I’ll try
and go out more this term.’
‘You should. You’re gorgeous.’
‘Oh, I am not. I’m just ordinary. Anyway, I don’t understand what’s fun about getting drunk and sleeping with people you hardly know.’
‘That’s because you’ve never tried it.’
‘So you think I should sleep with this Lucien guy? Some heartbreaker who sleeps around?’
‘It would be an experience. Probably a good one.’
‘No way. What kind of man messes girls around like that? He sounds like an arsehole.’
‘Look, I wouldn’t set you up with someone who had a girlfriend, would I? He just plays the field.’
‘How do you know him exactly?’
‘He shares accommodation with Cain. I saw a girl leaving Lucien’s room last week … oh my god she was glowing. I’m telling you. Saying it was the best night she’d ever had -’
‘I would never tread on another girl’s toes.’
‘She seemed happy enough with her one night.’
‘Come on Kitty. You know me. I don’t do one night stands.’
‘Well maybe he’ll fall in love with you.’
‘Why would I want anything to do with a guy who treats girls like that?’
‘Because he’ll know what he’s doing.’
‘Not interested.’ I shuffle books in my arms as we walk across the grassy lawn. ‘I’m saving myself for true love.’
‘What if you fall in love with someone and find out the sex is terrible?’
‘Then we’ll work together to make it wonderful.’
We cross the little wooden bridge that leads to the Tower, and Kitty pulls out her door key. We both have old wrought-iron keys that were made hundreds of years ago. They fit the clunky lock in the big oak door, and the admission’s secretary told us to guard them with our lives.
‘Home sweet home.’
I look up at the tall, red-brick building and shield my eyes from the sun.
We got so lucky with our Halls of Residence. I absolutely love tall buildings. Anything that takes me into the sky.
The Tall Tower is the highest building on campus and has a spiral staircase that winds all the way up to the top.