‘I’ll let my husband do that. It’s just that I’m so bored at home, and it would be lovely to sit in the shop and chat to people. I won’t do a lot, I promise.’ She leant forward and put her hand on his arm. ‘I hear you and Anna are getting married. I think that’s wonderful. I hope you’ll be very happy.’
He smiled, touched by her good wishes. ‘Thank you. I’m sure we will.’
He watched her go, thinking that now he had a chance for continuity, to see cases through, to make a difference. Instead of giving advice that might not be taken, dishing out pills that might have side effects he would never know about, he would be there, to follow up, to provide a better standard of care than he’d been able to in the past.
He had a future.
It might not be as long as other people’s, it might not be as smooth, but it was there, and it would be happy. How could it be anything else, shared with Anna and Harry and maybe, at some time in the not-too-distant future, another baby?
Peace filled him, warming every corner of his heart, and he found himself impatient for the wedding. Anna was so busy he’d hardly seen her for days, and he’d taken to going to the farm every evening after work and entertaining Harry and the cat while the others plotted and planned.
Felix was out of the cage now, and it was agreed he’d
The builders were in, tearing the kitchen and bathroom out and installing central heating and an Aga, a wicked extravagance but a wonderful focal point. The garden could wait until they had more time—perhaps next spring? Whatever.
Life was good.
Anna’s mother straightened the veil, and kissed her. ‘You look beautiful, darling,’ she said emotionally. ‘Oh, damn, my mascara’s going to run!’ She blotted and sniffed, and laughed. Giving Anna one last tweak and kiss, she went out to the waiting car and was swept off to the church.
The bridesmaids and pageboys were to follow in the next car, and then their parents took their own cars, leaving Anna and her father alone.
‘You do look beautiful,’ her father said gruffly. ‘He’s a lucky man to have found you. Many women wouldn’t have given him a second chance.’
‘But it wasn’t his fault,’ she said fairly. ‘He thought he was doing the best thing for me.’
‘I take it you’ve set him straight?’
She smiled. ‘Let’s put it this way, he won’t make any more decisions for me without consulting me. We’re going into this together. It’s a partnership, and he knows that.’
‘Like me and your mother. She looked beautiful in that dress, too. If you do as well as we have, you’ll do all right,’ he said gruffly. ‘She’s a good woman, your mother. I hope you’re as lucky in Max as I’ve been in her. She’s the salt of the earth, and I love her more now than I ever dreamed of.’
Anna stifled a smile. He was a darling, the salt of the earth himself, a straightforward, honest and uncomplicated man, and she loved him dearly. She told him so, and watched the colour climb brick-red up his neck.
‘You’re a good girl,’ he said, and blinked and looked at his watch again.
The wedding car came back, and her father helped her into it and passed her her bouquet, made from the flowers in the garden.
The wedding dress was old, the underwear and shoes were new, the garter was borrowed from Frankie and there were cornflowers in the bouquet.
She perched impatiently in the car, the short journey too long for her to endure. She wanted to be there, to marry Max before he had time to change his mind. There was a tiny, unacknowledged bit of her that was afraid he wouldn’t be there, that he would have changed his mind and left without a word.
The little attendants were waiting, and picked up her veil, spaced out boy-girl-boy-girl all round the edge, and slowly, in case any of them tripped and tugged it off, they moved down the step into the church.
The organist was cued into the traditional strains of ‘Here Comes the Bride’, and as they turned the corner she saw Max standing near the altar rail, his shoulders squared, ramrod straight, his brother Joel beside him.
Andrew winked as she passed him, and she smiled, her face relaxing. Max was there, waiting for her, looking like a condemned man at the gallows.
Then one of the bridesmaids tripped, she felt a yank and
Max turned, and she stifled her laugh and smiled at him, straightening her veil.
His mouth relaxed, widening into a grin, and his eyes were filled with love.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
Her father led her to his side, and she looked up at Max and smiled.
His gaze was steady, his eyes clear and unshuttered, and he gave her a tiny wink.
‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said under his breath, and her smile lit her eyes.
She handed her bouquet to Emily, the oldest bridesmaid, and smiled at Harry, so self-important in his little page-boy suit, then turned back to the vicar. It was time to marry Max—time to make her vows, the vows she’d mean from the bottom of her heart.
‘Dearly beloved,’ the vicar began, and she could hear her mother rummaging for a hankie already. The words flowed over her, right up until the point where Max made his vows. His voice was firm, right up to the end, and then on ‘till death us do part’ he faltered slightly.
‘Repeat after me, please,’ the vicar said. ‘I, Anna Louise…’
She didn’t need his help. She knew the vows, had them engraved on her heart. Without hesitation, without faltering, she said clearly, ‘I, Anna Louise, take you, Max Henry Stephen, to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to
His eyes glittered, and his fingers tightened on her hand as he slid the ring onto her finger.
‘With this ring, I thee wed,’ he said clearly. She didn’t hear the rest of the service. She just stood there, staring into Max’s incredibly beautiful eyes, and wondered how on earth she could ever love him more than she already did.
‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ the vicar said. ‘Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride.’
And he beamed at them as Max lifted the lopsided veil from her face, laid it carefully back over the flower circlet and kissed her with all the love in his heart.
Her mother broke down and sobbed all over her father’s suit, Max’s mother and sister and sisters-in-law sniffed and shuffled, and Harry, his fascinated little voice clearly audible, said, ‘Does this mean we’re going to have a baby?’
EPILOGUE
‘DARLING, you are going to have to go to the hospital.’
‘Not without Max,’ Anna insisted. ‘He missed Harry. He’s not missing this one.’
Her mother sighed and searched the ceiling for inspiration. ‘You are so stubborn. You keep saying Max is stubborn, but he’s not a patch on you!’
Anna sighed and paced up and down the sitting room again, pausing at the window to look out. Surely he must be home soon? She could feel the pressure of the baby, the rhythmic tightening of her womb, the steady giving way of the supporting muscles.
It wouldn’t be long. Where was he?
She tried sitting, but the baby was too low, and so she stood up again.
‘This is ridiculous, Anna,’ her mother said firmly. ‘I’m going to get your case, and you’re going to get in the car and I’m going to take you to the hospital, and Max can meet us there.’
‘No. Call the midwife, if you have to do something, but I’m going nowhere without Max.’
She closed her eyes and leant heavily on the back of a
His car swung onto the drive, and he got out slowly and stretched. She sagged against the chair in relief. She was so pleased to see him!
‘Max, come now, your stupid, stubborn wife is about to have this baby and wouldn’t go to the hospital without you!’
He slammed the car door and strode in, covering the room in two strides.
‘What are you doing? Why wouldn�
��t you go, you silly girl?’
‘You missed Harry,’ she said simply. ‘I couldn’t let you miss this one.’
He sighed and hugged her, then held her at arm’s length and examined her thoughtfully.
‘How far on are you? Have we got time to get to the hospital?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll get my bag. Sarah, call the midwife. Tell her there’s no great rush, but it might be an idea if she gets here in time for the champagne.’
Anna perched on the arm of the chair and waited for him to come back with his bag.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a handy obstetric pack—ah. You have.’ She smiled. ‘What a good Boy Scout.’
‘Cheeky. I must have known you’d pull a stunt like this. Come on, let’s get you upstairs. Where’s Harry?’
‘With his grandfather,’ Sarah said. ‘Shall I boil kettles and things?’
Max grinned. ‘Good idea. I could murder a cup of tea. Come on, petal.’
She didn’t. She stood there, calm and relaxed, and let him prepare the room. Then he stripped off her clothes, pulled a comfy old T-shirt over her head and helped her lie down.
She made herself comfortable while he went and washed his hands, then he perched on the bed beside her and grinned. ‘Did you plan this, or is it just quicker than you’d realised?’ he said. ‘The head’s almost crowning already. This baby’s going to be here in a very few minutes.’
She smiled at him, utterly content now that he was home. ‘It is a bit quicker, but I had a feeling…’
He shook his head and opened the obstetric pack, spread a waterproof paper sheet under her and laid out the rest of the equipment on another sterile sheet beside the bed.
‘Do you want to stand, or walk, or kneel, or just lie there like that?’ he asked.
She felt her womb contract again, and felt the pressure building. ‘Kneel,’ she said, finally losing her cool. ‘Max—’
‘It’s all right,’ he said calmly. ‘I’m here.’
He locked his arms around under hers and lifted her to her knees, and they knelt on the bed, face to face, and she dropped her head against his chest and moaned softly.
Anna could hear his voice soothing her, and the strong beat of his heart under her ear, and knew she would be all right.
Max held her firmly against his chest, sensing when the baby was about to come from the change in her.
‘Hold the headboard,’ he instructed, moving just in time to catch the baby as it slithered furiously into the world.
‘What is it?’ she asked, her hands cradling it against her.
‘Alive. Apart from that, I haven’t a clue!’ he said with a strangled laugh. He lifted the tiny child, slippery and squalling, and inspected it.
‘She’s a girl,’ he said, and sudden, unbidden tears scalded his eyes. ‘She’s a girl,’ he said again, laying her tenderly down and blinking the tears away, before completing the afterbirth and tidying up.
Anna pulled up the T-shirt, lifted the baby to her breast and she suckled immediately. ‘Clever girl,’ she murmured, and Max swallowed the huge lump in his throat and kissed her.
‘You, too. Well done, darling.’
‘Can I come in?’
He lifted his head and smiled at Sarah, poking her head round the door.
‘I heard the baby cry—is everything all right?’
‘Wonderful. Is the tea made?’
‘It’s brewing.’ She smiled. ‘Boy or girl?’
‘Girl. A daughter.’
Max stood up and found a clean, soft towel, and tucked it round the baby so she didn’t get cold. Then he ran downstairs, out to the garden that he loved so dearly, and picked a rose.
Just one, a beautifully scented old-fashioned white rose that was his favourite.
He was a father. Again. Annie, Harry, the baby—no name yet, but no doubt Annie would fight him to the death for her choice—a wonderful job, a cottage in the country, and to date, at least, his health.
Celebrating Our Authors
MORE ABOUT THE BOOKS
2 Inspiration for writing
Their Miracle Baby and Making Memories
MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR
4 Author biography
6 Q&A on writing
9 A day in the life
WE RECOMMEND
10 If you enjoyed Their Miracle Baby we know you’ll love…
I’d become
quite involved
with
penhally
during the
writing of the
first book…
so it was like
revisiting old
friends…”
INSPIRATION FOR WRITING
Their Miracle Baby and Making Memories
I was asked to write Their Miracle Baby as part of the Penhally Bay mini-series, and I was delighted to do so because I’d become quite involved with Penhally during the writing of the first book, Christmas Eve Baby, and so it was like revisiting old friends. And I love this sort of story. So many couples have difficulties along the way, and to present every story as two normal, healthy, well-adjusted people who meet and fall in love and live happily every after just doesn’t seem realistic to me, so I was intrigued to write about a married couple who’ve tried and failed to have a baby, but who have never really given up hope.
And Mike and Fran have a really tough time, because the first thing they need to do is find out if they still love each other –not always something that can be taken for granted! So I had to force them together, in a way, and if any of you know any farmers, you’ll know how hard it is to make them take time out. So I had to interfere and play God again. Poor Mike. But it worked, and in the course of falling in love all over again, they realise that a baby isn’t necessarily the answer to their happiness. I don’t need to tell you, though, if you’ve glanced at the title, that miracles can and do happen!
And talking of miracles, Making Memories is another miracle story in a way, not because of the hero and heroine, but because it was inspired by the quiet courage and determination of a very, very dear friend of mine
“…Their
Miracle
Baby is my
seventy-fifth
book…”
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
My life started in a slightly unconventional way. I was born in Hong Kong, to a mother who was a nurse until she met my father out in Malacca after the Second World War, where he was working for the Hongkong Bank. He was moved around quite a bit, and for the first ten years of my life I lived all over Malaysia. Every weekend we used to go to Penang and swim at the Penang Club, and have cocktails in the bar of the Eastern and Oriental Hotel. I looked it up the other day on the internet – how times have changed! – and, unlike the times, it didn’t seem to have changed at all! It brought back so many memories. One day I might go back and take my husband.
Anyway, once we were home in the UK I was sent to boarding school where I spent six years learning how to be self-sufficient and resourceful! And writing all manner of weird stuff for school magazines, English essays, poetry that nobody ever got to see – and the opening salvo of a torrid little novelette I showed to Matron. It’s a miracle I wasn’t chucked out!
On leaving I started nursing, hurt my back, became a secretary, which gave me skills without which I couldn’t do what I now do, and then went to teacher training college where I met my husband and trained to teach Art and Drama. Except I’ve only ever taught Maths, English and secretarial subjects! Then I had our daughters, and I settled into domestic bliss and read endless Mills & Boon® books in the gaps between feeds and laundry! I started teaching again, had problems with child-care, started my
Well, because I wasn’t any good, was why not, but I stuck at it, took loads of excellent advice from patient editors on board, and after five rejections I was accepted in 1990 and my first book, Relative Ethics, was published in 1991. It seems ages ago, and probably is – Th
eir Miracle Baby is my seventy-fifth book! And since then I’ve written another three, so it can’t be all bad.
I started
writing as
soon as I
learned about
storytelling…”
CAROLINE ANDERSON ON WRITING
What do you love most about being a writer?
Freedom to choose my subject, freedom from routine (although I’m inclined to take that one a little too literally!) and a great bunch of friends in the business.
Where do you go for inspiration?
Nowhere. It comes to me. All the time. Someone will say something, or I’ll do something, or there’ll be an article in the paper, and I’ll think, “Oh…? Well, now, if such and such were to happen…” and off I go again.
Where do your characters come from and do they ever surprise you as you write?
They always surprise me. They (especially the heroes) have a sneaky way of taking over. One of them will say something totally out of left field, and I think, “What! Good grief!”Sometimes I’ll go with it, sometimes I put them firmly back in their box. Where do they come from? Dunno. See above!
Do you have a favourite character that you’ve created and what is it that you like about that character?
My favourite character would have to be one of my heroes, I think. Probably Sam Gregory in The Baby Bonding or Patrick Corrigan in A Wife and Child to Cherish. But heroine? Probably Maisie Sutherland in The Baby From Nowhere, which is definitely one of my all-time favourite books.
When did you start writing?
Oh, as soon as I learned about story-telling! I’ve always read stories, addicted to Enid Blyton and the Famous Five stories, then Georgette Heyer and Anya Seton, and then after a mild flirtation with serious literature at college, I discovered contemporary romance in the form of Mills & Boon, so I definitely write what I like to read, and I suppose I always have. Even the dire poetry of my schooldays had its footings in the Liverpool Poets and Christina Rossetti – and they couldn’t be more different! It was a long time before I learned not to write pretentious rubbish, though. That was probably the most valuable thing I’ve learned over the years.
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