41

It was a sunny afternoon as Rita struggled home carrying a bag of school books to mark and two bags of shopping. When she got to her front door, she collected the post from their mail box, stuffing the handful of envelopes in with the books.

Deeley was coming round for supper, and Rita had stopped off to buy the ingredients she needed for the meal. She was not an adventurous cook, but she liked to try the occasional new recipe, and tonight it was beef stroganoff.

With the recipe book propped up in front of her, she was chopping the onions and mushrooms, when David came in, early for once.

‘Hallo, darling,’ he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. ‘What’s all that?’

‘Beef stroganoff,’ said Rita. ‘Deeley’s coming for tea. I did tell you.’

‘So you did,’ he agreed, ‘I’d forgotten.’

‘You’re nice and early,’ Rita said with a smile. ‘Good day?’

‘Yes, my last meeting was cancelled. Any post?’

‘In my school bag.’

David took out the post, flipping through the envelopes. Buried among them was an air letter. It was addressed to Rita and came from England, postmarked Belcaster. He stared at it for a moment and then turned it over to look at the sender’s name and address on the back. He glanced across at Rita, who was paying no attention to him.

She had told him that she’d finally decided to write to her mother, just the once, and though he’d thought it was a mistake, and had told her so, he also understood why she felt she must.

‘Rita,’ he said, and then paused.

Rita looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘What was your gran’s name?’

‘Gran? Lily Sharples. Why?’

‘Leave that for a minute, can you?’

Rita wiped her hands on her apron. ‘What’s up? I’ve got to get on, Deeley’ll be here soon.’

‘Come and sit down, darling,’ answered David, and held out his hand to her. She took it and he drew her to the table, pulling out a chair for her and then sitting down next to her.

‘David?’ Her eyes were anxious. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘No,’ David replied, carefully. ‘Something here for you.’ He held out the letter. ‘This was in the post.’

Rita took the aerogramme with shaking hands. ‘From my mother,’ she breathed.

‘I don’t think so,’ David said gently. ‘Look at the sender’s name.’

Rita turned the letter over, and as she saw the name Lily Sharples, and the address in Hampton Road, the colour drained from her face. White as a sheet, she looked up at David.

‘It’s from Gran,’ she whispered. ‘It’s from my gran.’

‘Looks like it.’

‘But she’s dead,’ cried Rita. ‘Deeley told me she was dead! Why did she lie to me? Why did Deeley lie to me?’

‘I don’t suppose she did,’ David said gently. ‘Deeley would never lie to you. I’m sure she believed it to be true.’

‘But why? Why would they tell me she was dead when she wasn’t?’

David shook his head. ‘I don’t know, darling. Perhaps she explains in the letter. Aren’t you going to open it?’

Rita continued to stare at the letter and David asked, ‘Shall I open it for you?’

‘No,’ replied Rita. ‘No, I’ll open it.’ With hands still shaking, she slit open the aerogramme and began to read. Within moments, tears were flooding down her cheeks, and she couldn’t read any more. Wordlessly she handed it to David.

‘You read it, David.’

David took the letter and glanced through it to see what had upset her so much, then he began to read.

My dearest dearest Rita,

Your letter arrived yesterday, and was such a wonderful surprise. We’re so dreadfully sorry to hear that poor darling little Rosie has died. I’ll never forgive that dreadful Vanstone woman for sending you both away when I’d told her I’d give you both a home. My heart broke when I read in your letter that Rosie had killed herself, poor dear child. But to have found you again, Rita, is a miracle. We knew you was in Australia, but we didn’t know where and the EVER-Care people wouldn’t tell us, so we thought we’d lost you. How wonderful to find you again. It seems from your letter that you thought I had died. No, my darling girl, I’m still alive and well and just so thrilled to have found you again. The sad news that I have to tell you is that your poor mother is no longer with us. She died many years ago at the hands of Jimmy Randall. It seems they had a fight and Jimmy killed her in a fit of rage. I am so sorry to be the one to tell you, but clearly as you wrote to her, you did not know. Since she died I have been looking after your brother Richard. We call him Ricky, and he has been looking after me. He is getting some snaps together to send you, but I couldn’t wait for them to be sorted, I wanted to write to you straight away. He’s going to add a bit to this letter.

I send you all my love, my dearest, and can’t wait to hear from you again, to hear about your David and perhaps see some pictures of you both.

And of course I’m thrilled to bits about the baby.

Gran

‘He killed her,’ Rita murmured, the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks. ‘That bastard, Jimmy, killed my mum.’

David dropped the letter on the table and took her into his arms. ‘Oh, my darling girl,’ he murmured, ‘I’m so sorry.’ He held her close, her head on his shoulder, as she wept for the mother who had been murdered all those years ago.

‘I never knew,’ she sobbed. ‘I always thought she’d forgotten us and… and… and she wasn’t even alive. Why didn’t they tell me? Why?’

‘Perhaps they thought it would upset you too much,’ soothed David, stroking her hair.

‘They needn’t have said he’d killed her, just that she’d died. After all they told me Gran had,’ she added bitterly, ‘and that wasn’t even true! They didn’t care about upsetting me then, did they?’

‘My darling, I don’t know,’ answered David, feeling completely helpless in the face of her distress.

Gradually, Rita’s sobs subsided. ‘She was always frightened of him, Uncle Jimmy, we all were,’ she said. ‘I can’t bear the thought that he beat her up so badly that she died. Poor Mum. Poor Mum.’

‘It was all a long time ago,’ ventured David, offering her his handkerchief.

Rita blew her nose. ‘I know, but it doesn’t really make it any easier, does it? She was my mother, whatever she did, and I did love her.’

Silence fell between them and they sat, their hands clasped in mutual support as they thought about what they’d just learned.

‘Perhaps,’ said Rita after a while, ‘perhaps that was why Mum let him send us away. Why she signed the papers to put us into Laurel House, to get us away from him. Perhaps she was scared for us… d’you think?’

‘Maybe,’ David agreed, though privately he thought it unlikely. But if the thought comforted Rita, then he was happy to go along with it.

Now she was calmer, he picked up the letter again. ‘There’s a bit written by Rick at the end. Shall I read that to you?’

Rita nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he’s my brother.’

David started to read.

Dear Rita,

I’m your brother Rick, and I live with Gran. She never forgot you and there is a picture of you and Rosie on the kitchen shelf. It’s always been there. I’m sorry Rosie died, I’ll never meet her now, but I’m longing to meet you. I am so glad you have written and I hope you will keep on writing to us. I am going to send some snaps of Gran and me. We are both well. Please send some pictures of you as I don’t know what you look like now you’re grown up. Lots of love from your brother, Rick.

P.S. I’ve got a paper round and I’ve started saving so that we can come and see you.

Hearing this last, Rita gave a wan smile. ‘Bless him,’ she said. ‘What is he, sixteen? It’ll take him forever, but it’s a lovely thought.’

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer, Delia walked into the house. ‘Only me,’ she called. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Course you can,’ David called back. ‘We’re in the kitchen.’ He gave Rita a quick hug and then turned to welcome his mother-in-law.

Delia breezed into the kitchen, coming up short as she took in Rita’s tear-streaked face. She glanced from one to the other, and demanded, ‘What’s happened? What’s the matter?’

David said nothing, waiting for Rita to speak. He was very aware that Delia thought he’d done something to upset Rita, and he wanted Rita to be the one to set her straight.

‘Rita?’ Delia spoke gently. ‘What’s the matter, darling? It’s not the baby, is it?’

‘No,’ Rita assured her, ‘not the baby.’

‘Well then?’ Her gaze turned back to David.

Rita saw it and said quickly, ‘And it’s not David either, so don’t look at him like that.’

‘I’m not looking at him like anything,’ retorted Delia, though she knew she had been. ‘So, why the tears?’

‘Give her the letter, David,’ Rita said. ‘You can read it for yourself, Deeley.’

Delia took the letter and began to read, glancing up at Rita as she reached the bit about her mother, and then returning to it again.

‘Oh my darling,’ she breathed, ‘what a dreadful thing! And this is from the grandmother we told you was dead?’

Rita nodded.

‘But I don’t understand,’ said Delia dropping down onto a chair. ‘I don’t understand. There was a letter from Emily Vanstone in England, saying that your grandmother had had a stroke and died. I saw it myself.’ There was a break in her voice. ‘My poor girl. I believed it was true, why wouldn’t I? It was there in black and white. Oh, Rita, I’m so sorry.’

‘It wasn’t your fault, Deeley, I know that,’ Rita said softly.

‘Even so,’ Delia’s shoulders sagged under the weight of this new knowledge, ‘and your mother…’ Her voice trailed off as she couldn’t find the words.

‘My mother has been dead for years,’ Rita said bravely, ‘but I’d already lost her before she died, hadn’t I?’ Still clutching David’s handkerchief she blew her nose again. ‘But I’ve got my gran back, Deeley, and a grown-up brother. I’ve got a family again now.’

Rita didn’t see David’s expression at this remark, but Delia did and sympathized; they had both done all they could to make Rita feel part of a family. But she knew what Rita was really saying, that she had her childhood family back, that she hadn’t been forgotten over the years, and she understood how important that was. She just hoped David did, too.

‘I think we could all do with a drink,’ David said, and without reference to either of them he poured three large gin and tonics.

‘Here’s to your gran and your brother,’ he said, raising his glass to Rita. ‘To our English family.’ And Delia knew it would be all right.

Over the following weeks there was a flurry of correspondence between Rita and her family in Belcaster. Rick had sent her recent photos of her grandmother and himself. Gran certainly did look older, but Rita wasn’t surprised, after all she was in her sixties now, but she still had the same smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, and though her hair was grey, it was still done in the same style, making her endearingly familiar, bringing the ready tears to Rita’s eyes. Rick, she decided, was a good-looking boy, intelligence lurking in his eyes and a shy smile on his lips. She studied his face to see if she could see echoes of his father, but Jimmy Randall’s face had dissolved into a merciful blur, and she could see no likeness.

She showed all the pictures to David, and he dutifully admired his new in-laws. Delia took far more interest. And Daisy? Families meant nothing to Daisy and she evinced no interest at all, simply saying, ‘Good snaps, Reet,’ and then telling her about the next athletics meeting she was going to.

When David’s parents heard about the surprising response to Rita’s letter, they were somewhat taken aback. Now the reality of Rita’s family back home had been exposed to all. Norah said as little as possible about them, simply saying that Rita must have been pleased to hear from them after all this time. She did not want to know that Rita’s mother had been murdered by her husband, nor, as they’d subsequently learned, that the murderer had never been caught. Her daughter-in-law the daughter, or at least the stepdaughter, of a murderer, was too much for her to accept with equanimity. It was bad enough that Rita’s sister had committed suicide years ago, and Norah was determined that if she had anything to do with it, the news should go no further than the immediate family.

Andrew had been shocked, too, at first, but when he’d seen the difference it made to Rita, the happiness that had infused her on learning that her beloved grandmother was still alive and well, he had hugged her and told her how pleased he was. He had become increasingly fond of his daughter-in-law, and her happiness delighted him.

‘I may never see them again,’ Rita confided in him, ‘but I’ll know they’re there.’

‘Oh, you never know,’ he said cheerfully, and then changing the subject said, ‘Not long to go now, have you? Thought of any names yet?’

‘Yes,’ replied Rita.

‘And we’re not saying,’ David put in firmly. ‘You’ll have to wait and see.

Rita gave up work at the end of term, and after Easter spent her time at home, preparing for the new arrival. Delia came round and helped her turn their tiny second bedroom into a nursery. Together, they made new curtains and painted the walls a restful apple green.

‘Can’t have pink or blue,’ David said, ‘in case it’s the wrong one.’

Once a week Rita went to antenatal classes, doing exercises, learning to feed and bath the baby, practising changing nappies on a life-sized doll.

‘Won’t be as easy on a real baby,’ laughed Delia. ‘They’re all arms and legs and won’t lie still!’

‘I thought you were going to start work on your novel,’ David teased her one evening when he came home from the office and inspected the ongoing work on the nursery.

‘No time for that,’ Rita said cheerfully, ‘though I did send in another story to your editor the other day.’

‘Certainly won’t be time for writing novels when the baby’s here,’ said Delia. ‘You won’t have time for anything then!’

As her time drew nearer, Rita became increasingly anxious about becoming a mother. Supposing she was no good at it. She’d had no experience with babies, she didn’t know what to do with them. Many of the other girls in the antenatal class already had children, or had helped with nephews and nieces.

They all know what to do, she thought, in panic. Supposing I can’t cope.

She was afraid Norah would think her inadequate, and sweep in to take over and David would realize that she, Rita, was a useless mother. She confided her dread to Delia, who hugged her and said, ‘Don’t worry about it, darling, everyone’s nervous at first, but you’ll be amazed how quickly you get the hang of it.’ And when she saw that Rita wasn’t convinced she added, ‘And don’t worry about Norah, David won’t let her bully you. He won’t want her in the house any more than you do!’

It was one night, three weeks later, that Rita was jolted awake from a restless sleep as a contraction seized her. She sat up in bed, gasping as the pain lanced through her, trying to relax and breathe her way through it, as she’d been taught. As the contraction passed and she felt herself relax, she announced to the darkness of their bedroom, ‘Well, all that deep breathing stuff’s a waste of time, ain’t it!’ And having checked the time on the bedside clock, she lay back waiting for the next contraction. She’d been having twinges on and off all day and not knowing quite what to do, had rung the maternity hospital.

‘First baby, dear?’ asked the midwife on duty.

‘Yes.’

‘Fine,’ replied the woman. ‘No need to come in until the contractions are about fifteen minutes apart. First babies always take their time.’

Now they were definite contractions and they seemed to be coming pretty often. The next made its attack exactly eighteen minutes after the last.

This is it, Rita thought, surprised at how calm she was feeling. I’m going to be a mother, and it’s time we went.

She reached over and shook the still-snoring David awake. ‘Think we’d better go, David,’ she said and then groaned, clutching herself as another contraction gripped her.

David shot out of bed, panic in his eyes. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘All right, now, all right, yes…’ and started dragging on his clothes.

As the contraction released its grip Rita said, ‘It is all right, David, they aren’t that close yet. We’ve plenty of time. First babies always take their time.’

But David wasn’t having any of it. As soon as he was dressed he picked up the suitcase that Rita had packed, ready. ‘I’ll just put this in the car and then I’ll come back and get you. All right?’

Rita assured him that she was, but stopped in the middle of dressing to get through another contraction. David reappeared at the door.

‘Come on, darling,’ he said, panic in his voice. ‘Oh Rita, you aren’t even dressed yet!’ He helped her struggled into her coat. It was cold outside, and she shivered as she walked to the car, David clutching her arm to steady her.

‘It’s all right,’ he kept saying, ‘it’s all right. Won’t be long till we’re there. It’s all right.’

It wasn’t far and one contraction later, they arrived. At the front door Rita was gathered up by a smiling nurse.

‘All right, dear? First baby? Don’t worry, first babies always take their time, and we’ll soon have you nice and comfy.’ She looked at David standing awkwardly by the door, holding the suitcase. ‘Hubby can wait here,’ she said, and pointed to a small room off the hall. She gave David a little push and taking Rita’s case from him, said, ‘I’ll be back in a while to tell you how things are going.’

David pulled Rita to him and hugged her tightly. ‘Love you, darling heart, love you always.’

Rita reached up and kissed him. ‘Don’t worry, David, I’ll be fine,’ she assured him a little tremulously. ‘You’ll be a dad very soon.’

It wasn’t as soon as she’d hoped.

An hour later the nurse went back to David and said, ‘It’s going to be some time yet, Mr Harris, I suggest you go home and get some sleep, and come back in the morning.’

But David knew he could never sleep with Rita going through whatever it was she was going through upstairs, and said he’d rather stay.

‘Up to you, of course,’ returned the nurse, ‘but it may be a long wait. First babies always take their time.’

If anyone else says that… David thought, gritting his teeth, but he knew the nurse meant to be kind and he managed a smile. ‘Thank you, nurse. I’ll wait.’

She smiled back. ‘Difficult for the dads, I know. I’ll get someone to bring you a cup of tea, shall I?’

It was more than seven hours later when the nurse finally reappeared in the tiny waiting room and beaming at David, told him that he had a beautiful son.

‘Is Rita all right?’ demanded David. ‘Can I see her?’

‘She’s fine,’ the nurse assured him. ‘We’re just getting her tidied up and then you can come in and see them both. You can’t stay long, though. She’s very tired and needs her sleep.’

David crept into the delivery room and found Rita, pale but radiant, sitting up in bed, a tiny bundle cradled in her arms. She held the baby up a little and murmured, ‘Say hallo to Daddy, little one.’

David bent over and kissed her cheek, his face pressing against hers. ‘Oh darling,’ he whispered, ‘you’re safe. You’re safe, and you’re beautiful.’

He looked down at the red, crumpled face of his son, topped with a head of thick, black hair, and added, ‘and he’s beautiful, too.’

‘Isn’t he?’ Rita agreed, her face alight with joy. ‘Just beautiful. Oh, David we’re so lucky.’ For a long moment they both stared down at the tiny form in the blanket, marvelling at the wonder of him.

‘Are you still happy with the names we chose?’ Rita looked up and asked, and David nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘Donald Andrew,’ she said, smiling down at her son, ‘for your two grandfathers.’ She held him out to David. ‘Here, you hold him,’ she said and looked on with love and pride, as David took the little bundle awkwardly in his arms.

‘He’s too small to be called Donald just yet,’ she said softly, ‘so I’ve been calling him Donny.’

‘Donny he is then,’ agreed David. He looked down again into his son’s face, saw the wee snubbed nose and the eyes screwed up in slumber and whispered, ‘Hallo, Donny, mate. I hope you have the most wonderful life.’

The nurse bustled back into the room. ‘Time for Mother to get some sleep. You’ll have to go now, Mr Harris. You can come back and see them again later, after lunch. Fathers only the first day, other visitors from tomorrow.’

David could see that Rita was exhausted and made no demur. He placed Donny back in her arms and then leaned down and kissed them both.

‘I’m so proud of you both,’ he said softly, ‘you’re the two most special people in the world and I swear I’ll do everything in my power to look after you.’

Rita caught his hand to her cheek, and for a moment their eyes locked. Then David pulled his hand away gently and said, ‘I must go.’

‘You will ring Deeley, won’t you?’ Rita reminded him. ‘Straight away?’

‘Course I will,’ he promised, ‘and my parents. I can’t wait to tell them all. You get some sleep now and I’ll be back to see you both after lunch. Promise.’

When he left the hospital he headed straight for a phone box and dialled Delia’s number. There was no reply, and he realized that it was now mid-morning and she would be at work so he headed for the nursery.

‘Delia’s in the Yellow Room, with the fours,’ he was told. ‘Don’t be too long.’

David went in and found Delia beside a sink, wiping red paint off a little girl’s face. She froze for a moment and then, seeing the broad smile on his face, crossed the room and was enveloped in a massive bear-hug.

‘It’s a boy,’ he told her ecstatically, ‘a beautiful boy, with a mass of dark hair. Mum and Baby both fine.’

‘Oh David,’ cried Delia, ‘that’s fantastic news! Oh, I’m thrilled to bits! It’s so exciting, I can’t believe it. And, Rita, is she really all right?’

‘She’s fine,’ David assured her. ‘A bit tired, that’s all. She’s asleep now, but I can go back again after lunch.’

‘When can I go?’ demanded Delia. ‘When can I see them? I can’t wait to hold my grandson.’

‘Tomorrow,’ promised David. ‘Grandparents are allowed to visit tomorrow.’

‘Have you got a name for him yet?’

‘Yes,’ replied David proudly, ‘he’s called Donald Andrew for his two grandfathers. Rita’s calling him Donny.’

‘Donald Andrew Harris,’ Delia said slowly, as if trying it for size. ‘Little Donny Harris. Oh, David, I’m so happy for you both. Give Rita all my love when you go back, and tell her how thrilled I am.’ She beamed up into his face. ‘And if you want to, come round this evening, after visiting, and I’ll cook you tea.’

‘Thanks, Deeley,’ he said, ‘that would be great. I must go now, I’ve got to tell my parents the news.’ He drew her to him, kissed her on the cheek and then left her standing in the middle of the Yellow Room, exulting in the news he’d brought, and the fact that he’d brought it to her first… because she was, truly, Rita’s mother.

David had rung his office and told them he wouldn’t be in, and now he had the rest of the morning to fill before he could go back to the hospital. He didn’t know if his father would be at home, but he was pretty sure his mother would be, and decided to go and tell them in person too, rather than give them the news over the phone.

By the time he reached his parents’ house he’d begun to wish he had phoned. It would be an awful anti-climax if they weren’t there; but a car was parked in the drive. Dad must be working at home today, he thought. Brilliant!

His mother opened the door and one look at his beaming face told her that she had a grandchild, and she was shouting for Andrew almost before David had got into the house.

They were as thrilled as Delia, both of them hugging him in delight.

‘Tell me all about him,’ Norah begged. ‘Is he beautiful?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘And what does he weigh?’ she demanded.

‘Seven pounds thirteen.’

‘A good-sized baby, then. You were only six pounds eight ounces.’

‘And how’s Rita,’ asked his father. ‘No problems for her?’

‘Rita’s fine, Dad,’ said David. ‘Tired, but absolutely… well, you can imagine.’

‘Donald Andrew, you said?’ queried Norah.

‘Yes, Mum,’ David answered. ‘Donald was Rita’s father’s name, and Andrew for Dad of course.’

‘I’m honoured,’ his father said simply. ‘Tell her so, when you go back in to see her. And give her my love.’

‘You can go and see them both yourselves, tomorrow.’

‘Not too early in the day for a glass to wet young Donald Andrew’s head, is it?’ asked his father, and minutes later they were raising glasses to the new arrival.

Just before David left to return to the hospital, his father said, ‘There’s something I want to show you in my study, David, if you’ve got a minute before you go.’

David was itching to be back at the hospital, but with only a glance at his watch, he dutifully followed Andrew into his study.

‘Sit down for a moment, son.’ Andrew closed the door behind them. ‘I’ve had an idea I want to run past you, just to see what you think. Haven’t mentioned it to your mother yet, as I wanted to know what you thought about it first.’

David was intrigued. ‘What is it, Dad?’

‘You know I’m very fond of your Rita, don’t you?’

David nodded. ‘Yes, and I’m delighted. It’s made things easier for her than they might have been.’

Andrew laughed. ‘Oh, you mustn’t mind your mother, she’s coming round now she knows her better. And young Donny will be a big help. No, what I had in mind was something I hope will please Rita, but I wanted to see what you think before I did any more about it.’

When David left the house his mind was reeling.

‘Talk to Mrs Watson about it, if you like,’ Andrew had said. ‘Don’t want to put my foot in it.’

‘No,’ agreed David. ‘I’ll have a word with her. I’m seeing her later.’

Back at the hospital David found Rita sitting up in the ward with Donny in a crib beside her. She had more colour in her cheeks now, and looked a little less tired. When she saw David her face lit up with such happiness that his heart contracted with love for her.

‘I’ve just fed him,’ she told David as he peered into the crib. ‘He’s a hungry monkey. I’m quite sore.’

‘You don’t have to feed him yourself,’ David said. ‘You could give him bottles.’

‘No,’ returned Rita firmly, ‘I’m going to feed our baby myself. Part of the job. Were they all pleased?’ she asked when he’d drawn up a chair to the bedside.

‘They’re all thrilled to bits,’ he told her. ‘They all send you their love and I think all three will be in to see you, and admire Donny, at visiting tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Will you bring me in an air letter when you come next time?’ Rita asked him. ‘I must write to Gran and Rick to tell them about Donny. They’ll be so excited.’

‘Of course,’ David promised. ‘You must write and tell them all about him, but I’ve already sent a telegram with the news.’

Rita looked at him, her eyes sparkling with love and happiness. ‘Oh David, have you? Oh darling, thank you.’

The next afternoon both his parents and Delia came trooping into the ward. Norah was carrying a teddy bear wearing a blue bow, Andrew a huge bunch of flowers, and Delia with a blue, crocheted matinee jacket, wrapped in white tissue paper.

‘Oh, Deeley, it’s beautiful!’ cried Rita when she unwrapped it. ‘Were you that sure it was going to be a boy,’ she teased, ‘or did you make another one in pink, just in case?’

‘No, darling,’ Delia said, ‘this was Harry’s. It was the only thing I kept.’

Tears sprang to Rita’s eyes as she reached up to hug her mother. ‘Oh Deeley,’ she whispered, ‘thank you. Thank you for everything.’

As Norah was at the bedside, gazing down at her new grandson, trying to see a likeness to David in his tiny features, Andrew drew Delia to one side.

‘Has David had a word?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ replied Delia, ‘we discussed it last night.’

‘Do you think she’d like it?’

‘I think it’s a wonderful idea,’ Delia told him.

‘I’ll go ahead, then,’ he said. ‘Mum’s the word.’