Christmas, one year on. Dawn …
POLLY STRETCHED LANGUOROUSLY in her enormous bed, and Hugo’s arm came out to tug her close. Skin against skin was the best feeling in the world, she decided. She closed her eyes to savour the moment. The dawn chorus would soon wake the house. Ruby and Hamster would burst in at any minute, but for now she could just be …
With Hugo.
‘Happy Christmas, my love,’ he murmured, and she snuggled closer.
‘Happy Christmas to you too.’ But as his hold tightened and she felt the familiar rush of heat and joy, she tugged back. ‘Oi,’ she said in warning. ‘Ruby and Hamster will arrive at any second.’
‘So let me announce number one of my Christmas gifts,’ he told her. ‘One lock, installed last night. Eight years old is old enough to knock.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ His arms tightened and he rolled her above him so she was looking down into his eyes. ‘So it’s Happy Christmas, my love, for as long as we want.’
‘Hooray!’
But the house was stirring. There were thumps and rushing footsteps and then whoops as one small girl spotted what was under the Christmas tree. And then they heard Polly’s mum’s voice …
‘We’ve hidden a gift for Hamster in the backyard,’ Olivia called. ‘Let’s go help him find it. We’ll give those sleepyheads a few more minutes’ rest.’
‘Sleepyheads?’ Polly murmured. ‘Who’s she calling a sleepyhead?’
‘That would be you.’ And it was true. For the last few weeks Polly had seemed to doze any time she had to herself.
The first trimester often did that. She must have fallen pregnant on the first week of their honeymoon.
It had been … that sort of honeymoon.
‘But I’ll defend you,’ Hugo offered. ‘If I can just hold you first …’
And who could resist a bargain like that?
It was good to hold. No, it was truly excellent, Polly decided some time later. She was curved against her husband’s body, feeling cat-got-the-cream smug, nowhere near sleep.
Thinking Christmas.
Thinking family.
How had she ever thought family could be a trap? It had freed them all.
It had even given Hugo back his career.
For two doctors in Wombat Valley had transformed the medical scene. No doctor had wanted to practice here, knowing it meant isolation and overwork. But, with two doctors already committed, more followed.
A couple wanting to escape the rat race of Sydney had looked at Wombat Valley six months ago with fresh eyes. Doctors Meg and Alan Cartwright had bought Doc Farr’s vineyard, but the vineyard was a hobby and they needed income to support it.
That meant the Valley now had four doctors, which meant there was cover for holidays. They could go to the beach. What was more, the locals no longer had to go to Sydney for thoracic surgery. A new, stable road meant Hugo could operate twice a week at Willaura. Meg’s specialty was urology so she spent a couple of days in Willaura too. The rotation of surgical medical students through Willaura had increased. Hugo could even teach.
It was all Hugo wanted.
No. It wasn’t all he wanted.
He wanted Polly and Ruby and Hamster. He even wanted Polly’s parents, which was just as well, as Charles and Olivia were constant visitors.
They’d backed off, though. From that first day when Hugo had set the boundaries, they’d accepted them. There was even talk of them building a ‘small granny flat’, though Polly and Hugo had almost choked when Olivia had explained what she meant by ‘small’.
That was for the future, though. For now, for this Christmas, Charles and Olivia were once again staying in their house. ‘For how can we not be there on Christmas morning to share the joy?’ they’d asked and who could say no? Definitely not Hugo. Definitely not Polly.
For joy was here in abundance. This morning they’d tell them about the baby. They’d already told Ruby. ‘It’s a secret,’ they’d told her, and Ruby was almost bursting with excitement.
‘Happy?’ Hugo asked. They could hear Olivia and Charles, Hamster and Ruby, heading back to the house. Lock or no lock, their peace was about to be blasted.
‘Can you doubt it?’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ he murmured. ‘Not for a moment.’ He kissed her deeply and then swung out of bed—and paused. Polly’s Christmas outfit was hanging by the window, ready for her to slip on. Red and white polka dots. A sash with a huge crimson bow. Crimson stilettoes.
‘Wow,’ he breathed. ‘I thought we’d lost the polka dots for ever.’
‘Mum had this made for me,’ Polly told him. ‘Seeing the snake got the last one.’
‘And stilettoes …’ He looked at the gorgeous dress with its tiny waist and then he looked at the high stilettoes. He grinned. ‘You know, Dr Hargreaves, you may need to consider slightly more staid dressing as our baby grows.’
‘Bah! Humbug!’ Polly said and chuckled up at him. ‘Our baby will love polka dots. Polka dots are delicious, life’s delicious and so are you.’
‘Package deal?’
‘You got it,’ she said serenely. ‘I have polka dots, life and you, all tied up in one delicious Christmas package. Happy Christmas, Dr Denver. Who could ask for more?’