SMILE! One more time! All four of you!’
Nikos raised the camera and focused through the lens once more.
His sister made a face. ‘They’re too young to smile! They don’t smile until at least three months!’
‘And then the books say it’s usually wind!’ added her stepdaughter for good measure.
‘Then you two smile!’ ordered Nikos.
Demetria sat up a little straighter and fussed over her son’s magnificent christening robe. Beside her, on the sofa, Janine smoothed the head of her son—and rearranged him slightly in her arms. The two women glanced at each other, sudden tears filling their eyes.
Tears of happiness. Sheer happiness.
Demetria took Janine’s hand.
‘I beat you to it,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I was determined to do so!’
Janine pressed the other woman’s hand, feeling her joy, her relief. Demetria had longed so much, and so long, for a child of her own.
When she’d first realised she was pregnant, less than six months into her marriage, Janine had been torn between joy and anguish. For close on two months she and Nikos had kept it a closely guarded secret, dreading the time when Demetria would have to know that her sister-in-law was to bear her brother a child, a grandchild to her own husband.
And then, during the Easter celebrations, Stephanos had drawn his wife to her feet.
‘We have something to tell you,’ he had said to his daughter and his son-in-law—his brother-in-law.
He placed a proud, protective hand over Demetria’s stomach.
‘Our child is growing here,’ he said. ‘Through the miracle of science he lives and grows.’
‘We didn’t want to say anything,’ said Demetria, her voice full with emotion, ‘not until the first trimester was over and we knew the pregnancy was secure.’
Janine rushed to embrace her, and as her arms folded around her sister-in-law—her stepmother—she heard Demetria say, ‘And now, my dearest Janine, you can tell me why you will drink no wine, and have a glow about you that I see only in my own mirror!’
It had been a race from then on. A race that Demetria had been determined to win.
‘I have a secret advantage,’ she’d told Janine smugly. ‘One of the nicest things about assisted conception is that you know exactly what day your baby is conceived! That means my due date is as accurate as it can be! As for you…’ She’d looked with mock resignation at her brother’s wife. ‘If you can know which night Nikos gave you your child, then all that billing and cooing you do all the time will have been a most unlikely lie!’
Janine had coloured, and Nikos had looked even more smug than his sister.
Now, with both babies successfully delivered, both mothers recovered from childbed, the two women sat, posing themselves and their offspring while yet more photos were taken.
On the other side of the room Stephanos sat back in his comfortable chair. Champagne beaded in his glass. His eyes were suspiciously wet.
As his brother-in-law, his son-in-law, finally lowered his camera, Stephanos raised his glass again.
‘One more toast!’ he cried.
Nikos set down his camera and picked up his glass. The two men raised their glasses. Two pairs of eyes rested on the women sitting on the sofa, their babies on their laps.
‘To happiness,’ said Stephanos. His voice was thick with emotion. ‘To my daughter and my wife. My son and my grandson. May this day be blessed.’
‘I think,’ said Nikos, as his eyes rested on Janine and hers on him, and the lovelight blazed from both of them, ‘it already is.’
And then, quite suddenly, his eyes were suspiciously wet too.