As the taxi pulled into the farmyard, the driver, a local man who knew Patsy and Nanette, nodded in the direction of a battered red Mini parked by the hay barn.
‘Reckon you’m an aunty,’ he said sagely. ‘That’s Dr Owen’s car.’
‘Reckon you could be right,’ Nanette said, fishing in her bag for the fare.
Helen came bustling out of the kitchen. ‘It’s a boy,’ she said, seeing Nanette. ‘I’ve got a grandson, imagine!’
‘Can I go up and see them?’ Nanette asked impatiently. After dropping the twins off with Vanessa and Ralph, the journey to the farm had seemed to go on for ever.
‘Doctor’s with Patsy at the moment. Come into the kitchen and I’ll make some tea. You can take a cup up to Patsy.’
It was half an hour before Nanette opened the bedroom door and peered round. ‘Hi, Mum! Congratulations.’
Patsy, cradling her new son, smiled at her sleepily. ‘Hi, Aunty. Didn’t you time your arrival well, missing all the gory bits? Meet your nephew – all seven pounds, two ounces of him.’ Patsy held out the tiny bundle and Nanette tentatively took the precious cargo into her arms.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get here in time to be your birthing partner,’ she said, taking the precious bundle and gently cradling her new nephew in her arms, she gazed at him in wonder. Was this the closest she was going to get to having a baby of her own? ‘But it’s your fault, baby boy, for being impatient and coming a week or two early,’ she said. ‘He’s gorgeous. So much hair. Helen told me it was very quick. True?’
Patsy pulled a face. ‘Midwife said that too. Most first babies take longer. All I can say is it was a very painful three hours.’
‘Any names yet?’
Patsy shook her head. ‘Helen is all for Hew Trefor.’ She laughed at Nanette’s expression. ‘Apparently they’re very old family names – Bryan’s middle name is Hew. I fancy Dylan Robert.’
‘The new granny is beside herself with joy,’ Nanette said. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll care what you call him, so long as she’s allowed to spoil him. Dylan’s a nice name.’ Nanette smiled down at the baby boy.
‘Bryan and I are hoping you will be a godmother,’ Patsy said.
‘I’d love to.’
‘Good. Any ideas who you’d like to see in the godfather role?’ Patsy asked innocently.
‘I’m sure you and Bryan can choose someone suitable without my input,’ Nanette said, laughing and refusing to be drawn on the question she knew Patsy was really asking. ‘Shall I put Dylan back in his cradle?’
‘Please. How long can you stay?’ Patsy asked, watching as Nanette gently placed a cover over the sleeping baby.
‘A few days. Vanessa and Ralph have taken the twins to Cornwall and I’m officially on holiday for the next fortnight.’
‘Why can’t you stay longer then?’
‘I’ve promised to return to Monaco and spend the time with Jean-Claude,’ Nanette said, blushing.
Patsy looked at her sister speculatively. ‘Are you going to tell me any more?’
Nanette shook her head. ‘Not right now. I’m sure you need your rest. I promise we’ll talk later when you’re up and about. I could do with some sisterly advice.’
It was two days later, sitting companionably under the shade of the horse chestnut tree that dominated the hidden farmhouse garden, sipping cold lemonade, with Dylan asleep in his pram beside them, before Nanette talked to Patsy about her worries for the future.
‘I’ve got to decide what I want to do. Vanessa’s come back fired up with enthusiasm for starting a Fruits of the Forest cooperative in Brazil. The twins are growing up and don’t need a nanny twenty-four hours a day now, so she’s offering me the job of helping her organise it – getting sponsorship, outlets, all the legal bits and pieces, you know the sort of thing.’
‘Sounds like something you’d enjoy,’ Patsy said. ‘I’d guess there would be a few trips to Brazil and the Amazon too.’
‘The thing is, the whole business would probably be based in the UK and…’ Nanette sighed.
‘Jean-Claude is in Monaco,’ Patsy finished the sentence for her. ‘Is it serious between you two?’
‘On Jean-Claude’s part for several weeks,’ Nanette admitted. ‘Now that my memory’s returned and the whole Zac Ewart business has been finished with, I feel free to return his love. You don’t think the age difference – fourteen years – is too much?’ she asked her sister anxiously.
Before Patsy could answer, Dylan stirred in his pram and Nanette got up to check on her nephew. Picking him up and cradling him in her arms, she sat back down in the shade.
‘Lots of people marry with that age gap between them. From what I’ve seen of the two of you, you’re perfect together. He adores you and, no, of course he’s not too old,’ Patsy said. ‘Might be wise to check with him how he feels about babies, if you’re thinking of having a family with him. He might think, been there, done that and just want you to himself.’
Nanette nodded thoughtfully. Patsy could be right, but she was rather hoping that Jean-Claude would happily embrace the idea of them having a baby together. From the way he’d spoken about Mathieu and Amelia, she suspected he would be. But it was a question only he could answer.