his. ‘It’s so perfect. Wherever did you find it?’
‘I had it specially commissioned.’ He put his arm round her, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘It says what I want to say every day of my life to you.’
The stones were shooting off different colours in the shaft of sunlight slanting in from the window, making the birds appear alive, and as the baby in her womb kicked suddenly Melanie had a moment of pure joy. They were going to be all right, she thought with a deep thankfulness. They had weathered the storm and come out the other side. She could believe it.
It was a perfect Christmas Day. Forde prepared the dinner while they listened to carols and Christmas songs courtesy of Melanie’s CD player. He wouldn’t let her lift a finger, expertly dishing up the food once it was cooked, and flaming the plum pudding with brandy and making her squeal with surprise.
Tabitha tucked into her portion of turkey and stuffing with gusto, and when Forde put down a saucerful of cream for the little cat it was clear she couldn’t believe her luck. She seemed to have settled with the kittens and hadn’t moved her little family again. Melanie hoped it was because Tabitha knew she was safe and secure now.
After lunch, with Tabitha and the kittens fast asleep in their basket in front of the fire in the sitting room, Melanie and Forde built a snowman in her tiny courtyard as the sun began to set in a white sky, sending rivers of red and gold and violet across the heavens. The air was bitingly cold and crisp and somewhere close a blackbird was singing its heart out, the pure notes hanging on the cold air.
For a moment Melanie knew a piercing pain that Matthew wasn’t with them. He would have probably begun to toddle by now, she thought, lifting her face to the sunset. He would have loved the snow.
‘You’re thinking of him. I can always tell.’
She hadn’t been aware that Forde was watching her, but now he enfolded her into his arms, holding her tight, as she murmured, ‘I would have loved to tell him that we love him, that we’ll always love him no matter how many other children we have. That he’ll for ever be our precious little boy, our firstborn.’
‘You’ll be able to tell him that one day and give him all the cuddles and kisses you want, my love.’
‘Do you believe that?’ She pulled away slightly to look into his dark face. ‘Really believe it?’
‘Yes, I do.’ His eyes glinted down at her in the half-light. ‘But for now we’re here on earth and we have to get on with our lives and care for and love other children we’re given. We are going to become a family when this child is born, Nell, and although the grief of losing Matthew will never fade you will learn to live with it and stop feeling guilty that you can still experience happiness and pleasure.’
‘How do you know I feel like that sometimes?’ she asked him, her eyes wide with surprise.
‘Because I felt the same at first,’ said Forde softly. ‘I think all parents must in the aftermath of losing a baby or child. It’s not only a terrible thing, but it’s unnatural too, the wrong order in life. A parent should never outlive its child.’
She leant into him, needing his strength and understanding. ‘It will be all right this time, won’t it?’ she said very quietly. ‘I couldn’t bear—’
‘None of that.’ He lifted her chin with one finger, gazing deep into her eyes. ‘We are going to have a beautiful son or daughter, Nell. I promise you. Look at Tabitha and have faith, OK?’
She smiled shakily. ‘People would think it was stupid to believe because one little cat made it against all the odds, it’s a sign for us.’
‘I don’t give a damn what people think.’ He pulled her more firmly into him. ‘And this is Christmas, don’t forget. A time for miracles and for wishes to come true. Who would have thought a few days ago we would be standing here like this, Nell? But we are. We’re together again and stronger than ever before. And talking of miracles—’ he touched her belly ‘—one night of love and this child came into being. Now, I know we would still have been together in the long run because I would never have accepted anything else, but this baby was a catalyst for you in many ways.’
His voice was so full of the relentless determination and assurance she’d come to associate with the man she loved that Melanie smiled again. ‘So you’re saying we’re part of a Christmas miracle?’
‘Dead right, we are.’ He grinned, looking up into the sky. ‘Look at that. It’s specially for us, you know. A true modern-art spectacular.’
Melanie giggled. ‘You’re crazy—you know that, don’t you?’
‘For you? Guilty as charged.’ He turned her to look at their snowman, who was definitely something of a cross-dresser, having one of Melanie’s scarves tied round his neck—a pink, fluffy number with tiny sequins sewn into it—and one of her summer straw hats complete with ribbons and tiny daisies. ‘Is he finished?’
‘Just about.’
‘Then I suggest we go inside and warm up.’
‘In front of the fire with a mug of hot chocolate?’
‘Possibly.’ He eyed her sexily. ‘Not quite what I had in mind, though. I was thinking of something more… cosy.’
‘More cosy than hot chocolate?’ she murmured, pretending ignorance.
‘As in one hundred per cent.’
‘Oh, well, in that case …’
‘And remember.’ He took her cold face in his hands, suddenly serious. ‘I love you and you love me. Anything else—anything—comes second to that.’
Melanie nodded. She wanted to believe that. She needed to. And perhaps that was what this was all about: a step of faith. She linked her arms round his neck. ‘I love Christmas.’
He kissed her forehead, dislodging her bright scarlet pom-pom hat in the process. ‘Best time of the year,’ he said huskily. ‘The very best.’
MELANIE was remembering the magic of Christmas as Forde drove her to the hospital in the last week of May.
The weather couldn’t have been more different. For weeks the country had been enjoying warm, sunny days more typical of the Mediterranean, and James and the assistant she had hired to help him had been rushed off their feet with work. Business was booming and already her small company had a reputation for excellent reliability and first-class results, which boded well for the future. But Melanie wasn’t thinking of James or the company as Forde’s Aston Martin ate up the miles to the hospital; she was lost in the enchantment of those days when she and Forde had been enclosed in their own isolated world, along with Tabitha and the kittens, of course.
The kittens had grown swiftly into little cats developing distinct personalities of their own. They had named the two little females Holly and Ivy, and the larger boy Noel, and it was a good thing Tabitha was something of a strict mother because the three could be quite a handful. But Melanie loved them passionately and because love begot love, they loved her back, even if it was in the somewhat superior feline version of that emotion. Her favourite was Tabitha though. The little tabby was devoted to Melanie in the same way a dog would be, following her about the house and liking nothing more than to lie at her feet or on her lap whenever she could. She kept her troublesome threesome under control by a swift tap of the paw now and again and the odd warning growl when they stepped out of line, but on the whole it was a happy household.
It was Tabitha who was at the forefront of Melanie’s mind as she said, ‘You made sure the cats were all in before we left?’
‘Absolutely.’ Forde’s voice was indulgent. She had asked him the same question twice before. ‘And the TV’s