The path was almost cleared when the first pain came, so sharp and so unexpected that Catherine dropped her shovel and held her hands to her tight belly, her breath coming in clouds on the frozen air.
It couldn’t possibly be the baby, she reassured herself as the tight spasm receded. The baby wasn’t due yet. These pains were nature’s way of warning you what the real thing was like.
But the spasms continued throughout the night, and by three o’clock in the morning Catherine could stand it no longer and rang Finola.
‘I think it’s the baby!’ she gasped. ‘I think it’s coming!’
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Don’t do a thing. I’m on my way!’
‘I couldn’t do anything,’ said Catherine weakly, and clutched at her middle. ‘Even if I wanted to.’
Finola arrived and took one look at her. ‘Let’s get you straight up those stairs,’ she said, ‘and then I’m calling the doctor!’
‘But I’m supposed to be having the baby in hospital!’
Aunt Finola snorted. ‘And how do you suppose we’re going to get you to hospital? On a sledge?’
Catherine giggled, and then groaned. ‘Don’t!’ Her mouth fell open. ‘And Finn’s supposed to be here! I want Finn here with me.’
‘Finn’s in London,’ said Finola gently. ‘Just think about him. Pretend he’s here. He’ll get here eventually.’
And so he did, by which time Catherine was propped up on the pillows, illuminated by the sunshine which was fast melting the snow, cradling a black-haired baby who was not as tiny as she should have been.
He burst in through the bedroom door, his face a stricken mixture of panic and joy, and was beside the bed in seconds, kissing her nose, her lips, her forehead.
‘Catherine! Oh, sweetheart. Sweetheart! Thank God!’
Both Finola and Catherine heard the break in his voice and for one brief moment their eyes met across the room. The expression in the older woman’s said as much as, Are you completely mad? and Catherine knew that she mustn’t wish for the stars. Stars were all very well, but they were a million miles away. This was here. And now. Grounded and safe. Far more accessible than stars.
‘You’re okay?’ he was questioning urgently.
‘More than okay,’ she said, with the first stirrings of a new-found serenity she suspected came hand in hand with motherhood.
‘And is this my daughter?’ he was saying in wonder as he stared down at the ebony-dark head and then slowly raised his head to look at his wife. ‘My beautiful daughter.’
The soft blue blaze dazzled her, enveloped her in its warmth and wonder. ‘Meet Mollie,’ she said, and handed him the bundle who immediately began to squeak. ‘Miss Mollie Delaney. She hasn’t got a middle name yet—we hadn’t agreed on one and I thought you might like to—’
‘Mary,’ he said firmly, as she had known he would. His mother’s name.
Finn looked down at the baby in his arms.
‘Hello, Mollie,’ he said thoughtfully, and when he looked up again his eyes were suspiciously bright.
Aunt Finola made a great show of blowing her nose noisily.
He had come full circle, Catherine realised. Mollie had given him back something of himself. His own childhood had been snatched away from him by the death of his mother and now having his own baby gave him a little of that childhood back.
‘What can I say, Catherine?’ he said softly. ‘Other than thank you.’
At which point his aunt got abruptly to her feet and glared at him. ‘I’m off!’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow!’
After she had gone, the two of them just gazed at their sleeping infant for long, peaceful seconds.
He put the baby down gently in the crib and then sat on the edge of the bed, taking Catherine into his arms as though she was a fragile piece of porcelain which might shatter if he held her too hard.
‘Catherine,’ he said shakily.
She wanted him closer than this. ‘I won’t break, you know.’