Chapter 4

Thursday morning we slept in, had breakfast in bed - after a long slow morning fuck - and after highly overdue showers, we got dressed, packed and checked out of the hotel. We left our luggage there as our flight home was not until the evening. I introduced Melissa to that Booklover's Temple called Hatchard's. Just as we had left it and were walking up Piccadilly hand in hand, my phone rang. It was Lydia. "Daaad!" she said in that voice that means she wants something. "You're in London, riiight?" I confirmed that. "There is this dress in Dorothy Perkins I want. I have checked that they have it in Oxford Street. Could you get it for me?"

Argh, that sounded complicated with endless possibilities for stuff-ups. "I don't think so," I said, and hastily drowned out her protests by adding "but I know someone who might," and I handed the phone to Melissa mouthing 'Lydia'.

"Hello Lydia!" Melissa said. Apart from a very loud 'Melissa!' I obviously only heard Melissa's side of the conversation, but I could guess the questions because Melissa said "Of course I am here too. He couldn't leave me all alone, could he?" followed by a "The hotel suite was great. Out of this world, I tell you!" and a hasty "We can talk about that later!" Melissa got Lydia's instructions and they didn't seem to daunt her. The fact that Dorothy Perkins has two shops in Oxford Street and one in New Oxford Street didn't make the task any easier, but we managed and were pleased with ourselves.

We retrieved our bags from the hotel, headed out to Heathrow in time for the endless queuing and had an uneventful flight home.

Friday morning we headed out and bought a few removal boxes, then went to Melissa's parents place and collected the things she wanted to bring with her. We then spent a few hours doing a lot of paperwork in connection with Melissa's official relocation to my, or as I insisted on saying now, our house - post office, municipal offices, bank and so on. We had lunch in town and then dropped in on my solicitors - a husband and wife who are also exceedingly close friends. To say that they were surprised would be a massive understatement, but they handled it well. There are a lot of legal hoops to go through when a widowed person with children remarries and it would take some work to get everything in order.

Sara, the wife, saw us out. "Congratulations once more, and good luck to you!" She meant with picking up my children the following day and weathering the storm of their reactions. "Anna will be deadly jealous, you know!" Anna is their 15 year old daughter. I was shocked. "Oh, she's been planning to score you as soon as she turned 18 herself," Sara continued. I must have looked stricken, but Sara just laughed.

Melissa did too. "I'm glad I bagged him in time! Will she hate me?"

"Not a chance," Sara said and embraced Melissa. "She'll love you!"

On the way home we went past one of those places that engrave name signs and got one for the house and one for the letter box with Melissa's and my names on it. "You don't do anything by half, do you?" she asked.

"Well, as you said yourself, the more we present this as an established fact, the easier it will be." I replied. "I hope," I added to myself, but so low that Melissa missed it.

We spent the Friday afternoon incorporating Melissa's stuff into the house. The chest of drawers was easily placed, and there was plenty of wardrobe space - my daughters having cleared out my late wife's clothes over summer, sparing me the ordeal. Finding room for more books has always been a challenge. Melissa had a large number and we'd also brought a bunch home from London, but around dinner time we were satisfied.

After dinner we were even more so - Melissa decided she wanted to go to bed early - "and not to sleep," as she put it. I happily complied and when we finally did fall a sleep I was pleasantly exhausted. Saturday morning we again enjoyed being alone in the house on a weekend morning and for a glorious while Melissa made me forget my worries. But afterwards I was nervous and Melissa could sense it. "Are you worried George?" she asked. I nodded. "About your kids or my parents?"

"Both!" I replied. "I mean, the past week has been a fabulous dream. I dread having to wake up to realities. I know I shouldn't but I do!"

In the end, my kids handled it better than I'd expected - better and very different from what I'd expected, I should say. They all looked rather surprised when they saw both of us at the train station, but then Lydia spotted Melissa's ring and she let out a piercing squeal "You're engaged!" and leapt in Melissa's arms to hug her. Well, that was a nice reaction.

Ryan didn't understand the commotion so he asked what 'engaged' meant. "It means Daddy and Melissa are going to get married and that Melissa will be living with us always," Lydia said - as always the perfect communicator and explainer of the world to her little brother. I have no doubt he got through the loss of his mother so well thanks to Lydia.

"Does that mean she will be my Mummy now?" he asked - a pretty sharp question for a 7 year old.

I squatted in front of him. "That's for you and Melissa to work out," I said. "No one can replace Mummy for you and the girls, but Melissa may well become the mother of your little brothers and sisters." He nodded - apparently satisfied with the answer and clearly neither shocked by, nor adverse to, the idea of younger siblings.

The reactions from the three young women were rather diverse. Melissa blushed prettily, Lydia simply beamed - but Emma, who had remained very silent, looked positively pained. When she noticed I looked at her she lowered her gaze and would not let me get eye contact. This was going to be difficult.

Driving home we chatted about their trip to Jutland and our trip to London. Lydia was obviously dying to get details, but I had to put her off. We are most certainly not prudes in this family, but a lot of the information was unsuitable for her younger brother - and apparently also for her big sister!

To my immense relief, Emma didn't stew for very long. Once we were home - the name plates were discovered (by Lydia, of course), and Ryan had gone to play in his room, Emma blurted out: "I only wanted you to get laid, not to get engaged!"

I - wisely - suppressed an urge to laugh. "Feeling a bit like the Sorcerer's Apprentice, are we?" I asked lightly. Before she could answer that, I continued in a much more serious voice. "Listen Emma, I appreciate the original sentiment, but I think you are overestimating the significance of your match-making effort. For starters, there was every risk that I wouldn't even be here when Melissa arrived - I might have gone shopping or something and that would have left her high and dry. No, make that wet," I added as an afterthought. Melissa laughed out loud. My daughters looked puzzled, but I decided that part of the story could wait for another time.