Chapter 1

Monday's child is fair of face.
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe
And Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving.
Saturday's child works hard for its living.
But the child that is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

Old Nursery Rhyme

One evening in mid-September, three months after their wedding, the telephone rang and Becca answered it.

"Please may I speak to Mr Hardacre?" asked a young female voice.

"Hold on a moment. Who's speaking?"

"His niece, Becca."

Becca gasped.

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"Er, yes! I'm sorry you gave me a big surprise."

"Why? Who are you anyway?"

"His wife. We thought you'd vanished to darkest Australia for ever. Hang on a mo' and I'll get him."

She put the telephone down and ran to the sitting room. "Darling," she whispered, "it's your niece, Becca."

"What?" Steven gaped at her and then sprang to his feet and ran to the phone. "Becca, dearest! I thought you'd gone for ever. Where are you? How are you?"

There was a chuckle from the other end. "Slow down, Uncle Steven. I'm at Heathrow and would like to come and stay with you, just me. Ray's still in Australia. I'll tell you everything later but there's a train from St Pancras in fifty minutes' time which gets in to you at nine thirty-seven. I'll get a taxi from the station."

"You slow down, young lady. Yes, of course you can come and stay and no, you won't get a taxi: I'll meet you. You'd better fly or you'll miss your train. I can't wait to see you."

"Me too! I'll ring again if I miss it. 'Bye."

He returned to Becca in the sitting room shaking his head. She looked at him anxiously. He took her in his arms and kissed her nose.

"There's nothing to worry about, little one," he said. "She's coming to stay with us, that's all."

"But I've pinched her identity."

"So what?"

"She might be hurt and angry."

"Why? Because a girl who happened to be named Becca married her uncle and became Becca Hardacre? Anyway, she's probably Becca Bloggins now."

Becca giggled. "You'll be in your element," she teased. "Call Becca and two lovely young ladies will come running."

"Since when did you run, madam?"

"Whenever you call me."

Steven snorted and they both laughed. "I love you," they both said together and clung to each other laughing again.

"I'd better go and sort my old room out," said Becca eventually.

"What needs doing other than making the bed?"

"Dusting and vacuuming."

"I'll give you a hand."

Becca smiled lovingly at him. She still found his willingness to help her touching. "You don't have to, darling."

"She's my niece and I enjoy being with my wife."

"Your wife enjoys it too."

She took his hand and led him to the cupboard under the stairs. "Vacuum," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

She grinned at him and went to collect some dusters and furniture polish. She led him upstairs and collected sheets and pillow cases from the airing cupboard.

"Bed first," she said. "Making them always creates dust."

They made it together and then Becca dusted while Steven vacuumed. She gave the dressing table a quick polish.

"Thank you darling," she said. "That didn't take long."

"Many hands make light work," said Steven unctuously and received an elbow in the ribs for his pains.

"Ow! Ow!"

Becca dabbed some furniture polish on his nose.

"There! There! Better now!" she laughed.

Steven grabbed her and, sitting on the newly made bed, put her across his knee. He raised her skirt and gave her two pats on the bottom.

"That's what happens to disrespectful wives," he said.

"More," she growled and they both collapsed with laughter.

Having tidied the bed again they went back downstairs and put everything away.

"I imagine Becca will be hungry. Shall we wait for supper until she arrives?" asked Becca.

"Yes, let's but in the meanwhile I think we both deserve a drink."

"What a good idea and we can have another one when she gets here."

"Even better. Are you going to come to the station with me?"

"No, darling. I suspect she'd prefer to be alone with you to start with. Anyway, I can deal with the supper while you're out."

Steven smiled gratefully at her.

They took their drinks through and sat together on the sofa.

"Cuddle me, darling," said Becca. "With someone staying we're not going to be able to as much as usual."

Steven shunted up the right hand end of the sofa and turned slightly inwards. Becca leant back into his right shoulder and his arm went round her.

"The trouble is I can't get at my drink," he grumbled.

"Don't worry, my precious. I'll feed you."

They sat or rather lay in contented silence.

"Darling," said Becca suddenly, "when do you want to start having children?"

"I haven't thought. What about you?"

"Half of me says now and the other half says give it a year. The now half is just my longing to have children and fulfil my ambition of bringing them up in the love I never had. The wait a year bit is my wish to give myself to you entirely without distraction and then the first part says that I've been doing that for two years. That isn't true because we weren't both involved in that."

"My mule period. Sorry, darling."

"Forget it. That's in the past but I do think that we ought to spend a bit longer just loving and enjoying each other selfishly. Is that all right?"

"Very. Why don't we talk about it again at Christmas unless the urge for motherhood overtakes you before then?"

She smiled gratefully at him and reached for his drink. "Suck," she said.

At half past eight she sighed. "I don't want to get up. I'm very happy where I am but I need to do some preparatory stuff for supper. Do you want to open a welcome home bottle of wine?"

"What are we having?"

"Boeuf bourgignon."

"Yum! Definitely. Where did you learn to cook that?"