Chapter 22

Eva went into labour three weeks after the wedding. A very nervous Jim Preston, previously 'encouraged' by my wife, held her hand throughout the, mercifully short, delivery that produced a perfect baby boy, seven pounds ten ounces, everything in place and in perfect condition. I took it as a great compliment they named him 'Edward James'.

For the first few weeks, Eva stayed at their flat and Grace began to spend quite a lot of time there. I spent some time in Jim's office so he could be at home more, but quite soon Eva was sitting in the office herself, either holding 'Little Ted' or letting him slumber in a push-chair. There was a steady trickle of visitors, mostly local friends wanting to admire and/or cuddle the baby, but a few prospective customers. If anyone was put out by Eva breast-feeding the baby, we never heard it

Jim asked me a favour a few weeks after the birth and Grace and I happily baby-sat so he could take Eva out for a meal. I believe that was the evening they consummated the marriage; in any event, Eva was positively glowing the next day, which was also the day we heard from James Fuller. He arrived on our doorstep, by arrangement, the next Saturday morning. I'd never heard of a senior solicitor voluntarily working on a Saturday.

We settled in the lounge; Grace was getting very large by that point so it was I who made drinks for all of us.

"This is complicated," he began, "partly because I am not in a position to give you all the information you need. So. First of all, Grace, you'll be twenty-nine in March, I believe?"

"That's so."

"Fine. You'll be entitled to the trust-fund anyway on your thirtieth birthday. However, there is a provision in your grand-parents' will which is not directly connected to the trust-fund. It is important ... that is all I can say ... that you are married 'according to the rites and practices of the Church of England' and that your father, Grace, 'gives you away'."

"Is he willing? The last time we met, I was ... displeased ... and rather abrupt ... with him."

"I have spoken to him. I would say he appears sincerely penitent about his behaviour towards you and asked me to ask you ... and Ted ... if you would be willing to invite your parents to visit."

She looked at me for a minute or two before speaking, then turned back to the lawyer. "There doesn't need to be a decision today, does there?"

"Not at all. I ... cannot say anything more. If you decide to go ahead, perhaps I might beg an invitation?"

Grace smiled, "Oh, I think you can count on that ... if we decide to go ahead."

That was the end of business, but we spent perhaps half an hour on pleasantries before

he departed, "To collect my wife from Bury St. Edmunds, hoping she hasn't bought out every shop in the city."

"What do you think?"

"I think ... I'd like to go for a walk with my beautiful, very pregnant wife, if she feels up to it."

It's not far to the park from Mill Road and there are plenty of benches where Grace could take the weight off her feet. We sat for a while in the children's playground, the small one for younger children, watching the few pre-school kids rushing around ... and falling on their faces on the grass.

"What do you think, Ted?"

"I don't mind, Love. I won't feel more, or less, married for going through a formal church service."

"No, but it seems as though Mr. Fuller was implying there was something important going on."

I shrugged. "We're pretty set, aren't we? Just as we are, we're doing fine. But ... he doesn't seem like a man who would try to manipulate or con us, do you?"

"No..." she drew it out, thoughtfully. "And I wouldn't mind being married by Dulcie. I think it might be quite ... enjoyable. I think ... if you don't mind ... I'll ring Mummy and invite them here. Would you be okay with them staying overnight?"

"I'm fine with it. You're the one who has to deal with them ... at least, with your father. I don't have a problem with Patience."

"No ... she was really sweet in Kirkwall. Let's do it and see what he has to say."

I don't know if it was the exercise, or just that it was time, but she had no opportunity to call her parents that day, because her waters broke shortly after we arrived home. An ambulance delivered her to St. Peter's hospital maternity unit where she was taken in hand by a lovely West Indian midwife. I'm told first pregnancies tend to long labours, but it was all over by eleven o'clock that evening. Faith Smith, the midwife, stayed well past her official shift-end to see Grace through, and we were the proud parents of Erica Bridget Quinton, six pounds nine ounces, and already possessing a thatch of bright red hair. Her eyes, blue at birth, gradually became a brilliant green over the course of her first year.

I contacted the Tyndalls to tell them the news, and arranged for them to come over the following weekend when Grace and Erica would be home and have had time to settle in.

When they arrived, Friday evening, Erica was mercifully asleep. Grace insisted she would see her father alone in the lounge, while I took Patience to see her new grand-daughter. Perhaps ten minutes later, Grace brought her father upstairs and I had the unusual experience of watching him melt as he looked at our tiny new person. I think it takes a particularly calloused and defective individual to resist a new baby, particularly a girl-child and especially when she or he is of your blood.

They didn't have long to wait before Erica was demanding her next feed, after which – after nappy changing, of course – they had their first cuddle with their first grand-child.

In bed, not much later, Grace told me that her father had almost abased himself in apologising for his attitude. He'd explained that asking Grace to speak at Rupert's trial was not in order to defend him, but to give her the opportunity, should she wish it, to make sure he was never a threat again.

"He did say that he was proud of me that I didn't want to crush him when there was more than enough evidence to convict," she said.

Her father was more than happy to 'give her away', formality though it was, and we left it to Grace and Patience to plan the event. Grace and I did have to go to see Dulcie Hanson to make arrangements. Of course, there was no need for the legal details, as it would be a purely religious ceremony.

If we were going to do it, we wanted to do it right, and we had to sort out with Bridget and Eric Chalmers when they could come; we weren't about to have any sort of ceremony without involving them.

We managed to arrange it for Easter Saturday, and Erica was to be Christened on Sunday – Easter Day – with Eric and Bridget as God-parents.

Before that, though, Grace's father wanted to buy us a car. In fact, he wanted us to have a Lexus, but we managed to talk him down to a Focus estate. It meant we saw them about every other week-end, usually in Maldon but sometimes in Cambridge.

I'm forgetting Linnet. As the winter drew in, meaning not so much low temperatures per se, as bitterly cold, biting winds and dank dampness, with occasional fog ... Grace said to me one morning over breakfast, "I'm not happy about leaving Linnet in Serendipity."

I wasn't sure what she was getting at, so I said so. "What do you mean, Love?"

"I don't like to think of her on her own in that boat. I know you lived pretty well on board for years, but you're not a woman."

"So ... what do you have in mind?"

"How would you feel about having her living here?"

I will never understand any women. Grace ... I love her, but she never fails to shock me every time I think I'm beginning to get a handle on how she thinks.

"If you're happy, Sweetheart, I am. I don't understand, but..."

"Let's take a walk down to the quay when Erica's had her next feed."

I pushed the buggy with Erica asleep in it; Grace initially walking alongside, but then, literally, skipping ahead when the path got too narrow. She'd regained her pre-pregnancy slim figure, not without some serious exercising, and I was fascinated – as always – by her slim ... grace. Except for her breasts, of course, still swollen with producing milk. Not complaining...

When we got to Serendipity, Grace waved me off, telling me to take Erica to visit Earl Brithnoth at the end of the prom. "You can get a coffee at the kiosks on the way back if I haven't met you," was the parting shot.