‘And I guess that’s why I called you today when I started bleeding, because I trust you and I knew you’d be there for me. Just as I hope you know I’ll always be there for you.’
‘Then I’ll ask you the same question I asked earlier, except this time I’ll do it properly.’ He knelt down on one knee. ‘Ella O’Brien, you’re the love of my life and I want to make a family with you—will you marry me?’
And this time she knew he meant it. That this was going to be a real marriage, not papering over the cracks. ‘Yes.’
There was a rap on the door and Annabelle came in. She frowned as she took in the tears on Ella’s face. ‘Oliver Darrington, I warned you not to make Ella cry,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘And you didn’t listen. So that’s it. Out.’
‘Annabelle, I’m not crying because I’m miserable,’ Ella said, hastily. ‘I’m crying because I’m happy.’
Annabelle looked confused. ‘So he grovelled?’
‘I probably still need to do a bit more grovelling,’ Oliver admitted, ‘but we’re getting there—and we’re looking for a matron of honour. I don’t suppose you know anyone who might be up for the job? Someone, say, in this room?’
Annabelle’s jaw dropped and she stared at each of them in turn. ‘You’re getting married?’
‘You’re the first to know,’ Ella said. ‘Would you be our matron of honour?’
‘And godmother to Baby Darrington?’ Oliver added.
Annabelle smiled. ‘Absolutely yes. To both.’
A year later
‘BA-BA! DA-DA!’ five-month-old Harry crowed, waving his chubby little hands as his father walked into the living room.
‘Hello, Harrykins.’ Oliver swept his son up into his arms and gave him a resounding kiss. ‘Have you been good for Mummy today?’
‘Ba-ba,’ Harry said solemnly.
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Oliver blew a raspberry on the baby’s cheek, making him giggle, and put him back in his bouncy chair.
‘And good afternoon to you, Mrs Darrington,’ he said, taking Ella into his arms and kissing her. ‘Guess what I managed to borrow today?’
‘Reindeer? Sleigh? A snow machine?’
‘Not far off,’ he said. ‘Wait. Close your eyes. And no peeking.’
Ella smiled and followed his directions.
‘OK. You can look now,’ he said. ‘Ho-ho-ho.’
She burst out laughing, seeing him wearing the Santa outfit from the ward.
Harry, on the other hand, took one look at the strange man in the red hooded suit and white beard, and burst into tears.
Swiftly, Oliver pulled the hood back and removed the beard. ‘Harrykins, it’s all right. It’s Daddy.’ He looked at Ella. ‘Sorry. I had no idea it’d scare him like this.’
‘He’s still only five months old and he doesn’t really know what’s going on. Next Christmas,’ she said, ‘he’ll be old enough to appreciate it and you’ll get the reaction you were expecting today.’ She scooped the baby into her arms and rocked him gently. ‘Harry, it’s OK. It really is Daddy.’
Harry simply screamed.
Thirty seconds later, the doorbell went.
‘I’ll go,’ Oliver said.
‘Oliver Darrington, why are you half dressed as Father Christmas?’ the Countess of Darrington asked in crisp tones on the doorstep. ‘And why is my grandson wailing like that?’
‘Those two things are connected, and I’m an idiot,’ Oliver said. ‘Hello, Mama. I didn’t realise you were coming over tonight.’
‘Your father and I just collected Joe and Roisin from the airport,’ Catherine said. ‘Or had you forgotten they were coming?’
‘He was too excited about being Harry’s very first Father Christmas to remember that you’re all going to be here for dinner tonight,’ Ella said with a grin, walking into the doorway with a still-sobbing Harry. ‘And you need to take that suit off, Oliver, and hide it before Prue, Ned and the children get here, because the girls are still young enough to believe in Santa and I don’t want to spoil it for them.’
‘Tsk. Go and sort yourself out, Oliver. Give the boy to me,’ Catherine said, holding out her arms, and Ella duly handed over the baby. ‘There, there, Harry. Nobody’s going to scare you when Granny Darrington’s around.’
Probably, Oliver thought, because his mother was the scariest thing around.
Two seconds later, Harry stopped crying and started gurgling at his grandmother.
And Oliver couldn’t quite be annoyed that his mother seemed to have a knack for soothing the baby, because it was so nice to see his family all on such good terms.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Ella said. ‘Catherine, I bought some of that horrible lapsang souchong you like, this morning.’
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Catherine said.
‘And there’s some good proper tea for me, I hope,’ Roisin chipped in, walking into the hallway and overhearing the conversation.
‘Of course, Mum.’ Ella kissed her mother warmly.
‘Your turn for a cuddle, Roisin,’ Catherine said, handing over the baby. ‘And I’ll make the tea, Ella. That baby’s had you running round all day and you ought to put your feet up.’
Oliver hid a smile. If anyone had told him a year ago that the two most important women in his life would become fast friends, he would never have believed it. But he’d gradually rebuilt his relationship with his parents, starting with the quiet family lunch he’d suggested at New Year. Things had still been a little strained between them until one day when the baby had started kicking, and Ella had gone over to Catherine, taken her hand and placed it on the bump, saying, ‘Baby Darrington, say hello to Granny Darrington.’ Catherine had been rewarded by some very firm kicks, and from that point on she’d warmed to Ella.
The O’Briens had instantly adopted Oliver as one of their own and, although Oliver had been wary about the first meeting between Roisin and Catherine, to his surprise they’d got on really well. Roisin was too straightforward for there to be any misunderstandings; and, once Catherine had discovered just how well Roisin played the piano, they’d bonded over a shared love of music and their future grandbaby.
Prue and Ned had also had a son, a couple of weeks before Ella had Harry, so Oliver was no longer the ‘spare’. To his delight, having that pressure taken off meant that his parents had finally accepted what he
