Jack
stared at the cheque. If the court verdict resulted in no other couple
suffering as they had, it was more important than the money.
He
reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, and took out a pair of tiny socks
with lace-edged frills. The ones Daisy had worn when they had rushed her to
outpatients at the weekend.
“Nothing
serious,” the intern said.
Frightened,
they gave Daisy her medicine, cooled her with damp flannels, and then, panic
stricken, took her to the surgery.
A
year ago they had looked forward to Daisy’s first white Christmas. Instead of
celebrating it they watched snow gently settle on her tiny satin-lined coffin.
Their
grief-stricken parents and other relatives rallied to help them. Fair weather
friends avoided them, not knowing what to say.
Counselling
helped to break free of their individual prison cells of sorrow, and to
communicate with each other. It also gave Jack the courage to insist Emily
visited her parents to be cossetted.
Alone
in the house, where the memory of Daisy’s chuckles echoed, Jack had packed her
clothes and toys. If his heart had been brutally ripped out, surely the pain
could not have been worse.
Tears
filled his eyes. His arms ached to recapture the past. Another baby could never
replace Daisy, but he or she would have a unique place filled with his love.
Jack
sighed. Once, when he was a small boy he played with his sister’s doll and
pushchair.
“What
are you doing?” his mother had asked.
Even
at that age he realised she was surprised.
“I’m
pretending to be a daddy,” he replied.
He
had always looked forward to bringing up his children, but now it was up to his
wife.
Emily
arrived as softly as one of the snowflakes falling outside.
For
fear of upsetting her, he quickly returned the socks to his pocket.
She
kissed his cheek. “I’m ready.”
“For
what?” He hoped she would say what he longed to hear.
“Another
baby.”
“Are
you sure?”
“I’ve
never been more certain.”
A
year later, Poppy joined Daisy in his heart forever.
