James

I watch from the doorway: my Jade-Eyes, in the nursery with the daughter she gave me, rocking her, cooing over her, talking to her.

She doesn’t see me, engrossed with Cara. Our baby goos and gurgles at her mother, a tiny hand reaching for a long copper lock of Charlotte’s hair, swinging loose draping over Cara’s creamy wrap.

So beautiful…

Both so beautiful…

I think Charlotte must have just given Cara her feed. She still has the towel over her shoulder she uses when she’s burping her. Even from here, the towelling looks damp. The top she’s wearing, not quite buttoned up, is stained too.

As I watch, Charlotte rises from the rocking chair her mother painted so beautifully for her, lays Cara in her cot and brushes herself down. As she turns to drop the shoulder towel into a laundry basket, she sees me.

“Oh!” And then she laughs. “Sorry, Master. I didn’t see you there.”

“I was enjoying watching you.”

She looks towards the cot, eyes alight. “I know I’m her mother, but I don’t think there’s ever been anything so wonderful ever.”

I pull her into my arms. “You’re wrong there. Cara’s mother takes first place on that one. But Cara runs a close second.”

She yields into my embrace, then making a face, pulls away. “Um… better let me change. Or you’ll smell of cheese all day too.” Still smiling, she strips off her soiled blouse, tossing it at the basket. The heavy-grade maternity bra follows. She lets out air. “It’s wonderful doing this. But I’ll be happier when I can put on clean clothes and stay that way. It would be nice to feel sexy again.”

Just be ready to go back into ‘Mom mode’ when she wakes. Meanwhile, we can have a glass of wine down by the fire. You, me and Michael. We’ll leave the baby monitor switched on.

great. Actually, I did get some new

room. I make to follow but she flaps hands back at

I’m happy to humour her. From the bedroom next door, drawers and wardrobe doors bang

heading straight for the nursery.

show me some new

brow. “And when is the

“I’ll let you know.”

beaming. “Isn’t it

shades of warm brown and dark green, the fabric of the skirt is heavy: winter-weight but cut to flare, swishing around her legs in an elegant swirl. The pullover seems plain at first, but as Charlotte moves, the knit is of some complicated pattern giving a subtle knot-work effect over the front. It smooths over her full bosom and narrowing waist, emphasising

My Jade-Eyes…

is lovely. And

hoped you’d

label. “First time I’ve seen you pay for designer wear…” She stands back, appraising her daughter. “… But it was money well spent. As your

a lot, so I’d like to get some wear

the yarn between thumb and forefinger. “The top should shrink a bit with you too, but right now it’s making a good show of

arms

her cot, Cara burbles and all heads swing her way. Over ten seconds, her burbles turn to cries and Charlotte is already picking

her up and down... “Shhh… it’s alright, Baby. Shhh…” … patting her on the

splurging over her shoulder and down her

hands, “Here, I’ll take her.” A final micro-burp: Cara gurgles happily then promptly falls asleep in Grandma’s arms. Her entire output has ended up over Charlotte. Her pink onesie is still fluffy and clean.

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