Page 25 of Christmas Games
‘Is that an “okay, I’ll put away the bubble wrap”, or an “okay, let’s placate the pregnant woman”?’
‘I’ll put baby-proofing on hold.’
‘And sort the loo seat. I need to go again before we leave for the next scan.’
An hour later,Rory stared at the moving black-and-white image. This was what he needed to protect. His wife had not accidentally swallowed a basketball. A tiny, defenceless human was inside her belly.
The sonographer laughed. ‘Och, you’re a wee wriggler.’
‘I think they’re playing football,’ said Zoe. ‘That or breakdancing.’
Football’s for plebs. Rugby’s a real man’s game. His father’s words stole into the room like an icy draft, and he gripped Zoe’s hand tighter.
‘Did you want to know the sex?’ the sonographer asked.
Zoe glanced his way and raised her eyebrows as if checking he hadn’t changed his mind from their last appointment.
He shook his head.
‘No thanks,’ she replied. ‘We’re going to keep it a surprise. Even though everyone thinks it’s a boy, even me.’
Rory’s heart thudded inside his chest.Please, not a boy. He rarely thought about his father. But ever since that second blue line had appeared on the pregnancy test, long-forgotten memories from his childhood had woken to slash at his heart and confidence.
‘Well, not long to go now,’ said the sonographer with a beaming smile. ‘Next year you’ll have your answer.’
Fear swelled inside him, squeezing each breath. Rory knew Zoe would be the best mum, but could he avoid being like his father? He tried to banish the thoughts with logic, but they still followed him whether he was awake or asleep, pushing all his buttons with laser-pointed accuracy. And he didn’t want to burden Zoe with his fears, as she was exhausted and overwhelmed.
Organising the perfect Christmas for the castle had stretched them to the limit, and even though they’d brought in Duncan to help with running the estate, it still wasn’t enough.
At least the festival of light was now underway. The previous night, the rain had held off, and the gardens were packed as people wandered a trail through different light displays. Even though it was only late October, the local choir had sung carols, and everyone had been merry on mulled wine or hot chocolate.
‘Can we stop and get a copy ofThe Courierbefore we head home?’ Zoe asked as they left the hospital. ‘I want to see the pictures from last night.’
Rory nodded. Thank god it had gone off without a hitch.
Ten minutes later,Rory knew he shouldn’t have counted his chickens.
‘No!’ cried Zoe. ‘No, no, no, no!’
His fingers clenched around the steering wheel. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘How did I miss this? Fuck! Rory, was this some kind of joke between you and Duncan?’
‘What? What’s a joke?’
Zoe started crying.
Fuck!Rory scanned the road for a safe place to stop. ‘Hang on.’
Swerving into a layby, he cut the engine and reached for her hand. ‘What’s happened?’
Zoe passed him the paper.
The entirety of the front page was taken up with a report from the festival of light.
‘Earl balls up at family event!’ screamed the headline, and underneath, above the fold, was a photo of one of the displays. It was a small temple built by one of Rory’s ancestors after returning from his Grand Tour in the seventeenth century. Circular, with thick stone columns that supported the roof, at the base of each column were a pair of large granite balls.
Rory had never noticed the phallic nature of the structure. It was just another part of the castle. So he’d wrapped the columns and balls in fairy lights with Duncan, too busy meeting the deadline for either of them to look at their work with a critical eye.
