Page 4

‘So much for it being two boys.’ Jago yawned loudly. ‘Fire Zenya, I say.’

Rita smiled. ‘Stop it. But we are now completely scuppered with names.’

Jago gave a low laugh. ‘Noah and Nathan Jenken. That part of the plan was flawless, at least.’

‘I’m sorry if I scared you.’ Rita looked up to Jago’s eyes.

‘I’m just so happy you’re all OK; it could have all gone so horribly wrong if I hadn’t had got to you when I did.’ He brushed stray strands of hair from Rita’s forehead. ‘I can’t believe how clever you are and how tiny they are.’

Rita looked to the newborns sleeping soundly against her chest, their minute fists tucked tightly beneath their chins.

‘I know!’ Rita’s voice lilted. ‘And we can still call our little girl Noa.’

Jago frowned slightly.

‘Just drop the H to spell it the feminine way.’ Rita ran her finger gently across the baby’s forehead. ‘I think it suits her.’

For a moment he stared at the tiny pink bundle. Then his face softened completely.

‘Aw, I love that. Easy to spell, and not so unusual that she’d get laughed at in school.’

‘Exactly!’

Jago grinned. ‘And you know she’ll forever be Princess Noa from my side anyway.’

Rita grimaced as she adjusted her position. ‘It’s hard to believe I’m a twin mum twice over. But I’m delighted to have one of each again, if I’m honest.’

Jago kissed her forehead. ‘I’m simply happy that they are both healthy.’

The babies had inherited Jago’s dark hair, though for now it was only a downy shadow on their heads. The little boy wriggled beside her, his face scrunching briefly before relaxing again. Jago leant in. ‘Hang on.’ Rita followed his gaze. There it was. A tiny indentation appearing in the baby boy’s cheek as he shifted. Jago’s eyes widened. ‘Ha! That’s my boy and that’s my dimple, right there.’

Rita laughed softly. ‘Oh dear, a real mini you. God help us!’ The little one’s eyes opened slowly, vague and unblinking, as if acknowledging the fact. ‘Aw.’ She pushed out her bottom lip. ‘Hello, Nathan.’ She tested the name.

The baby girl stirred then, her rosebud lips puckering before her face crumpled in the unmistakable prelude to a cry. Her brother immediately followed suit. The undeniable wail of newborns filled the room.

Rita lifted her eyebrows at Jago. ‘Are you ready for this, Daddy Jenken?’

With a look of overflowing love in his eyes, he took in the two tiny, furious faces and then looked back at her, his own dimple clearly evident. ‘As I’ll ever be, Mummy Jory.’ He leant forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

THREE

Back at the farmhouse, an exhausted Rita lay on her bed, ears ringing. Not from the fireworks night display erupting from the harbour and neighbouring fields, though they were loud enough, but from the twins’ sudden chorus of protest erupting from their bassinets to the right of her.

Two babies, both screaming at once. She pressed her face into her hands just as Jago walked in, scooped both babies up in his strong arms and took them next door.

‘What have we done?’ Rita yawned loudly as she entered the nursery, where Jago was changing Nathan with a minute newborn nappy on the mat. Automatically, she picked up Noa, who was lying safely in the moses basket beside him, shushed her, then began to undo her baby-grow ready for the same.

With the baby boy now clean and nestling on his shoulder, Jago looked outside to where rockets were streaking into the sky. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. ‘I know you’re not keen, darling, but I think you’re going to have to get help. I can do what I can, but we’ve got two farms to run… and your Christmas retreat coming up.’ Jago kissed Nathan’s head and whispered, ‘Maybe your mummy can let that one go, this year, eh, son?’

‘No! I so want to do it,’ Rita snapped, her voice muffled by a wail from Noa at the coldness of the nappy cream. ‘Zenya and Teo will be working, as usual, and Sennen is staying down for a couple of weeks now, too.’

Jago exhaled slowly. ‘Well… think about it anyway. We can get more help. Or we can afford a nanny, you know.’ He paused. ‘Maybe just part-time for a while.’

‘Not yet.’ Rita was firm. She sat back in the feeding rocking chair and snuggled a freshly changed Noa to her chest. ‘I want them all to myself while they are so tiny and smell so scrummy.’

‘OK… OK.’ He kissed the baby’s head. ‘You’re a superwoman, I know that you know that. But you’ve had a caesarean, which is hard enough, without having to get up and feed them at all hours too. I don’t know how you’re coping. I’m more tired than I’ve ever been in my life, without all that!’

Another firework shot up into the night sky, leaving a silver tail behind. A donkey in a neighbouring field brayed in panic.