Page 85 of White Knight

There was a screen up so Claire, and me couldn’t see what was going on inside her right now. I took her hand and watched her face. “All your family’s outside, including someone who might be Payton’s boyfriend. They’ve had a bet on the gender and weight.”

“How much was it?” she said, tightening her hand around mine.

“You might feel a slight pulling,” the doctor said. “But everything’s doing well. Keep nice and calm and baby will be here very soon.”

“Twenty,” I said.

“If Seph wins make sure he buys champagne,” she said. “Killian – we’re about to be parents. What was Payton’s boyfriend like?”

“Parents very soon too,” the nurse said. “Everything’s doing fine.”

I didn’t look. I wanted to see what was happening but I knew Claire would never forgive me, or only after several thousand favours, and I wasn’t sure if this was the image I wanted as my first child came into the world. “He seems really decent. Tall. Not an idiot.”

There was a sound of water, then the voice of the doctor but the blood was pounding too much in my head to make out what he was saying.

“Go on,” Claire said, nudging me. “Cut the cord. Then I can hold her.”

Her

I had a daughter.

I walked round in a daze and followed the nurse’s instruction, a tiny, bloody, perfect human being there before me.

“We’ll weigh her and give her a little clean then mum can hold her. The doctor should be finished tidying everything up then too.”

Her. I was a father to a daughter.

“You’re amazing. She’s amazing.” I looked at Claire who seemed to be laughing at me, her eyes flitting between me and the nurse who was holding our baby girl.

“You sound like you’re on drugs,” she said. “Has the nurse given you something?”

There was a long cry and time seemed to blur as my eyes switched between Claire and our baby, then the nurse brought her to us, placing her on Claire’s chest. She’d undone the hospital gown, wanting the baby’s skin on hers. I watched as my whole world lay next to me and knew there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for either of them.

“Look at her,” Claire said. “She’s perfect. You’re beautiful, baby girl. I’m your mamma.” I watched her as she started to talk to our daughter, started to touch her. “This is your daddy.” Claire looked at me. “Have a hold.”

I reached down and picked her up, our tiny baby. “What are we going to call her?” We hadn’t found out the sex, preferring to wait to find out. But we had listed names.

“I think it’s Elizabeth,” Claire said. “For Edward. And us.”

We’d been back to the cottage in Cornwall several times, including for Edward’s ninetieth birthday. He’d even made it to London once, reminiscing about when he and Eliza had been there on holiday. It was when he returned home, Claire had suggested using Elizabeth as a name. We’d heard more stories about his wife and Claire had fallen for the woman Edward had described.

“Eliza for short?”

She nodded. “I need a photo of you holding Eliza.”

“And then I should go and tell our family.”

“Five more minutes. Let me have Eliza for a moment while we finish everything off.” I reluctantly handed her back to the nurse, watching every move she made and feeling like a guard dog. I suspected I’d be feeling like that for the next twenty or thirty years.

The recovery room was quieter, the rush from the emergency procedure finally abating. “You have a perfectly healthy baby girl,” the nurse said, discarding her gloves and apron in the bin. “Eight pounds three ounces and strong and healthy. I suggest you go and let the crowd outside know as there were some very worried people when I went out to let them know all was okay.”

I nodded, committing the image of Claire holding Eliza to memory. “Are you ready for the invasion?”

She smiled at me. “With you and Eliza, I think I’m ready for anything.”

The End