Page 92 of The Sunrise Sisterhood

‘Here she is!’ said Camilla, putting her glasses on over bright eyes.

‘A baby,’ Agatha gasped. ‘What a treat.’

‘I’m very proud of my sister,’ said Skye, kneeling on the rug to put Ivy down. ‘I’m not even sure what I want to be yet and I’m nearly thirty.’

‘Thank you. And I’m proud of you,’ Clare replied, taken aback. ‘Skye has worked for a children’s charity in Uganda for the last five years,’ she said for the benefit of the others. ‘Off she went to the other side of the world, on her own, and made a life for herself. I think she’s very brave.’

‘Running away isn’t brave,’ Skye murmured, stroking Ivy’s hair.

Clare didn’t know what she meant by that, but before she could quiz her any further, Ivy pulled herself up, holding on to the coffee table, and turned to face her, looking as if she was about to take her first step.

‘Mumma-mumma!’ she babbled and then dropped comically onto her bottom again. ‘Ooh.’

Everyone laughed and clapped.

Liz arrived with the tray and poured tea from the pot into cups for everyone.

‘Is there anything else to bring in?’ Patrick rose from his chair.

‘Skye will be assisting me today,’ Liz said, with a polite smile. ‘Thank you all the same.’

‘If you’re sure.’ He sat down, his eyes full of disappointment as he watched her leave again.

Skye excused herself from the room and Ivy tottered towards Camilla, supporting herself as usual on an assault course of furniture.

‘Oh my,’ Agatha warbled. ‘What a little dote. Who does she look like?’

‘Not Clare,’ Camilla put in, scrutinising mother and daughter. ‘Clare’s skin has a pinky hue. The child has lovely olive skin. Her father perhaps?’

‘She’s very like him, yes.’ Clare had never admitted it before, even to herself. But since seeing Adam again, there was no mistaking the similarities between them. The curve of her eyebrows, the dimple which appeared when she had a proper belly laugh, the shape of her nose, even her square fingernails were so different from Clare’s oval ones. The more she looked at Ivy, the more she recognised Adam in her daughter’s features. Would he pick up on the likeness? she wondered.

Ivy continued her journey around the room, still clutching her book, until she reached Patrick and held out her arms to be picked up.

‘Don’t feel obliged, or you might be stuck with her for hours,’ Clare warned him. ‘A comfy lap and a book is her idea of heaven.’

‘What a coincidence. It’s mine too.’ His eyes softened. ‘I’d have loved children.’

‘And I’d have loved grandchildren,’ Camilla sighed dramatically as if he’d denied her on purpose.

‘It simply didn’t happen for us.’ He smiled at Ivy, carefully lifting her onto his lap. ‘But we were happy anyway.’

‘Didn’t happen with my third husband either, poor chap,’ Camilla sighed regretfully. ‘He’d have loved enough for a rugby team, but he didn’t score a single try.’

Clare didn’t know what was funnier: the old lady’s euphemisms, or the horror on her son’s face.

‘Do you think you’ll have more children?’ Agatha wanted to know.

‘Auntie.’ Patrick cleared his throat. ‘Let’s not pry.’

‘I wanted enough for a rugby team too,’ Agatha said wistfully. ‘The nearest was kissing the boys’ school rugby players one New Year’s Eve.’

‘What, all of them?’ Clare choked on her tea.

‘Every last one,’ Camilla put in. ‘We got sent home from the party in disgrace because of her.’

‘Worth it,’ Agatha whispered. ‘I’d do it again given half a chance.’

‘You should,’ said Camilla. ‘Not you, Aggie. I mean you, Clare. You make beautiful babies, I’d have more if I were you. Not now, of course – you have your hands full. Or hand, I should say.’