‘There’s someone here to see you,’ Lily said, poking her ashen face round the door.

‘Is it the doctor again?’ Audrey asked, barely looking up from baby Donald’s face. ‘Send him in. He’s still having difficulty breathing. I’m worried sick…’

Audrey hadn’t slept a wink since the doctor had called in the middle of the night and diagnosed Donald with whooping cough. He had recommended a vaporiser and a few drops of Friar’s Balsam and said he’d need to be quarantined from the other children in the bakery, but that there was little more he could do. Audrey had known enough children perish from the disease to know that Donald’s condition was very serious.

‘No, it’s not the doctor, it’s me,’ said Charlie, slowly coming into the room with an obvious limp and removing his hat. ‘I’ve had a stint in hospital and I was allowed home on compassionate leave to see you and the babies. I tried to get word to you, but obviously it didn’t reach you…’

Audrey’s jaw fell open and her legs turned to liquid as she tried to process Charlie’s sudden arrival. Moving towards him and flinging her arms round him, she couldn’t hold in her emotions a moment longer and burst into tears.

‘Hey,’ he said warmly, holding her into his chest. ‘Are you going to introduce me to this little one?’

Audrey, still holding onto Charlie, leaned back so that she could study his face. Her eyes, filled with tears, blinked in amazement and she wondered if she was perhaps hallucinating after not sleeping all night.

‘Yes,’ she sniffed, wiping her nose and eyes and forcing herself to pull herself together. ‘This is Emily and this is Donald, your twins. I’m afraid Donald is poorly. Very poorly. The doctor came last night and said he’s got whooping cough—’

Feeling the desperate urge to break down into tears, Audrey broke off. She wouldn’t collapse in front of Charlie. She had to stay strong, even though it was painfully difficult. Swallowing hard, she continued.

‘The doctor has given me plenty of advice,’ she said, with a sniff, ‘and everyone has been helping around the clock.’

‘Can I hold him?’ Charlie said, gazing into the Moses basket at Donald.

‘Of course, love,’ she said, carefully handing him the baby. ‘Yes, there. That’s right. How much leave do you have?’

‘Two days,’ he said. ‘No time at all.’

They smiled knowingly at one another; their expressions showed their despair at how helpless they were in the face of war, that their lives were no longer their own. In Charlie’s big, capable hands, so used to hard graft and, more lately, weaponry, Donald looked as small and fragile as a snowdrop petal. His breath was raggedy and his little chest heaved in and out with every breath. It was a moment before Audrey realised that Charlie was weeping. Tears slipped down his face and onto the baby’s head. Audrey gulped.

‘Don’t cry, my love,’ she said. ‘I know he will pull through. I believe it in my heart. I’m so sorry to greet you like this. They’re such little angels.’

Charlie shook his head, letting out a deep, shuddering sigh.

‘He’s so small and… and… fragile,’ he said. ‘He’s wholly dependent on you and on the good of people. It’s the contrast between this tiny baby, our tiny babies, and the front line, I can’t get my head around it.’

‘No,’ said Audrey quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

‘I’ve witnessed the deaths of strong, able soldiers on the front line,’ Charlie said, quickly wiping away his tears, ‘and in the moments before death, they have called out for their mothers.’ Choking on his words, he paused to shake his head before continuing.

‘When faced with a sudden, violent, painful death, a man craves the innocent years of childhood,’ he said, ‘when their mother held them in her arms so gently, just as you are doing.’

Audrey was speechless as she tried to comprehend the men’s pain and suffering. Charlie’s words moved her deeply and only served to strengthen her resolve to stay by Donald throughout his sickness and nurture him back to health. She and Charlie linked fingers and gazed at Donald as he took raspy breaths.

‘Is there a chance that he…?’ said Charlie, letting his unfinished sentence hang in the air.

‘That he might die?’ whispered Audrey, her voice breaking. ‘I couldn’t bear it, Charlie, so I will not think it.’

Suppressing tears, they sat together on the bed, watching over their son, praying for him to pull through this critical time. Deep down, Audrey knew that there was a slight but real and dreadful possibility that Donald could die – and if that was his fate, she vowed that he would take his last breath safe in the arms of his mother and father. That he would go in love and in peace.

---

While John, William and the girls worked hard to get the bakery open and running, Audrey and Charlie stayed with Donald, with Audrey occasionally going into the next room to feed and check on Emily, who, thank goodness, had no symptoms of whooping cough. Though they were often quiet, they talked sometimes in soft voices of what had been happening in Bournemouth since Charlie was last home. Audrey told him about Betty and Robert’s children – and about how Robert was married to two women, which Charlie couldn’t quite believe. She discussed how, once Donald was well enough, she planned to hold a small welcome-to-the-world party for the twins and how she wished that Charlie could also be there.

‘Do you think the war will go on much longer?’ she asked, holding Charlie’s hand. ‘Are we any closer to it ending?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Charlie, with an enormous sigh. ‘Not as far as I can see. I wish I could tell you otherwise.’

Audrey sighed and rested her gaze on Donald, who, she suddenly panicked, seemed to be turning blue around the lips. Quickly picking him up from his basket, she held him to her chest and looked at Charlie, wild-eyed.

‘I don’t think he’s breathing!’ she said, her heart hammering in her chest as she broke out into a cold sweat. ‘Oh Charlie, what shall we do?’

Audrey felt herself overcome with fear. So strong was her terror that she couldn’t think straight and felt frozen.

‘Come here,’ Charlie said, taking Donald from her and bringing his ear close to his son’s lips. ‘He’s got to breathe! Oh, please God, please breathe.’

At that moment Pat put her head round the door and, seeing what was happening, ran towards them and grabbed Donald by the ankles, hanging him upside down and patting his back until he made an incredible spluttering noise. Wiping the phlegm from Donald’s tiny mouth as he coughed and struggled to breathe, she exhaled in relief, while Audrey, totally in shock, wept into her palms.

‘He’s okay,’ soothed Pat. ‘He’s going to be okay.’

‘Thank you, Mother,’ said Charlie, wrapping his arms around her. ‘I thought the worst then, I really thought he’d stopped breathing.’

Charlie moved to Audrey and held her in his arms while she allowed herself to cry. Pat saw to Donald and soothed him until his irregular breathing eased.

‘I thought it was dramatic on the front line!’ Charlie said, letting out a relieved laugh. ‘Are you all right, Audrey love?’

Audrey nodded, but she looked and felt wrecked, after what was one of the most terrifying experience of her life. ‘I’m sorry, I’m—'

‘You’re tired. And you need a cup of tea and a bite to eat,’ said Pat firmly, feeling Donald’s forehead. ‘I’ll bring you a sandwich up. I think Donald’s fever is abating and his colour is improving, so let’s hope this is a turning point.’

‘Come on, son,’ said Charlie, stroking Donald’s tiny hand. ‘When I go back tomorrow, I want to know my boy is going to be safe and well.’

Audrey glanced at Pat and didn’t miss the wistful smile on her face.

‘It’s all we want for our sons,’ said Pat softly. ‘To be safe and well.’