---

 
 

Previously…

Abby and I stood on either side of the incubator and looked at one another. Without saying anything else, we opened the sides of the incubator and put our hands inside. The frail little mite seemed to notice that she wasn’t alone and her tiny hands were opening and shutting. I put my little finger in one hand and Abby did the same with the other. The wee soul grasped our fingers surprisingly tightly and she appeared to stop fidgeting. She looked at me and I swear she knew who I was and then she looked at Abby and smiled.

My heart literally melted and, with tears blurring my vision, I gazed at Abby who gazed at me in return.

‘Do you like our baby?’ I asked.

‘I love our baby,’ Abby replied through her tears. ‘Have you thought about a name?’

‘Heather–it was my mother’s name.’

‘Heather it is,’ said Abby smiling.

‘Aaaw,’ said the nurse sniffing, ‘isn’t that sweet!’

And now the story continues…

The funeral was a quiet affair, with only my friends in attendance–that is apart from the police inspector who, with apparently little respect for the dead or my feelings, collared me straight after the interment.

‘Miss Smart?’ he said, approaching me as I stood by the grave–Abby had gone off to speak to David and Jocasta–giving me some time to make my final farewell to Olivia by myself.

I glared at him with annoyance. Was he too thick and insensitive to realise that I wanted some to time alone with my thoughts?

‘Yes?’ I said rather testily. He was wearing a grubby suit and reminded me a bit of Columbo.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Oh, do we?’

‘Yes, I have a number of questions I would like to ask you about the late Nigel Manning.’

‘And you are?’ I asked, knowing already because young Trevor had warned me that the inspector would be hovering around.

‘Inspector Graves.’

‘What an apt name at a place and a time like this. Well, Inspector Graves, this is neither the time nor the place to pester me with questions. Please speak to my solicitor, she is standing over there talking to the vicar and she will make the arrangements.

‘I’m sorry, that’s not good enough––’

Just then Dotty Fairbairn arrived by my side with young Sarah in tow.

‘Ah, Samantha, nice funeral: like a good funeral, and you are?’ she demanded looking the rather grubby inspector up and down while Sarah seemed to be giggling behind her gloved hand.

‘Inspector Graves, Madam.’

‘Lady Fairbairn to you, young man.’

‘Erm, sorry, milady–’

‘–So you should be. I hope that you aren’t pesterin’ young Samantha here at the time of her grief, if you are, I might have a word with your Chief Constable, who just happens to be a personal friend o’ mine. ‘

‘No–I erm–erm–just wanted to make arrangements to speak to her, when convenient about her step father.’

‘It’s all right, Dotty, he’s just going to go and see Katie, to make arrangements for me to speak to him in a few days time.’

With a sick smile, the Columbo clone, slunk away and went over to pester Katie.

‘That’s got rid of ’im,’ Dotty declared, ‘Sarah, why don’t you go and speak to Jocasta’s children?’

‘Okilly, dokilly.’ She said smiling and rushing off.

‘Sarah, do not run, walk. You’re wearin’ heels an’ if yer fall over an’ ruin that rather expensive dress, I’ll put yer back in a maid’s uniform an’ yer can pay for it out o’ yer wages.’

Sarah turned back to us and gave us a very pretty curtsey. ‘Yes Mummy,’ she replied, grinning and then walked off at a rather more sedate pace than previously.

‘She’ll be the death o’ me,’ Dotty said with a slight smile on her lips, ‘so, how’re yer holdin’ up?’

‘All right, Dotty. I thought that I had got over her, but it appears that I still have a bit of baggage.’

‘Understandable, bein’ married nearly ten years, yer can’t forget all that. I was married to my old windbag for thirty years. A bit of a sod sometimes, but I miss him, all the same. Changin’ the subject, how’s the sprog?’

‘Oh, you mean Heather,’ I said smiling, ‘She’s doing quite well and she’s expected to leave hospital in a couple of weeks if she gains the required weight. That reminds me, Abby and I have been talking and we would very much like to ask you to be a God parent.’

I never thought in a million years that I would see Dotty Fairbairn show any form of emotion, but I was wrong. Her eyes were unquestionably a bit watery as her gaze swivelled towards me.

‘Me? You don’t want an old fogey like me to be a God mother?’

‘Yes I do–we both do. Look, Dotty, I am well aware under that crusty exterior there lies a woman with a heart of gold.’

‘Ahem–don’t know about that––’

‘–Well I do know. Please say that you’ll do it?’

‘Well, if you think I should, then all right. Don’t expect expensive presents though, can’t abide spoiled sprogs, gives ’em ideas above their station. Told Her Maj not to spoil Charles and look what became o’ him. Ah, I see the vicar’s free, I must speak to him about the Sunday Service–incense, indeed!’

With that, she left me to my thoughts. As I stood by the freshly dug grave, I recalled what I had asked to be put on Olivia’s gravestone, Peace, at last. Simple, I thought, but rather apt.

‘Well, Olivia, I hope that you do get some peace now. I’ll look after Heather with Abby and I hope that we do a good job. I’m sorry our marriage didn’t work out, but at least with Heather something good has come out of it.’

I stood there for a few moments more, dry eyed. I had emptied the tear tank over the last few days and now felt almost empty of emotion. I felt an arm link through mine and, glancing round, I smiled as Abby stood there with me.

‘It’s over, Sam.’

‘I know, I wonder if she’d approve of our choice of name?’

‘I’m sure she would.’

‘Anyway, shall we be getting back? We must go and see Heather.’

After saying goodbye to and thanking everyone, we set off for the hospital to visit our baby.

She had been moved from Intensive Care, into the High Dependency Unit. This was the ward where babies go when they do not need such critical care any longer. We had high hopes that we would be able to bring her home in the not too distant future.

I swear that she knew us as soon as we arrived at her cot-side. She was not in an incubator any longer and was growing quite fast. The doctors were surprised and pleased that she was doing so well and considered her to be a right little fighter.

We were both able to sit in a chair by the side of the cot and take turns, holding her. She was a very contented little girl and only seemed to cry when she was hungry or needed her nappy changing–in other words when she required attention at one end or the other.

I sat with her–she was wrapped in a blanket–while I was feeding her with a bottle. She was gripping my little finger tightly. I could see her tiny fingernails would need cutting soon, we didn’t want her to scratch her face. The way she sucked on the teat showed that she was eager to have as much nourishment as possible and was almost as if she was saying, “come on, Mummy, give me more!”

I sensed a flash and there was Abby taking yet another photo with her digital camera. The way she was going, she would run out of space on the SD card!

After Abby had had her daily fix of Heather-cuddling, we left finally and made our way out into the sunshine. After switching our mobiles back on, my phone chirped. It was a message from Katie, it just said ‘Call me.’

‘I wonder what she wants?’ I said to Abby.

‘Ring her and find out.’

‘Hi, Katie, it’s Samantha.’

‘Hi, Sam, can you pop into the office for a few minutes? Nothing nasty, just need to have a brief chat.’

‘Okay, we’ll be there in five.’

After greeting us, we sat down and Katie came straight to the point. ‘As you know, I’m trying–with the help of a colleague in London–to sort out Olivia’s and her father’s affairs. Nigel did have a solicitor and he’s being quite helpful. It appears that Nigel was very rich indeed. What is not known, however, is how much of the money he had acquired was as a result of illegal activities, but the general drift is that as he has died, the CPS¹ don’t believe that they would ever get enough proof to do much about it. Nigel had some extremely clever accountants working for him and they were careful to keep everything seemingly above board.’

‘I had that inspector snooping around at the funeral.’

‘They are just going through the motions, nothing’s going to come of it. As I say the CPS have no one to prosecute now that he’s deceased.’

‘So,’ I said, ‘he’s won in a way, and beaten the system.’

‘Yes,’ said Abby, ‘but at a price. He was murdered, remember and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of his shady deals that got him killed.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Katie, ‘that’s what the police think. Initially, they thought that it was a jilted lover, but now they think that it was made to look that way. The whisper is that it was a contract killing.’

‘Will they catch who did it?’ I asked.

‘Doubtful, the perpetrator or perpetrators were very good. No traceable DNA left on the scene and nobody saw anything. The very nature of this type of murder is that quite often the murderer is brought in from abroad and leaves immediately after the deed is done.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘I hated the man and what he did to Olivia, but I don’t approve of murdering him. I wanted to see him behind bars for what he did–for a very long time.’

‘So, it’s all over then?’ Abby stated.

‘Effectively, yes. Now we need to talk about other things. Nigel left everything to Olivia, and you, Sam, when she died was her sole beneficiary. You get everything including several businesses, houses and other property. You are extremely rich.’

‘I don’t want his money.’

Katie looked at me sadly. ‘If you don’t have it, the government will and will probably spend it on giving certain people large bonuses. If you have money, you can use it as you wish, on good causes, helping the local community, things like that. Look, I have a very good accountant friend who lives in the Cove and he’s an expert on this sort of thing. You know him, Abby, Miles Cameron.’

‘Yes, he’s good and is my accountant too. He has an office in London, but works from home three days and only goes up to the smoke a couple of days a week. He’s a bit of a character.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ I interpose, ‘most of the people around here are.’

‘I hope that you don’t include me in that?’ said Katie, smiling.

‘Or me.’

I looked at them and just said, ‘No comment.’

We all chuckled at that just as Katie’s assistant, Glenys, came in with some coffees.

‘Thanks, Glen,’ we all said as she smiled and left us to it.

After squabbling over the Chocolate Hobnobs, Katie looked up and asked, ‘Are you happy with things, Samantha?’

‘I don’t know. I feel just a bit uncomfortable about being rich. One of Nigel’s businesses was concerned with dodgy loans?’

‘Yes–at extortionate rates.’

‘Well, I shall be shutting that business down straight away and writing off all debts. I don’t want to add to peoples woes.’

‘Talk to Miles about it, Katie advised, ‘I’m sure he’ll be able to come up with something that will make you happy.’ She took another sip of her coffee and then frowned.

‘What is it, Katie?’ asked Abby. ‘Is something wrong?’

She put her cup down and then looked at both of us.

‘I–erm have a report from your private detectives.’

‘What about?’ I asked.

‘Heather.’

My heart sunk. Wasn’t Heather my child, after all?

‘W—w—what do you mean?’ I could feel my eyes smart.

‘Don’t worry, Sam, she’s your baby, it isn’t that. It’s just that not all of your sperm was used when Olivia was artificially inseminated. There is some left and, evidently, it is in good condition. Technically, you could use it to have another baby, if you wish.’

I looked at Abby. We had both agreed that we would not have sex as a man and woman, we just didn’t have that sort of relationship. We had discussed the possibility of adopting but now that Heather had come along, we had shelved that idea.

‘Look, have a think about it and let me know. Right now I’ve got to go and see Millie about some conveyancing that’s needed. Fancy a drink in the Toad and Tart later?’

We agreed to go down this evening to the pub and Abby and I left, returning to my cottage.

We sat by the window in our bedroom overlooking the Cove. It was a slightly dull day, but still, as always, everything looked very pretty. The beaches were nearly empty apart from a few people jogging along the shoreline and others walking their dogs and in one case a cat on a lead–don’t ask, weirdness was a natural state around here! It was quite windy, but as the wind was going off shore, we were sort of sheltered here.

After a bit, we turned to each other, following the revelations and the heartache of the day, I badly needed a cuddle.

The cuddle turned into an embrace which led to some kissing. We soon found ourselves on the bed. We were naked and I just adored the silky feel of her body and what she was doing to mine as we explored. I wasn’t able to orgasm any more–the pills having taken that away from me–but our lovemaking was giving me a warm fuzzy feeling and that was good enough for me. I hoped that once I had my SRS, I would be able to enjoy lovemaking to the full.

After licking Abby’s pert nipples, making her moan with delight, my tongue traced its way down her lovely warm, silky body until it reached––

Modesty forbids my describing the rest of our lovemaking, but I can say without hesitation that it was wondrous, sensuous, moving and rather yummy!

I lay in her arms afterwards, our hot, damp bodies entwined in a lover’s embrace. For the first time in days, I felt more my normal self. What with my illness and everything else that had followed, I hadn’t seemed able to relax for such a long time. Slowly my thoughts returned to what Katie had told me about my sperm.

I traced a red painted fingernail over Abby’s still pert breast and nipple and she was doing the same to me. My breasts were definitely becoming more sensitive and I shuddered to some extent as Abby pleasured me gently. I peeped at her face; she was gazing at me and smiling benignly.

‘Abby,’ I breathed.

‘Mmm?’ she cooed distractedly.

‘Sh—shall we try using that leftover sperm to see if we can give Heather a little brother or sister?’

_____________________
¹     CPS = The Crown Prosecution Service is a non-ministerial department of the Government of the United Kingdom responsible for public prosecutions of people charged with criminal offences in England and Wales. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crown_Prosecution_Service

---

To Be Continued…

Please leave comments…thanks! ~Sue

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing, help with the plot-lines and pulling the story into shape.