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protesting Mr Dog out of the way, then crawled up next to Stephen on the sofa and peered over his shoulder at an official-looking email. All she could make out was the Médecins Sans Frontières logo.
    Before Rosie had fallen in love with Stephen, she had nursed him back to health after his accident in Africa. Her greatest fear was that he would want to go back there again when he was well, but he had sworn that he didn’t; that he had never been happier than he was here in Lipton with her, teaching at the little local school, the pair of them lunching in the Red Lion, taking long, chilly walks across the moors at the weekends, which Rosie normally would have hated, but because she was walking next to him as he brandished his stick and told her old stories about the hills, with Mr Dog running about like mad, and because it always ended up in the nice tea room two villages over that did great cream teas and Eccles cakes, she actually loved.
    But he was still having treatment for his PTSD; still on occasion had nightmares, the terrible sweating dreams that left him pinned to the bed, staring wildly, the sheets screwed up in his fingers, Rosie by him, holding him close, bringing him back home, back to normality.
    She was not thrilled when he got emails from Africa.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Someone else is pregnant,’ said Stephen heavily. He shook his head. ‘Wow. Weird.’
    ‘Who? What? Stop being cryptic.’
    ‘Jabo … and Akibo …’ He still found it very difficult to say the boys’ names, even after all this time, though Rosie knew it was good for him to do so. ‘Jabo and Akibo. They had a big sister.’ He frowned. ‘Not that big. She didn’t go to school.’
    He glanced warningly at Rosie, in case she had something to say about this, but she kept silent.
    ‘She’s having a baby too. The family wanted me to know. In fact I think …’ He half smiled, then his voice went rather wobbly. ‘I think they want me to be godfather.’ His hand went to his mouth.
    Rosie was by his side immediately.
    ‘Sssh,’ she said. ‘Ssh. I think this is amazing. They’re showing you … they’re showing you they don’t blame you. That it wasn’t your fault. Which it
wasn’t
.’
    Stephen nodded slowly.
    ‘She can’t be more than fourteen. Oh goodness. I think we’d better send them some money.’
    ‘I think so too,’ said Rosie, full of relief. She had been absolutely terrified for a moment that he was going to say ‘I think I have to go out there.’
    Stephen shook his head.
    ‘When’s she due?’ said Rosie. ‘Is there a pic?’
    But there wasn’t, just the bare facts relayed by someone called Faustine.
    ‘What a terrifying name,’ said Rosie.
    ‘She is terrifying,’ said Stephen. ‘But in the best possible way.’
    He noticed Rosie getting up and picking up her coat.
    ‘Where are you going? Don’t go out in this. Stay home, please.’
    ‘I have to,’ said Rosie. ‘I have to go to the home before Lilian finds out and has me flayed.’
    Stephen nodded and got carefully to his feet, glancing briefly back at his laptop.
    ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said. ‘My most precious cargo.’
    ‘Bit less of the cargo,’ said Rosie. ‘Though I’ll be the size of a tugboat by the time this thing’s finished.’

    She was surprised, truly, at how happy the news made Lilian. She was expecting sarcastic remarks and jibes, the normal way her great-aunt showed her affection without ever really letting down her guard; a carapace against a harsh world she had worn her entire life. But her face was wreathed in smiles, and for once she was short of a snappy answer and simply said, ‘A baby.’
    ‘Looks like it,’ said Rosie, enjoying the huge fire, even if it was gas, in the residents’ posh lounge,football free as insisted on, even though the men of the institution had protested furiously, pointing out that they were hopelessly outnumbered as it was, whereupon the old women had pointed out that that meant they were