Free A Week in Winter by Maeve Binchy Page A

was delighted for them.
    ‘Twice the pleasure and half the effort,’ he said to the two youngsters, who were still unable to take it on board.
    ‘How wonderful! A ready-made family all in one go, and they’ll be great company for each other.’ Miss Queenie clapped her hands.
    It was exactly what Rigger and Carmel needed to hear after their own reaction: that one baby was going to be hard enough to manage, two would be impossible.
    It was difficult to make Carmel take things more easily. But between them they managed to get her to realise that this was a priority.
    And slowly the weeks went by. Carmel had her suitcase packed and ready. Rigger jumped a foot in the air if she even took a deep breath.
    It happened in the middle of the night. Rigger kept calm. He phoned Dr Morgan, who said to wake Chicky at once and tell her to get things ready. It sounded too late for the hospital. He would be there in ten minutes, and he was in the door of Stone Cottage before they had time to take in what was happening.
    Chicky was there too with towels and a sense of control that calmed them down. The baby girl and boy were born and in Carmel’s arms well before dawn.
    When Miss Queenie came to breakfast, she found Chicky and Dr Dai having a brandy with their coffee.
    ‘I missed it all,’ she said, disappointed.
    ‘You can go over and see them in half an hour. The nurse is there at the moment. They’re all fine,’ the doctor said.
    ‘Thanks be to the good Lord. Now I think I should have a tiny brandy too, to wet the babies’ heads.’
    All day they went in and out to see the new babies.
    Miss Queenie could see family resemblances already, even though they were only a few hours old. The little boy was the image of Rigger; the girl had Carmel’s eyes. She was dying to know what they would call them.
    Chicky was about to say that the parents probably needed time but no, they had the names ready. The boy would be Macken after Carmel’s father, and the girl would be Rosemary. Or maybe Rosie.
    ‘Where did you get that name?’ Chicky asked.
    ‘It’s Miss Queenie’s name. She was baptised Rosemary,’ Rigger said.
    Chicky smiled at him through her tears. Imagine, Rigger, the sulky, mutinous boy who had arrived on her doorstep, knowing that and having the kindness to think of honouring the old lady. She felt a wave of sadness that Nuala couldn’t share this excitement. It was as if she herself had taken over Nuala’s role as a second grandmother for the babies. Nuala should be here, wresting the power from Granny Hickey instead of living in some mad guilty fog in Dublin and working herself to death for nothing.
    But it was such a pleasure to look at Miss Queenie. Nobody had ever taken to child-minding like she had.
    ‘Well I never thought this would happen!’ Miss Queenie would say in wonder. ‘You see, our own children didn’t materialise and I never had any nieces so there would have been nobody to be called after me, and now there is.’
    There was a lot of nose-blowing and clearing of throats and then Miss Queenie asked suddenly, ‘Is Nuala just delighted that the babies are here?’
    Nuala.
    Nobody had actually told her yet.
    ‘If you’d like me to . . .?’ Chicky began.
    ‘No, I’ll call her myself,’ Rigger said. He went away from the group and dialled his mother’s number.
    ‘Oh, Rigger?’ She sounded tired, but then she probably was tired. Who knew how many cleaning jobs she had taken on these days.
    ‘I thought you’d want to know. The babies are here: a boy and a girl.’
    ‘That’s good news. Is Carmel all right?’
    ‘Yes, she’s fine. It all happened very quickly and the children are perfect. Perfect. They weighed four and a half pounds each. They’re beautiful, Mam.’
    ‘I’m sure they are.’ Her voice still flat rather than excited.
    ‘Mam, when I was being born, was it quick or did it take a long time?’
    ‘It took a long time.’
    ‘And were you all on your own in a