Free Trio by Cath Staincliffe

the baby got sick and died? What if Peter found himself agreeing with his family? She lit a cigarette. Mother of God, give me strength, she prayed. It’s going to be wonderful. We’re going to have a baby.
     
    A month later, Peter was arriving home late. He’d been delayed because Mr Ince had wanted to see him. He had felt a rush of hope at the summons and he’d been right. He was to be promoted to develop new production methods throughout the region. It would mean travelling, to visit their factories in Wakefield, Sheffield, Leeds and Hull. An extra five hundred a year and a company car. He was proud. He’d worked his guts out for this. He’d just stepped in the door when the telephone began to ring. He picked it up.
    ‘Mr Gough? Sister Monica at St Ann’s here. I have some good news.’
    He was flustered. ‘Oh, yes, Sister – right-o, erm . . . you better speak to Lilian.’ Lilian was coming through from the kitchen having heard the phone. ‘Sister Monica,’ he said, holding out the receiver.
    Her face blanched and she swallowed quickly. She blinked several times and took the phone from him.
    ‘Hello, Sister.’
    ‘Mrs Gough, I have some lovely news. We have a little girl here and I wondered if you and your husband would like to come and see her.’
    ‘Oh!’ a swirl of disappointment edged her excitement. ‘We’d hoped for a boy first, Sister.’ She glanced at Peter, who shrugged his shoulders.
    ‘Would you like to have a think about it and call me back?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And don’t be worrying now. There’s no hurry and I’m sure it won’t be long until there’s a boy for you, if that’s what you’ve set your hearts on.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    She put the phone down, her forehead creased and her hand shaking. ‘Now what do we do? It’s a girl.’
    ‘What did she say?’ Peter hung up his sports coat.
    Lilian told him.
    ‘So it’s up to us.’
    ‘I know you’d like a boy,’ she said, ‘but . . .’
    ‘Let’s sit down.’
    Once they were seated on the sofa in the lounge he said. ‘I thought you did too?’
    ‘I did. But now . . . I don’t know how to explain,’ she took off her glasses and rubbed the lenses on the corner of her blouse.
    ‘You don’t want to wait?’
    ‘It’s not that. She said it wouldn’t be long before there’d be a boy available. It’s more, well . . . this is random, isn’t it, the luck of the draw. Like it would be if . . . if we were having one ourselves. We wouldn’t get to choose. Do you see?’
    ‘Fate? Down to chance?’
    ‘I mean, we might not like her anyway. If I saw her and felt, I don’t know . . . nothing, then I’d . . . well, I’d think about it very hard. Have you got a cigarette?’
    Peter lit two cigarettes and handed one to her.
    ‘Do you feel very strongly about a boy?’ she asked him.
    He thought for a moment. ‘I would like a son, someone to carry on the name. But it doesn’t have to be the first.’
    She widened her eyes, the green glinting at him.
    ‘Well, we may want to do it again,’ he said. ‘People do. Look at the Carters, they’ve got five.’
    ‘I don’t want five. Two would be nice. One of each. Oh –’ she flung back her head – ‘I just want a baby, Peter. I want to see her. I don’t want to say no.’
    ‘OK,’ he said. ‘We’ll see her, see what she’s like.’
    She exhaled loudly. ‘Oh, thank you!’ She hugged him.
    ‘Red-letter day.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘In more ways than one.’
    ‘What?’ She straightened up and turned to him.
    ‘Mr Ince called me in. He’s giving me the regional job.’
    ‘Oh, Peter!’ She clasped her hands together. ‘That's marvellous. Why didn’t you say?’
    ‘I didn’t get a chance, did I?’
    ‘Oh, I knew he’d give you it! Congratulations.’
    ‘And now I am going to get out of these clothes. Do you want to call Matron back?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It'll have to be Saturday or Sunday.’
    ‘I know.’
    He took her hand and squeezed it. She looked alive with