Free Three-And-A-Half Heartbeats by Amanda Prowse

remembering Mr Portland’s words. ‘Sleep is the best thing for her.’
    With his clothes in a heap on the floor, Tom was already under the duvet, trying to muster some warmth in the cool bed.
    ‘Shall we set an alarm in case we drop off?’ Grace asked. ‘We need to check on Chlo in a bit.’
    ‘No, I’m always up for the loo and to check on her anyway,’ Tom said. ‘Come here, I need your body for warmth, it’s freezing!’ He spoke through chattering teeth.
    ‘Oh, well, if it’s that cold, I’d better put my thick PJs on.’
    ‘No!’ Tom raised a palm in protest. ‘Anything but those! I think I’d prefer you to talk about frozen lamb than come to bed in those passion killers.’ He squirmed.
    ‘Your mum bought me those, which means they were probably horribly expensive!’ Grace smiled.
    ‘Oh God, what is it with you? First those bloody pyjamas and now you’re talking about my mother? Are you determined to put the kybosh on our love life tonight?’
    ‘Depends – how many more minutes’ sleep would I get?’ Grace asked as she kicked off her jeans and peeled off her T-shirt before jumping under the duvet.
    ‘I reckon about an extra fourteen minutes!’ Tom laughed as he pulled his wife towards him.
    ‘Fourteen minutes? How come? Are you planning on doing it twice?’ She squealed as her husband bit her neck and dragged her under the covers.
    It was a couple of hours later that Grace sat up and noticed she was alone in the bed. She reached to grab her T-shirt from the floor where it had fallen and slipped her arms into it. She felt the cool cotton touch her skin and shivered. Maybe those pyjamas weren’t such a bad idea. Her feet touched the carpet and she rubbed her eyes, wondering whether to wake Chloe up and give her Calpol or whether to let her sleep on. I’ll see how she looks.
    Creaking the door open slowly, she saw Tom, lying on the rug by the side of Chloe’s bed. The little cushion that usually sat on her bed was under his head and his dressing gown was draped over his torso for warmth.
    She opened the airing cupboard and pulled out the old quilted blanket they used for picnics and tent-making with Chloe, and spread it over her husband.
    He lifted his head. ‘Thank you. She was a bit groggy and had a slight temperature. I’ve given her a slug of Calpol and she’s gone back off.’
    ‘You should have woken me up!’ Grace whispered.
    ‘I wanted you to sleep, I know you’re not feeling too great.’
    ‘Bless you. Want to swap? I’m happy to take the rug for a bit,’ she offered. It reminded her of when Chloe was a little baby and they’d cared for her in shifts, sharing the feeds, the naps, taking it in turns to doze when they could. Happy times.
    ‘No, we’re fine. You go get your beauty sleep and when she gets up in the morning, you can give her her breakfast and I’ll grab forty winks then.’
    ‘Sure.’ Grace bent over and laid two fingers gently against her daughter’s cheek. ‘Poor little thing, she does feel a bit toasty. She’s been through it today.’ She straightened. ‘If you need me, just shout, love. I’ll leave the doors open.’
    ‘Love love, Grace.’ His words cut through the darkness.
    She turned and looked at the outline of her man, lying on the floor, being the best dad in the whole wide world. ‘Love love, darling.’
    Grace woke before her 5 a.m. alarm and patted the empty space where Tom should have been. Remembering where he was, she crept into Chloe’s room. She pulled the cover up over her little girl, who looked a little flushed, then knelt on the floor and moved her hair away from her face with her fingers. Chloe began to cry. Not her usual cry, interspersed with demands or comments, but a high whine that Grace didn’t recognise. She lifted her daughter and held her close as Tom sat up.
    ‘Is she okay?’
    ‘She’s just woken up. Feels a bit hot and she’s still groggy, aren’t you, my darling?’ Grace kissed her face as Chloe’s