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Their baby is born on a warm spring afternoon.
It’s a surprise. So much of one that Siegfried is unexpectedly absent for most of it. He’s hopping from farm to farm when the discomfort Audrey's been feeling since the night previous transforms and sharpens into a pain so entirely distinct she’d be able to recognise it anywhere. The house is warm with May sunshine as she labours in the bedroom where their child was made, wearing her coolest nightgown and clinging to the bedpost and leaning into the pressure Helen rubs into the small of her back.
Downstairs, Tristan and James are frantic – taking turns calling up each farm Siegfried was supposed to visit, just missing him by seconds each time. They head out on short trips to try and locate him, all whilst managing an excitable Jimmy who’s far too excited about his impending playmate to stay still for too long, and a curious, toddling Rosie.
They’re profusely apologetic, brows heavy with worry and sweat. Helen relays the information and whispers reassuring sweet nothings into Audrey’s ear as the pains increase in frequency and the midwife makes her appearance and starts to examine her. She smiles – then grimaces, then smiles again. No small part of her is grateful that Siegfried is currently driving through the Dales and blissfully ignorant, doing what he loves best and filling his mind with other things. She can only imagine the state of panic and worry he’d be in if he were here. There is something innate within her that knows he’ll be here for what matters most, anyway.
The room is drenched in warmth and light when it happens. The smell of impending life and the freshness of the breeze that lifts the gossamer curtains intermingle. Through the open window, Audrey can hear the daily goings on of life in her village. Nothing stops for nobody, and the thought makes her smile as much as it makes her ache that the moment that she gives birth for the last time will also be fleeting, too.
The midwife tells her how well she’s doing and Helen squeezes her hand but Audrey feels nothing other than the very power of her body doing always what it was made to. Her hair curls at her ears from her sweat and she bears down and pushes through the pressure with a groan that’s half a laugh. The baby is delivered safely into the midwife’s arms and cries immediately begin to fill the room. She is utterly weak with relief and joy, holding on tight to Helen's arm so that she doesn’t buckle under it. She knew she could do it, and she has done.
The sun has moved in the sky by the time Siegfried makes it home. Audrey lies back against the pillows of their bed, the baby tucked safely into her arms – swaddled tightly and blinking up at her sleepily. She can hear the slam of the front door, the murmur of voices, footsteps hurriedly making their way up the stairs.
She dips her nose to the baby’s head – linen and milk and warmth greet her as she breathes in.
“There's someone very important coming to meet you, little one.”
Then, the door pushes open. There he is – disheveled and bright eyed and ruddy cheeked. He stops for a moment, completely frozen. He takes his fill of her, of them – a look in his eyes like he’s just seen heaven for the first time.
“I missed it.” He steps into the room almost tentatively, not wanting to break the peaceful spell cast over it.
“You didn’t miss anything; you’re right on time.” Audrey absolves him.
Siegfried makes his way closer and she shuffles along the bed, creating room for him to sit alongside her. She can hear the shakiness of his breath, the gentle, careful way he holds out his arms once he’s comfortable. Ready to receive the most precious of gifts.
“Meet your son.” Audrey tells him, passing the baby across with the years of experience she already has and the natural ease that any new mother possesses. Siegfried gasps as the weight of their child transfers over to him. Audrey presses a kiss to his upper arm, leans her head against his shoulder, watching the gentle way he traces a finger against each of his features.
“You beautiful thing.” His voice is thick – inexpressible joy and a lingering grief that he’ll forever carry intermingled. “He has your nose.”
“And your mouth,” Audrey smiles, her cheek pillowed against him.
“Are you well, Dearest?” He turns then, meeting her gaze with no small amount of concern.
This is why she was glad he was distracted and away whilst she laboured. It wouldn’t have done his anxious and overactive brain any good to be worrying about what ifs.
“Perfectly well.” She assures him, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek, the way she had whilst she’d tended to his cuts at the kitchen table what feels like a lifetime ago.
She is sore beyond belief, and there has been a small amount of blood. She is exhausted and giddy. Her breasts feel heavy with milk. She could do with a cup of tea and some toast. All of it is as natural as the way their child came to them. She feels perfectly content.
Siegfired turns his head ever so slightly, just so there’s enough room to kiss at her palm, before he turns his attention back to their son. Audrey can’t blame him. Now that he’s here, she can’t imagine wanting to look at anything else for the rest of her life.
“A boy,” Siegfried sighs happily. The little one manages to wriggle free from his swaddle ever so slightly, a curious hand reaching up – as if he’s recognised the voice of his father.
Audrey shifts, reaching over so that his tiny fingers can close around one of hers. The vague, ridiculous notion that she shouldn’t cry washes over her just as her tears begin to gather in her eyes. She's done this before, she knows what to expect. She can’t help it, though. It's never been like this – with this man, who loves her so completely, who she knows to her bones would never treat her the way Robert ever did, who has quietly dreamed for a child for far longer than she’s known him. Who she was able to give this gift to.
“It seems you’re destined to spend your life surrounded by men, Mrs. Farnon.” Siegfried's throat is clearly as thick with tears as hers is.
She lets out a wet laugh, even though what he’s said isn’t funny at all. She’s simply so unbearably happy – triumphant at what she’s done and what she and Siegfried now have. The day they finally came together felt so much like a new beginning. Now, in their bed with their child cradled safely in Siegfried’s arms, holding tight onto her finger – it feels even more so.
“I think that’s no bad thing at all, Mr Farnon.” She says eventually, sighing happily when he moves ever so slightly and his cheek pillows against the top of her head – like he wanted to be touching her and their son as much as he possibly could.
The waning light will disappear eventually. The rest of the family will make their way in, all desperate for a look and a cuddle with their newest member. Jess and Dash will undoubtedly guard him with their lives. Tristan will puff out his chest when they tell him what the baby’s middle name will be. Siegfried will hover and fuss and Audrey will permit it because he is a father for the very first time in his life, and undivided care and attention is something she still relishes in for its novelty. Tea will be drunk and toast will be eaten. Audrey will need to feed the baby – and soon.
For now, though, Audrey and Siegfried keep on taking in the wonder that is their child – utterly besotted – under the warm evening light.