18

11 December

Lisa and Mark returned from the animal rescue centre. They’d picked a bouncing black and brown pup. The lady at the animal rescue said she was a cross between a Labrador and a Bulldog.

‘Lord help us,’ said Lisa. But she couldn’t resist. The dog had nice eyes.

The kids were all at home watching TV. The scene would have been perfect if Lisa and Mark had found the kids doing their homework. But, hey, you have to be realistic.

Jack and the dog jumped joyfully around the kitchen. One shouted thank you a million times. The other dripped saliva on Lisa’s lino. Even the girls managed a smile.

‘What should we call her?’ asked Jack.

‘It’s your dog, you pick,’ said Lisa.

‘No, Mark can pick and I’ll pick the name for the baby,’ Jack said with a big grin.

This was the first thing he’d said that so much as hinted that he was accepting, or looking forward to, the baby. Jack had guessed Mark’s part in getting Lisa to agree to the dog. He’d be grateful forever.

‘Nothing obvious like Snowy,’ said Paula.

‘The dog’s not white, therefore Snowy isn’t what you’d call obvious,’ argued Jack.

‘Except, it’s snowing,’ said Kerry.

They all rushed to the window and silently huddled together. Kerry was right. Suddenly Christmas seemed closer and there was a sense of magic and joy in the air. They all stayed together and looked out of the window for ages. They looked like one big happy family.

‘What about Tiger?’ suggested Jack.

‘I hope he means for the dog, not the baby,’ said Paula. She gave Lisa a shy smile. Lisa didn’t need to hear the words. She knew Paula was also saying that she was OK with the idea of a baby after all. Lisa felt relief wash over her.

‘How about Daisy?’ said Kerry.

‘Daisy Dog is really girly,’ said Jack.

‘I meant for the baby!’ said Kerry.

The happy family moment seemed as though it was going to vanish.

‘Mari,’ said Mark. Then he coughed and Lisa didn’t hear the rest.

Lisa moved away from the window. She poured five mugs of tea. She poured the right amount of milk and spooned sugar into each mug. Then she passed them round, before she started to hunt in the cupboards for the chocolate biscuits. She’d hidden them from herself in an effort to curb her non-stop eating.

The room was silent. All eyes were on Lisa.

‘I like Welsh names. I prefer Mari to Daisy,’ said Lisa. ‘How about we call the dog Daisy and, if the baby is a girl, we’ll call her Mari? If it’s a boy, Jack gets to pick. That’s fair, isn’t it?’

Still no one spoke – clearly everyone was wowed by her clear and firm solution.

‘Marry me,’ repeated Mark. This time he didn’t cough.