His plump, pink little face was half-submerged in the clumsily knitted blue blanket that Charlotte had insisted on making for her. ‘I know it’ll be a boy,’ she’d said as she handed it to Emily. ‘So I wasn’t going to bother with some daft neutral just-in-case colour.’ Emily had decided then and there she’d manage to ‘lose’ the blanket somehow, and would wrap her baby in the soft old cream cashmere one she’d had for Alfie – but Sam had put this one in the bag at the last minute and she now found she felt very fond of it. Something handmade, however ineptly (the thing had several dropped stitches and one very wobbly edge), with affection and care could only be full of warmth and love: a baby, all instinct and no knowledge, would surely sense that. Emily couldn’t sleep, although she knew she should try to. She was desperate to go home even though it was only 5 a.m. The hospital hadn’t let her go earlier as she’d hoped to because her son had been born at 11 p.m.
What do You think about A Merry Mistletoe Wedding?
