Gracie

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Read on for an extract from Marie Maxwell’s first novel, Ruby. (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

By the Same Author (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#ulink_b9c9fe79-03c9-593d-80f5-45d272386601)

‘Hello little one …’ the young woman said quietly as she stared at the baby she was meeting for the first time. ‘I’m your mummy …’

Reaching out her hand, she touched her fingers on the clear wall of the incubator, willing the tiny person inside to know she was there with her and fighting for her. As she spoke the words, she could feel her heart beating so hard inside her chest she thought it might explode with the toxic mixture of love and fear that was racing through her whole body.

‘Touch and go’ was what they had said when they’d grouped around her bed to talk about the health of the child. ‘Touch and go’ – because they simply couldn’t say if the child was going to live or die.

She ran her hands back and forth across the machine that was imprisoning the premature baby in order to save her life and tried not to cry again. It had been nearly forty-eight hours since she had given birth and apart from the fact that her baby was alive she knew nothing, except that it was ‘touch and go.’ Forty-eight long hours, enduring mental anguish and physical pain, before she’d been allowed to make the short journey from the maternity ward to the premature baby unit to see her daughter for the first time.

‘Can I touch her?’ She asked the nurse who was standing behind her with her hands on the wheelchair that was a condition of her visit.

‘I’m sorry my dear but you can’t, not yet.’

‘What do you think? She looks so small …’

‘She is small, but I’ve seen far smaller, that’s for sure. We just have to wait. She’s still with us at the moment and where there’s life, there’s hope.’

The woman continued to stare at the incubator, taking in every detail of her daughter. She was perfect from head to toe and she was certain she was alert and aware, unlike how she had imagined she would be when they had given her the news of her condition.

The tiny baby moved her head and her eyelids flickered.

‘She’s looking at me, I can see her eyes …’ her mother said, her hope rising.

‘I’m sure she is, she senses you’re here,’ the nurse said as she moved around the wheelchair and then turned it slightly. Her expression was serious as she looked down at her patient.

‘Now, I have to talk to you. I don’t want you to get upset again but we think it would be a good idea for her to be baptised. Just in case. Your priest came to visit while you were still groggy from the operation so you may not remember the conversation …’

‘Baptised?’

‘Yes, as I said, just in case. He’ll baptise her as soon as you say the word; I can ring him for you. Have you chosen a name yet?’

‘Yes, but …’

As she tried to interpret the meaning behind the words, the nurse jumped forward and looked closely at the baby in the incubator. The little girl’s chest was heaving up and down as she struggled for breath.

‘I don’t like the look of this, something’s wrong. I’m going to get the doctor …’

With those words, the young nurse was away out of the door.

All that the woman could do was stare at her tiny child in the incubator and pray.

Please don’t let my baby die.

Please don’t take another one away from me …

ONE (#ulink_c6837ce0-a38a-5b35-bada-4b941662e4d2)

New Years’ Eve 1953/1954

The young couple in the middle of the crowded dancefloor clapped and shouted excitedly along with everyone else, as the countdown to New Year was dramatically broadcast across the room by the band leader.

‘… Five, four, three, two, one …’ he bellowed into the microphone and then, as the chimes rang out across the ballroom a loud roar went up, and streamers were thrown out over the heads of the revellers, who all quickly formed into circles, linked hands and started singing ‘Auld Lang Syne’.

At the height of the excitement, the young man leaned over and spoke to the woman beside him.

‘I can’t hear you …’ she mouthed back before cupping her ear at him. ‘It’s so noisy.’

‘I said, will you marry me?’ he shouted at the top of his voice.

Gracie McCabe stopped still and stared at her boyfriend. ‘Pardon?’

Across the ballroom all the hands dropped as the music stopped and the singing slowly faded away. Some couples fell into each other’s arms and kissed, while others stood awkwardly, not sure what to do at that very special moment.

‘Last chance, McCabe. Will you marry me?’ Sean Donnelly repeated as loud as he could, this time with his arms spread wide and a big smile on his face.

‘Oh flipping hell, Sean, I don’t know what to say!’ Gracie McCabe laughed and put her hand up to her mouth.

‘Last chance …’

‘I suppose I might just marry you Sean Donnelly, but you have to do it properly; propose I mean, so as I know you really mean it, that it’s not just the beer talking. You’ve had more than a few tonight!’ she pulled a face and giggled. ‘Mind you I’m not one to talk, I’ve gone a bit overboard on the port and lemon meself.’

Laughing, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the mass of people, over to the side of the dancefloor where it was less crowded. Turning to face her, Sean went down on one knee and took a red leather ring box out of his jacket pocket. He flipped the lid and held it out to her.

‘Gracie McCabe … for the very last time, will you marry me?’

Caught up in the excitement of the moment, Gracie jumped up and down on the spot. ‘Yes, yes, of course I will, yes …’

He took a delicate diamond ring from the box and slipped it onto her finger.

‘Do you like it?’ he asked.

Gracie held her left hand up in the air and waved it around. ‘Oh Sean, it’s beautiful and it fits just perfect …’

Beaming, she spun round on the spot, making the full skirt of her black and white polka dot frock flare out and show a lot more of her petticoats and legs than she anticipated. Gracie stopped and pulled a face.

‘Oh God, I’m making a fool of myself again … but I love it, Sean, I love it’.