Sons and Daughters (56 page)

As Miles watched him go up the stairs, he muttered, ‘You might as well ask me not to breathe.’

Only two hours later, Miles was allowed into the bedroom to find his wife sitting up in bed, red cheeked with her recent efforts but smiling happily. The child lay sleeping in the crib beside her bed. Miles took Charlotte in his arms and kissed her tenderly.

‘Thank you, my darling,’ he whispered.

Wrapped in each other’s arms, they wept tears of joy and then giggled helplessly like two naughty children when they thought of what Osbert’s reaction to their news would be.

Very late that night, when the house was quiet, Miles Thornton lifted down the heavy bible and laid it on his desk. He opened it at the flyleaf and read again the entries, written in different hands down the years.

He took up his pen and began to write with a proud flourish.

On Friday, 5 December 1941, to Miles and Charlotte Thornton, the precious gift of a daughter, Louisa Alice.

He sat back and reread the words, cherishing the moment.

‘A daughter,’ he murmured aloud, his voice husky with emotion. He imagined he was telling all the people listed on the page, generation after generation of sons. Somewhere, somehow, he hoped they were listening.

‘I have a
daughter
.’