I feel my insides go berserk and I'm hot with pain.

Marc squeezes my hand as I kneel on the gra.s.s.

Weird as it is being naked out here, there's nowhere I'd rather be.

Suddenly, the pain stops and I want to push. And I do. I push and push, grabbing Marc's hand the whole time.

'Sophia,' says Marc. 'We should call the midwife.

'No Marc,' I say. 'Please. Just stay with me. Just stay with me.'

I keep pushing, every time I feel the urge.

I don't have any self-consciousness about anything. I don't care about being naked. Or the fact my waters have broken around my knees. All I care about is that Marc is here.

Something shifts inside me and my hands come between my legs.

'Marc!'

I feel the baby's head in my hands, and then the rest of its little body slides out.

'Alice!' Marc calls, helping me cradle the baby's head. 'Dr Christian!' He takes the baby from my hands and holds it to his chest.

'Is it okay?' I ask. 'Is it breathing?'

Suddenly I hear the tiniest cry. Followed by a choky little cough.

I fall back on my haunches.

'She,' says Marc, smiling. 'She is breathing. And she is beautiful. Just like her mother.'

82.

A tiny, grouchy looking little baby, with brown hair, lies in Marc's arms. She's bright pink and covered in white stuff. Her skin is white and her lips bright red. Her eyes are tight shut and she puckers her lips into an annoyed little cry.

She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

Tears slide down my cheeks.

'Can I take her?' I reach over and cradle our little girl in my arms. 'h.e.l.lo beautiful girl,' I say. 'h.e.l.lo.'

'So do you have any girl's names lined up?' Marc smiles. 'Because I don't.'

'Well lucky for you I was open minded,' I say, gazing down. 'And I have the perfect name.'

'Which is?'

'Ivy.'

The next few weeks are sort of a blur. But a happy blur.

I spend a few days at the townhouse eating toast and drinking hot chocolate, and then we relocate to our country home which has been perfectly prepared for our new arrival.

I'd been nesting for months before Ivy came, so our country house is spotlessly clean and full of every baby thing imaginable.

Marc and I spend all our time together with baby Ivy, watching her sleep and feed.

I do absolutely no cooking at all, on Marc's insistence, and a chef comes every meal time to prepare the most amazing, healthy food. And the odd pizza.

It's a whole new world, waking up every few hours every night, and a bit daunting. But I'd do anything for Ivy. Anything at all. And I know Marc would too.

Before we know it, Christmas is upon us.

We insist the whole family come to our country home for Christmas dinner. We invite Denise too, of course. And Tom and Tanya, whose families are both overseas. And Michael.

On Christmas morning, I carry baby Ivy down to see the Christmas tree and lights. Marc watches me like a hawk on the stairs. He's still petrified I might get too weak and drop her.

I tell Marc over and over that I'm fine, but he still won't quite believe me. I think the birth freaked him out a bit. Seeing me so frail. But I'd go through it again next week if it meant having Ivy with us.

I smile at the pile of Christmas presents under the tree. Marc has bought half of London for baby Ivy. She's going to be the most spoiled little girl imaginable. But I'm going to work hard to make sure she has good values. And appreciates everything she gets.

'You know, I don't think Ivy understands presents just yet,' I tell Marc. 'She can't even smile.'

Marc frowns. 'My daughter will have the very best of everything. Are you sure you're okay carrying her on the stairs-'

I laugh. 'For the millionth time, yes.'

We open some of baby Ivy's presents. Expensive clothes, toys and toiletries. But Ivy doesn't understand what's going on. I think she likes the Christmas tree better than anything.

'Since our daughter seems to like trees and lights better than presents,' says Marc, 'perhaps you'd like to open your gift now.'

'Marc! The tradition in our family-'

'You have a new family. Me and Ivy. And I say our tradition should be opening presents first thing in the morning. Children shouldn't have to wait all day.'

'Fine. Just this once. But we'll talk again next year.'

'Glad to see you still do as you're told Mrs Blackwell. At least some of the time. Here.' He pa.s.ses me a small box wrapped with beautiful cream paper.

'You know, I didn't quite manage to get you a present,' I admit. 'Ivy here came a little quicker than I thought. And with the movie and everything ... I was disorganised this year.'

'You're forgiven,' says Marc. 'Now open your present.'

I tear off the paper and find a purple jewellery box.

'This looks beautiful.'

'You haven't even opened it yet.'

When I open the box, the smile leaves my lips. In a good way.

'Oh Marc. This is ... oh wow.'

Inside is a silver necklace with aivy leaf and rose hanging from it.

'Turn it over,' says Marc.

I do, and see an engraving on the back of the ivy leaf.

It says, 'Light and dark together forever, Marc.'

I bite my lip.

'You don't like it?' Marc asks, his eyes wide with concern.

I shake my head, feeling tears coming. 'Oh Marc. I love it. I just don't want to cry.'

Marc laughs and puts his arms around us.

'I will always look after you and our daughter. You know that don't you?'

'I know.'

83.

It turns out to be the most amazing Christmas day ever.

Dad, Denise, Michael, Annabel and Daniel, Jen and Leo and Tom and Tanya all end up sitting in our huge living room, in front of the roaring fire.

We talk and laugh and drink and eat, and spend a lot of time watching baby Ivy.

'This is the happiest I've ever been,' I tell Marc, snuggling up by the fire.

'Do you think Ivy might be too hot?' says Marc, ever the anxious parent.

'I think she's just fine. Look at all the love in this room. How could she ever come to any harm?'

Marc's jaw hardens. 'I'd die before any harm came to her.'

'I know. Me too.'

Jen gazes at Ivy, her hand tight in Leo's.

'Maybe we could have one of these soon?' says Leo, giving Jen a playful wink.

'Are you kidding me?' says Jen. 'I've literally just started my business. And we haven't even got married yet.'

'So let's hurry up and get married. Fly to Vegas tonight. Get it done and dusted, then have a baby.'

'LEO!' says Jen. 'I've been planning this wedding for months. It's going to be the event of the century.'

'So un-plan it. You know what they say. The cheaper the wedding, the longer the marriage.'

Jen smiles. 'I would love to have a baby with you. You know that, don't you?'

'I know. So let's do it.'

Jen rolls her eyes. 'Leo! Sometimes things have to be planned.'

'But the best things are always spontaneous.' Leo plants a loud kiss on Jen's cheek. 'If we have a baby next year, it will be the same age as Ivy here. They can be best friends.'

'Mine and Sophia's children will be best friends no matter what their age,' says Jen confidently.

Baby Ivy is on best behaviour when our family and friends are around. But as they say their goodbyes, she begins to get restless.

No amount of feeding, rocking or shushing will calm her down.

'Perhaps she's coming down with something,' says Marc, his voice full of concern. 'I should call the doctor.'

'Marc. It's okay. She always gets like this at the end of the day. Let's just take her for a walk.'

'It's freezing out there,' says Marc.

'And you've bought her enough thermal outfits to survive the Antarctic,' I point out. 'Come on. She just needs some fresh air to help her sleep.'

Reluctantly, Marc helps me bundle Ivy into the pram, wrapped in clothes and blankets.

We push her outside over the gravel and I look up at the clear, black sky.

The second Ivy hits the fresh air she quietens down.

'See?' I tell Marc, pushing the pram over the gravel. 'She just needed a walk. That's all. Let's take her across the fields.'