By the fireside; evening, 26th May

[From here]

Maggie Cotton wrote:"Of course, Gabe," Maggie said gently, hooking her arm in his to lead him there. She looked over her shoulder. "You want one, Jenny?"

Jenny was still standing there frowning in confusion when Maggie spoke. "Oh. No thank you, Maggie. Or rather - yes. I will. Thanks." And she followed them quietly back to the fire.

"Oh, God," he murmured, sitting down by the fire and putting his head in his hands. Far from improving, his head was definitely going the other, way - it was pounding almost as badly as the cannon had at Oporto.

"Shhhh." Maggie pulled away his shako and stroked his hair, speaking as soothingly as she could. "Here Gabe, lay down your head here. Jenny, help yourself," she said distractedly as she fussed over Cotton. Jenny fished in her pack to find her mug, poured her own tea, and then left.

"Ugh," he said, laying his head in Maggie's lap and feeling strangely soothed by her motherliness. He blinked up at her. "Didn't mean to make Jenny leave. Warn't her I was cross with, Maggie."

She looked up to see that Jenny was gone. "Ah, well, that's Jenny. Don't you worry 'bout her."

"Wasn't. Was worryin' about Newbury. Him an' Pye both - that's what got me this headache, I think. They had to go an' get Mister Vickery back from the Comp'ny to straighten things out." He blinked and started to sit up. "Oh, God. He'll still be here - an' there ain't no dinner for him or anythin'."

Maggie pushed him back. "Never mind! He'll survive. He's up there and he sent you back here."

Cotton subsided. Physically, anyway; it was rather nice lying like that. "I'm his batman, I'm s'posed to look after him. When he's anywhere near, anyhow. Though I dunno who he's got chasin' him while he's back up there an' I'm down here."

"That's his own problem," Maggie said dismissively as she poured the tea, leaning carefully to avoid disturbing Cotton. "He's a big grown man. I'm sure he'll manage. Don't spill now." She set the cup down to cool beside him.

"He's an officer," Cotton pointed out, as though a man couldn't be both. "Don't feel nacherel, though, what with me bein' his batman." His protests were made for little reason other than good-natured grumbling; despite his headache, he was feeling too lazy to move now. There was something very pleasant about lying here like this, just taking things easy, and he was feeling a little drowsy and too comfortable to move.

"Mister Brady always manages. He will too." Maggie was not in fact very interested in Captain Vickery's dining habits. Her thoughts were taken up with picturing children that might resemble Cotton and herself. "Do your sisters have hair that curls, or is it straight?"

"Mister Brady has Jestel, most times... though I never did work it out how he manages, prop'ly." He turned to pick up his tea, and blew the steam from it. "Me sisters?" He hadn't really thought about that. "I think they've sort of got curly hair, like yourn. Apart from Becky, who's got real straight hair, though I couldn't say why." He ran a hand through his own wavy hair. "Must've got it from Mum, or somethin', her."

She made him sit up fully so she could reach her own tea, smiling that at least he was somewhat distracted from his woes and cares now. "Sandy brown hair like yours?"

"It's darker than that, ain't it?" he said, surprised that this sort of thinking didn't make his head hurt worse. "Though the others - the ones younger'n me, they'm lighter brown. I think Mum had dark hair."

"Sandy brown in the sunshine. It's lighter than mine." She smiled and let him ease himself back down. "Feeling better? Tea does a world of good."

"Aye, it is. Best med'cine in the world, tea." He grinned at the flames of the small fire. "So, what's got you talkin' 'bout me hair, then?"

"Just thinking of babies, or children that would look like the both of us."

"Ah." Now, that did make him smile. "We'll have a boy first, how's that sound? And if the girls are as pretty as their mum, they'll be the most lovely girls in the world." He smiled up at her. "You... you feelin' better about doin' that, then?"

She shivered a bit then and sat up straight.

"I didn't mean right now," Cotton said, the warm cosiness dropping away as if someone had pulled a blanket away from him. "Only, well, there's only one way to get babies, you know. I'm sorry?" He added the apology hesitatingly, a little ashamed of having ruined the warm friendly atmosphere of their private moment.

"All right," she said, forcing herself to relax again. "That's all right. There's no hurry to have babies."

"Oh, Maggie," he sighed, and sat up. "I don't... It does hurt, you bein' scared of me like that. I wish there was summat I could do, to help you not be."

"It's not you!" she said, though she pulled away from him and shivered again. But she reached out for his hand and held it, as if to prove that her words were sincere. "It's not you. I'm sorry. I know it seems like it's you but... I just can't! It's like..." She cast about in her mind to think of a way to explain it. "Like when I was little. There was a big dog what knocked me down. I can't hardly remember it now, but I was scared of dogs, all dogs, for the longest time after. But then I guess I got used to 'em again, because I remember I loved the butcher's dog, when I would go there with my mum." She looked at him guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"I know." He did know; he'd accepted this possibility. "You just..." There was nobody near by, thankfully, and he sighed, before lying down on the ground and pulled her till she was lying on top of him. He looked up at her, trying to reassure her. "D'you think you could learn, mebbe, not to be scared of me? If we take it slow, an' you tell me what you like, or what I can't do, 'cause it'll mind you too much of... it."

"No! No. No." She shook her head and sat up again.