Chapter Text
Dear Tori,
Millie and I are safe. The cottage we found is warm and comfortable. I just had to get away from Mum. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay with Dad and Olly, Millie should have her Abuelo and Uncle Olly, but I couldn’t raise Millie around her. Not unless something changes. I hope you understand.
Wish you were here,
Love Charlie
Charlie unclipped the baby capsule from the base, tucking the blanket more firmly around Millie’s tiny body. It wouldn’t do for her to catch a chill before he even registered with the local GP. Straightening, he lifted the capsule out of the car, knocking the car door shut with his hip, before surveying the cottage in front of him.
Cottage wasn’t really the right word. Cottage conjured up ideas of old wisteria-covered stone buildings, with open fireplaces and a chimney that smoked. This was a neat and tidy modern two-bedroom semi-detached house. It was advertised to be warm and comfortable, and not at all a risk to the respiratory health of a six week old infant.
He glanced at his watch as Millie started to stir, and hefting the baby bag more securely on his shoulder headed for the side door. The rental agent had said the front door stuck a little bit, and it wasn't a problem most of the time, but that he would need to get ‘the knack’ to be able to open it efficiently. As he jiggled the key in the lock, inadvertently jiggling Millie he glanced down at her. Her face was crumpled in the way he had learnt meant her nappy was about to be filled, and her tummy was bound to be feeling a bit empty after sleeping all the way here.
The cottage was clean and tidy, and fully furnished as advertised. Or fully furnished for an adult, but he had stopped at an Argos on the way. The portacot would do for the short term, and it would probably, hopefully, fit into his bedroom. Charlie placed the capsule in the middle of the living room, and busied himself boiling the kettle and fiddling with the thermostat. He just managed to put together a bottle before Millie started whimpering.
“Shhhh. Baby girl. I’ve got you.” he cooed, pulling Millie out of the capsule. He sniffed cautiously around her rear, before wrapping her up warmly in the blanket. She blinked up at him, scrubbing her face with her hands. She grizzled a bit, then her entire body scrunched and relaxed moments before she started to cry. “Sweetie it’s OK. I’m here.” Scanning the room he chose a corner furthest from any door to reduce the chance of a breeze and swiftly stripped her lower half and replaced the nappy before bundling her back up again.
Cuddling her with one arm, he fished in the nappy bag for the wrap, suppressing memories of Michael showing him how to use it with a teddy, as he positioned it around his body and snuggled Millie into it. Hands free he went in search of the bathroom. Sanitizer did the job in a pinch, but he never really felt clean after changing a nappy until he had found soap and water.
Finally making it back to the kitchen and assembling a bottle, he rearranged Millie on his chest, tucking the teat into her mouth. Millie was a reluctant eater. Charlie could empathise with that, but it did mean she took a long time to get through a bottle. He roamed the house, acquainting himself with their new home, for the next year at least. Unless Mum turned up and made it untenable to stay here.
The two bedrooms were small but comfortable, and there would be enough room for the Portacot in the bigger one, as long as he pushed the bed up against the wall. Millie would sleep in the room with him for the time being. He wasn’t going to be separated from her, he wasn’t going to lose her like he had her mother if there was anything he could do about it. There was a shower, no bath, but he could bathe Millie in the laundry tub for now, and when she was a bit bigger he would work something out. Milliey was done with her bottle so he dropped it in the kitchen sink and started making multiple trips out to the car to collect their bags, and the groceries he had picked up on the way.
He kept himself busy.
Dusk fell, Millie took another bottle. He prepared the bottles for overnight, and heated up a microwave meal for himself. The heating had perked up now, and he felt comfortable enough with the temperature to strip Millie down to bathe her before bed. He laid a towel out on the kitchen table with a nappy and pyjamas ready, and triple checked he had everything prepared. This was the first time he had bathed her alone. Not for lack of willingness, but he was damned if he was going to stuff this up. He couldn’t let himself stuff this up.
Millie was an adorable child, and relaxed in the water, moving her arms around. He gently wiped her down, a washcloth on her tummy to keep her warm, rubbing between her fingers, and remembering to check for dried milk behind her ears. Pulling a towel from over his shoulder he wrapped her up and pulled the plug, heart in his throat as he transferred the slippery little bundle to the prepared table. Holding one hand on her tummy, just in case she rolled for the first time, he stretched to turn the kettle on ready to prepare her bedtime bottle.
Charlie cuddled her close as he turned off all the lights, checked the doors, then climbed the stairs. Her portacot was pushed up next to his bed, near his head where he could easily check on her in the night. He cleared his throat. It was too much to sing, but he could tell stories.
“Have I told you how you got your name?” he started, “Mummy and Daddy were so excited. Well Daddy was. Mummy wasn’t one to show her excitement about much, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”
“Uncle Charlie! Look at this!” Michael threw an arm around his freshly minted brother-in-law, and held a small photo print-out in front of his face.
“I will just as soon as you stop waving it around.” Charlie said. “Hold still. Wait? Uncle Charlie? Is that?”
“I’m pregnant.” Tori said.
Charlie blinked. “For Real?” He grabbed Michael’s hand and held it steady in front of him. “That’s yours? I’m going to be an Uncle? Is this behind the sudden wedding? ‘Cause you know it’s not necessary these days?”
“It is for the kid to be acknowledged as a Holden.” Michael said grimly. “My mother is rather old-fashioned that way. Getting married makes very little difference to us, but will save little Ozy or Millie a lifetime of mild verbal abuse for being born on the wrong side of the blankets.”
“Ozy or Millie? Are those the names you’re going with?”
“Michael read a comic back in the day. It made an impression. So yes, Ozymandias or Millicent.”
“Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Look on my works ye mighty and despair?” Charlie asked incredulously. “Bit of a hefty name for a kid.”
“Things may be easier on the child if it’s female.” Tori acknowledged.
“You don’t know the comic.” Michael defended. “So Ozy is an arctic fox who was adopted by a dragon, and Millie is his best friend, also a fox, but a red fox. Llewellyn, the dragon, has been around forever ‘cause dragons live ages, and is quite eccentric, Ozy is very calm and measured and zen, and Millicent is an agent of chaos, and there’s social commentary and stuff.” Michael levelled a finger at Charlie. “You need to read it. You will like it. And little Ozy or Millie will need their godfather to be familiar with it.”
“Godfather? I’m hardly religious.” Charlie protested.
“Eh, nor are we, but the point of the Godparent is to raise the kid with good values. You can do that.” Michael bounced.
Charlie lay awake on the bed above Millie’s cot listening to her breathing. He listened to each snort, and snuffle, letting the tears roll down his face in grief.