November of 2004- London, England
They'd be heading out soon to meet with the conveyancer; there were still a few papers to sign before the house in Yorkshire was finally bought. That made London bearable for Wells, at least for a little while.
So did the company he was keeping. At the moment that consisted of a fuzzy-haired baby girl who even in her sleep managed to maintain that faintly indignant look so common to small babies. Where the phrase 'I slept like a baby' came from Wells didn't know, but after watching his granddaughter in action he felt sorry for anyone who used it. She waved things around a lot, for one. She tended to flail as if she were trying to roll off her back, for another. Every so often she made little whimpery noises of effort and (this might have been his imagination) annoyance. How this was supposed to be restful he didn't know; it seemed to work for her somehow, but the specifics were beyond him.
She shifted a little, starting to stretch, and something indefinable changed in her smell. Unless Wells was very much mistaken, she was about to wake. He scooped her up and got one hand behind her head before she could draw the little hiccoughing breath that usually presaged a fit of yelling. If anybody was going to be yelling today, it was going to be him. Susan squirmed briefly, seemed to realise she wasn't on the mattress any more, and opened her eyes.
"Hallo, you," said Wells, his voice low and calm. He didn't know if a baby had any kind of decent sense of smell, but he knew she could hear him, whether she understood a word of English yet or not. It was why he always made an effort to sound reassuring around her. Today was a special case, and he put more effort into it. "Remember me?"
She made a small burbling noise. She did that a lot.
"I'll take that as a yes," Wells murmured. "Listen, Susan- your old grand-dad's got somethin' he needs to say before he goes off to the country. You might as well get used to the idea. I'll tell you again when you're older, but consider this a just-in-case, all right? 'Cos I had a look at the calendar, and I don't want you thinkin' I'm a bad old man just 'cos I can't be in the house on Christmas night this year..."
So did the company he was keeping. At the moment that consisted of a fuzzy-haired baby girl who even in her sleep managed to maintain that faintly indignant look so common to small babies. Where the phrase 'I slept like a baby' came from Wells didn't know, but after watching his granddaughter in action he felt sorry for anyone who used it. She waved things around a lot, for one. She tended to flail as if she were trying to roll off her back, for another. Every so often she made little whimpery noises of effort and (this might have been his imagination) annoyance. How this was supposed to be restful he didn't know; it seemed to work for her somehow, but the specifics were beyond him.
She shifted a little, starting to stretch, and something indefinable changed in her smell. Unless Wells was very much mistaken, she was about to wake. He scooped her up and got one hand behind her head before she could draw the little hiccoughing breath that usually presaged a fit of yelling. If anybody was going to be yelling today, it was going to be him. Susan squirmed briefly, seemed to realise she wasn't on the mattress any more, and opened her eyes.
"Hallo, you," said Wells, his voice low and calm. He didn't know if a baby had any kind of decent sense of smell, but he knew she could hear him, whether she understood a word of English yet or not. It was why he always made an effort to sound reassuring around her. Today was a special case, and he put more effort into it. "Remember me?"
She made a small burbling noise. She did that a lot.
"I'll take that as a yes," Wells murmured. "Listen, Susan- your old grand-dad's got somethin' he needs to say before he goes off to the country. You might as well get used to the idea. I'll tell you again when you're older, but consider this a just-in-case, all right? 'Cos I had a look at the calendar, and I don't want you thinkin' I'm a bad old man just 'cos I can't be in the house on Christmas night this year..."