Ill Conceived Plans

In the name of the Father

MALCOLM Hilditch had always considered himself a man's-man, tough but fair. He supposed it was his Scottish middleclass background. He wasn't one to get overly emotional or tear up easily but the sight that greeted him in the London hospital that evening was enough to make him more than a little misty.

He'd knocked on the door gently, youngest daughter Caitlyn Jean and Athena in tow - freshly sprung from the school they both attended – the school all his daughters had attended.

A very quiet "come in" told him something special was happening but it left him unprepared for how special. There standing by the window rocking and singing to his son was Malcolm's son. Sarah lay quietly sleeping in the bed, though he suspected she wasn't asleep at all but instead watching her boys.

Malcolm loved his daughters with all of his heart, would protect them with his dying breath, had been so excited when each of them and then each of his four granddaughters were born but there was something about this seeing his son and his new grandson together. Sarah would call him a misogynist but this was something a father hopes for, wants to be part of, one of the most special moments in life, watching his boy in the first hours of fatherhood, it brought a feeling that he couldn't describe. It brought memories of holding Hilditch and his sisters back clearly, it made him feel both mortal and immortal, the Hiddleston line was assured at least one more generation (no matter what Sarah had to say). It was just so intangible perfect. Maybe it was partially that, with Dane's career and lifestyle, Malcolm had begun to suspect he'd never see this day or it might be he was just an old romantic and had always hoped Sarah and Dane would settle into something close to a normal relationship, but whatever it was, at that moment looking across the room this scene was pretty close to the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Despite his best efforts to hold it in like a man is supposed to, he misted up and feeling eyes on him, he looked over to see Sarah smiling. A smile split his own face and behind him, he heard quiet gasps and the sound of mobile phones being taken out and used.

Aah, he loved this generation – always prepared, ready to capture any moment rather than live it! But for once this was worth capturing, yes definitely worth capturing. He'd have copies of those shots (it would beat anything he'd take with his phone – which was usually just his thumb in front of the lens).

Dane looked up with a small enigmatic smile, his eyes were like sapphires and he was all lit up, Malcolm felt, even more, pride surge through his body – they'd done good – even if they had called his grandson some pretentious, poncy, over-blown Greek name instead of something solid, Scottish and normal! He wondered what moniker the poor mite would get at school – Lie? Liar? Lice? Hilditch was going to give him enough grief – well Huntington he supposed, beggars can't be choosers and at least his grandson was still part of the family and his mum and dad were in the same room.

"Come and meet your grandson dad," Dane said quietly his blue eyes flashing again with excitement as he held the baby up a little. He had the Hilditch nose – no mistaking that even from this distance, he'd never doubted the baby was Dane's but anyone who did need only look at his face. He was currently more Hilditch than Huntington, more Malcolm and Dane than Sarah or Margaret.

Malcolm walked to his son with long confident strides wiping his itchy eye, they weren't tears, while behind him he heard the girls head to Sarah, greeting her and handing over the hastily bought presents they'd got at the gift shop on the way up, a small teddy from Athena and a t-shirt and some bibs from CJ. Sarah was sitting up now and no longer pretending to sleep and she hugged both girls, her sister, and her youngest sister-in-law enthusiastically. She looked tired, tired but happy, he remembered Margaret after she had Jane – awake all night just staring at the sleeping babe in total wonder. He remembered it clearly, she watched the baby and he watched them, totally mesmerized and more in love than he had ever been. But they were too different and he was too driven in the end – he sent a silent pray to whoever was listening that these two had enough career behind them to enjoy the family in front of them. But at the moment the future could take care of itself – at the moment it was just the future. What was important was the little scrap of humanity in his son's long arms.