She nodded to emphasise her words and the bird adorning her hat wobbled dangerously. ‘Next month I think, so we must go to see the vicar.’ ‘Yes dear, of course, I’ll make an appointment with him.’ Miles spoke absently, watching his son’s reactions to the news that he was marrying again. Tom was sitting in a winged armchair between the fireplace and his bed. This was the first time he had been allowed out of bed by Dr Norton, the specialist Miles had brought in. ‘I’m very happy for you both,’ said Tom, his voice so low Miles could hardly hear him. It was an effort for him to lift his head and smile at his father and his intended bride. Of course he knew in theory that he would be left very weak by the illness but hadn’t imagined it would be so bad. ‘I expect you to be well enough to come to the wedding, Tom,’ Bertha said with an arch smile. ‘So you must hurry up and get better.’ ‘I’ll do my best, Miss Porritt,’ he replied. ‘Yes. Well, I must be off, there are a thousand and one things I have to do before then,’ said Bertha.
