Peggy was tired. Not just tired, even, but bone-deep exhaustion that tugged at her brain. It didn't help that Mouse had been a giant fusspot, tantruming when she wasn't being held by her Mum. Peggy had suspected that Mouse had become sick but there was no fever, no rash, no symptoms of any kind. She was just being a normal 11 month old baby, refusing to settle down for the night.
After a full night awake, Peggy had finally, blissfully got her to sleep in her arms, and could get some air and perspective from the cottage. She had put Mouse in her cot and left her to sleep so Peggy could step outside.
She had to admit, she was sad to not be pregnant yet. It felt strange to her, but really they'd only been trying for four months. Goodness knew that wasn't long, but perhaps it felt like longer since they'd talked about it for a while. Peggy stepped out onto the porch and saw her husband leaning there, that damn thing in his mouth.
"You best not light that thing anywhere near here," she said teasingly. "I can always smell it on your lips when you've been smoking."