'Are you nervous?' Aunt Vee asked, as she stood beside Xander, where he had taken up sentry at the window overlooking the carriage driveway.

'It's not my ideal situation; meeting the parents when she's not even my girlfriend. When I've put three foetuses inside her.' Then he frowned. 'What is the plural of foetus?'

'Foetuses, I believe,' the older woman replied. He snorted. How dull!

'I expect the collective noun for a group of foetuses is something like "an obligation" or "a life sentence".'

'An obligation of foetuses... A life sentence of foetuses...' Vee mused, trying them out for size.

'Maybe we should just cut to the chase as call it "a clusterf*ck". By the time you add in the devout Christian parents, the weird younger sister and the fake religious brother. When you consider that I'm the father, could it really get any worse?' he asked, voice thick with resignation.

'That's just nerves speaking,' Vee told him. 'And it could certainly be worse. You were worried when you thought there was a problem with the scan. Yes, you fainted when you found out that you're having triplets, but your initial reaction was fear at there being a problem. You are overwhelmed by it all and I know that to some extent, you're going through the motions under sufferance, but you do want to be a good father to these babies, don't you?' He nodded; a minute nod, as though he couldn't bring himself to fully commit to the gesture.

'And you get on well with Amy. You had a wobble when it came to moving in together, but the fact that you both agreed in principle... that's quite telling, I think. She wanted your support, and on some level at least, you want to give it, and believe that you actually can.'

'I don't really know what I'm supposed to do,' he admitted, his focus still fixed beyond the window. 'When we're alone it's... sort of normal. But then we're with other people and there's baby talk, and I have to stop kidding myself that we're spending time together by choice.'

'But you are. She's four months pregnant. She's not at death's door. If you spend time together right now it's because you both want to.'

'We're going to be living together – temporarily at least – and I don't even know where we stand with one another.'

'Have you slept with anyone else? Since you found out about the pregnancy?' Vee asked gently. He turned to her, glancing over his shoulder with a frown.

'Not since I met her, actually. You know I went to Italy for a month or so; that was why we stopped seeing each other. By the time I got back, she was telling Vicky she was pregnant...'

'Do you want to be romantically involved?' her voice cautious, because it would be very neat and convenient if he did. If Amy wanted the same thing, and yet Xander did have issues. He was not reliable. A failed attempt at romance could very well be worse than no attempt at all.

'Sometimes the idea of having family – someone of my own,' he added, when he sensed that Vee was about to insist that she was his family, 'it... has a kind of appeal. But Amy needs to appeal, and I'm not sure that long term, beyond sex, she does.' He blinked rapidly. 'I'm not sure that I'll ever want to have sex with her again. She told me about her bowel movements, for Christ's sake.'

'Darling,' Vee laughed, 'you're complaining to a woman who spent years wiping her son's backside. I'm married to a surgeon and my son's a GP. I've got two grandchildren.' He only looked at her, his face saying, "what's your point?' Shaking her head at him, she said, 'bodily functions are part of life and you at some point, you tend to become acquainted with other people's, as well as your own.' When he still didn't appear to have reached an epiphany, she threw up her hands in dismay. 'Lord, you're hard work! You do realise that when you have sex with a woman, you're only a tiny membrane away from her rectum. Your penis has probably as good as rubbed up against the movements she's not yet had!'

'Don't be disgusting,' he chided, because he had a weak stomach.

'Don't be pathetic. If you're mature enough to have sex, you ought to be mature enough to cope with perfectly natural bodily functions. So long as they're not discussed at the dinner table,' she added, because she had standards.

'What about discussing them in the car, on the way to the dinner table?'

'Was the car dark?'

'Yes,' came his baffled reply.

'Then it was fair game.'

So, too, was every aspect of his personal life, it seemed, once the Groves family descended upon Ramona's mansion. Amy arrived with her parents – an outdated, grey couple – her sister, who was quite taken with the orangery, but no longer particularly interested in Tobias, and her brother, Matthew, who was incredibly severe. They had barely taken off their coats before their interrogation had begun.

'You're a contractor?' Mr Groves asked.

'Yes, that's right,' Xander replied, relieved to be talking about something familiar, like work.

'So, no guarantee of steady employment, then?'

'I do very well,' Xander told him, just as Amy hissed "Dad!"

'And you live in London?'

'I have an apartment in London,' he began.

'A very nice apartment. It has its own gym and swimming pool. Its own concierge,' Amy said, clearly trying to impress her parents, despite having been unimpressed with his bachelor pad, herself.

'Amy says you're buying somewhere here, though? That you're moving to Surrey?' came her mother's speculative contribution.

'Yes,' feeling rather cornered. They were supposed to take off their coats and bags, slip off their shoes, and migrate into the living room like normal human beings. They didn't. They lingered, crowding further and further into his personal space, until he was surrounded by all five members of the Groves family.

'And she's moving in with you? Is that right?' Mrs Groves pressed, as she continued to press into him.

'Yes. It makes sense, after all.'

'But you're not romantically involved?' came Matthew's interjection.

'Well, I... I care for Amy, of course, but um...'

'We're not rushing into anything. We're focused on being good parents. Anything else is secondary,' Amy declared, in a surprisingly even voice.

'Exactly,' he nodded.

'It's a bit late not to be rushing into anything, don't you think?' Mr Groves challenged. 'Pregnant and with three babies.'

'The number of babies is hardly our fault!' Xander said, in an attempt to defend himself, because truly, three babies – an obligation of babies – was a fluke of science. But there was nothing he could say – no way to defend himself – because they weren't interested in his words, but rather, his actions.

'Are you going to marry her?' Mrs Groves asked. 'It's the decent thing to do.'

'Mum!' Amy winced. 'I've told you; I'm not marrying someone just because I'm pregnant.'

'But what if he wants to marry you?' her mother replied. 'What if he wants to do the right thing?'

'I doubt he does,' Matthew mused, looking at Xander with disdain. Well, that was a step too far after what Tobias had told him about the brother.

'I certainly don't want to abort my children like you did!' Xander scoffed.

'What?' Mrs Groves asked, as Matthew's face turned pale. As Amy's mouth dropped open and Darcie's eyes widened with a combination of fear and glee.

'Nothing!' Mr Groves snapped.

'What do you mean, "nothing"?' Mrs Groves said, turning to her husband in question. 'What did you mean by saying that to my son?' Challenging Xander once more.

'Nothing,' he said, realising that he'd made a grave mistake. 'I didn't mean anything at all.'

'I should hope not,' she said primly, straightening her spine. 'We're a decent, Christian family. All life is sacred. Even...' She nodded to her eldest daughter's stomach, as though unsure how to phrase the life sentence of foetuses within her daughter's womb.

'Even bastards?' Amy offered, before stalking away from her parents with wet eyes.

'I'm sorry,' Xander said, tugging her into the orangery, where they hid behind a large wisteria; their voices muffled by the musical trickle of a fountain.

'Don't be. I'm not upset about what you said. It's them.' She wiped at her face with her sleeve.

'Have they given you a hard time? About us not being... together?'

'Not really. Not out loud, but it's so obvious that they're embarrassed. They're worried about how it'll go down in church. It does help that they can tell people we'll be living together though. They'll imply that we're a couple, of course, but that has no bearing on us.'

'I thought Christians were supposed to be forgiving?' Amy couldn't help but roll her eyes at his naivety.

'Only the real ones. Not the zealots.'

'Not the ones like your brother?' Xander asked in a low voice, because he'd never asked her about Matthew – he wasn't sure that he was supposed to know, but now that the cat was out of the bag...

'He's a very self-serving Christian. He'll serve his congregation, of course, but only if it serves him, too.'

'And what about the pregnancy? The one I only today realised your mother appears to know nothing about?'

'It happened when he was having a crisis of faith. He has them periodically. Usually when he wants to do something decidedly unchristian. He asks for forgiveness afterwards, so it's alright, apparently.'

'According to who?'

'To him, but he speaks to God, so...'

'Are you ready to go back in there?' Xander asked, thumbing towards the living room.

'Yes, I suppose so. Only...' She frowned. She did feel a little more emotional than usual. A little more tired. She was scared at the thought of juggling a cluckerf*ck of three babies. She had limits. 'Will you... for today, can you be on my side? If someone says something or does something, can you be on my side?' He nodded.

'It's not like I've got more loyalty to anyone else. Certainly no one except Vee and she'll be pissed before long so it'll all go over her head.' Then he frowned.

'You were being quite sweet until you said that last bit,' Amy told him, smiling into his handsome face. His cheeks flushed with pink.

'I'm pretty sure no one's called me "sweet" before.' Primarily because he was not a sweet person. Really, rather savoury.

'Must be the pregnancy hormones,' she shrugged. She turned about, drew in a steadying breath, and walked purposefully back into the mis-matched crowd of people.

Meanwhile, the Groves family had been left to fend for themselves. Ramona was the quintessential hostess, of course, so they were introduced to everyone, offered refreshments and warmly welcomed, but she was not a miracle worker and there was only so much she could do when she introduced herself with, –

'I'm Ramona. Verity's sister. Amy teaches my nephew's daughter, Isla. My grandsons attend the same school.'

'Mr and Mrs Groves,' Mr Groves said. 'We're retired, but my wife acts as the church secretary and I'm chairman of the rotary club.'

'Oh,' she said, feigning delight. 'Lovely.' She glanced at her eldest son. 'Raffey, meet Mr and Mrs Groves; Amy's parents. This is my eldest son, Raffey. His wife, Mattie and sons – Sebastian and Isaac – are over by the Christmas tree, talking to Darcie.'

'Mr and Mrs Groves,' the retiree said, thrusting out his hand to Rafe. The architect eyed it suspiciously. There was something distinctly wrong about a man who wanted to hide his first name. Hell, Rafe's name was Rafferty, and he was willing to own to it. What could be worse? Other than perhaps Rudyard...

'Hello,' he said, deliberately glancing around the room so as to imply he'd missed the offered hand. 'Where's Amy?'

'Crying in the orangery,' Vicky said, joining their conversation. 'You must be Amy's parents? I'm Vicky.'

'Mr and Mrs Groves,' the father said, with no apparent concern for his daughter.

'Gosh! You've accepted a Christmas lunch invitation but you don't want to be on first name terms? Have you met my husband, Dr Fielding, FRCGP, or his father, Mr Anderson, FRCS – He goes by mister rather than doctor, but he's a surgeon. Super qualified.'

'Vicky,' Ramona said, smiling benignly, 'would you be able to see if Carl needs any help in the kitchen?' A blatant excuse to get rid of her, but she was a peacekeeper, so the younger woman had expected no less.

'Of course,' she replied, whilst Rafe edged away from the religious couple, shooting Vicky an approving smirk.

'I bet he's got an absolutely rotten name. Something like "Cuthbert", she whispered.

'The son's a bit weird,' Rafe agreed. 'I don't think they're going to like Xander at all.' And they did not like Xander. Not before they met him, and not afterwards. His metropolitan good looks did him no favours. He was too fashionable for the forbidding parents. His bachelor pad was of no interest; it was too urban. His lack of romantic involvement with their daughter was problematic. It needed rectifying.

'How old are you?' Mr Groves asked, when all the adults were seated with coffee, and the children were tearing open foil-wrapped chocolates.

'Forty-three,' Xander replied.

'And you've never thought of settling down?'

'I did once,' he admitted.

'But you changed your mind?' the father challenged.

'My fiancée died, actually,' Xander said; jaw tense, shoulders stiff.

'My apologies,' a contrite Mr Groves responded. Mrs Groves took solace in this sombre news, however, for naturally, if he'd intended to marry once, it meant that he might very well intend to do so again. Ideally, with their daughter.

'It must have left a gap,' Mrs Groves said softly. 'A gap which ought to be filled, no doubt.'

'Mum!' Darcie chided, because although it was Amy they were mortifying, they were embarrassing her quite succinctly, as well.

'Matthew's unmarried, I noticed,' Rafe put in, his deep voice cutting through their feeble-voiced conversation. 'How old is he? I assume he's older than Amy?'

'Yes,' Mrs Groves nodded. 'He's forty-one, but he's so committed to his work. I'm not convinced it's a suitable lifestyle for a family man; to have a wife and children to support, when you're forever helping your parishioners. He's married to God, really.'

'If he was married, he might not feel the need to coerce a woman into having an abortion,' Tobias quipped, because he'd been held to account for his own mistakes – was barely tolerated by his brother – and yet there were Matthew's parents, singing his praises when he was just as flawed as Xander or Tobias, if not more so. By Tobias's reckoning, anyway.

'What did you say?' Mrs Groves asked in alarm. This was the second time someone had spoken to her of abortion.

'Darcie said...' He trailed off. She said her mother didn't know. A schoolboy error, but really, she ought not to have trusted a virtual stranger with such a scandalous family secret.

'What did I say?' Darcie asked, turning to face him.

'That, er...'

'Your brother; he said something about Matthew and abortion,' Mrs Groves explained.

'He must be confused,' Darcie told her, with incredulous laughter. She was truly quite convincing.

'But why did Xander mention it earlier?' her mother persisted.

'Xander's confused,' Darcie assured her. 'They've probably confused him with someone else.'

'I'd appreciate it,' Mrs Groves warned, looking from Xander to Tobias, 'if you could keep your nasty little aspersions to yourself. Despite what my daughter has got herself involved in, my Matthew is reliable. He's honest and reliable.'

'Your son got a girl pregnant and convinced her to have an abortion she didn't want, lest people realise that he's not quite as God-fearing as he makes out,' Xander snapped. That was his... Christ, "baby mama" was the easiest way to describe her. But still, he was British and middle class. A white male in his forties... Their obligation of foetuses was a joint enterprise. They had to stick together. 'Amy might be unmarried and pregnant, but she's facing up to her responsibilities – as am I – and she's going to make sure that her children are loved and well-cared for. She might not go to Church or have a ring on her finger, but it's clear as day which one of your children is honest and reliable.' Silence followed this outburst, broken only by Ramona's forlorn sigh. True, Rafe was cantankerous and bad-mannered, and Tobias was immature and covetous of other men's wives. She'd experienced her share of drama over the years, but to have Xander display outbursts of his own was wearying.

'Is this true?' Mrs Groves gasped, turning from husband to son and back again, like a spectator at a tennis match. 'Did you know?' she asked of her husband. 'You did, didn't you?' Then she looked to her daughters. 'And both of you, as well?'

'We all knew. Darcie told Tobias, who told Xander,' Amy admitted. 'I found out by accident when it happened, and I was upset because I'd just found out about my fertility issues, so I complained about it to Darcie. Dad was the only one who was supposed to know, I think.'

'Why would you have kept this from me?' Mrs Groves sobbed, as she looked directly at her husband. It seemed his crime was worse than his son's. The shattering of the woman's world-view was too much for an inebriated Aunt Vee to bear, and so she chose to break the ice with, –

'I really wouldn't worry. All families have their dirty secrets. Tobias had a four-year affair with Raffey's first wife. Then he slept with the mother of Rudy's eldest – whilst she was still married to someone else, I might add. I was engaged to Byron Becker in my youth. When I fell pregnant, he wanted me to have an abortion. I refused, so he had sex with another woman. Tipped off a paparazzo so that they'd be caught in the act. Had it splashed all over the papers for maximum impact. There's scandal everywhere if you look closely.'

'I think you might need a lie down, Mum,' Rudy said, rising from his seat and offering her his hand. It was clear that she was not quite in her right mind. She wasn't the most tactful of people, certainly, but she'd always been fiercely protective of her family's privacy and feelings. If she was divulging painful family secrets in the company of strangers, then there was something wrong; something more than the alcohol she'd imbibed, too.

'Yes,' she said, her voice thick.

'Come on,' Vicky agreed, moving to Vee's other side. 'Let's get you upstairs. A nap before lunch will work wonders.' Together they beckoned Aunt Vee up the stairs, Ramona watching her younger sister with concern.

'I'll tell Carl,' she said, to no one in particular.

'I'll take over the cooking,' Rafe sighed, standing to his full height and stretching quite impressively.

'Was she really engaged to Byron Becker?' Darcie asked, seeming to have missed the emotion in the older woman's voice when she'd spoken his name.

'Yes, and she was too good for him so she married Carl instead,' Mattie told her.

'So... does that mean –' Darcie continued, as she put two and two together and came up with "Rudy is Byron Becker's son".

'It means none of your bloody business,' Xander warned. 'She's like a mother to me. I'm not going to sit here and let you gossip about her.'

'Vol-au-vent?' Tobias offered, thrusting out a tray of filo pastry tarts. His peace-keeping skills were limited, because he was usually the cause of the outburst. And besides, he was a Ford Fiesta. What else could he contribute, but bite-sized pastry parcels made and cooked by someone else?

Mrs Groves ate the vol-au-vents. She was used to church buffets and she hated it when finger food went to waste. She consumed one after another – a conveyor belt of eating – whilst Mr Groves scowled at Xander, who sat glowering at him in return. Darcie was obliged to rub her mother's back consolingly whilst Matthew attempted to explain himself in a hushed voice. Sadly for him, his voice was not hushed enough, and the Paxton family could hear his every word.

'It was an error of judgement. I had a crisis of faith and I made a mistake. I was only attempting to right my mistake.'

'With abortion?' Mrs Groves whimpered, this last word said in a pained whisper, as though frightened to say it aloud. For, although God believed in freewill, she did not; not if it involved abortion and one of her own children.

'I needed to stay true to my purpose – to God, and serving my neighbours – and I couldn't do that with the distraction of a child.'

'But a child isn't a distraction. It's a gift!'

'Perhaps I felt I didn't deserve such a gift?' Matthew weaselled. 'I don't know. I was in the middle of a crisis of faith.'

'But why did you not tell me?' his mother continued. 'Why keep it from me?'

'I didn't feel capable of confiding in you,' Matthew insisted. 'I was ashamed of my crisis of faith. I was in a vulnerable position. I wasn't ready to speak of it.'

'For someone who has a lot of crises,' Mattie said to Vicky and Tobias, 'he's not very adept at dealing with them. We ought to put him in touch with Chris. "Coping with Crises by Crisis Chris Colville".'

'It's not surprising,' Vicky snorted. 'He's not a patch on our Chris. Chris's crises are highly inconvenient; hence meriting a crisis; in his own mind, at least. Matthew's sound like a holiday and an excuse, all rolled into one.'

'I wish we'd invited Chris and Zoe for Christmas. She'd have loved this,' Mattie pondered aloud. 'Chris would be in a right state; flapping about the kitchen because Carl is seeing to Vee, and the designated cook is absent without leave. He'd be panicking about the rate at which Mrs Groves is putting away those vol-au-vents, and he'd be worried about Aunt Vee's blood alcohol level, the stress this argument has put on Amy and the babies, and Matthew's soul.'

'I doubt Matthew actually believes in souls,' Tobias said. 'Darcie told me he's a fake Christian.'

'I said no such thing!' Darcie complained, because Tobias had spoken too loudly.

'Actually, you did, but –'

'Like anyone would believe you!' she snapped. 'You had an affair with your own brother's wife. For four years. If anyone is a fake, it's you!' she hissed. 'Playing the nice guy; the under-appreciated son. I'm not surprised your own family dislike you, you... you...' Sadly, she couldn't think of a decent insult, so her angry words petered out without the flair they could have had, had Vicky or Mattie been the ones on a diatribe.

'And I'm not surprised you're single, because your breath stinks!' Tobias said, having risen to his feet in the face of Darcie's lacklustre verbal assault. He stood with his hands curled into fists, his cheeks red, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 'You're rude and selfish and immature. Roller discos are crap and eating hot food in the cinema is embarrassingly gauche.'

'You're not surprised I'm single?' she scoffed. 'I only agreed to go on a date with you,' but she had gone on three dates with him, 'because I felt sorry for you. Your brother and cousin, Xander and Lord, even your Aunt's husband, are way better looking than you.'

'I'll have you know that he's the sports edition Ford Fiesta, with lowered suspension and heated seats. You're a moped driven by a teenager on a provisional licence!' Mattie interjected, much to the confusion of the Groves family. They looked at her with horror; as though she was an unhinged woman who might do something dangerous and unpredictable at any moment.

'I think we'd like to leave now,' Mr Groves said, rising from the sofa and dragging his vol-au-vent-quaffing wife with him.

'Yes, I think you'd better bugger off,' Mattie agreed. Ramona was seeing to her sister, Rafe was cooking Christmas Lunch and Tobias didn't count, so as the homeowner's daughter-in-law, she felt herself to be – at that precise moment in time – the man of the house.

'Amy,' Mr Grove said sharply, 'you're coming with us.'

'I'm staying here,' she replied, lifting her chin in defiance. Mr Groves' cheeks reddened, and a thick vein pulsed at his temple, but because he liked to call himself a devout Christian, and because it was Jesus' birthday, it really wasn't okay for him to tell her to shut the f*ck up.

'As you wish.' Stiffly, he turned about, glowered at his adult son and daughter to follow him, and walked towards the foyer.

'You can take the vol-au-vents with you if you like,' Mattie said gently to poor Mrs Groves. 'Amy can always return the plate when you're done with it. We wouldn't want you to go hungry.' It was, perhaps, a sign of the older woman's distress that she took Mattie up on the offer; seen sitting in the passenger seat eating flaky pastry over a glass plate.

'Damn,' Tobias said, as the wheels of their car made a noisy departure over the gravel driveway. 'I'd bought Darcie a bottle of mouthwash for Christmas. I didn't get a chance to give it to her.'

*** Author's Note ***

Just a typical happy family Christmas, right? What do you think of Amy's parents; will they come around, or are they a lost cause? I think it's safe to say that there is absolutely no hope for Toby and Darcie at this point, but what about Xander and Amy? Do we hear love and marriage on the distant horizon, or just a cacophony of screaming babies?