They had three hens in the hutch in the garden, and Christian had named them Anna, Emily and Charlotte.  The girls had wanted to call them Keisha, Mutya and Heidi, but the girls weren’t the ones paying for their feed every week.

“Can we leave some of the eggs?” asked Saffron, who Christian had talked into holding the basket while he risked his hand with the sharp breaks and talons, “I want to see if any of them hatch into chicks.”

“Not much chance of that, I’m afraid,” said Christian, handing her the last egg and then wiping his fingers on his handkerchief, “There eggs are unfertilised.  We’d need a rooster.”

A strange expression crossed Saffron’s face, and Christiaan wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.  Eventually she said, “How long would It take for them to hatch if they were?”

“Around three weeks, I should think.”

“So… not months and months, like with a human?”

Christian paused.  Something was clearly bothering her, even if it wasn’t the thing he’d assumed.  He’d been worried that she’d go further into why they’d need a rooster for the eggs to be fertilised, and eventually they’d get to a point where the line they’d taught her and Amber when they’d started school (“Every family is different- some people have a mum and dad, but you have a mum and an Uncle Christian”) wouldn’t be as effective as it had once been.  Instead, she’d fixed on the idea of pregnancy.  “Is there something on your mind, darling?”

“Well…”  Saffron didn’t meet his eyes.  “Faye in my class says in takes nine months to have a baby, and Amber’s only five months older than me.  So she says we can’t really be sisters.”

Christian nodded.  He supposed he’d always known that the girls would work it out sooner or later, but wasn’t it just his luck that it would come up while Octavia was away?  “Saffron,” he said, crouching down and bracing her arms in his hands, “You and Amber are sisters.  And your mother and I love you both equally.”

Her frown deepened.  “Yeah, but… is one of us adopted?”

“What would it mean to you is you were?  Would it really make a difference?”

He should have known he wouldn’t be able to dodge the question that easily.  Not with one of Octavia Lambton’s daughters.  “Am I, though?”

Christian sighed.  Octavia had told him that, if the girls ever asked him the awkward questions while she wasn’t around, he should be as honest as possible.  Still, he wished she’d been there for this.  He couldn’t help but feel that he was gossiping about her behind her back.  “No, you’re not.  Your father was a man your mother met at work.  His name was Tom, I believe.”  He’d only met the man once, but he’d seemed nice enough.  “They lost touch when he moved to America.  Your mother didn’t find out she was having you until after he’d left.”  And it was around that time, over the course of one frightened phone call, that Christian had more or less insisted that Octavia move back in with him, at least for a while.  And then, a month or two later, Octavia’s stepmother had shown up.

“What about Amber?” asked Saffron… but she’d relaxed a little by now, so Christian felt it was safe to use his Get Out of Jail card.

“It’s Amber’s story- I can’t tell it to you behind her back.  I’ll tell it when she asks, and not a moment sooner.”  He knew he didn’t have to worry about Saffron badgering Amber into asking him.  He’d seen how much strain it had put on her just to raise the subject at all.

(To be continued)