‘France, the Alps? Norway, Sweden - maybe even the North Pole? Who knows where we’ll find it but we’ve got to start looking!’

Mary was beginning to get used to the rising sense of panic. After all, who wouldn’t be confused and scared with the prospect of giving birth? Joe, her companion and flat mate had stood by her through the last year or so when she had been trying to ‘find herself’. A modern problem  with an equally modern turn of phrase to excuse the fact that you have little or no idea of who you are or where you are going in life.

Joe, a saint in many people’s eyes, not only put up with her fads and fantasy’s but patiently encouraged her along the road to good health. She had more recently become a little delusional and so Joe thought that it would be sensible to take her away for the Christmas period, away from the family squabbles and accusations. Each year the same barbed comments, the same gentle digs escalated into something far more contentious. He was concerned that the extra pressure of playing intermediary between her mother and elder sister would be too much for her; after all, she had the baby to consider. 

Mary had not, as far as Joe was concerned, ever had a lover or boyfriend or even a crush at school. So when she announced that she was pregnant it took some getting used to. Joe had loved Mary since sixth form but was never brave enough to tell her in case it ruined their friendship. And then, when she dropped the enormous bombshell that shook him to the core - well…it didn’t then seem appropriate anymore.

In recent months she had been developing, experimenting with different philosophies and looking into different religions, raising her vibrations - whatever that meant. She talked with angels and ghosts, multi dimensional beings that communicated in complex ways. She wore crystals round her neck, wafted burning sage sticks and saw lights and orbs hovering in the corners of rooms. To some she was away with the fairies but to Joe she was a gentle ray from the moon, an iridescent dewdrop of beauty and perfection.

And now, with no mention of a father to care for the baby growing inside her, Joe took on the role of guardian and protector. He knew many of his friends scoffed when he professed he wasn’t the father, but his love for Mary was beyond justification.

‘I understand you’re looking for a sign, but maybe it’d be better if we stayed in England. I don’t fancy trying to get you back in a hurry, if you go into labour in a different country,’ said Joe, tolerant of her ever increasing postulations that her pregnancy was an immaculate conception. Thankfully she hadn’t banded that theory around, but it made him worry about her mental state. He hadn’t wanted to tell her of his concerns but over the last day or so she had become more agitated, constantly referring to some sort of sign from the angels.

‘I guess so, but what if we’re wrong?’ Mary eased her tired aching body onto the sofa as she rubbed her heavily swollen stomach.

‘Mary, there’s no use me pretending that I understand a lot of what you talk about, because I don’t. I try to be sympathetic and open minded, but finding a sign - well it just seems a little too far fetched.’

‘I know…sometimes I think that myself, but its going to happen I just know it is.’

Joe nodded, confirming to himself that her determination to stick to the story was admirable. Mary assumed it was acceptance of what she had told him.

They went to stay in a little cottage on the outskirts of a large village south of Guildford. The road sign claimed it to be the biggest in England, but Joe doubted the validity of the information, questioning how on a month by month basis they could be sure it was accurate. Mary looked pale and so when they arrived he got her indoors and safely seated in the armchair before he unpacked their luggage.

That night they ate fish and chips bought from Seafarer’s whilst sitting in front of the log fire. Each dipped their chips absent mindedly into the tomato ketchup whilst being mesmerised by the flickering flames of the fire. Mary had been quiet on the Journey down from York and Joe was worried that maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

‘Let’s go for a walk. I’d like to see the village by moonlight. Maybe we could go to a midnight mass if there’s time,’ said Mary.

Joe was unsure whether a walk through the streets was advisable, but there was something compellingly different about her tonight and he didn’t feel able to resist her.

‘Sure, why not? Wrap yourself up warmly, there’s going to be quite a frost tonight.’

They walked past the church yard and on into Cranleigh where the shops were beautifully lit up displaying all manner of glittering decorations. A group of lads from the Onslow pub were jeering loudly as one of their mates was being sick in a nearby bin. Mary chose to stay very close to Joe and he instinctively put his arm around her.

Further on they took a rest on a wooden slated bench. Mary said, 'you know, I feel very comfortable here. It’s as if something is familiar.’

Joe knew what she meant but couldn’t understand why. ‘Maybe it’s because it reminds us of home, you know with the drinking fountain and square.’

‘Maybe.’ Mary’s thoughts started to drift and she suddenly became aware that this is where she would find the message, the indication from the heavens that she had been waiting for.

‘Joe…’ but before she could say any more a huge circle of radiance surrounded her. It was as if she was a vision. Joe was scared and instantly pulled away from her before realising he too was caught in the brilliance.

‘What the…’ Joe didn’t take kindly to supernatural surprises and he became more fearful.

‘Joe, trust. It won’t harm you.’ Mary’s hand reassuringly touched his forehead and his fear, which moments before had been high, plummeted to zero. ‘It’s time to go.’ Mary led him back to the cottage with the cobbled pathway and the stable door where they had left the wrappings from their meal scattered on the floor. Joe threw some more logs on the fire to keep them warm as Mary prepared for the birth of the baby.

Some hours later, when Mary was resting, Joe looked at her with amazement. The birth of the little boy, whom they would name Joshua, was sleeping in a cradle made from an orange box Joe had found in the garage.

His overwhelming love for Mary and the emotion of the moment gave him the courage to propose to her. Amidst the glory of the new revelation they all fell asleep under the protective eye of the angels.