It was Sunday, 12th October. The first thought that came into my head as woke was 'Colin would have been 15 today.' I struggled out of bed with a heavy heart. Glancing at my reflection in the mirror I could see the bump just beginning to show in my tummy. 'But the rest of you looks scrawny, there's no other word for it' I told myself fiercely.

Downstairs I mixed the mash for the hens and fed them, then set about breakfast for Andrew and Tom. Suddenly I couldn't face them. 'Gone for a walk, back at tea-time,' I wrote, propping my note up on the table, 'breakfast in the Raeburn; ham and pickle, apple pie and cream in the larder for lunch.'

Taking a couple of apples, a hunk of cheese and a small bottle of milk, I let myself out of the kitchen door. Judging by the sounds in the dairy, milking was nearly over.

How Colin would have loved today, I thought. Autumn had always been his favourite time. As I crossed the beck and started to climb upwards onto the moor the memories flooded back.

'Just look at the colours on those trees, Mum; aren't they just grand?' Colin had said at a picnic on his eighth birthday. Tom, a lively curly-headed, brown-eyed four year old, had rolled about in merriment, with no thought for things of beauty. Colin, blonde and blue-eyed, had always been the delicate, sensitive one, and if I was honest I had felt closer to him than to the matter-of-fact Tom, who was his Dad's boy, sturdy and dependable, a born farmer.

Andrew would be angry with me I knew, for he was always telling me to pull myself together. 'Life is for the living,' he had said firmly, 'Colin wouldn't want you to brood.' But I needed today to remember him, to hold the memories in my heart.

'It's great news about the baby' everyone said, 'it'll help you to get over Colin.' The anger boiled inside me. I didn't want to 'get over' him. I wanted to keep him alive for ever. I didn't want a new baby, I was afraid of getting emotionally involved again, and I felt too old as well. No, I just wanted Colin back. It was not grief I suffered, but rage and bitterness. I had not shed a tear, but the fury had never left me. Sometimes I thought Andrew didn't seem to care, he just got on with his life, and a hard, busy life it was. He'd be missing Colin in his own way suppose.

As I reached the edge of the moor the wind hit me, a gentle, warm and cleansing wind, but the honey scent of heather had gone. The purple had faded now and the moors were brown and grey with here and there a splash of red from the autumn bilberry leaves. A grouse rose and flew away sharply calling 'Go back, go back,' its white underwings and legs clear against the blue sky. Below me I could see the farm, outlined with rowan trees and hawthorns, their red berries hanging heavily on the branches. I carried on up towards the tops and along an ancient track that led to the highest part of the moor.

Those last sad days as Colin had slipped away from us flooded back. The dreaded day when the word 'Leukaemia' was first mentioned had struck us all so hard. Yet Colin himself, only ten years old, had been calm and loving to the end: never a fit of temper, no apparent regrets, his gentle smile warm and caring, as if he wanted to protect us from the misery he knew would be ours. Sadly re-living those last days in my mind I plodded on oblivious of my surroundings.

By lunchtime I had reached the summit: a white pyramid on a little mound marked the spot. Below me the view was softened by a gentle haze: to the west, valleys with fields, farms and sheep; to the east, far away, the sea; to the north, a distant town, chimneys smoking; and behind me heather moors as far as the eye could see.

Tired now, I ate my picnic, then lay down for a moment in the wan autumn sunlight. I woke with a start, surprised to find I had dozed off. I shivered a little, yet nevertheless felt a flood of warmth and happiness inside my deepest being. 'Oh, Colin,' I whispered, 'How you would have loved today. I wish you were with me.' Suddenly I felt that he was. No longer his little hot hand in mine, but an arm high around my shoulders. 'Fifteen years old today,' I thought with a hint of pride. I shook myself and started back for home.

I had gone further than I should, and the last few miles exhausted me. By the time I reached the kitchen door I was ready to drop. 'Hi Mum! Had a good day?', came Tom's cheerful voice as he hugged me warmly. 'We've got a surprise for you.' As I came into the kitchen a delicious smell assailed me, and Andrew, hovering in the background, smiled shyly. Putting his arms around me he whispered 'Of course we won't forget him, love, he'll be in our hearts for ever; you know that better than anyone.' On the table everything was ready for our Sunday dinner, and the fruit cake from the tin had been clumsily iced and surrounded with fifteen candles.

The first two tears I had ever shed for Colin hovered in my eyes. brushed them away angrily, this was no time for that. 'You are right Andrew,' I said, 'You've been right all along: life is for the living.'

The meal was delicious, all the better since I hadn't had to cook it. Colin was with us, I was sure, and for the first time in years we felt like a real family once more. As we cut the cake I felt a tiny movement in my tummy. 'I wonder if you will be a girl,' I thought, 'to keep me company!'