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Bound By Their Babies
Caroline Anderson


Best friends, single parents…Now they need each other like never before!Obstetricians Jake and Emily have supported each other through tough times. But when they both become single parents there’s only one solution—move in together and share the job and the childcare! Soon the secret desire they’ve always held for each other becomes very tough to hide. But would revealing their love risk their friendship—or answer their dreams?







Best friends, single parents...

Now they need each other like never before!

Obstetricians Jake and Emily have supported each other through tough times. But when they both become single parents, there’s only one solution—move in together and share the job and the childcare! Only, the secret desires they’ve held for each other become very tough to hide. But would revealing their love risk their friendship—or answer their dreams?


CAROLINE ANDERSON is a matriarch, writer, armchair gardener, unofficial tearoom researcher and eater of lovely cakes. Not necessarily in that order! What Caroline loves: her family. Her friends. Reading. Writing contemporary love stories. Hearing from readers. Walks by the sea with coffee/ice cream/cake thrown in! Torrential rain. Sunshine in spring/autumn. What Caroline hates: losing her pets. Fighting with her family. Cold weather. Hot weather. Computers. Clothes shopping. Caroline’s plans: keep smiling and writing!


Also by Caroline Anderson (#u1aafe5ad-07b5-55f0-8c4a-2d77eb1bef86)

The Valtieri Baby

Snowed in with the Billionaire

Yoxburgh Park Hospital miniseries

From Christmas to Eternity

The Secret in His Heart

Risk of a Lifetime

Best Friend to Wife and Mother?

Their Meant-to-Be Baby

The Midwife’s Longed-for Baby

Bound by Their Babies

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Bound by Their Babies

Caroline Anderson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07499-5

BOUND BY THEIR BABIES

© 2018 Caroline Anderson

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Special thanks to the Gibbs family, who were inadvertently so helpful with the medical elements. I’m so glad it all went well in the end!

And huge thanks to my daughter Sarah for the excellent source material in the form of her four delightful and often hilarious young children, who help me to remember just how challenging parenting can be!

I love you all. xxx


Contents

Cover (#u1d93f309-9f5b-5093-b363-e7697e5d80ea)

Back Cover Text (#uabafe050-c22f-5311-bc59-d0a047978433)

About the Author (#u45fab3c2-8ec1-51d5-864e-07da0534d347)

Booklist (#u05d3e9ae-6f03-5da7-8815-85d85e0423d4)

Title Page (#u0e71bc17-241e-5231-af6e-f42ba5e9fe47)

Copyright (#uf89768c9-7d2a-54a6-a094-c73446b7355f)

Dedication (#ub5901cce-8c77-5904-bb84-e86b52fa712b)

PROLOGUE (#u5cc0ed79-560e-5962-847e-44a1685d5fa8)

CHAPTER ONE (#u35840626-3338-50e6-8b92-2b75bc8ff655)

CHAPTER TWO (#u4303e7f5-38ed-5979-804a-223f440f993b)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


PROLOGUE (#u1aafe5ad-07b5-55f0-8c4a-2d77eb1bef86)

June

‘HI, EM. I’VE just come out of Theatre and found two missed calls, and I tried the house phone and got no reply. Where are you? Are you OK?’

Jake heard a soft laugh, then a little gasp, and his pulse shifted a notch.

‘Em? Talk to me!’

‘I’m in labour, but I can’t do this. I need you, Jake...’ Another little gasp. ‘I’m in Maternity Reception—’

She broke off breathlessly, the contraction obviously peaking, and his heart went into overdrive.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he promised, and sliding his phone back into his pocket, he told a colleague to page the registrar to take over from him and headed for the lift at a run, his heart hammering.

Crazy. There was no reason for him to react like this. He was an obstetrician, for heaven’s sake! He spent his life surrounded by women in labour, but this was different. This was Emily, his dearest, oldest, closest friend, and he’d promised he’d be there for her. Not as an obstetrician but as her birth partner, and that was much harder because it wasn’t his place to be there, it was Pete’s.

But Pete, her husband of eleven years, the father of her baby, couldn’t be here with her today or any other day. The man who’d had everything any man could want—everything he himself wanted—had lost it all for ever in a cruel twist of fate, and now all Emily had was Jake.

How could he possibly take Pete’s place?

The lift was on a go-slow, and he drummed his fingers on the door, wishing he’d taken the stairs. Come on, come on...

The doors finally hissed open, and there she was, leaning against the window opposite and breathing with soft, light huffs.

‘I’m here, Em, I’ve got you,’ he murmured, and laid his hand on the small of her back and rubbed firmly, and she moaned softly and leant into him, rocking from foot to foot as he stared out into the darkness and waited for the contraction to ease.

The first hint of dawn was just appearing on the horizon, a thin sliver of grey pushing back the night. New day, new life...

‘How are you doing?’ he asked, when the huffing stopped and she straightened up.

‘Awful.’ She turned and met his eyes, her own pinched with fear as she took his hands and hung on. ‘It’s not due for two weeks, how can I be in labour? I’m just not ready, Jake.’

Which made two of them. ‘Yes, you are. You know babies, Em. They come when they come, but at least you’re here now and I didn’t have a thirty-mile drive in the middle of the night to get to you.’

‘Oh, don’t! I thought you were being silly making me move in with you this week. I so nearly didn’t come. I didn’t think there was any need yet, and now I just can’t believe it’s happening.’

‘I can, so I’m really glad you finally listened to me—and you’ll be fine,’ he promised rashly. ‘You’re fit and well—’

‘Don’t give me that. I’m an obstetrician too, I know all the things that can go wrong, and fit and well’s got nothing to do with it.’

‘And you also know the odds, which are slim,’ he said calmly, even though his heart was still pounding. ‘You’ll be fine, Emily. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or the baby.’

‘You can’t say that.’

‘I can. I have,’ he told her, mentally crossing his fingers, because this baby was her last link with Pete, and absolutely nothing could be allowed to break that link. ‘Come on, let’s get you upstairs and admit you. Can you walk, or do you want a wheelchair?’

‘Walk. It’s easier.’

‘OK.’ He led her to the lift, and somebody was holding the doors. Liv, one of their most trusted midwives, and he felt a surge of relief as he flashed her a smile.

‘Hi, Liv. This is Emily—the friend I told you about? Em, Liv’s a senior midwife and she’s amazing.’

‘And you’re a smooth talker,’ Liv said with a laugh. ‘Hi, Emily, it’s good to meet you. I’ll come up with you, get you settled in. Want me to stay for the delivery?’ she added to Jake, and he nodded.

‘That would be great if you can,’ he said, as Emily turned into his arms, gripped his shoulders and moaned softly. ‘It’s OK, Em. Just breathe, in and out, nice and light,’ he coaxed gently, and felt the soft huff of her breath drift against the open V of his scrubs. ‘That’s it, well done, you’re doing really well.’

‘Two minutes forty,’ Liv murmured, and he nodded. They were coming thick and fast. No wonder she was struggling.

The lift pinged, and the grip on his shoulders eased.

‘Are we there?’

‘Yes. Come on, let’s get you comfortable.’

* * *

They felt like the longest two hours of his life, Em’s contractions blurring into each other in an untidy avalanche punctuated by calm reassurance and steady progress reports from Liv.

He was so glad Liv had stayed with them. He trusted her, and in this situation he felt so out of his depth it was absurd, but Liv was calm and in control and she handled it brilliantly while he tried to stop being a doctor and did what he could to help Em.

He rubbed her back, he held her hand, he walked her round, he held her, rocked her, mopped her brow, and then at last he lifted up the squalling, slippery little body of her son and laid him against the bare skin of her breast, his eyes blinded by tears as he tucked a warm towel around the baby.

‘Well done, Em. Well done. Clever girl.’

‘What is it?’

‘A boy,’ he said, his voice catching. He swallowed hard and tried again. ‘It’s a boy.’

Her head was bent so he couldn’t see her eyes, but he could see her fingers, the tender, sure curve of them over the baby’s head, the loving touch of a mother soothing her baby in those momentous moments after birth.

She pressed her lips to the baby’s head. ‘Hello, little one,’ she murmured, her voice a caress. ‘Welcome to the world.’

He was quiet now, his eyes fixed on his mother’s, tiny fingers curled around hers, and Jake’s throat was so clogged he couldn’t speak, but he squeezed her shoulder and she looked up at him and smiled, her eyes shimmering in the slanting light of the early morning sun.

‘We did it,’ she said softly, her voice incredulous. ‘We actually did it.’

‘No, you did it,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘You’ve been so brave through all of this. Pete would be really proud of you.’

A tear slid down her cheek, and she gave a tiny nod and kissed the baby again.

‘He’s lovely and pink,’ Liv said with a smile, and Jake stepped back and made room for her to do her job. His presence was redundant now, and he just wanted to get out into the fresh air and sort out his feelings, because they were all over the place and some of them had no business being there at all.

‘Apgar score ten at one minute,’ Liv was saying to the other midwife, and he turned to the basin and washed his hands on autopilot, his emotions flayed.

It was fourteen months since Matilda had been born last April at his old hospital on the other side of Suffolk, but it could have been yesterday. It was the only other time he’d been at what felt like the wrong end of a delivery bed, and he’d been shocked at how emotional he’d been when his tiny daughter had been put in his arms, and how much he’d instantly loved her.

He’d only just started here at Yoxburgh Park Hospital then and Jo had refused to move with him, but he’d been there for Matilda’s birth, heard her first cry, been there to hold her, to bond with her, and he spent as much time with her now as he could.

It didn’t feel like enough, but at least he was alive. At least he knew his precious, darling Tilly, and she knew him. Pete would never know his son. The nearest he’d got was a grainy ultrasound image of a tiny foetus taken shortly before he’d died. Now Em was alone, and her little boy would never know his father. That gutted Jake, but he’d always be there for them, whenever he could. He’d promised Pete, and that promise to a dying man was unbreakable.

He went back to Em and stroked her damp, tangled blonde hair gently. ‘I’ll see you later. Give me a call when you’re all tidied up, and I’ll come back.’

Her mouth opened—on a protest?—and then closed again, and she gave him a fleeting smile and nodded. ‘Go and get a coffee or something. I’m not going anywhere fast.’

‘OK. Look after them for me, Liv.’

He gave Em a smile no steadier than her own, shunted the door out of the way and went out into the corridor.

It was deserted, thankfully, because right then he just needed to be alone. He headed for the lift, strode down the corridor to the Park Café as it opened, picked up a cappuccino with an extra shot and went outside, sucking in the fresh air.

It was still cool, only seven o’clock, but it was going to be a gorgeous summer’s day and he found an unoccupied bench and sat sipping his coffee in the slanting post-dawn sunshine, letting the tension ease out of him.

He’d been so tense at times during Em’s labour—totally illogically because it had been utterly straightforward, but he had been, anyway. She’d been through so much with Pete in the last few years and he’d felt so responsible for her care and safety during her labour, so duty-bound to make sure that nothing bad happened either to Pete’s baby or to Emily herself.

He’d worried until he’d heard that first cry, but not for the baby so much as for Emily and what it would have done to her if anything had gone wrong. If the baby hadn’t made it...

He’d been much more detached about Jo when she was in labour—partly, he had to admit, because he’d never really been in love with her. Not that he was in love with Em, not that he’d ever admit to, even to himself, and certainly not to her, although he’d come close to it years ago after the wedding of mutual friends. It was shortly after she’d met Pete, and after the wedding wound up they’d walked back to their hotel and she’d gone to his room for coffee and things had got a little out of control.

Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the music, maybe just the whole soppy romantic thing of it, but before he’d known what had happened they’d been on the brink of making love. Then her phone had pinged with a text from Pete, and it had acted like a bucket of cold water over both of them, stopping them in their tracks.

She’d fled to her room and they’d never mentioned it again in all these years, but it had been the moment when he realised the full extent of his feelings for her. Feelings she hadn’t reciprocated, because she’d gone straight back to Pete the following day and he’d had to learn to live with it.

He’d buried those feelings for her so deep he’d almost forgotten them, but he still loved her deeply as a friend, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, or her for him. She meant the world to him. She was his best, his dearest, most loyal and honest friend, and he’d be lost without her.

Not that her honesty was always an asset. There were times you didn’t want to be told you were being an idiot, but she’d never been wrong.

He’d met her in freshers’ week, when she’d found him handcuffed to the railings outside university halls at six in the morning, stark naked and horribly hungover, next to a pile of dew-soaked clothes carefully placed just out of reach. She’d been heading out for a run when she’d seen him, and she’d found the key taped to the fence beside his clothes and set him free, but not before she’d lectured his ear off.

In between laughing herself silly.

He’d loved her from that moment, through all the ups and downs of med school, their first clinical placements—dammit, he’d even walked her down the aisle to marry Pete, knowing he had cancer, knowing how hard it would be for her, but knowing, too, that he had to be there for her no matter what.

And he had been. Still was, always would be.

His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out and read the text with a chuckle.

Safe to come back now. The messy stuff is over. In a side room.

He drained his cold coffee, dropped the cup in a bin on the way past and went up to see her.

She was sitting up cross-legged in bed breastfeeding the baby, and it hit him like a brick. Jo had never done that—said it didn’t work for her, which had saddened him, but she’d made it clear that it wasn’t his decision and in the end he was just grateful she’d gone through with the pregnancy at all.

He shoved the thought aside and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to Emily’s forehead, breathing in the fresh scent of shampoo. ‘How’re you doing?’

‘OK. I feel much better now I’ve had a shower.’ She caught hold of his hand, squeezing it gently. ‘Thank you for getting me through it. I was so scared.’

He wrapped his hands around hers. ‘Silly girl. I told you I’d look after you, and I won’t stop just because you’ve had the baby now. You know I’m here for you for as long as you need me, don’t you? And I’m not just saying that.’

‘Oh, Jake...’

Her eyes welled, and he leant over and hugged her carefully before detaching himself and stepping back, creating some much-needed distance. ‘So, how’s the feeding going?’

‘Oh, he’s a natural, apparently. He certainly knows what he wants and goes for it—that’s good, according to Liv, although you could have fooled me,’ she added with a wry smile.

He chuckled. ‘It is good, and you’ll soon both settle into it.’ He dropped into the chair beside her bed and stifled a yawn.

‘Tired?’

‘A bit. Long night, with all this added excitement at the end of it, but see? I told you nothing would go wrong.’

Her smile faded. ‘Nothing else, you mean? I suppose never getting to meet his father is enough. We were probably owed a break.’

‘Yes, I think you were,’ he said softly, then after a slight pause, ‘Have you thought of a name?’

‘Zachary—Zach. Pete liked it, and he always said if we had a boy he’d want to call him that, so I said I would. Zachary Peter, for him, and Jacob.’ She smiled again and held his eyes. ‘For my best friend.’

‘Wow.’ He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘That means a lot, Em. Thank you.’

‘It’s the least I could do. I couldn’t have done this without you, Jake—any of it. You’re the only thing that’s kept me sane since Pete’s cancer came back.’

‘Don’t be daft. You’ve been amazing. You’ve done incredibly well.’

‘Hardly. I’ve just got through it one day at a time, didn’t have a choice.’ She looked down at her baby, fast asleep now, and a little worried frown crossed her face. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to have to go back to work and leave him.’

He frowned. ‘You don’t have to worry about that now. You’ve only just had him. There’s plenty of time.’

‘I know, but it doesn’t stop me worrying about how I’ll juggle a baby and my job. I can’t just ignore the future.’

He reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry about money, Em,’ he said firmly. ‘It’ll sort itself out, and if it doesn’t, I’ll help you.’

‘How? You’re already supporting Jo and Matilda. You can’t run three households, Jake, and anyway, it’s not just money, it’s my career. I’m the sole breadwinner, have been for ages, but I worked hard to get where I am and I can’t afford to neglect it.’

He dug out a smile. ‘We’ll find a way. Just concentrate on the baby. He’s the most important thing, and the only thing you need to worry about at the moment. The rest will sort itself out. In the meantime, I’ve got two post-op patients to see and then I’m done, so I’ll go and get the house ready and come back for you.’

* * *

He made up the little crib he’d used for Matilda, put flowers in his sitting room to welcome her home, and went back with the car seat from her pram to find her ready to go.

‘Here—have a cuddle while I put my cardi on,’ she said, and he put the baby seat down on the bed and took Zach from her, settling him easily in the crook of an elbow and staring down at him with an odd sensation in his chest.

‘Hello, little guy,’ he murmured, his finger tracing the line of his tiny nose while that annoying lump reappeared in his throat. ‘Gosh, you’re like your daddy.’

‘That’s what his parents said. I sent them a photo. I’m so pleased for them that they haven’t lost all of him.’

And neither had Em. He swallowed the lump again and put his feelings back where they belonged, deep below the surface.

‘Come on, then. Time to go home,’ he said, clipping the baby into the seat, but his words echoed in the quiet room and he had to remind himself that, for them at least, his house wasn’t home, and he’d do well to remember it.


CHAPTER ONE (#u1aafe5ad-07b5-55f0-8c4a-2d77eb1bef86)

The following April...

THERE WAS A tap on the door of the consulting room and it opened a crack.

‘Mr Stratton? I’m sorry to interrupt but Mr Walker’s in the Park Café and he needs you there straight away.’

Jake opened the door and frowned at the receptionist.

‘So why do I need to go? I’m in the middle of an antenatal clinic—’

She beckoned him out of the room and lowered her voice. ‘He’s with your little girl. Her mother’s disappeared.’

‘Disappeared?’

She shrugged. ‘That’s what he said.’

‘Right. Can you find my registrar, please, and ask her to take over? I need to sort this out. And tell him I’m on my way.’

His mind whirling, he apologised hastily to his patient and sprinted down the corridor to the café. He couldn’t see anything at first, but he could hear Matilda crying hysterically, and he pushed his way through a crowd of onlookers and found Ben crouched down trying to soothe her in the buggy.

‘It’s OK, Tilly, I’m here,’ he said. ‘It’s all right, darling, you’re OK. Come to Daddy.’ He undid the straps and scooped her up into his arms, her little body racked with sobs as he sat down on the nearest chair and rocked her against his shoulder.

‘Dad-dy,’ she hiccupped, burrowing into his shoulder, and he rocked and hushed her while he tried to make sense of it.

Ben sat down beside him, and he looked at him in confusion. ‘I don’t understand. Where’s Jo, and why is Matilda even here?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ben said softly. ‘Jo said she recognised my name from my badge. She told me who she was, said she’d forgotten to put a ticket on the car and could I watch Matilda for a minute, and she hasn’t come back.’

‘When was that?’ he asked, but Ben just shrugged.

‘Fifteen minutes ago? She kissed her goodbye which I didn’t really think anything of, but she looked a bit upset for some reason and when she didn’t come back I started to wonder, and then I noticed this sticking out of the buggy so I rang the clinic.’

Ben was holding out an envelope and he stared at it blankly. ‘What is it?’

‘I have no idea. It’s addressed to you.’

He took it, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, flicked it open and scanned the words in disbelief, then read it again, just to be sure.

I’m sorry to do this to you, but I can’t look after Matilda any more. It’s not that I don’t love her, I do, and I’m sorry it didn’t work between us, but I’ve met someone I really want to be with, and we’re going travelling. I’ve always wanted to do that, and I know it seems selfish, but I have to do this for me, and I know she’ll be better off with you than she would with me.

She loves you to bits, and I know how much you love her, and you can give her a better life than I’ll ever be able to. I’d like to keep in touch with her and see her when I can, but please don’t try and contact me to talk me out of it. I know you would, that’s why I couldn’t tell you to your face, but I know this is the right thing for everyone, and I’m really sorry about all the money.

Love her for me.

J

Nothing else, except a key in the envelope. Ben held it out silently, and he frowned. The key to her house? Of course. With all Tilly’s stuff in it. No doubt she’d left already—and what was that about all the money? All what money?

‘This is crazy. She can’t just walk out on Matilda. I’ll call her.’ He pulled out his phone, rang her number and got no answer. Great. He looked back at Ben.

‘I can’t get her. She’s not picking up.’

‘Do you want me to call Security in case something’s happened to her?’ Ben asked, but Jake shook his head, realising the futility of it as it started to sink in.

‘No point. She’s gone, Ben. She’s left us.’ He pressed a kiss to his daughter’s tangled, sweaty hair, his love for her overwhelming him. ‘It’s just you and me, Tils,’ he murmured, ‘but that’s OK, I’ll look after you. Daddy loves you. We’ll be OK.’ He kissed her again, and she burrowed tighter into him, her little legs tucked up against his side, arms tight around his neck.

‘You need to go home,’ Ben said softly.

‘How? I’m in the middle of a clinic, and it’s only Monday. What about the rest of the week? I can’t just walk out.’

‘Don’t worry about work, someone’ll do your clinic today and we’ll sort the rota out. Your daughter needs to come first. And I’ll get Security to locate and copy all the CCTV images of Jo from the time she arrived to the time she left. Just in case you need them for any reason in the future.’

He nodded, the implications of Jo’s actions beginning to sink in as anger took the place of shock. If she loved Matilda, as she’d said she did, then how could she just dump her like that, without talking to him first?

Because she knew he would have tried to talk her out of it. She’d been right about that. Right about him taking care of her, too, but how? How could he? He had a full-time job, with irregular hours and huge responsibilities. He couldn’t just drop everything. It wasn’t fair on his colleagues or his patients. And in any case, he had a mortgage to pay—assuming she hadn’t totally emptied his bank accounts and put him into overdraft right at the beginning of the month. Was that what she’d meant? Panic swamped him for a moment, but he fought it down.

At least Matilda was all right, but what if she hadn’t been? Jo had only left her with Ben because she’d recognised his name. If he hadn’t been there, would she still have left her? Anything could have happened to her. Someone could have taken her—

He felt a wave of nausea and swallowed hard. ‘Thank God you were here, Ben, but what if you hadn’t been? What if someone had taken her?’ he said, but Ben just shook his head.

‘Don’t go there, Jake. Just take her home,’ he said softly, so Jake took the key from him and put it on his keyring, then made a quick detour to pick up his things from his office before heading off to sort out the chaos his life had just become.

* * *

The following morning he went to her house, but it was empty apart from the landlord’s furniture and a small pile of Matilda’s things—her clothes, her toys and books, a few birthday cards and half a packet of nappies all stacked in the hall. Oh, and the landlord, who was delighted to see him.

‘She owes me two months’ rent,’ the man said bluntly. ‘I told her yesterday morning I’d call today to collect it, but she’s gone. That’s all that’s left, those things there of the little tot’s. I’m just waiting for a locksmith. Apparently she was seen leaving yesterday afternoon with the child and a man in a battered old campervan, and the neighbours said he’s been around a lot recently.’

Well, that fitted with what she’d said in her letter. Great. So not only had Jo dumped Matilda without warning, which was quite bad enough, she’d also defaulted on her rent—even though he paid her more than enough every month to cover that and her living expenses. And that was on top of her emptying his savings account yesterday morning—

‘So who are you, then?’ the landlord asked.

‘I’m Matilda’s father. I’m just here to get her stuff and I’m as much in the dark about where Jo is as you are.’

He folded his arms. ‘Well, someone’s got to pay the rent. I’ll let you off one month because I’ve got the deposit and there doesn’t seem to be any damage, but I want the rest.’

‘That’s fine, I’ll pay it,’ he said heavily. Frankly, a month’s rent was the least of his worries. Her ‘sorry about all the money’ had made him check his accounts last night and find she’d stripped his savings account—not that there had been much in it, but there was nothing now. She must have got his bank details from his phone when he’d seen her last week on Tilly’s birthday. That would teach him not to be so trusting.

Teach him a lot of things, but on the plus side she hadn’t emptied his current account which meant he had enough—just—to pay the landlord and get through the rest of the month. He should probably be thankful for small mercies, but he didn’t feel thankful. She’d no doubt sold the car as well. Well, he’d have to pay the outstanding rent, but that was it. He certainly wasn’t funding her travelling—or at least any more of it than he already inadvertently had, and he’d had to change all his passwords last night which was a real pain.

He put Matilda down and got out his phone to transfer the money to the landlord, and she toddled off, calling for her mother and looking puzzled.

‘Where Mummy?’

He swallowed the lump in his throat and picked her up again. ‘She’s not here, sweetheart, she’s had to go away so you’re going to come and live with me all the time now, and I’m not going anywhere,’ he said softly, propping her on the worktop while he dealt with the landlord, then he threw all the things Jo had left for Matilda into the bags he’d brought with him, scooped his daughter up again and walked out, seething with anger, disappointment, regret—a whole catalogue of conflicting emotions that had already kept him awake half the night.

Now all he had to do was talk to HR and work out how he was going to juggle his job and childcare commitments, but first he needed a friendly ear—and a shoulder to cry on?

No point in crying over spilt milk, even if it felt like Jo had dumped an entire dairy on his head. But the friendly ear he could definitely do with.

* * *

Emily was trying to stop Zach spreading banana everywhere when her phone rang for the second time in quick succession. She nearly didn’t answer it, but Zach had finished eating now, so she wiped her fingers and pulled the phone out of her pocket.

‘Jake, give me a second. I’m covered in banana.’

There was a muffled laugh from the other end, and she turned on the speaker and grabbed the wet wipe that Zach was stuffing in his mouth. ‘Don’t laugh at me. You have no idea how far he can spread it. So, how goes it?’

Another laugh, this time wry. ‘Not great. Look, I’m not far from you. Can I drop in and scrounge a coffee?’

‘Yeah, sure. Jake, are you OK?’

‘Not really. I’ll tell you in a minute. Stick the kettle on.’

‘Will do. Grab some milk, please? I’m almost out.’

‘OK. See you shortly.’

The phone went dead, and she stared at it, then shrugged and handed Zach a toy to play with while she cleared up the sitting room and worried about Jake.

He’d sounded odd. Sort of taut, like he was about to snap, which was so unlike him. He was always so easy-going, so relaxed and unfazed by anything. Chewing her lip, she plumped the cushions, scooped up the washing she’d been sorting, dumped it back in the basket and went back to tackle the kitchen.

She’d just finished loading the dishwasher when she heard him pull up, and she opened the front door as he got out of the car with a shopping bag in his hand. ‘That was quick,’ she began, but then she saw his expression and the words dried up in her throat.

He looked awful.

His face was a mask, the tension coming off him in waves, and she pulled him inside, put her arms around him and hugged him hard.

‘What on earth’s happened?’ she asked softly, and she felt the sigh shudder through him.

‘Jo’s dumped Matilda with me—well, strictly speaking she left her in the hospital café—and she’s walked out of her life.’

Emily felt her jaw drop and she let him go and took a step back so she could read his eyes, and saw confusion and white-hot rage. ‘She what? How? Why?’

His shoulders jerked in a shrug. ‘Who knows? She’s gone travelling, of all things. She left me a note in the buggy apologising. She’s got a new man, apparently, and the landlord said they were picked up by some dude with a battered old campervan, so presumably that’s him. God knows what she’s done with the car I bought her. Sold it to fund the travelling, I expect, and she also owed rent that I had to pay, and cleaned out my savings account.’

‘That’s outrageous!’

‘Tell me about it, but that’s not what’s making me so mad. Don’t get me wrong, Em, I’m not thrilled, but it’s only money. It’s the fact that she just abandoned Matilda in the café that makes me so furious. Thank goodness Ben Walker was there. Apparently she saw his name badge and realised who he was, so she introduced herself and asked him to keep an eye on Tilly while she put a ticket on the car, and then she didn’t come back. What if he hadn’t been there, Em? Was she just going to rely on someone finding the envelope before something dreadful happened to her? What if she’d been abducted?’

He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. ‘I’m so angry I don’t know where to start, but she said she couldn’t tell me because I’d talk her out of it and she knew this was the best thing for everyone. I suppose I should just be grateful she didn’t take Matilda with her—oh, and the icing on the cake is she wants to keep in touch. Well, we’ll see about that,’ he added furiously, finally grinding to a halt.

‘Oh, Jake,’ she said softly. ‘I’m so sorry. How is Matilda? Is she all right?’

Another shrug. ‘I suppose. A bit unsettled but she’s used to being with me so she’s not too bad—yet. How she’ll be down the line I have no idea. We’ve just come from the house and she was wandering round asking where her mummy was. I’ll bring her in in a minute, I just wanted to tell you all this out of her earshot because I don’t want to make it worse, but I had to unload before I blow a fuse. I know she’s only just two but who knows what she’s making of all this?’

‘I can’t imagine. Oh, poor little girl—and poor you! Bring her in and I’ll make coffee. Is there milk in that bag?’

‘Yeah, and a packet of giant triple-chocolate cookies, still warm. I need serious comfort food.’

‘We’d better get started, then,’ she said with a little laugh, and retrieved Zach before he crawled over the step and fell onto the path. ‘Go and get her, I’ll put the kettle on.’

* * *

She took the coffee through to the sitting room where Jake was perched on the sofa staring at the floor, Matilda at his feet building a tower with stacking cups while Zach watched her intently.

‘Hey,’ she said softly, and Jake looked up and met her eyes, his own filled with a worry that he wasn’t even trying to disguise. At least the anger was gone, for now at least, but he just looked desperate and she wanted to hug him. She perched next to him and handed him his coffee and one of the gooey chocolate cookies instead.

‘That’s my second.’

‘Who’s counting? So, what are you going to do?’ she asked, keeping her voice to a low murmur, and he shrugged helplessly.

‘I don’t know. I don’t honestly know what I’m going to do. I’m on carer’s leave at the moment but that’s just crisis management and it can only be for a maximum of ten days, besides which we’re short-staffed as it is, and I don’t want to use the nursery. It seems wrong, when she’s just been abandoned by her mother. What if she thought I’d abandoned her, too? What if she hates it? And anyway, I work crazy hours. She’d practically have to live there, and what about nights when I’m on call? The only way round it is to find a full-time nanny, and they don’t grow on trees, and what the hell do I do in the meantime?’

‘I’ll come and stay,’ she said without a second thought, and it shocked him into silence for a moment. Then he shook his head, the hope that she’d seen in his troubled eyes replaced by despair.

‘No. No, I can’t ask you to do that.’

‘You’re not, I’m volunteering, and it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me since Pete died, not to mention the rest of the last twenty years. It’ll get you out of a fix in the short term, give you time to think.’

‘I’ve been thinking. I’ve done nothing but think since yesterday afternoon. There isn’t an answer, Em, and this certainly isn’t it.’

‘No, not long term, of course it isn’t, but I’m still on maternity leave until the middle of June, I’m not doing anything else and how much harder can it be to look after two babies than one?’ she asked, lifting Zach up before he lunged at the plastic cups Matilda had carefully stacked and knocked them all down.

‘Matilda’s not a baby. She can be—’

‘A two-year-old?’ she asked lightly, raising an eyebrow, and he laughed despairingly.

‘Yes. Exactly. And there are the practicalities, like I haven’t got a cot any longer because she’s in a bed.’

‘I’ve got a travel cot for Zach, and we can buy a double buggy from somewhere if we need to, so I can take them out. It’s not an issue, Jake, and it’s not as if we haven’t lived together before. We’re both house-trained. I’m sure we’ll survive. And you can get your life back on track and stop worrying about letting everyone down while you work out what to do next.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. I want to. Please, let me help you.’

He held her eyes for the longest moment, then let out a defeated sigh and nodded. ‘OK. If I wasn’t at my wit’s end I wouldn’t let you do this, but if you’re really sure, it would be amazing. So—when are we talking about? Next week?’

She laughed. ‘I was thinking today? My fridge is all but empty, and it seems like a good time to do it.’

His mouth twitched into what could have been a smile. ‘I have to tell you my fridge isn’t a lot better, but I can soon fix that. I’ll take Matilda shopping and make the bed, and I’ll see you later, if you’re really sure?’

‘That again?’ She laughed, and he gave another crooked grin and hugged her with his free arm.

‘I love you, Em, you’re a star,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re such a good friend. I don’t know how to thank you.’

Her heart hitched. ‘You don’t need to grovel,’ she said lightly, but she wanted to curl up and cry, because he’d been amazing to her—more than a friend, really, more of a rock in her life, the only constant for the last twenty years, and especially since Pete’s terminal diagnosis.

He did love her, she knew that, and she loved him, too. He was the best friend anyone could have and she’d do anything to help him, but she realised this would help her, too, because it meant she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts from the moment Zach went down for the night to the moment he woke in the morning, and she was so sick of being alone...

‘You head on back, then, and I’ll pack our stuff and see you later—about five? Then I can give Zach supper before his bedtime so I don’t mess up his routine.’

‘Five’s fine. What does he eat?’

She laughed, her mood suddenly lighter for some reason. ‘I have no idea. It changes from minute to minute. I’ll bring stuff for him, I’ve got baby food and formula. It’s the only thing I have got. And you know me. I eat anything.’

* * *

She was early, of course.

He’d been expecting that. Em was always early. Always had been, unlike him, although he had a golden rule of never being late. Just on time.

So although he’d been shopping and made the bed, the house was still a bit chaotic because he’d brought in Matilda’s things and dumped them in the hall and they hadn’t got any further. On the plus side, he’d borrowed a double buggy and another high chair from Daisy Walker, his clinical lead’s wife, but on the downside they were in the hall as well.

She’d dropped them round on her way to pick up the older children from school, and she’d even given him a lesson in how to fold the buggy, most of which had gone clean over his head. He just hoped Emily could work it out, because he was damned if he could.

He moved it out of the way so she didn’t trip over it, opened the front door and was handed a baby.

‘Here, can you take him, I’ll empty the car,’ she said, and was only halfway down the path when Matilda tugged his jeans and frowned up at him.

‘Baby down,’ she said crossly. ‘My daddy.’

He crouched down with a soft, coaxing laugh. ‘Of course I’m your daddy, Tilly. I’m just holding Zach for Emily. Say hello to him.’

‘No.’ She turned her back on him, folded her arms and tilted her head. ‘I not.’

He stifled the smile and stood up, just as Emily came back with an armful of bags and the travel cot.

‘What’s up with her?’ she asked softly, and he rolled his eyes.

‘My daddy,’ he mouthed, and she bit her lip and shook her head.

‘Oops. Oh, well, she’ll get over it. And so will he,’ she said, taking Zach before he fell out of Jake’s arms leaning over trying to reach her.

‘Why don’t I empty the car?’ he suggested drily, and headed out of the door, leaving Matilda standing in the hall with Emily.

‘Daddy!’ she wailed, running after him, and he turned and caught her as she tripped on the step, lifting her up into his arms and holding her close as she sobbed against his neck.

His gut wrenched. ‘Hey, little one, I was only getting Emily’s things from the car,’ he said gently, stroking her hair. ‘Do you want to help me?’

She hiccupped and nodded, and he handed her a teddy that was falling out of the top of a bag, picked up the bag and Emily’s suitcase in his other hand and went back inside.

Em greeted him with a raised eyebrow, and he shrugged. ‘As you said, they’ll get over it.’

He just hoped she was right, because right then none of them had a choice.

* * *

He came down from settling Matilda in bed and sorting out the travel cot to find Emily ensconced on the sofa, feeding Zach.

‘You’re still breastfeeding,’ he said gruffly, stating the obvious and floundering to a halt, the sudden wash of conflicting emotions taking him totally by surprise.

She looked up and smiled, her face tender and mellow in the light from the lamp, and his heart turned over. ‘He’s still only a baby. He isn’t ten months yet, and he’s going to be my only child, so I might as well carry on as long as he wants to. It’s only morning and evening, and it means so much to both of us.’

‘Hell, Em, you don’t have to justify it to me, I’m heartily in favour of you doing what nature intended, but you’d talked about formula milk so I was just surprised,’ he said lightly, trying to ignore his crazy reaction.

Since when had breastfeeding been erotic?

‘I’m going to put our food on. Cup of tea while it cooks?’

‘Please—decaf if you’ve got it?’

‘Of course. I have enough trouble sleeping without chucking caffeine into the mix.’

‘Do you need a hand?’

‘No, you’re all right. You stay there with Zach.’

He headed for the kitchen, trying to work out what was going on in his head. He knew what was going on in his body, and it was entirely inappropriate and out of order.

Didn’t stop it, though.

He turned on the oven, put the kettle on, braced his hands on the edge of the worktop and let his head drop.

He did not need this—this sudden and unexpected and unwelcome complication to a situation that was already complicated beyond belief. She was a widow, a vulnerable woman with a young child, putting herself out to help him. The last thing—absolutely the last thing—she needed was him turning weird on her. Protective he could cope with. Lust—no. Absolutely not.

He thrust himself away from the worktop, put the supermarket ready meal into the oven, then prepped the veg.

Not that opening a tray of pre-prepared sugar snap peas, baby corn and tenderstem broccoli took much prepping, but anything rather than go back in there while she was still feeding Zach. And that in itself was ridiculous. He spent his life surrounded by women in various stages of undress, was thoroughly familiar with their most intimate anatomy, saw new mothers breastfeeding on a daily basis. So why was he reacting like this now, and why with Emily, of all people in the world?

And there was no way—no way!—he was letting himself answer that question! It was a whole other can of worms, and he needed to get a grip. He wasn’t an adolescent exploring and exploiting his emerging sexuality, he was an adult, more than twice the age he’d been when he’d first met Emily. Surely to goodness he’d developed a little self-control and discretion in all that time?

Not to mention common decency.

With a low growl, he pulled two mugs from the cupboard, made the tea and went back in, studiously avoiding looking anywhere near her chest. Not that he could see anything, anyway. She was being incredibly discreet and she’d obviously got it down to a fine art—

‘I think there must be some kind of narcotic in breastmilk,’ she said with a smile that sent his resolutions into a tailspin. ‘It’s like he’s drugged, he’s so heavily asleep.’

He hauled his eyes off the sliver of smooth, pale skin he could see above the baby’s downy head as she tugged her top down. ‘Will you be able to sneak him into his cot, or will he wake up the minute you let go of him?’

She gave a wry laugh. ‘I’m guessing that was Matilda?’

‘Yup. Every time.’

‘Zach’s usually all right. I might go and try if you don’t think I’ll wake her?’

‘No, she should be fine. Go for it. The travel cot’s ready.’

She unravelled her legs and stood up gracefully, and he gritted his teeth and dragged his eyes off the smoothly rounded curve of her bottom as she headed through the door.

What the hell was going on with him?

He picked up his tea, cradled the mug in his hands and blew the steam away crossly.

He was better than this. If ever a woman was off limits, it was Emily, and especially now. He knew that. It was just getting his body to listen that was the difficult bit, and right now it seemed to have gone stone deaf.


CHAPTER TWO (#u1aafe5ad-07b5-55f0-8c4a-2d77eb1bef86)

JAKE WAS HUNCHED over his tea when she went back to the sitting room. He looked deep in thought, and the thoughts didn’t look happy from where she was standing.

‘Thanks for getting the travel cot ready for me, he’s gone down like a dream,’ she said, and he glanced up at her, his eyes unreadable.

‘You’re welcome. I didn’t know if you’d still want him in your room, but I thought it was better to be on the safe side as it’s a strange place. We can always move him, I’m not short of bedrooms.’

‘No, it’s fine. I keep meaning to move him out, but—I don’t know. I quite like knowing there’s someone else there with me. It wards off the self-pity a bit.’

She knew her smile was wry, and his eyes locked with hers searchingly.

‘Don’t you mean grief?’ he asked her, his voice gentle, and she shrugged.

‘Same thing, really, isn’t it? I miss Pete, but he doesn’t miss me, he can’t, and I’m sure he wouldn’t miss the pain he was in, or the dread of what was to come, or the worry about how we were going to cope without him. He’s spared all that now. It’s those left behind who have to pick up their lives and carry on, so in many ways grief is just a selfish emotion.’

‘Or an acknowledgement of the person he was, and the part he played in your life. It’s OK to grieve, Emily.’

She smiled. ‘I know, but I’ve done that. I did most of my grieving while he was still alive, because to be honest I never really dared to let myself believe he was cured when they gave him the all-clear, so when it metastasised there was a sort of horrible inevitability about it all. I think I always knew it was coming, and now it’s just juggling the things that need to be done with the lack of support and practical help. Things like cutting the hedge and putting up shelves in Zach’s room and all the other stuff that he used to do that I’m rubbish at.’

‘I’ve offered to help,’ he reminded her, but she didn’t need reminding. She dropped onto the sofa beside him, tucked her arm in his and squeezed it firmly.

‘And you have helped. You’ll never know how much you’ve helped me, Jake. I wouldn’t have got through it without you, but I need to toughen up now and get a grip. Time to return the favour, and I’m really sorry it’s because of Jo doing a runner and turning your life upside down, but I’m here, I’m not going to run out on you, and I’ll stay until you don’t need me anymore.’

She held his eyes for an age, but then something flashed through them and he turned away, as if he couldn’t look at her any longer, and shook his head.

‘I can’t ask that of you,’ he said gruffly.

‘Yes, you can—and by the way I rescued the supper. There was an interesting smell coming from the kitchen so I turned off the oven and opened the door a bit.’

He swore and leapt to his feet, and she followed him into the kitchen as he whipped open the oven door and stared into it.

‘Is it OK?’

He pulled the dish out and inspected it. ‘Debatable.’

He put it onto the hob and prodded at it with a fork, and she chuckled softly and peered over his shoulder at the bits of singed pasta sticking up out of a rather dark golden crust.

‘Will we live?’

He grunted. ‘Just about. There are one or two bits that might need ditching, but it won’t kill us.’

She tutted. ‘You’re a slow learner, Stratton. I taught you to use an oven timer twenty years ago. I would have thought you’d mastered it by now.’

He gave a low chuckle, and she slid her arms around him and rested her head against his broad, solid shoulders that were curiously comforting. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Jake. I meant what I said, I don’t know how I would have coped without you.’

She straightened up and slackened her arms, and he turned in them and gave her a brief hug, then reached for the kettle.

‘You’re welcome. Now go and drink your tea and put your feet up,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I’ve got to steam the veg but that won’t take long. I’ll call you when it’s ready.’

‘Don’t forget to time it,’ she said with a cheeky little wink designed to needle him, and took herself out of range before he threw something at her.

* * *

He watched her go, the feel of her still imprinted on his body, front and back, then he closed his eyes and swore softly and comprehensively under his breath.

What was wrong with him?

He plonked the pan on the hob, poured boiling water into the steamer under the veg and laid the table, then stuck his head round the door. ‘It’s ready.’

‘Good, I’m starving. So—what is this?’ she asked, poking at the slightly over-browned crust as she sat down at the table.

‘Chicken, tomato and mascarpone pasta bake. And yes, I timed the veg,’ he growled.

‘Wonders will never cease,’ she mocked, rolling her eyes, then stuck a forkful of the pasta bake in her mouth and moaned. ‘Oh, that’s really tasty. Good job I caught it in time.’

He opened his mouth to reply, and she raised both hands, her lips twitching at the corners, and he gave a soft huff of laughter and rolled his eyes. ‘Why don’t you just shut up and eat it before it’s cold?’ he said drily, and she smiled, stuck her fork into her food and then looked up at him again, her eyes almost luminous, her voice wistful.

‘You know, it’s really nice having someone to eat with, especially someone I can have a conversation with.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Zach doesn’t talk to you?’

It got a laugh out of her, although it was just a little one. ‘You know what I mean. I love him to bits, but it’s not the same as sharing a meal with an adult. It’s a long while since I’ve done that, and even longer since someone cooked for me. Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said softly, grateful for the timely reminder that she’d only lost her husband less than eighteen months ago. Dragging his eyes off hers, he turned his attention firmly back to the food.

* * *

‘What time do you start tomorrow?’ she asked as he cleared the plates.

‘Seven. I need to leave at quarter to.’

‘So—will you see Matilda before you go? Does she know you’re not going to be here all day?’

He sighed and propped his hands on the worktop, defeat in every line of his body.

‘Not yet. I was going to tell her in the morning. I didn’t want her worrying all night.’ He straightened up and turned back to face her. ‘Do you think that’s the wrong thing to have done?’

She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I have to admit to being wildly out of my depth here, but I would imagine that the loss of her mother is going to affect her. She’ll be missing her presence, the familiar surroundings—although she’s used to you and to being here, so that’s not an issue, but she doesn’t know me very well, she’s only met me a handful of times, and then there’s Zach. She wasn’t exactly overjoyed to see him and she probably won’t be thrilled at being left alone with us.’

His shoulders slumped. ‘No. I’m sure you’re right. Damn, this isn’t going to work, is it? It’s too much to expect of either of you. I should never have asked—’

‘You didn’t, but you didn’t really have a choice and we’ve already had this conversation. If you want to do something useful, you could shut up and put the kettle on. I could murder another drink before I go to bed.’

He gave a soft huff of laughter, walked over to her, pulled her to her feet and hugged her hard.

‘Thank you for helping me out, Em,’ he murmured, his head resting against hers. ‘I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’re such a good woman, and the best friend I could ever ask for. I don’t know how to thank you.’

She hugged him back, suddenly and shockingly aware of him, of the blatant masculinity she’d made a life’s work of ignoring. ‘Ditto. Except you’re not a woman, obviously, but whatever.’

He laughed, and his arms dropped and he turned away.

‘So, having cleared that up, tea or coffee?’ he asked lightly, picking up the kettle, and she felt a tension ease that she hadn’t even known was there.

* * *

He was right, it wasn’t going to work.

Jake had only been out of the house half an hour and Emily was already at her wit’s end.

Matilda hated her. Or, more exactly, hated not having her father there and not having Emily’s undivided attention, either. Which meant she also hated Zach. No surprises there, then.

‘Come on, Matilda, let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast,’ she coaxed. ‘Shall we see what Daddy’s got in the cupboards?’

‘Want toast,’ she said, after Emily had finally persuaded her to come down, so she put Zach in the nearest high chair and Matilda promptly burst into tears and tugged Zach’s arm hard.

‘My chair,’ she sobbed, so Emily lifted the now crying baby out of the way and hooked over the other high chair, only of course he didn’t want to go in it now, arching his back and screaming.

Stifling a scream of her own, Emily jiggled him on her hip, found the sliced bread that she assumed Jake had got for Matilda, put two slices in because Zach would be happy with toast, too, and then tried again with the high chair once he’d calmed down.

‘There you go, baby. You stay there now, while Mummy gets your toast.’

‘You not Mummy,’ Matilda piped up, her voice wobbling.

Oh, lord. ‘I’m Zach’s mummy,’ she told her, but she was starting to recognise that mulish look that meant Matilda wasn’t having any of it. She crouched down to Matilda’s level and reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked it back out of reach, her lip quivering.

‘Not my mummy. Go ’way. Want Daddy.’

‘Daddy’s had to go to work, sweetheart. He’ll be back later, you know that, he told you he would.’

‘Want Daddy now,’ she demanded, folding her arms emphatically in a curiously adult gesture that nearly made Emily laugh.

She stifled the urge. ‘Darling, I’m sure he’d much rather be here with you, but he’s had to go to work at the hospital. There are lots of mummies there with tiny babies, and he’s got to look after them, but he’ll come home when he’s finished for the day, and he’ll be back in time to put you to bed, you’ll see.’

The toast popped up, and she crossed her fingers behind her back, straightened up and put the toast, the butter and some plates on the table then lifted Matilda into the other high chair. Her high chair.

‘Don’t want toast,’ Matilda said, folding her arms again, but the defiant little gesture wasn’t funny anymore.

None of it was funny. It was exasperating, worrying, and nothing to do with toast. It was all about controlling a situation that Matilda had been thrown into by her mother’s sudden disappearance, and all Emily could do was damage limitation. And not having breakfast wasn’t going to damage the little girl.

‘OK,’ she said easily. ‘You don’t have to have breakfast today if you don’t want to. I can eat your toast.’

She ignored Matilda for a few moments, buttering the first slice, cutting it into fingers, handing one to Zach who grabbed it with both hands and stuffed it into his mouth.

‘Mmm, yum-yum,’ she said, but Matilda just folded her arms more firmly and stropped a bit more, and Emily let her, pretty sure hunger would cut in before any harm was done.

‘Want honey on it,’ Matilda said, caving in as Emily handed Zach a second finger of toast and buttered the other slice.

‘OK. I’ll see if I can find any.’

Please, please don’t have run out and not replaced it.

There was a smear at the bottom of the jar, but—hallelujah!—a new, unopened one behind it. She twisted off the lid, dug the knife into the smooth, unblemished surface and made a wish.

No prizes for guessing what her wish was going to be, but she smeared honey on the toast, cut it into fingers like Zach’s and slid it across to Matilda.

‘Say thank you,’ she said, sure that Jake would have taught her that even if her mother hadn’t, and maybe her fairy godmother was watching over them because Matilda stuffed the first bite into her mouth and mumbled, ‘’Ank you,’ around it.

Round one to her? She certainly hoped so.

* * *

The phone rang for ages before Em answered it, and Jake was starting to worry when she eventually picked up.

‘How’s it going?’ he asked without preamble.

He heard a sigh, then a little laugh that did nothing to reassure him. ‘OK, I guess. I put Zach in the wrong high chair.’

He winced. ‘Oops. I bet that was fun. She can be such a drama queen, and she’s territorial at the best of times. You might be better taking them out, if you feel you can cope. It’s a lovely day, the fresh air’ll do them good.’

‘Great minds,’ she said with a tired chuckle. ‘I thought maybe a walk? Feed the ducks, if there are any ducks to feed?’

‘There are—there’s a little park not far away. If you turn right onto the street and walk along to the end and cross over, there’s an entrance to your left. It’s got a lovely little playground, too, as well as the duck pond, and she likes it there.’

‘OK. I’ll give it a whirl and see how I get on. I can take the double buggy since you’ve got it. At least that’s neutral territory.’

‘Ah, rats! I meant to show you how it folds and unfolds, but to be honest I’m damned if I can remember. I’ll text you Daisy’s number so you can ring her if you can’t work it out. She’ll tell you.’

He heard her laugh, but it sounded a little off kilter and he guessed her day was turning out tougher than she’d expected.

‘It’s a buggy, Jake,’ she said with exaggerated patience. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. How’s work going?’

‘Busy. They’re very glad to have me back. Ben said to thank you for stepping in to help.’

She laughed. ‘Tell Ben I’m not doing it for him, but happy to oblige. Oops, gotta go, Zach’s in the fireplace.’

He heard a clatter and a howl before the phone cut off, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to imagine what might have happened. The fire tongs and poker were his most likely guess. Oh, well. Hopefully he’d just had a fright. And as for Tilly—

‘Mr Stratton, have you got a moment?’

Tilly would be fine. He slid his phone back into his pocket and went back to work, putting Emily and the children firmly out of his mind.

* * *

Three days and a thousand small obstacles later, it was obvious to both of them that Matilda needed much more of her father than she was getting. And probably less of her, Emily thought despairingly.

It all came to a head late on Friday evening, when he’d been caught up in Theatre with a tricky post-partum haemorrhage and Matilda refused to go to bed until he got home, despite all Emily’s best efforts. She wouldn’t even let her change her nappy and put her in pyjamas. She just sat on the landing and cried.

‘Want Daddy,’ she sobbed, so Emily took her downstairs to the sitting room so they could wait for him, but she was inconsolable. She didn’t want a story, she shied away from cuddles, and by the time he came home at nine Emily was on the point of phoning him.

They were in the hall by now, Matilda prostrate on the floor and still sobbing, and the moment he was through the door she scrambled up and clung to his legs, and the anguish in his eyes was awful to see.

He scooped her up, hugging her close and rocking her, and Emily went into the kitchen and left them to it, because she was sure her presence wasn’t helping. She’d been at her wit’s end all day, and seeing the little girl so distraught had been horrible, but he was home now and maybe he could calm her down.

Was it her fault? Maybe. She’d done her best to handle an impossibly difficult situation, but Matilda was only two, her mother had deserted her—how was the poor little mite supposed to react? She was just upset, but it was so hard to deal with and it was upsetting Zach, too.

It wasn’t doing a lot for her, either. She sniffed hard, swiped away the tears she hadn’t realised she’d shed and yanked open the fridge door. She’d been trying all day to find time to cook, but every time she did anything there was another incident with Tilly.

She’d bitten Zach, she’d pushed him over, she’d gone into the study and pulled all the books off the shelf—

The crying had stopped—finally—and she heard Jake’s quiet tread on the stairs as he carried her up to bed. Not that she expected it to work.

Why on earth had she volunteered to do this? It wasn’t helping anyone, especially not Matilda. Was it her fault? She didn’t know enough about Tilly—had she inadvertently upset her by doing something wrong, something Jake would never have done? How was she supposed to know?

And then there was Jake himself, her friend, the person she was helping out—or trying to, but this close proximity was stirring up feelings that had been dormant for years. She was suddenly so aware of him, of his physical presence and blindingly obvious sex appeal, but this was Jake, for goodness’ sake! She’d known him for years, he hadn’t changed, so why now? Was it just her sexuality reawakening after all this time, and if so, why pick on Jake, of all people?

She slashed at an onion, and then dropped the knife with a yelp and squeezed her finger hard. Blood leaked out and ran down her hand, and she went over to the sink, turned on the tap, stuck her finger under it and gave in to the tears that had been threatening all day.

* * *

‘Em?’

She was standing at the sink with her back to him, holding something under the running tap, and he went up behind her and squeezed her shoulders gently.

‘I’m sorry, Em. This is all my fault. I should never have agreed to you doing this—’

‘Rubbish. It’s not your fault, it’s mine.’

‘No, it isn’t. It’s her mother’s fault. She’s a little girl—how could she just leave her? Of course she’s upset. Don’t blame yourself.’

‘That’s easy to say, but I do. Everything I do upsets her. I should be able to comfort her, but she doesn’t want me, she wants you, or her mother. And she just won’t let me comfort her. She hates me, and she hates Zach, and it’s just not working—’

He leant in closer, and then saw blood all over the sink and reached past her and turned off the tap. ‘Em, what’ve you done?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she said, and he let out a sigh, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round.

‘Let me see,’ he said gently, taking a handful of kitchen roll and resting her hand in it. ‘Let go?’

She released the pressure, and blood welled rapidly in the wound before she pressed it again with her thumb.

‘OK. Well, at least it’s a nice clean cut, not too deep, and it won’t need stitches. Just a firm dressing and it should be fine.’

She nodded, and something wet dripped on his hand. He tilted her face up and shook his head. Tears?

‘Oh, Em, don’t cry,’ he pleaded softly. ‘I don’t need two of you doing it, and Matilda’s fine now, she was just exhausted. She’s gone out like a light.’

‘She’s been crying for ages. She wouldn’t go to bed without you, I couldn’t even change her, I couldn’t do anything—’

‘Oh, Emily. Come here.’ He pulled her in against him with one arm, the other hand cradling her wounded hand in its nest of bloodied kitchen towel. He could deal with that later, he’d had far worse to worry about today, and so had she. For now, all she needed was a hug, and she turned her head into his shoulder, gave a ragged little sob and slumped against him.

It was the first time he’d seen her cry since Pete’s terminal diagnosis, when she’d just discovered she was pregnant. She hadn’t even cried at his funeral, and it was so unlike her that it gave him a real and unwelcome insight into just how bad her day must have been with the children, and he was swamped with guilt.

‘I’m sorry,’ he sighed. ‘You’re right, this isn’t working. I’ll phone Ben and tell him I can’t do it anymore. I’ll have to find another way until she’s more settled.’

‘Such as what?’ she asked, pushing herself away and swiping roughly at the tears. ‘Put her in nursery? That won’t be any better. It was just a bad day, Jake. Anyway, it’s the weekend now and you’ll be at home. Maybe that’ll help her to get used to me, to the whole situation. She just needs time to adjust.’




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