A Forever Family: Their Christmas Delivery

Amy shook her head. ‘My brother lives in Canada, so my parents spend alternate Christmases here and over in Canada.’

‘And this year is Canada’s turn, right?’

‘Right,’ she agreed.

‘So luckily for Hope that means you’re here.’

‘Yes.’ Her expression was sombre when she looked at him. ‘Things could have been very different.’

‘But you found her in time.’ He paused. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘I’m about to serve dinner, so if you want to settle Hope in her Moses basket, that’d be good.’

While Amy went to the kitchen, Josh put the baby in the Moses basket. Hope grizzled for a moment and then yawned and fell asleep.

Having dinner with Amy felt weirdly intimate. Like a date—though Josh couldn’t even remember the last time he’d dated. He’d had a couple of offers that he’d turned down, and some well-meaning friends had tried to match-make, but he’d taken them to one side and explained that he appreciated their effort but he wasn’t ready to date again.

Was he ready now?

And why on earth was he thinking about that?

‘The food’s very nice,’ he said, to cover his awkwardness.

‘Thank you.’

He didn’t have a clue what to talk about, and it made him feel slightly flustered. He was used to making polite conversation to distract his patients or get more information out of them, or being out with colleagues that he’d known for so long that he didn’t have to make small talk. This was definitely outside his comfort zone. Especially as he was becoming more and more aware of how attractive Amy was: not just those huge brown eyes, but the curve of her mouth, her pretty heart-shaped face and the slight curl to her bobbed hair. It made him itch to draw her, and he hadn’t felt that urge for a long time either.

‘So how long have you lived here?’ he asked, trying to get his thoughts back to something much more anodyne and much, much safer.

‘Eighteen months. You moved here last summer, didn’t you?’ she replied.

‘Yes. It’s convenient for the hospital, just a fifteen-minute walk.’

‘It’s about that to school, too,’ she said. ‘Just in the other direction.’

He remembered that she taught maths. ‘Did you always want to teach?’

‘I didn’t want to be an accountant, an engineer or an actuary, so teaching was my best bet for working with maths—and actually it’s really rewarding when the kids have been struggling with something and it suddenly clicks for them.’ She smiled. ‘Did you always want to be a doctor?’

‘It was pretty much expected of me—Dad’s a surgeon, Mum’s a lawyer, my brother Stuart’s an astrophysicist and my sisters are both lecturers.’ He shrugged. ‘One teaches history at Oxford and the other’s in London at the LSE.’

‘A family of high achievers, then.’

Yes. And he hadn’t quite lived up to their expectations. He’d suggested becoming a graphic designer and going to art college instead of studying for his A levels, and the resulting row had left him very aware that he’d been expected to follow in his parents’ and siblings’ footsteps. In the end he’d settled on medicine; at least there’d been a little bit of drawing involved. And he liked his job. He liked being able to make a difference to people’s lives. And he could still sketch if he wanted to.

When he had the time.

Which wasn’t often.

Pushing the thought away, he asked, ‘Have you heard anything from the police?’

‘Not yet. Though Jane the social worker came round with supplies this afternoon.’

‘So I notice. That Moses basket looks a little more comfy than a bunch of newspaper and a cardboard box.’ His smile faded. ‘That poor girl. I hope she’s all right.’

‘Me, too. And looking after a baby is a lot harder than I expected,’ Amy admitted. ‘Now I know what they mean about being careful what you wish for.’

He stared at her in surprise. ‘You wanted a baby?’

She looked shocked, as if she hadn’t meant to admit that, then glanced away. ‘It didn’t work out.’

That explained some of her wariness this morning. And it was pretty obvious to him that the baby situation not working out was connected with her being single. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.’

‘I know. It’s OK.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do to change it, so you make the best of the situation, don’t you?’

‘I guess.’ It was what he’d been doing since Kelly had left him. They’d sold their house and he’d bought this flat; it was nearer to work and had no memories to haunt him with their might-have-beens. ‘In the circumstances, looking after Hope must be pretty tough for you.’

‘It’s probably been good for me,’ she said. ‘And it’s kind of helping me to move on.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve been a bit of a cow and neglected my friends who were pregnant at the time or had small children.’

He liked the fact that she wasn’t blaming anyone else for her actions. ‘That’s understandable if you’d only just found out that option was closed to you. You’re human.’

‘I guess.’

More than human. What he’d seen so far of Amy Howes told him that she was genuinely nice. ‘And you’re not a cow. If you were, you would’ve just told the police and the social worker to sort out the baby between them and pushed everyone out of your flat,’ he pointed out. ‘So did you ring any of your friends with small children to get some advice?’

‘No. I don’t want them to think I’m just using them. But I’m going to call them all in the first week of the New Year,’ she said, ‘and apologise to them properly. Then maybe I can be the honorary auntie they all wanted me to be in the first place and I was too—well, hurting too much to do it back then.’

‘That’s good,’ Josh said. He wondered if helping to look after Hope would help him move on, too. Right now, it didn’t feel like it; and if Amy had moved here eighteen months ago, that suggested she’d had a year longer to get used to her new circumstances than he had. Maybe his head would be sorted out by this time next year, then.

He almost told Amy about Kelly and the baby; but, then again, he didn’t want her to pity him, so he knew it would be safer to change the subject. ‘What did the social worker have to say?’

‘She gave me a very quick crash course in looking after a baby. She said if they cry it means they’re hungry, they need a fresh nappy or they just want a cuddle, though I can’t actually tell the difference between any of the different cries, yet,’ Amy said dryly. ‘Jane also told me to write down whenever Hope has milk and how much she takes, and her nap times, so I can work out what her routine is.’

‘Sounds good. How’s Hope doing so far?’

‘She likes a lot of cuddles and she definitely likes you talking to her. Hang on.’ She went over to the sideboard and took a notebook from the top, then handed it to him. ‘Here. You can see for yourself.’

He looked through the neat columns of handwriting. ‘I have to admit, it doesn’t mean that much to me,’ he said.

‘Tsk, and you an uncle of three,’ she teased.

‘One’s in Scotland and two are in Oxford,’ he explained. ‘I don’t see them as much as I should.’ It was another failing to chalk up to his list; and he felt guilty about it.

‘Hey, you’re a doctor. You don’t get a lot of spare time,’ she reminded him.

‘I know, but I ought to make more of an effort.’

‘It’s not always easy. I don’t see much of my brother.’

‘He’s in Canada, thousands of miles away,’ Josh pointed out. ‘And I bet you video-call him.’

She nodded.

‘Well, then.’ Amy was clearly a good sister. Just as Josh wasn’t a particularly good brother. When was the last time he’d talked to Stuart, Miranda or Rosemary? He’d used his shifts as an excuse to avoid them.

‘I guess,’ she said, looking awkward. ‘Can I offer you some pudding? It’s nothing exciting, just ice cream.’

‘Ice cream is the best pudding in the universe,’ he said. ‘Provided it’s chocolate.’

‘Oh, please,’ she said, looking pained. ‘Coffee. Every single time.’

He wasn’t a fan of coffee ice cream. But he wasn’t going to argue with someone who’d been kind enough to make him dinner. ‘Coffee’s fine,’ he fibbed. ‘And I’ll wash up.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘You cooked.’

‘But you were at work all day.’

He coughed. ‘And you’ve spent hours on your own looking after a baby—that’s hard work, even if you’re used to it.’ Then he flinched, realising what he’d said and how it sounded. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’

‘It’s OK,’ she said softly. ‘I know you didn’t mean it like that.’

But the sadness was back in her eyes. Part of him really wanted to give her a hug.

Though that might not be such a good idea. Not when he still felt that pull towards her. He needed to start thinking of her as an extra sister or something. A sister-in-law. Someone off limits. ‘Let’s share the washing up,’ he said instead.

Though being in a small space with her felt even more intimate than eating at her bistro table.

‘So what do you usually do on Christmas Eve?’ he asked, trying to make small talk.

‘Last year, I had my parents staying—and I guess I was busy convincing them that I was absolutely fine and settled here.’

‘Were you really absolutely fine?’ he asked quietly. Back then she’d been here for six months—exactly the same position that he was in now.

‘Not really,’ she admitted, ‘but I am now.’ She paused. ‘I heard a couple of months back that my ex got married and he’s expecting a baby.’

‘The hardest bit is trying to be happy for them when you’re feeling miserable yourself.’

Her eyes widened. ‘That sounds like experience talking.’

He nodded. And funny how easy it was to talk to her, now he’d started. ‘I split up with my wife last Christmas Eve.’

She winced. ‘There’s never a good time to break up with someone, but Christmas has to be one of the roughest. And the first anniversary’s always a difficult one.’ She squeezed his hand briefly, but it didn’t feel like pity—more like sympathy and as if she’d been there herself, which he knew she had. ‘If it helps to know, it does get easier. I know everyone says that time heals. I’m not sure it does that exactly, but it does help you deal with things a bit better.’

‘I’m not still in love with Kelly,’ he said. ‘I want her to be happy. And I’m OK now about the fact it isn’t going to be with me.’

‘That’s good. It’s the same way I feel about Michael.’

It felt as if there was some subtext going on, but Josh didn’t trust his emotional intelligence enough to try to work it out.

She shook coffee grounds into a cafetière. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Black, no sugar, please,’ he said.

‘Because you’re a medic and you’re used to grabbing coffee as quickly as you can?’ she asked.

‘No. It’s a hangover from my student days,’ he said with a smile. ‘I shared a flat with some guys who weren’t that good with checking that the milk was in date. The third time you make your coffee with milk that’s off, you learn it’s safer to drink your coffee black.’

She smiled back. ‘I knew a few people like that in my student days, too.’

It was so easy to be with Amy, Josh thought. And it felt natural to curl up on the other end of her sofa, nursing a mug of coffee and listening to music while the baby was napping in the Moses basket.

‘So what do you usually do at Christmas?’ she asked.

‘Work,’ he said. ‘It feels fairer to let my colleagues who have kids spend Christmas morning with their family.’

‘That’s nice of you.’

‘Ah, but I get to party at New Year while they have to patch up the drunks,’ he said with a smile, ‘so it works both ways.’

Hope woke then, and started crying softly.

‘I’ll go and heat the milk,’ Amy said.

Josh scooped the baby onto his lap and cuddled her until Amy came back with the milk. ‘My turn to feed her,’ he said.

When the baby had finished, he wrote the time and millilitres on Amy’s chart.

‘So at the moment she’s feeding every two to three hours,’ he said.

‘Which means I’m not going to get a lot of sleep tonight.’ Amy gave a wry smile. ‘It’s just as well I’m not going anywhere tomorrow, or I’d be a zombie.’

The sensible bit of his brain told him to back off and keep his mouth shut. The human side said, ‘We could take shifts with her.’

‘But you’ve been at work today—and I assume from what you said that you’re working tomorrow.’

‘And you’ve been on your own with her today, which pretty much counts as a full-time job,’ Josh pointed out. ‘If we take turns feeding her, we’ll both get a four-or five-hour chunk of sleep.’

‘So, what, you take her next door after the next feed and bring her back?’

‘Or, if you don’t mind me sleeping on your sofa, then we don’t have to move her and risk unsettling her.’

Amy frowned. ‘You can’t possibly sleep on my sofa. It’s way too short for you.’

‘Student doctors learn to sleep on anything and be fully awake within seconds. I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Let me go next door and grab my duvet.’

For a moment, he thought she was going to argue with him. But then she smiled, and he could see the relief in her eyes. ‘Thanks. Actually, it’ll be good not having the first night with her completely on my own. I’m paranoid I’m doing everything wrong.’

‘Hey—she’s new at this, too. If you’re doing it wrong, she doesn’t know any better. And she looks pretty content to me, so I’d say you’re doing just fine.’

‘Even when she cried non-stop for thirty minutes this afternoon—cried herself to sleep?’

He winced. ‘That’s tough on you. But don’t blame yourself. She would probably have done exactly the same with me.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’ll be back in a tick.’

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT HAVE I DONE? Amy asked herself as Josh went to collect his duvet.

Two years ago, she’d been in what she’d thought was a secure relationship, trying to start a family. A year ago she’d had a broken relationship, broken dreams and a broken heart. This year, she was on an even keel; but it seemed that she was going to be spending the next week with a man she barely knew and a baby who’d been left on their doorstep. It was an odd version of what she’d wished for.

Josh came back carrying a duvet. She wasn’t sure if she felt more relieved or awkward that he was still fully dressed; clearly he intended to sleep in his ordinary clothes on her sofa. Though she guessed that went with the territory of his job.

He folded the duvet neatly over the back of her sofa. ‘Anything you need me to do?’

‘No. Hope’s milk is on the top shelf of the fridge. But help yourself to anything you want.’

He smiled. ‘Fifteen years ago, that would’ve guaranteed you an empty fridge.’

‘That’s what my colleagues at school say.’ She smiled back. ‘The boys leave crumbs everywhere, and the girls make chocolate mug cakes at three in the morning and leave everything in the sink.’

‘Mug cakes?’ He looked blank.

‘You mix everything together in a mug and then stick it in the microwave. Three minutes later, you have cake,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t actually tried it. But apparently it works perfectly when you really, really want cake at three in the morning.’

‘Three minutes. Hmm. You can make a cheese toastie in that,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘If you get the munchies when it’s your turn to feed Hope, feel free to make yourself a cheese toastie.’

He grinned back. ‘If I do, I promise I’ll clean up the crumbs.’

Almost on cue, Hope woke, wanting milk.

‘I’ll do the next feed,’ Josh said when she’d finished. ‘Go and get some sleep, Amy.’

Once Amy had showered and changed into her pyjamas, she lay awake in the dark, thinking that this was the Christmas she’d never expected. It must be just as weird for Josh, too, spending Christmas with an almost complete stranger—and tough for him, because his wife had left him on Christmas Eve last year and the memories had to hurt. But maybe looking after the baby would help distract him from some of the pain.

Part of her wanted to sleep for eternity, she was so tired—which was ridiculous, because she hadn’t exactly done much all day. But looking after a newborn baby had been fraught with worry that had unexpectedly worn her out. Was she doing the right thing? How would she know if she was getting it wrong? What if the baby was ill and she hadn’t spotted the signs? Or if she made such a mess of changing Hope that the baby ended up with nappy rash—and where would you be able to buy nappy rash cream on Christmas Day, when all the shops were shut?

The worries flickered through her head, stopping her from falling asleep. Part of her wanted to go and check that the baby was OK—but what if she woke Josh? He’d already worked a busy shift today at the hospital. Plus he was used to dealing with babies, and he’d said this was his shift; if he woke and found her checking on the baby, he might think she didn’t trust him. And if that upset him enough to make him walk out on her without really discussing anything, the way Michael had walked out on her, how was she going to cope with the baby all on her own for a week?

Be careful what you wish for...

She’d longed for a baby. Now, she had exactly that. A baby to look after. For a week.

And it was terrifying.

Maybe Michael was right about her. She’d been too stupid to guess that Gavin might have given her a symptomless STD, so when she’d finally discovered the truth the treatment had been too late to prevent the damage to her Fallopian tubes. So it was her fault that she was infertile. Maybe she was too clueless to look after a baby, too. Why, why, why had she agreed to help?

She heard the baby start crying, and glanced at the clock. She hadn’t even managed to sleep for five minutes. It was Josh’s turn to feed the baby, but clearly he was in a deep sleep because the baby’s cries grew louder.

Get up and see to the baby, she told herself sharply. The poor little mite has nobody. Stop being so whiny and self-pitying and get up. You can’t worry about not coping because you just have to. There isn’t another option.

She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the living room. ‘Shh, baby,’ she whispered—but the baby just kept screaming.

Just as Amy scooped the baby out of the Moses basket, she heard Josh mumble, ‘My turn. I’ve got this.’

‘I’m awake now. I’ll do it,’ she said.

‘We’ll do it together,’ Josh said. ‘Cuddle the baby or do the milk?’

Amy inhaled the sweet, powdery scent of the baby.

A baby she couldn’t afford to bond with. So it would be better not to get too close now.

‘Milk,’ she said, and handed Hope to him.

‘Shh, baby,’ he crooned.

On autopilot, Amy boiled the kettle and put the baby’s bottle in a glass jug to heat the milk. She nearly scalded herself when she poured boiling water into the jug, and it splashed.

‘Everything OK?’ Josh asked, seeing her jump.

‘Yes,’ she fibbed. The last thing she wanted was for him to guess how stupid and useless she felt.

‘Sorry I didn’t wake sooner. I guess my shift took more out of me than I thought,’ he said. ‘I’m supposed to be helping. I’ve let you down.’

And then the penny dropped.

She wasn’t the only one finding it hard to do this.

‘You’re fine,’ she said. ‘We’re both new at this. I always tell my class, you learn more if you get it wrong first time.’

‘I guess.’ He sounded rueful. ‘Except a baby is a hell of a lot tougher than a page of maths problems. And, given how many babies I treat in the course of a month, I should be better at this.’

‘There’s a big difference between treating a baby and looking after one full time,’ she reminded him. ‘And didn’t you say to me earlier that Hope doesn’t know if we’re doing it wrong?’

‘Yeah. I’m glad I’m not doing this on my own,’ he said.

He’d admitted it first, so it made it easier for her to say, ‘Me, too. I never expected it to be this hard—you’re desperate for sleep, but you’re also too scared to sleep because you want to keep an eye on the baby.’

‘All the what ifs,’ he agreed. ‘Being a medic is a bad thing, because you know all the worst-case scenarios and your mind goes into overdrive. You start thinking you’re seeing symptoms when there aren’t any. And then you’re not sure if you’re being ridiculously paranoid or if you really are seeing something.’

‘And if you’re not a medic, you look up stuff on the Internet and scare yourself stupid,’ she said. ‘Being a parent—even a stand-in—is way harder than I thought.’

‘Especially the first night, when you don’t have a clue what to expect,’ Josh agreed.

‘We’re a right pair,’ she said ruefully.

‘No. We’re a team,’ Josh said.

And that spooked her even more. It was so long since she’d seen herself in a partnership that she didn’t know how to react. Then she shook herself. He meant they were a team, not a couple. She was reading too much into this. To cover how flustered she felt, she shook a couple of drops of milk onto the inside of her wrist to check the temperature. ‘I think it’s OK for her, now.’

‘Thanks. Go back to bed,’ he said. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘Sure?’ she checked.

‘Sure.’

‘OK.’ And this time she felt more relaxed when she snuggled under the duvet—enough to let her drift into sleep.

The next time the baby cried, Amy got up and scooped up the Moses basket. ‘Shh, baby,’ she whispered. ‘Two minutes.’

‘OK?’ Josh asked from the sofa, sounding wide awake this time.

He hadn’t been joking about usually being fully awake in seconds, then.

‘It’s fine. It’s my turn to feed her,’ she said quietly. And the way they’d muddled through together earlier had given her confidence. ‘Go back to sleep.’

She took the baby into the kitchen and cuddled her as she warmed the milk, then took the baby into her bedroom, kept the light down low, and cuddled the baby as she fed her.

This felt so natural, so right. But she had to remind herself sharply that this was only temporary and she couldn’t let herself bond too closely to Hope—or start thinking about Josh as anything more than just a neighbour. By New Year, life would be back to normal again. They’d be back to smiling and nodding in the corridor, maybe exchanging an extra word or two. But that would be it.

Once the baby fell asleep again, Amy laid her gently back in the Moses basket and padded into the living room. Josh was asleep on the sofa, and this time he didn’t wake.

* * *

A couple of hours later, when Hope started to grizzle again, Josh was awake in seconds.

‘Shh, baby,’ he whispered, and jiggled her one-handed against his shoulder as he set about making up a bottle.

When it had been his turn to deal with the baby, he’d made a complete hash of it. Not being used to listening out for a newborn, he’d slept through Hope’s cries. But it turned out that Amy had been having the same kind of self-doubts that he had. Given that she’d seemed so cool, calm and collected, he’d been shocked. And then relieved. Because it meant that they were in this together.

And they made a good team.

To the point where he actually believed that he could do this—be a stand-in parent to an abandoned baby.

Then he realised he’d been a bit overconfident when he burped Hope and she brought up all the milk she’d just drunk. All over both of them.

He really hoped Amy didn’t wake and find them both in this state. ‘I dare not give you a bath,’ he whispered to the baby. He knew she’d scream the place down, even if he managed to put water in the bath without waking Amy. But when he stripped off her sleep suit and vest, he discovered that luckily the baby wasn’t soaked to the skin. Unlike him—but he was the adult and he’d live with it. He changed the baby into clean clothes, gave her more milk, then finally settled her back into the Moses basket.

Which left him cold and wet and smelling disgusting. He could hardly have a shower right now without waking Amy, and he couldn’t go back to his own flat because he didn’t have a key to Amy’s. Grimacing, he stripped off his T-shirt and scrubbed the worst of the milk off his skin with a baby wipe.

Was this what life would’ve been like if he and Kelly had had a family? Would he have made as much of a mess of being a real dad as he was making of being a stand-in dad? Or maybe Amy was right and he was being too hard on himself. But he was seriously glad he wasn’t looking after the baby on his own. It helped to be able to talk to someone else and admit that you didn’t know what you were doing, and for them to say the same to you. And he was pretty sure now that he’d be able to get through this week—because Amy was on his team.

* * *

The next time Amy heard Hope crying, her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. Either the baby had slept a bit longer between feeds this time, or Amy had been too deeply asleep to hear her crying at the last feed.

When she stumbled into the kitchen to put the kettle on and checked the top shelf of the fridge, she realised it was the latter; Josh had done the last feed. He’d left her a note propped against the kettle. His handwriting was hard to read and she smiled to herself. Josh was definitely living up to the cliché of all medics having a terrible scrawl. Eventually she deciphered the note.

On early shift this morning—back for about 5.30 this evening—Merry Christmas, J

Christmas.

Amy hadn’t planned to cook the traditional turkey dinner; she hadn’t seen the point of bothering when she was going to be on her own. But now she had unexpected company for dinner. She didn’t have a turkey, but she did have the ingredients to make something nice. She could wrap a couple of chicken breasts in bacon, stir fry some tenderstem broccoli with julienned strips of butternut squash and carrot in butter and chilli, and make some baked polenta chips sprinkled with Parmesan.

‘I forgot how much I enjoyed cooking,’ she told the baby as she fed her. ‘I haven’t even had people over for dinner since I moved here. I always eat out with my friends. So maybe it’s time to move on a bit more and start doing the things I enjoy again.’

The baby simply drank her milk and stared at Amy with those huge dark blue eyes.

‘I’ve spent the last eighteen months living on autopilot,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t you ever make that mistake, Hope. Life’s for—well, enjoying.’

Though she was pretty sure that Hope’s mum was having a thoroughly miserable Christmas. ‘I hope we can find your mum,’ she said softly. ‘And I really hope we can do something to help her. I really don’t know why she left you in our lobby—whether she knew me or Josh from somewhere, or whether it was a completely random choice—but I’m glad she did, because I think you’re going to help us as much as we can help you.’ And she was glad that Josh had moved in on her floor, because the reason she’d got through that first night with a baby was because of him.

Once she’d showered, washed her hair and dressed, she sent Josh a text.

Hope you’re having a good shift. Alternative Christmas dinner this evening. Amy

And whether Hope was responding to her sunny mood and burst of confidence, Amy had no idea, but the baby seemed content, too; she wasn’t quite as fractious and unsettled as she’d been the day before. To her relief, there wasn’t one of the protracted crying sessions that had left Amy feeling hopeless and frustrated and miserable.

‘Merry Christmas, baby,’ she said softly. ‘It isn’t quite the one I think your mum would’ve liked for you, but hopefully the police are going to find her and reunite you in the next few days.’

Amy ate yoghurt and granola for breakfast, then looked at the small stack of presents beneath the tree. It felt odd, opening her Christmas presents all on her own. But she pushed away the melancholy before it could take hold. She intended to make the best of this Christmas, and she wasn’t the only one on her own. It must be much harder for Josh in the circumstances.

Most of the envelopes contained gift vouchers, but one friend had given her the latest crime novel by one of her favourite authors, another had given her some nice Christmassy scented candles and another had bought her posh chocolates.

‘That’s my table decorations and dessert sorted for this evening,’ she told the baby. ‘And in the meantime you and I are going to curl up together on the sofa and watch a pile of Christmas movies.’