With This Baby.... Caroline Anderson

gone for the jugular. If he planned to take the baby from her, she needed to know.

      ‘I don’t know,’ he said, and she could see the confusion and honesty in his eyes. ‘I suppose it means I want to see her as often as possible, but she lives here with you, and I live and work in London. That’s not really very straightforward.’

      ‘You can visit her whenever you want,’ she said, trying to make it easy so he wouldn’t try and take her from him. ‘You can stay here—there’s room. I won’t try and stop you seeing her.’

      He cocked his head on one side and regarded her keenly. ‘You think I’m going to go for custody, don’t you?’ he said, his voice deceptively soft, and she swallowed and looked away.

      ‘I don’t know. I just know I can’t lose her. She’s all I’ve got of my sister.’

      She broke off, the wound still too raw, and he tsked softly.

      ‘Silly girl, I’m not going to take her from you. How can I? I’m not married, I live in a flat at the top of my office block with a tiny roof garden and a hell of a long drop to the street below. You’re a woman, you’ve cared for her since she was born, you live in the country in a totally safe setting. What judge in their right mind would rule in my favour?’

      She closed her eyes briefly and nodded. ‘I suppose so. I was just…’

      ‘Panicking?’ he finished for her, his voice gentle. ‘Don’t. On the other hand, don’t expect it all your own way. My parents will want to be involved in her life as well, and they’ll want to have her to stay—there’ll be birthdays and Christmases and all sorts.’

      Claire nodded again. He was right, it wouldn’t be easy, but if they were able to work together, perhaps they could dream up a solution that would help them all.

      ‘First things first, though,’ he said, his mouth kicking up in a wry grin. ‘There’s a strange smell coming from this little bundle of laughs, and I think she needs her auntie.’

      I want to be involved with her upbringing.

      Claire smiled, some of the tension easing away. ‘Time for your first nappy-changing lesson, then,’ she said, and stood up. ‘Come on.’

      ‘But—I can’t!’

      ‘Oh, you can. You’ll be amazed what you can do. And once she’s washed and changed, it’ll be time for her next feed—and then, of course, there’ll be another nappy.’

       The look on Patrick’s face was priceless, and it was all Claire could do to stop from laughing out loud.

      ‘I’ll make the feed up,’ he said, flailing for an excuse, but she was adamant.

      ‘They’re all made up,’ she assured him. ‘But you can do the next lot. I promise.’

      Funny, he didn’t look in the least bit grateful…

      CHAPTER THREE

      AN HOUR later, Jess was back on his lap, sweet and fresh after her feed and second nappy change, and the dogs were hanging around looking hopeful.

      At least, Pepper was looking hopeful, and Dog, head cocked on one side and those ridiculous ears at attention, was watching his master like a hawk. He’d clearly taken to his new playmate, but he wasn’t keen on Patrick being too far out of sight in this strange place, and he certainly wasn’t sure about that funny little thing on his lap.

      Patrick looked down at the dog and gave his ears a gentle tug. ‘It’s all right, boy,’ he said softly, ‘she’s just a baby.’

      Just a baby. Huh! The very idea of this cataclysmic development in his life being described as just anything was laughable, and his brother’s baby was about as complicated as it got.

      The photos leapt into his mind again, the girl he’d seen once a few weeks ago with the man he’d never see again—he’d grown up with him, played with him, fought with him, loved and hated him alternately until, with maturity and understanding, love had won.

      They were probably the last photographs taken of Will alive—certainly the last ones Patrick and his family would have access to—and he’d cut his throat before he’d let his parents near them.

      Not that they were sordid—far from it. They were tender and touching, little intimate cameos, private thoughts and feelings captured, frozen in time. They were good photographs, which didn’t surprise him. Will had always been a keen photographer and he’d had a gift for somehow distilling the essence of a moment.

      However, this time he’d used his skill to capture feelings that should have remained private between the two of them—which, of course, they would have done, had Amy not died. The photos of her revealed her vulnerability with painful clarity, and the naked emotion in some of the shots made Patrick’s heart contract.

      Others, however, were more playful, and they’d made him want to smile. In one, Amy had obviously sneaked up on him with the camera and caught him sleeping. The next one showed him reaching out towards her, his eyes warm and laughing.

      It was almost like a silly holiday snap, fun, less private than the others, and for a moment he considered doctoring it up for his parents and then dismissed it. No. They didn’t need to know about the photos. It would only provoke a barrage of questions, and they didn’t need the answers. He certainly hadn’t.

      Will’s interlude with Amy was none of his business, and he heartily wished it had remained that way, but it hadn’t. Still, the time they’d spent together had brought Jess into the world, a fitting memorial to them both, a sweet, happy little thing who made his throat close with emotion every time she smiled at him.

      For that alone, he could forgive her parents almost anything.

      ‘Patrick?’

      He looked up, dragging himself back into reality, and met Claire’s worried grey eyes.

      ‘Are you OK?’

      His smile was twisted, he could feel it, but too much had happened and he needed time to assemble his emotions.

      ‘Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. I’m just…’

      ‘How about a breath of fresh air? I usually take Pepper out about this time, and Dog looks as if he wouldn’t mind a run.’

      Fresh air sounded good. ‘He’d love it—but what about the baby? Shouldn’t one of us stay here with her?’

      Claire stared at him. ‘You think I’d leave her? She comes too. She loves our walks. I put her in the baby sling, although I must say she’s getting a bit heavy. When she’s bigger she can have a backpack, and then she can see where she’s going, but for now, it’s this.’

      She reached down a padded blue canvas contraption, and Pepper leapt to her feet and ran to the door. Claire laughed softly. ‘She knows, don’t you, darling?’

      Pepper gave one sharp bark and wagged furiously as Claire sorted out the straps and shrugged into the sling.

      Patrick looked down at Jess happily gumming a plastic keyring on his knee, and suddenly didn’t want to hand her over. He realised he was enjoying her, to his enormous surprise, and even the nappies hadn’t been too grim.

      ‘I’ll take her,’ he offered.

      Claire paused. ‘Are you sure? She’s heavy and she dribbles.’

      ‘I’m sure I can cope,’ he said drily, and the next minute Claire had let out the straps on the sling and clipped him into it. Then the baby was threaded in, clamped firmly against his chest, her little arms pressed against his ribs and her feet kicking—ah. Just about safe, but a fraction lower and she might be the only child he ever got to hold.

      ‘I’ve made the straps too long,’ Claire said, and hoisted the baby up a little. He gave a quiet sigh of relief and shrugged