The Baby Of Their Dreams. Carol Marinelli

added the espadrilles.

      ‘Am I girlie enough for you now?’

      ‘You look great.’ Gemma laughed. ‘It’s once you get there that worries me. With those clothes you’ll just blend in with all the others…’

      ‘Which is exactly my intention,’ Cat said. ‘I have to go soon.’

      ‘But your flight’s not till nine.’

      ‘I know but I’ve booked in to get my hair blow-dried on the way.’

      Her long black curls would be straightened, just as they were twice a week. Cat always washed it herself before she went to the hairdresser’s, though.

      It saved time.

      They headed downstairs, chatting as Cat did a few last-minute things. ‘You’re speaking in the morning?’ Gemma checked.

      ‘At nine.’ Cat nodded. ‘I’d have loved to have flown last night but I couldn’t get away. Hamish isn’t back till tomorrow and Andrew is covering me this weekend. Same old. It would have been nice to stay on for a bit and spend a few days in Barcelona…’

      ‘Are you ever going to take some time off?’

      ‘I’m off in October for three weeks.’ Cat smiled. ‘My exams will be done and I’m going to celebrate by decorating my bedroom. I can’t wait to turn it into something that doesn’t make me want to sleep downstairs on the sofa.’

      ‘You’ve done an amazing job with the house.’

      Last year, after a year of looking, Cat had bought a small two-bedroom home in a leafy London suburb. It was a twenty-minute drive to work at night, which meant, if Cat was on call, that she had to stay at the hospital. Yes, perhaps she could have bought somewhere just a little bit closer but the drive did mean that when she left the hospital, she really left the building.

      Here, she could pull on tatty shorts and a T-shirt and get on with her second love—knocking down walls, plastering and painting. The house had been a real renovator’s delight and Cat had delighted in renovating it.

      The ghastly purple carpet had been ripped up to expose floorboards that, once sanded and oiled, brought a warmth to the house. A false wall in the lounge had been removed to reveal a fireplace and the once-purple-themed bathroom was now tiled white with dark wood fittings and had a gorgeous claw-foot bath.

      ‘Will you sell it once you’ve decorated the bedroom?’

      ‘I really don’t know,’ Cat admitted, tipping milk down the sink. ‘Initially that was the plan, but now I love the place and want to simply enjoy it, but…’

      ‘But?’

      ‘I’ve really enjoyed doing it up bit by bit. I’m going to miss that.’

      ‘After your bedroom you’ve still got the garden to make over.’

      ‘Oh, no!’ Cat shook her head. ‘I’ll get someone in to do that.’

      As they headed out, Cat locked up and Gemma looked at the small front garden.

      ‘It’s the size of a stamp,’ Gemma pointed out. There was just a rickety path and two neglected flower beds, and the back garden, Gemma knew, was a small strip of grass and an old wooden shed. ‘You could have it sorted in a few days…’

      ‘Nope!’ Cat smiled. ‘I have black thumbs.’

      They said goodbye on the street.

      ‘We’ll catch up properly soon,’ Cat promised. Both women knew that they wouldn’t get much of a chance to gossip at the christening. ‘I’ll come over to yours after the conference. I haven’t seen the twins for ages. I’ll bring them a stuffed donkey each back from Spain.’

      ‘Please, don’t!’ Gemma winced and glanced at her phone to check the time. ‘Ooh, I might make it home in time to give them their bath before bed. Nigel’s cooking a romantic dinner for the two of us tonight…’

      ‘Lovely.’

      ‘Enjoy Spain,’ Gemma called. ‘You might find yourself some sexy Spanish flamenco dancer or matador…’

      ‘At an emergency medicine conference?’ Cat laughed. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that.’

      ‘Well, a gorgeous waiter, with come-to-bed eyes and—’

      ‘Oh, please!’

      ‘Why not?’ Gemma winked. ‘If you can’t manage a love life, then pencil a few flings into that overcrowded diary of yours.’

      ‘There’s another conference in Spain the following week that you might want to consider attending,’ Cat said in a dry voice. ‘Sexual health. You, as an obstetrician, better than anyone must know the perils of casual sex.’

      ‘Of course I do, but sex is healthy.’ Gemma grinned and then she looked at Cat. She wanted to pick up an imaginary sledgehammer of her own and knock down the wall that had gone up around her friend since her baby’s death.

      ‘Do you know what’s brilliant about a one-night stand, Cat?’

      ‘Gemma…’ Cat shook her head. She really didn’t have time to stand and chat but her friend persisted.

      Gemma loved to talk about sex! ‘He doesn’t have to be perfect, you don’t have to worry how you might slot into each other’s lives and whether he leaves the toilet seat up or is going to support you in your career and all that stuff, because you’re not looking for a potential Mr Right. He can be Mr Wrong, Mr Bad, Mr Whatever-It-Is-You-Fancy. God, but I miss one-night stands.’

      ‘Does Nigel know your theory?’

      ‘Of course he doesn’t.’ Gemma grinned. ‘Nigel still thinks he was my second…’ They both laughed for a moment but then Gemma stood firm. ‘It’s time for you to have some fun, Cat. Doctor’s orders—you’re to buy some condoms at the airport.’

      Cat laughed and waved and got into her car and headed for the hairdresser’s.

      She adored Gemma.

      And Nigel.

      But…

      What she hadn’t said to her very good friend was that, as much as it might work for Gemma, she really didn’t want a Nigel of her own. She didn’t want someone asking what was for dinner every night, but nor did she want to be the one coming in after work and doing the ‘Hi, honey, I’m home’ thing.

      Still, there wasn’t time to dwell on it all.

      She parked her car in her usual spot behind the church and grabbed her bag and walked quickly to the hairdresser’s. She pushed on the door but it didn’t open and she frowned and then she saw the ‘Closed’ sign.

      ‘Don’t do this to me, Glynn…’

      He never forgot her appointments and Cat had been very specific about the time for today when she had seen him on Monday. Glynn knew that she had a plane to catch and that she would be pushed for time.

      ‘Breathe,’ Cat mumbled as she accepted that no amount of rattling the door was going to make Glynn suddenly appear.

      It’s a hair appointment, that’s all, she told herself. There would be a hairdresser at the hotel. Only, her presentation was at nine in the morning and she’d wanted to have a leisurely breakfast in her room and calm herself down before that.

      And it was Thomas’s birthday tomorrow.

      She was not going to cry over a missed hair appointment.

      Cat wasn’t crying over that as she drove to the airport. Instead, she was wishing the boot was full of presents and wrapping paper and that she was dashing to pick up a birthday cake…

      Why was it still so hard?

      So, as she could not get her