Adopted: One Baby. Natasha Oakley

you,’ he said, with a glance at his sister as he set the cup and saucer on the table. ‘There’s no hurry.’

      He turned in time to see Lorna pull at the oyster-pink ribbon holding her cardigan together. Like her skirt, the cardigan shrieked money. Whatever else Ms Drummond was, she wasn’t financially challenged. No reason there for her to refuse to care for her sister’s baby.

      Ellie was going to be disappointed. And he hated to see her rose-tinted view of humanity challenged.

      ‘Thanks, Rafe.’ His sister smiled, first at him and then at the woman opposite. ‘My car is at the garage, and since Rafe has nothing to do…’

      ‘But serve you,’ he agreed smoothly, picking up his jacket.

      Perhaps he was being too hasty in judging Lorna? She’d only said she didn’t want to take on responsibility for her sister’s baby, not that she wouldn’t.

      There was no doubt it would be a steep learning curve for her. Not that he imagined for one second much of the actual care would be done by her. Not exactly the ‘yummy mummy’ type, Ms Drummond.

      ‘I’ll see you later.’ He nodded at Lorna. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you. Again.’

      The door clicked shut.

      Ellie smiled. ‘Rafe’s been very good to me since Steve left. And it’s so nice to have him near again rather than travelling all over. He’s just bought a place on the outskirts of Framley…’

      Lorna couldn’t think what there was on the outskirts of Framley, baring Priory Manor, but she wasn’t particularly interested in where he’d bought a house. She was just glad he’d left and taken his disturbing presence with him.

      Rafe McKinnion seemed to have the ability to fill a room simply by being in it. And it made her uncomfortable. He’d always made her feel uncomfortable. Right back when he’d been the boy every girl had secretly hoped would take them behind the bike sheds. A little bit bad… and a whole lot fascinating.

      ‘I’m so sorry about Vikki. I know you two weren’t close, but…’ Ellie trailed off and reached for a brown file among the pile of papers on her desk. ‘Had you spoken to her recently?’

      Lorna shook her head. ‘I sent her an e-mail last Christmas and she replied to it.’ Lorna rubbed a hand up her arm. ‘She must have been pregnant then, but she didn’t tell me.’

      ‘So you’ve no idea who the father might be?’

      ‘I’d long since stopped asking if she was seeing anyone.’ It had been too difficult. Vikki’s life had been so different from anything she would ever want for herself. ‘I should have tried harder. I could have helped her, perhaps.’

      ‘You weren’t to know she was expecting a baby. Not if she didn’t tell you.’

      But she should have known. Wasn’t that the point? They’d been sisters. Sisters should share things, care about each other…

      It was all too late now. Vikki was gone… and she felt numb about it. Why hadn’t she cried? There must be something lacking in her that she couldn’t cry for her own sister.

      ‘I don’t know how I feel.’ The words were wrenched out of her. ‘I haven’t cried. Not once.’

      Ellie reached out and touched her hand. ‘Early days, hon. There’s no right or wrong way to feel, and there’s no use pretending you feel something if you don’t. Vikki was a difficult person to be close to.’

      Lorna drew in a shaky breath. Glad beyond description that it was Ellie sitting the other side of the desk. Glad for the gentle touch on her hand and the understanding that shone from her eyes.

      She sniffed—and she never sniffed. She looked round for her handbag, to find the small packet of tissues she always kept in the front zipped pocket. ‘What do I have to do here?’

      ‘Primarily, meet your niece. And I need some contact details from you…’

      Lorna nodded. She felt so tired. Normally she was the type of woman who got things done, took control of situations, but here, now, she felt as if she was clawing through fog.

      ‘Where are you staying?’

      ‘Mum’s old house. Vikki lives—lived—there.’ She put her bag down on the floor. ‘I dropped my things off there before talking to the police.’

      Ellie wrote down the address. ‘How much have the police been able to tell you about the accident?’

      ‘They don’t seem to know much about it yet. No other cars seem to have been involved. Vikki had no alcohol in her system.’ Lorna put a hand up to her temple and tried to remember exactly what she had been told. ‘They said one of the paramedics noticed Vikki was having contractions…’

      Lorna felt her throat tighten. She couldn’t bear to think of Vikki trapped in the wreckage. It was too difficult, too graphic.

      ‘Vikki had an amniotic embolism,’ Ellie began, after a moment. Her voice had become matter-of-fact, exactly what Lorna needed. Facts appealed to the scientific part of her brain. She could deal with facts. Respond appropriately.

      ‘It’s rare—usually fatal for both mother and baby.’

      ‘Wh-what is it, exactly?’

      ‘It’s where—’ There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Ellie stopped. ‘Yes?’ It opened, and the student midwife entered carrying a plate of buttery toast. ‘Ah, thank you. You’ll probably feel much better when you’ve eaten something.’

      Lorna smiled her thanks, even though she’d given up adding fat to her food more than three years ago. Future cholesterol issues seemed very insignificant right now.

      The door shut and Ellie continued. ‘An amniotic embolism is where the amniotic fluid is forced into the mother’s bloodstream. As I’ve said, it’s incredibly rare, and usually fatal for both mother and baby.’

      But not this time. This time the baby had survived. Lorna picked up a triangle of toast and took a bite.

      ‘Your niece is a little miracle. Baby Drummond, as we’ve been calling her, was born by emergency Caesarean section at 5:06 a.m. on the 26th. We’ve estimated her to be at about thirty-four weeks’ gestation, but Vikki didn’t seem to have had any antenatal care anywhere.’ Ellie looked down at her notes. ‘Baby scored three in the Apgar test—’

      Lorna didn’t even try and understand what that meant. Three out of what? Five? Ten? She could tell from her friend’s expression that it wasn’t good.

      ‘But she’s now holding her own beautifully, and I imagine she’ll be discharged towards the end of the week. Maybe sooner. She really is doing that well.’ Ellie looked up. ‘Lorna?’

      Lorna looked up too, with a start. ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to work out if I knew where Vikki might have been thirty-four weeks ago.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve got no idea. No use, am I?’

      ‘Concentrate on what you can do.’ Ellie smiled gently. ‘I think you need to see baby. She’s beautiful. You’re going to love her.’

      From a distance. That was all she was capable of. She was all cared out. Surely Ellie knew that?

      ‘She’s a really good birth weight for a prem baby. Her biggest difficulty has been that she suffered severe birth asphyxia.’

      Lorna tried to concentrate on what Ellie was saying, but it was desperately difficult. She obediently washed her hands once more, and walked towards the small ward of maybe six incubators. Or were they called cots? Plastic cots.

      And only two were filled. ‘This is Benjamin. He weighed two pounds fourteen ounces at birth, and is a real fighter. And this,’ she said moving along one, ‘is your niece.’

      Lorna looked down at Vikki’s baby.