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Her heart was in her throat as they sat on a pair of hard chairs outside the Assistant Director’s office. Mr Horsham was running late, the clerk apologised, but he wouldn’t be long.
The second hand on the wall clock directly across from Meg’s chair clunked from one second to the next, and the minute hand was geriatric, so slowly did it move on from minute to minute.
Geoffrey sat beside her, his hat resting on one knee.
Ten past the hour.
‘Do you think there’s a problem?’ Meg asked. The time seemed not to have moved since she’d last looked.
‘This is a busy office, Margaret.’ He reached over and, covering her gloved hand with his, gave it a reassuring squeeze.
Meg didn’t want reassurance. She wanted Jennifer. Now – here in her arms.
‘It won’t be long.’
Like a magician’s ‘Abracadabra’, Geoffrey’s words produced an immediate effect. The door beside her opened and a man she presumed was Mr Horsham invited them into his office.
‘Welcome, Dr and Mrs Ransom. Thank you for your patience. Please be seated.’
‘Is Jennifer here?’ Meg looked around; her patience was stretched to its limit. Maybe beyond it. She felt like she’d snap if she had to wait one more minute.
‘Nearly, Mrs Ransom. I need you to sign these papers, and then your daughter will be brought in. Dr Ransom – sign here and then your wife signs below your name.’
Geoffrey perused the page then signed it and passed it to her.
Meg’s signature was a scrawl. She didn’t read what the document said before she pushed it across the desk. Mr Horsham examined the document, before adding his name and neatly writing the date below. Meg’s muscles quivered with tension. Not even Geoffrey’s hand on her arm stilled her.
‘Good. This all seems to be in order.’ Mr Horsham crossed the room and opened the door. Meg watched as he stepped outside and made a ‘come forward’ gesture to someone out of her sight. ‘Bring the child in now.’
Meg set her handbag on the floor and stood; her gaze fixed on the doorway. As Jennifer was brought in, her little hand holding that of a woman, Meg sank to one knee and held her arms wide. ‘Hello, darling.’
Jennifer shoved her thumb in her mouth and stood.
Meg’s heart clenched. Had Jennifer already forgotten her? What if her daughter ended up traumatised by all the changes she’d experienced? Meg kept her smile in place and her voice gentle. ‘Mummy’s come to take you home.’
Her little girl’s blue eyes stared and her thumb slipped out of her mouth. ‘Mummy?’
‘Yes, darling. It’s Mummy.’ Her chest was so tight with wanting, it hurt.
Then . . . Jennifer launched herself across the space between them and flung her little arms around Meg’s neck.
She clung to her child, raining kisses on her fair hair and silently promising, I’ll never let you go.
At some point, Geoffrey’s hand settled on her shoulder, and without any words needed, Meg stood. Jennifer was wrapped koala-tight to her chest.
He picked up her handbag from the floor and said, ‘Let’s take our girl home.’
They’d discussed when to tell Jennifer that Geoffrey was her new daddy and agreed it would be best to let her settle in first. Determining when that would be, was up to Meg. But as they rode in the taxi past familiar shops that gave way to familiar houses, and finally, the park where Vera, and Meg too when she’d been home on leave, had taken Jennifer, she wondered if telling her daughter as soon as she was home might be more reassuring. Learning she had a father as soon as she was back in familiar surroundings might be easier than wondering who the strange man with her mother was.
Glancing at Geoffrey, she realised he was angled towards them, his gaze on them unwavering. Had he been watching them throughout the ride?
He smiled, that wonderful slow smile that reached his eyes and felt as though it belonged to her alone. The smile that now included her daughter.
‘She looks so much like you, Margaret. My two beautiful girls.’
Jennifer sucked her thumb and watched this man she didn’t yet know.
Their eyes met across Jennifer’s head. ‘You’ll be a wonderful father to her.’ With the tip of a finger, Meg brushed her daughter’s fringe to the side. Perhaps one day, they’d have a child of their own. Maybe a boy for Geoffrey. Watching him making these first tentative connections with Jennifer, Meg thought he wouldn’t mind what sex their child was.
The taxi turned around at the river end of the road and pulled up in front of their home. Geoffrey paid the fare then came around to open her door. A hand beneath her elbow helped her step out of the taxi with her armful of child. She couldn’t bear to set Jennifer down, not yet. She carried her up the front steps and into the relative coolness of the wide hallway. ‘We’re home, my darling.’
Gerry stuck her head around the door of the lounge room, and cupped Jennifer’s cheek. ‘Hello, precious girl.’ Glancing at Meg, she stepped back and held the door wide. ‘We’re in here.’
We? As she stepped through the doorway, Meg wondered who Gerry had invited to join them and felt mildly annoyed. She didn’t want to share her daughter with anyone just yet.
Two faces were turned towards her, their smiles slipping as their gazes landed on her.
Her knees went wobbly, and her stomach clenched at the sight of them. Had Gerry invited them? She knew how Meg felt; what she feared.
Today of all days, how could she have allowed them to ambush her like this?
‘Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?’