SOMETHING WOKE HER.
A noise? It was utterly silent, apart from the soft sound of Joe breathing by her side, but then it came again, a short, sharp bark, and he swore under his breath and she laughed.
‘It’s not funny. I’m going to kill it one of these nights,’ he growled, and she chuckled, knowing it was an empty threat.
‘I can’t see you as a hunter-gatherer type, somehow,’ she murmured, and he rolled towards her, his mouth finding hers in the dark. He was still smiling. She could feel it in the shape of his lips, the creases round his eye as she laid her hand against his face.
But then the smile faded as his lips tasted hers, nibbling, tormenting, moving out along the line of her jaw to that ticklish place below her ear, his warm breath drifting over the skin and making her arch her neck to give him better access. She felt his tongue flick her earlobe, then the cooling as he blew softly on it and then moved on, down, over her throat, pausing in the little hollow where her pulse was beating, to do the same again.
She felt his hands on her body, searching, smoothing, stroking, felt the soft sighs of his breath against her skin as he found something he liked—her hip, the curve of her bottom, the inside of her thigh.
And then he moved on, up over her ribs, cradling her breast with a warm, dry palm, his fingers teasing her nipple. His mouth found the other one, his tongue flicking, and she moaned and arched against him.
‘Joe—’
‘I’m here.’
‘I know. I want...’
‘Shh. All in good time.’
She threaded her fingers through his hair, her body writhing as he found endless ways to torment her with those wicked hands that seemed to understand her so well, the mouth that had no boundaries.
She tried to touch him, to reach down between them but he stopped her, his hands taking hers and shackling them loosely above her head as his mouth claimed hers. His knee nudged her legs apart, his thigh moving rhythmically. She could feel the firm jut of his erection on her hip as he rocked against her, feel the pounding of his heart against her own, his breath faster now as he moved over her, freeing her hands at last to touch him as he sank into her and went still.
‘Don’t move,’ he groaned, his body taut, his breath brushing her face as he fought for control, but she couldn’t wait, couldn’t lie still when she knew all he’d do was torment her more, and she was done with that. She rocked against him, her hands moving urgently down his back, finding his taut, firm buttocks and urging him closer, deeper, beyond reason now.
‘Ah, dammit, Iona,’ he hissed, half laughing, and then he started to move, thrusting deep into her, all humour gone now, totally focused on wringing every last drop of sensation out of their bodies. She felt her body rising to meet his, the coiled need inside her spiralling tighter and tighter until it shattered and she sobbed his name and took him with her into oblivion...
* * *
They spent the weekend together doing nothing but eating, sleeping and making love, and he taught her more about her body than she’d ever known existed.
They showered together, cooked together after his food order was delivered, played chess—he won, of course—and then went back to bed and did it all over again. And again.
And then, early on Sunday afternoon, he sent her home.
‘I have to visit my aunt.’
She searched his eyes. ‘Can I come?’
She saw humour there, as well as alarm. ‘Absolutely not. Not after this weekend.’
‘What’s so special about this weekend? She won’t know if we don’t tell her.’
He laughed. ‘You reckon? You’ve got stubble burn on your top lip, you look like the cat that got the cream and the woman’s not stupid, so, no. She knows more about me than anyone else on earth, but there are some things that I won’t tell even her, and this is one of them.’ He was serious now, his voice dropping. ‘I don’t want her to know—not about this, not about us. She’d only start matchmaking and she’s bad enough without encouragement, and neither of us are in this for the long haul, so—no. At least, not today, when a blind man could see what we’ve been doing. Maybe another time. Perhaps when you’re pregnant.’
He kissed her again—to soften the blow? It wasn’t a blow, not really, and she could see where he was coming from, but the word ‘pregnant’ had stopped her thoughts in their tracks.
‘OK. You win,’ she said, and gathering her things up, she kissed him goodbye, got into the car and drove to the nearest supermarket, picked up another pregnancy test and went home.
* * *
‘Hello, darling! You’re looking very chipper. What have you been up to?’
‘Nothing,’ he lied. ‘I’m just glad the exam’s over.’
‘You didn’t come yesterday.’
He just stopped the laugh. If she only knew...
‘You weren’t expecting me because I was supposed to be with my parents, and—anyway, I had things to do, so I thought I’d stick to what we’d arranged.’
‘You’re an appalling liar. It’s Iona, isn’t it? You spent the weekend with her.’
‘No. I didn’t.’
She just smiled. ‘Such a pedant. All right, she spent the weekend with you. I hope you didn’t set my house on fire.’
He closed his eyes, groaned in despair and gave up the unequal struggle. ‘Look, it’s nothing. It’s not going to go anywhere, neither of us is looking for happy-ever-after, it’s just a bit of fun, so don’t get excited. It’s not good for your heart.’
‘On the contrary. Seeing you happily settled with a decent woman would be very good for my heart.’
‘Well, it’s not going to be Iona, and it’s probably not going to be anyone ever, so you need to find another way to entertain yourself apart from meddling in my love life.’
‘So it is love, then?’
Why was she so quick to pick up on the minutiae?
‘It’s just a euphemism, Elizabeth. And my sex life is none of your business. I am, as you pointed out very recently, a grown man. I am allowed my privacy. And, no, we did not set your house on fire,’ he added wryly.
She just smiled, patted his knee as if he was five and sat back with a smug expression on her face. ‘I knew it the moment I saw you. You look like the cat that got the cream. So how was the exam?’
* * *
His phone tinged as he got into the car, and he pulled it out of his pocket and opened the text.
It was from Iona, just one word.
Pregnant.
He stared at it, his emotions in freefall. It was happening. She was going to have a baby, and give it to Isla and Steve.
His baby.
He swallowed, dropped his head back against the head restraint and closed his eyes. Not his baby. Not, not, not his baby. Not hers, either, but a gift for Isla. Better remember that.
He started the car, drove home, walked into the house, shut himself in the study and worked until he couldn’t see straight. Then, a little after midnight, he ate some toast, went up to bed and found a tangled mess that still carried the scent of her body. He breathed it in, his body roared to life and he stripped the bed, changed the sheets, had a shower and tried again.
Better—until he closed his eyes, and then the memories flooded back anyway. All the things he’d done to her, the things she’d done to him, the things they’d done together right here in his bed. And the shower. And the sitting room. The only room apart from two of the bedrooms that was free from memories was the study, but he’d spent enough time in there in the last two weeks to last him a lifetime, and he wasn’t going back there now.
So he lay awake, in the bed where they’d—no. Not made love—had sex. Glorious, extensive, mind-blowing, all-consuming sex. Just as they’d done two weeks ago in the other room, the night he’d apparently made her pregnant.
And he missed her. Missed her body, but also her warmth, her mischievous sense of humour, her gentleness, her kindness.
He was not in love with her! And he wasn’t going to be.
Ever.
* * *
He didn’t reply.
Maybe he hadn’t got her text. The signal in the village was a bit patchy. Maybe he was in the study and his phone couldn’t pick up the signal there.
Or he didn’t know what to say? Was she not meant to have told him?
She phoned Isla, who burst into tears at the news and made her cry as well, then she put the phone on hands free and Steve joined in, and eventually they stopped sniffing and asked questions. When was it due? How was she feeling?
‘Early July—it’s really, really early days, and you know, it might not happen,’ she warned, trying not to let them build their hopes up, but she’d had to tell someone, and as Joe didn’t seem interested, she’d done the next best thing.
They talked some more, and then Isla asked what Joe’s reaction had been.
‘I haven’t spoken to him yet,’ she said, not entirely untruthfully, and they seemed happy with that, which got her off the hook, but after she’d hung up she thought about work, about seeing him and maybe having to tell him there, in a public place.
Not that there was any urgency. As she’d told Isla and Steve, it was very early days, but—she wished he’d ring her. Just so she knew he knew, and was OK with it. Too late if he wasn’t, but hey. He’d signed up for it, known exactly what he was doing because he’d done it before, for heaven’s sake!
Only not like this. Not so intimately, or with so much passion and feeling.
Not in person.
Whatever, there was nothing either of them could do about it now, so there was no point worrying. And he might simply not have picked up the text.
Or decided that since they’d achieved their objective, his job was done and he could step back and forget her?
She had a shower and went to bed because there was nothing more she could do tonight. She’d talk to him tomorrow and get some answers, hopefully before she went crazy.
* * *
‘Hi.’
She looked up from her coffee—decaf—and searched his eyes warily, not sure what she’d see there. Not a lot, for once. ‘Did you get my text yesterday?’
He nodded but then looked away. ‘Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t reply, I was working. Mind if I sit down?’
She nearly laughed. After what they’d done at the weekend, he had to ask?
‘Be my guest.’
He sat down on the other chair at the little table by the café window, stirred his coffee—black, no sugar, hence no need to stir—and then finally met her eyes again. ‘So,’ he said, his voice so soft she almost had to lipread. ‘It happened.’
‘Yes, it happened. Isla and Steve are delighted.’
‘Good. Does it—change anything?’
Her heart thumped. ‘In what way?’
‘This...’ he gestured between them ‘...whatever it is.’
‘I don’t know. I hope not. Not as far as I’m concerned, anyway. One is a—business arrangement. The other, this friends-with-benefits thing—’
‘Is strictly pleasure,’ he murmured, his voice low and laden with meaning, his eyes smouldering now and easy to read. A smile touched them. ‘Good. I was hoping you’d say that.’
She smiled back, feeling her body flood with relief because when he hadn’t replied she hadn’t known what to think, and she’d been so afraid that she’d lost him. ‘Yes. Thank you for the weekend, by the way. It was...’ She couldn’t find a word to sum it up, so she just shrugged and smiled again.
‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it?’ he said, his answering smile flickering behind the fire in his eyes and telling her everything she needed to know.
‘So how was your aunt?’ she asked, scrabbling for her sanity.
He rolled his eyes and groaned. ‘She took one look at me and knew. I denied it, but apparently I’m a useless liar.’
‘You are.’
He grinned at that. ‘Well, it takes one to know one.’
He picked up her glass of water, put a splash of it in his coffee and drained it, then got to his feet. ‘Gotta go. Stuff to do.’
‘Isn’t there always. So—will you call me?’
He nodded. ‘Of course. You know where I am in the meantime, if you need me for anything. I meant what I said.’
His eyes were serious now, and she nodded.
‘I know. Thank you—for that and for everything. I’m so grateful.’ Grateful for what he’d given her—well, Isla and Steve, really—and grateful for his promise to stand by her, even more so because it had been unsolicited. That, more than anything, spoke volumes about him, and as she watched him walk away, she thought what a shame it was that she’d met him after Natalie had destroyed his trust and—how had he put it? Taken his innocence and burned it alive before his eyes? Something like that. Powerful image, and one she could easily identify with. Dan had done much the same to her.
She picked up her cup, took a sip of the tepid coffee and put it down, drank the water instead and headed back to work. She’d slipped out in a quiet moment, but no doubt that had all gone haywire by now. Time to get back to the real world.
* * *
Their ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement, as she’d described it, worked well for the next few weeks.
He didn’t ask her to move in, she didn’t suggest it. Sometimes she stayed over, sometimes she didn’t, and when morning sickness hit—why morning, when it was all day, every day?—she stayed in her flat when she wasn’t working and slept and ate carbs like they were going out of fashion.
It was short-lived, and by the time she was ten weeks pregnant, she was starting to feel better, and so instead of hiding out and feeling sorry for herself, whenever they were both free their evenings and weekends were spent curled up in front of the wood burner in the sitting room, reading and talking and binge-watching box sets on catch-up TV.
It was blissful, but a little bit of her had to keep reminding herself that they were only playing happy families and it wasn’t for real.
She went home to her parents’ for Christmas with Isla and Steve, and on Christmas morning they told their parents that she was pregnant with their baby. Her mother cried. Her father patted her shoulder and frowned, but either way, hers or Isla’s, they were going to have a second grandchild. Johnnie and Kate were in Geneva with her parents, but they made a video call and broke the news, and Johnnie was speechless for a moment.
‘Wow,’ he said after a long pause. ‘That’s mega, Iona. Are you OK?’
She smiled at him, her little brother worrying about her. ‘Yes, I’m fine, it’s all good. How are you?’
They chatted for a bit, then she left their parents to speak to him and took herself off to the kitchen to raid the fridge.
‘Hey, we’re eating soon,’ Isla said, following her into the kitchen, but she just laughed.
‘Not soon enough. I am seriously short of carbs and I’m not waiting until the Aga’s decided it’s warmed up enough to finish the turkey. I’ve been here before.’
She found the remains of last night’s rice pudding and hauled it out. Her mother made the most amazing rice pudding. Only Steve’s presence prevented her from sticking her face in the dish and licking it out. She scraped up the last bit, put the enamelled pan on the floor for the dogs to lick and sat back.
‘So, I have my twelve-week scan appointment at ten on Wednesday. Can you come?’
Isla sat forward, her face filled with longing. ‘Can we?’
‘Well, yes, of course. I was expecting you would.’
‘Won’t you be back at work?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but I’ll have time off for the scan.’
And she’d have to tell James, she realised. Or HR. Both, probably. Whether she did or not, it’d be all round the hospital in a flash if she was spotted in the waiting room.
Her phone rang, and she pulled it out of her jeans—new, with stretch to accommodate the carbs—and it was Joe. ‘Sorry, I need to take this,’ she told them, and went out into the study. ‘Hi. Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas. How’s it going?’
‘OK. We told them. Mum got a bit teary, Dad was just Dad, and Johnnie was shocked, but all in all, OK. How’s work?’
‘Busy, but not too bad so far. When are you back?’
‘I’m working tomorrow night, so I’ll leave after breakfast and sleep when I get back, if I can. Then I’m off on Tuesday, the normal rota Wednesday onwards.’
Except for the scan, which she didn’t mention. She’d rather do that face to face.
‘That’s a shame. I’m working tomorrow and Tuesday, so I won’t see you until Tuesday evening, if then. Depends when I get away. Oh, I had a great Christmas present, by the way. I passed my exam.’
‘Seriously? Well done, you. I thought you were convinced you’d failed?’
‘I was. Apparently they set the bar low.’
‘Did they say that?’
‘No, of course not, but I wouldn’t have passed me if I’d done the examining.’
She laughed at him. ‘You’re so hard on yourself. So—maybe see you on Tuesday evening?’
‘Yes, hopefully, if I get off in time. Drive carefully.’
‘Anybody would think you cared.’
‘I do. I don’t want to end up embolising your mangled blood vessels after they pick you out of the wreckage,’ he said candidly, but there was an underlying thread of what sounded very like affection, and she chuckled.
‘I’ll try not to ruin your day.’
* * *
‘ED trauma call, ten minutes.’
Really? She’d been at work eleven hours, and this was the fifth call in the last two. What was wrong with everyone? Why weren’t they asleep in their beds at six in the morning?
She went to the desk. ‘Do you want me to take this?’
‘If you could, please. Elderly lady in a care home. She’s had a fall, query fractured neck of femur. Elizabeth Williamson, aged eighty four. I’ll get her notes up.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her mind working. Elizabeth, care home, eighties—and then the ambulance arrived and she was wheeled in and Iona knew without looking at the notes. The paramedic did the handover, and she waited until he’d gone and introduced herself with a smile.
‘Hello, my name’s Iona, I’m a doctor and I’m going to be looking after you today.’
‘So, I finally get to meet the mystery woman,’ she murmured, so quietly that only Iona heard. She smiled warmly, a mischievous twinkle in the eyes so like his. ‘I’m Joseph’s aunt, Elizabeth.’ She held out her frail hand, and Iona took it gently.
‘I know. The eyes are a bit of a giveaway,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, too. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Oh, dear. I interfere, so I’m sure none of it was good.’
She laughed at that. ‘It was. He’s very, very fond of you.’ She turned to the nurse who was with her, hoping she hadn’t heard the conversation. ‘Could you please call Dr Baker and tell him his aunt’s here?’
‘Oh, do you really need to, Iona? He’ll only lecture me.’
‘I’m sure you can take it. So what happened, then, Dr Williamson? Did you fall?’
‘Elizabeth. And, yes, I was in the bathroom, and I just—well, to be honest, I think I must have passed out. I have postural hypotension, so it’s quite likely.’
‘And how long were you there before you had help?’
‘I don’t know. Quite a while. Two or three hours?’
She frowned. That was a long time to be on the floor alone. ‘OK, let’s try and get to the bottom of this, then. Can we get a monitor on please, and do a twelve-lead ECG, and we’ll take some blood. You might be a bit anaemic or have an infection.’ She reeled off a list for the bloods, turned back to Elizabeth and smiled. ‘I think we’ll wait for Joe before we order any X-rays. He’s bound to have an opinion. I take it you’re happy for me to share your medical details with him?’
‘Of course. He’d only get it out of me anyway, so you might as well tell him.’ She tilted her head on one side. ‘You’re a very lovely young woman, Iona,’ she murmured softly. ‘I wish Joe wasn’t so set on self-destruct. He could do a lot worse than you—has done, of course, with that dreadful Natalie woman. I wish he’d met you first. You’ve put a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step I haven’t seen in years.’
‘Well, that’s as maybe, but we probably shouldn’t be talking about him here,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Do you mind if I have a look at you, Elizabeth?’
‘No, of course I don’t. I know you have to do your job.’
She was a mass of bruises. There was a bruise forming already on the point of her hip, where she’d gone down, and she had several others, which was a bit worrying.
‘Do you always bruise so easily?’ she asked, covering her again, and Elizabeth shrugged.
‘Only if I fall.’
‘And do you fall often?’
Her smile was wise and tired. ‘More often than I should. I feel very tired these days.’
‘Well, we’ll check all that while we’ve got you here—Oh, look who it is. That was quick.’
‘I was here, the home phoned me. What on earth have you done to yourself?’ he asked fondly, stooping to kiss his aunt.
‘I fell in the bathroom.’
‘Oh, that’s such a cliché. I would have expected something a little bit more imaginative from you. So, any injuries?’ he asked, turning to Iona, and she could see the worry in his eyes.
‘Query neck of femur,’ Iona told him. ‘Bruising over the left trochanter consistent with a fall on her side, other bruising on the same side and also some older bruising elsewhere. I’ve ordered a whole raft of bloods, but I haven’t ordered any X-rays yet because I know you’ll have a better idea than me of what you want.’
He tried to smile. ‘You must have read my mind. OK, Elizabeth, can you put any weight on that leg?’
‘I haven’t tried, but possibly not. It’s quite sore.’
‘Right, let’s get a CT of the pelvis, just in case. I don’t want to miss anything, I’d never hear the end of it.’
* * *
The CT was clear, to everyone’s relief, but the bloods showed she was anaemic. Iona stayed with her past the end of her shift because Joe had to leave, but he came back and she told him about the other falls, out of earshot.
‘She hasn’t told me about this.’
‘No. I’m sure she hasn’t. She may not have told the home. I spoke briefly to the lady who came in with her, but she’s gone back to the home now. Maybe you need to call them.’
He nodded. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘They’re putting her in a side ward while the geriatrician has a look at the bloods, then he’s going to work out what to do and call you. I gave him your number, and he knows you’re here.’
‘Good. Thank you. Now you need to go home and get some sleep. I’m sure your shift ended ages ago.’
She nodded. ‘OK.’ She hesitated a moment, then added quietly, ‘Isla and Steve are coming down tomorrow morning. I’ve got my first scan at ten. Do you want to come?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Of course not, it’s nothing to do with me.’
She smiled her understanding. ‘I thought so, but I wanted you to have the option. So I’ll see you whenever, then. Probably not tonight if she’s kept in.’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘Probably not. I hope it all goes well tomorrow. Thanks for looking after Elizabeth.’
* * *
The scan was incredible.
She’d seen hundreds of scan photos when she’d done her obstetrics rotation, but this was her baby. Hers and Joe’s, so small, so perfect, so incredible. Her baby—
‘Oh, Steve, it’s beautiful—look at that little nose!’ Isla said, her voice cutting through the dream and turning it to dust.
No. Not her baby, and not Joe’s. It was Isla’s baby, Isla and Steve’s.
She swallowed, turned her face away from the screen and willed it all to be over.
‘There we are, all done and it’s all looking good. Do you want a photo?’
‘Yes—oh, yes, please,’ Isla said, and then asked for two.
They went out to collect them from the reception desk, and she straightened her clothes, got off the couch and met the sonographer’s curious eyes.
‘I’m a surrogate for them. She’s my twin sister, so it’s sort of her baby.’
She nodded, the curiosity turning to sympathy. ‘Take care,’ she said gently, and Iona tried to smile, gave up and walked out.
‘Here—your photo. Thank you so much for letting us come. That was just amazing.’
She stared at the square white envelope, didn’t quite know what to do with it but took it anyway. ‘Thanks. And you’re welcome. Right, I need to get back to work. Love you lots.’
She hugged them both and walked away, suddenly conscious of the tiny life growing inside her, and her need to protect it. She’d been dodging Resus recently because of the X-rays, and she knew it was time to tell James.
Not that she had a choice, now, because she hadn’t taken her bag and had nowhere to put the envelope, so when she got back and ran into James and Sam in the locker room, they took one look at the envelope, familiar from scans of their own small children, and Sam made an excuse to leave, closing the door behind him.
‘Yes,’ she said to James, without waiting for his question. ‘I’m having a baby—for my sister. It’s due on the eighth of July, and I’ll work as long as I can, hopefully to my due date, then I’ll be back two weeks afterwards.’
James stared at her, slightly open-mouthed, and then shut his mouth, waited until she’d put the envelope in her locker and then ushered her to his office and sat her down.
‘Iona, I don’t really know what to say.’
She laughed softly. ‘You don’t have to say anything, James. I don’t want any special concessions, I don’t want a fuss made, and I’d rather nobody knew about it until they have to.’
‘I don’t think it’s a secret. You’ve been looking peaky, said you weren’t feeling well and making excuses not to work in Resus. It’s not that, it’s what you said about your sister. So is this an implanted embryo?’
She could have lied, could have said yes, but he’d been so good with her from day one she couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she told him the severely edited truth. ‘And I’m not going to take any annual leave,’ she added, ‘so you won’t be short-staffed.’
‘I don’t care about that, I care about you. If there’s anything you need, anything you want, time off without notice, anything—just ask me, OK? And you will take annual leave, and as much maternity leave as you need to. I don’t want you getting stressed and exhausted.’
‘I don’t want any concessions—’
‘Tough. And if anyone gives you a hard time, refer them to me.’ He stood up, came round the desk, pulled her gently to her feet and gave her a little hug. ‘I always knew you were a kind and generous person. I didn’t realise you were this brave. For what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing for your sister is amazing. Now go and find something safe to do, and remember, my door’s always open.’
She felt her eyes fill, blinked hard and nodded. ‘Thank you.’
* * *
He wasted every free minute of the day wondering how the scan had gone, if she’d been all right, how she was dealing with it. She came over in the evening after he’d called her to say he was home, and she walked in and handed him an envelope.
‘Here,’ she said. ‘Just in case you wanted to see it.’
He held it in his fingers like an unexploded bomb, staring at it in horrified fascination. ‘How did it go?’
‘Fine. Everything looks good. It’s due on the eighth of July.’
He dropped the envelope on the hall table like a hot brick and went into the kitchen, desperate to change the subject. ‘I made a curry.’
‘Not turkey, I hope.’
‘No. Not turkey. It’s venison.’
‘You didn’t shoot it!’
He laughed and pulled her into his arms, relenting. ‘No, of course I didn’t shoot it. I don’t have a gun and, anyway, I don’t particularly like venison. It’s a Goan fish curry, very mild, so it shouldn’t give you acid reflux.’
He bent his head and kissed her lingeringly, then let her go, laid the table and dished up.
‘I saw James,’ she told him. ‘He’d worked out weeks ago that I’m pregnant because I was avoiding Resus because of the radiation risk, but I explained the situation and he was brilliant about it.’
He froze. ‘Did you tell him I was the donor?’ he asked, and she looked horrified.
‘No, of course not! I won’t tell anyone that. It’s nobody’s business but ours. This curry’s lovely, by the way. Thank you. How’s your aunt doing?’
‘OK. She’s back in the home, on iron supplements. They’re going to monitor her. It might be gastric erosion from painkillers, so they’ve switched her to something gentler on the stomach and put her on omeprazole. She’s not happy. She says the painkillers are useless.’
They chatted more about her, then about his plans for the kitchen, his work schedule, but he wasn’t really concentrating because out of the corner of his eye he could see the envelope sitting on the hall table, and he didn’t know what to do with it.
* * *
He should have thrown it out. Should have done something with it—lit the fire with it, anything—because on New Year’s Day he took Elizabeth home for a festive lunch, turned his back to hang up their coats, and the first thing she did was pick it up.
‘You haven’t opened your card,’ she said, and before he could stop her she’d opened the envelope and pulled it out.
‘Don’t—’
But he was too late. She opened the card, saw the grainy ultrasound photo and gasped softly. ‘Joe?’
‘Do you have no boundaries?’ he asked, snatching it out of her hand and stuffing it back in the envelope without looking at it, and she put her hand over her mouth and her eyes filled.
‘It’s Iona’s, isn’t it?’ she asked, ignoring his comment.
‘No. It’s her sister’s.’
‘But the name said Iona—’
‘It’s her sister’s baby,’ he said firmly. ‘She’s not keeping it.’
‘And yours.’
‘No!’ he denied, and then softened. ‘No. It’s not my baby, Elizabeth, it’s not her baby, either, and it’s definitely not our baby. She’s having it for Isla, so don’t get any ideas and start knitting, because it’s not going to happen.’
‘Oh, Joseph,’ she murmured sadly, and took his hand, a tear trickling down her cheek. ‘Dear boy—’
He retrieved his hand. ‘I’m not a boy, Elizabeth. I’m a man, and I know my own mind, and I can make decisions for myself. And this was my decision, to do this for her, for them. So don’t waste sympathy on me, because I’m fine with it, so’s Iona. It’s all good.’
‘Is it? Then why are you so angry?’
He had no answer for that, at least not one he was prepared to voice, so he led her through to the kitchen, parked her at the table and put the vegetables on to steam while he made the gravy and tried to get his emotions under control.