Boxing Day was a milder, much greyer day than the one before. Mist hung in the air and the dampness made Ashleigh’s hair far curlier than she wanted.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tom’s expression had changed almost as soon as he’d switched his phone back on.

‘It’s Susie-Anne.’ He widened his eyes. ‘Francine has sent me about a million messages, apparently it’s all over the Internet too.’

‘What is?’ Ashleigh shivered, Tom was still hesitating. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

‘Michael took to Twitter and he’s told the world that he can’t be sure he’s the father of Susie-Anne’s baby.’

‘Oh God, don’t tell me she pulled that trick again!’

‘No, she’s definitely pregnant, only it turns out that she also got friendly with at least one of Michael’s team mates.’

‘And we thought we were Jeremy Kyle material! So can she narrow it down to two, do you think?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past her to carry out a DNA test live on air if she thought it would raise her profile.’ He managed a rueful smile; it was a distinct possibility.

‘What happens now? Will you need to issue a statement or something?’ Even as she spoke, his phone started to ring.

‘Sorry, it’s Francine, I’m going to have to take it.’ Tom put the phone to his ear and walked through to the kitchen.

Suddenly vulnerable and exposed, in just a vest top and a pair of lacy knickers, with the real world flooding in, Ashleigh wanted to turn back time. She put her clothes on like a suit of armour – if only it were that easy to protect herself.

‘Now what?’ Could there be anymore? It was like she’d been caught up in a soap opera storyline that she couldn’t escape from.

‘Susie-Anne’s in hospital. They think she might be having a miscarriage.’ Tom’s voice was emotionless, as though he didn’t know how to react. After all, Susie-Anne had lied to him and made no attempt to spare his feelings, but deep down there was a vulnerable side to almost everyone and, regardless of who the father turned out to be, there was a baby at the centre of all this. If Ashleigh was struggling with it all, it must be a hundred times worse for Tom.

‘You’ve got to go.’ The finality of Ashleigh’s words weren’t lost on her, but what he said next took her breath away.

‘Not without you.’ He searched her face, waiting for her to respond. She’d be well within her rights to tell him to get stuffed and she very nearly did.

‘I don’t think that would go down too well with Susie-Anne, me turning up at her bedside!’ She managed a half smile, her humour bleak. Everything about the world they’d be going back to was tarnishing things, as though the last two days had just been smoke and mirrors too.

‘Just come with me, please? She’s been taken into hospital in Brighton.’ He stood up, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘Although knowing her it will be a false alarm for added drama.’

She hesitated, it would be much easier to stay at home, let Tom go and text him later to say it had been fun, but they both knew things would run their course eventually and that now seemed as good a time as any. Only the thought twisted her insides even more than the prospect of pitching up at Susie-Anne’s bedside. Despite her best attempts, she hadn’t managed to keep her feelings for Tom in the friendship zone. Part of her was hoping that Isobel might be right and she hated herself for it.

‘Okay, if you really want me to, then I’ll come.’ They wouldn’t be far from Zac and Stevie if she needed to bolt, and that was what tipped the balance. ‘But I’ll borrow Mum’s car and follow you down in that, so if you need to hang around I can head off.’

****

The drive down to Brighton was interminable, not helped much by the bone-shaking nature of the ancient Land Rover. Thankfully, Carol, who was still in the midst of a very merry Christmas, didn’t ask too many questions about why she wanted to borrow it. Tom was waiting in the car park outside the hospital’s maternity unit, pacing up and down much like any other expectant father.

‘I thought perhaps you’d changed your mind.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips. Was she just a PR pawn, there to make sure Tom didn’t look like a victim to the photographers who were bound to be hanging around?

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ He’d been right to worry about her turning up. Twice she’d almost taken the slip road off the motorway and headed straight back to Sandgate.

‘It’ll be fine.’ Tom was insistent.

‘I’ll come in for a bit.’ She didn’t want to carry on the conversation in the middle of a busy car park, whilst relatives laden with IT’S A BOY! balloons and bunches of flowers walked past, happily eavesdropping on their conversation.

Tom didn’t respond but he took her hand, leading her into the foyer of the maternity unit where Francine was already waiting.

‘Tom, how are you?’ His uber efficient PA was just as deadly when it came to getting Tom’s undivided attention. Without even acknowledging Ashleigh’s presence, she literally swept her aside and embraced him with odd stiffness.

‘I’m fine.’ Tom stepped back and immediately glanced around, almost certainly checking whether any journalists had managed to get inside. The newspaper stand outside the hospital shop was laden with tabloids; the Susie-Anne and Michael Cox debacle front-page news. ‘I thought Susie-Anne was booked to go to the Portland Hospital?’ Tom was irritated; it would obviously have been easier for him to control things there.

‘She was.’ The private hospital was the place to give birth for the good, the great and anyone with a high profile. ‘But she was taken ill at her cousin’s place in Brighton and so they brought her here, in case it was serious.’ Francine spoke as though the whole thing were an illness that needed to be ‘got over’.

‘And the press?’ Tom frowned, but there was no sign of anyone hanging around in the foyer as far as Ashleigh could tell.

‘Seems like they haven’t got anyone inside the building.’ Francine smiled briefly, but it definitely wasn’t the kind that lit up her whole face. ‘Although I suspect it’s only a matter of time. Especially as you’ve decided to bring… outsiders.’

‘Right, well, we’ll go through then, whilst the going’s good.’ Tom appeared to let Francine’s comments drift over his head, no doubt her abrasive personality often came in useful; she was bound to be excellent at dealing with unwanted press interest for a start.

‘You’re both going in?’ Francine raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, her mouth twisting into a sneer.

‘Yes. Have you seen her yet?’ He didn’t acknowledge her comment and Ashleigh could only imagine Francine’s bedside manner. Somehow she doubted it had brought Susie-Anne much comfort.

‘Briefly. Apparently the doctors are trying to…’ Francine appeared to be grasping for the right words; the term ‘miscarriage’ with all of its gory connotations not something she was willing to say ‘…stop things until it’s the proper time.’

‘Thanks. Are you okay to hang around?’ Tom’s tone was expectant. As if it were perfectly reasonable to ask someone to give up their time on a day that, for most people, was devoted to spending time with loved ones. Taking in Francine’s sharp business-suit, Ashleigh suspected she was only too happy to work rather than make merry.

‘Yes, happy to help.’ There was that tight smile again. ‘I’ll be out here when you need me, Tom, and everyone else has gone.’

****

Susie-Anne was in a private room and was almost unrecognisable with her white-blonde hair scrapped back and not an ounce of make-up on her face. Despite being hooked up to a drip and devastated by the events of the last few days, she was doll-like and much prettier than Ashleigh remembered. She should go without make-up more often.

‘Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry.’ Susie-Anne clasped his hand, like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ Ashleigh shrank back into the corner of the room by the door, hoping that Susie-Anne wouldn’t see her. It felt so wrong to be here, like she was intruding in someone else’s life and, in a way, she was.

‘Is that the photographer?’ Susie-Anne, who clearly knew exactly what had been going on between Ashleigh and Tom, was playing the innocent. ‘Thank you darling, I know my fans will be anxious to know how I’m doing, but I don’t think photographs right now are a good idea.’

‘Ashleigh’s not here for…’ Tom started to explain, but she cut him off.

‘Susie-Anne’s right, I should go.’ She held up a hand to stop Tom, as he moved to come towards her. ‘Give me a call when you’re ready for those photos. I hope it goes alright and the baby is okay.’

Out in the corridor, she just wanted to escape. She wouldn’t cry, not here. The last thing she wanted was to give Francine the satisfaction of seeing that.

‘Ashleigh, don’t go. Wait for me in Reception, I won’t be long.’ Tom was behind her, his hand on her shoulder, and she turned around to face him.

‘It’s best if I leave. Without Michael, she needs you. Even as her agent you owe her that, despite whatever else has gone on.’ She dropped her eyes, not giving him a chance to make her weaken. ‘Just call me when you’re ready, we can talk then. Goodbye Tom.’

‘Are you okay?’ He tried to touch her face, but she turned away and began walking to the double doors that led back to the Reception area. Susie-Anne was calling his name and, when she glanced back at him, he was torn for a moment, before the inevitable happened, his business head took over and he turned towards the hospital room. She just kept walking.