Double Trouble: Pregnancy Surprise: Two Little Miracles / Expecting Royal Twins! / Miracle: Twin Babies

Oh, well. She’d find out later. In the meantime, she had bigger things to worry about, because shortly she was going to see her mother-in-law again, and she was feeling curiously apprehensive.

She needn’t have worried.

Linda Gallagher took one look at her with the girls, clapped a hand over her mouth and burst into tears.

‘Oh, Julia, my dear girl—oh, my dear, dear, girl!’ And, without another word, she threw her arms around her and hugged her hard.

Julia blinked away her own tears and hugged her back, and then she was released, and Linda was exclaiming over the babies and crying on Max and hugging him until she thought his ribs would break.

‘Come in—come on in, all of you. Richard? Look, it’s Max, and he’s brought Julia and—’

And she started to cry again.

‘Julia?’

Richard, Linda’s partner, studied her for a moment and then gave a fleeting smile and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s good to see you again. And you’ve been busy.’

‘A little,’ she said wryly. ‘I’m sorry to drop such a bombshell on you. It seems to be a day for them.’

Because Max had only decided to sell back to Yashimoto this morning, she’d found out. So he was taking her seriously, and going to huge lengths to change things.

Max took charge of the babies, tucking one under each arm and heading into the house with his mother fussing, clucking and mopping up her tears, and Richard helped her take the seats out of the car and into the house so the girls could sit in them to have their lunch.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he said quietly as he closed the front door. ‘Linda’s really missed you, and Max has been—well—difficult doesn’t even scratch the surface.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No. Don’t worry about me. But Linda probably deserves an explanation, when you can give her one, and—it’s between you and Max, really, I guess. But it’s great to see you again, and to see him smiling. And a father. That’s not something we thought we’d ever see.’

‘No. None of us thought that.’

Well, not as long as he was with her, at least, what with her medical problems. But apparently miracles did happen, and she had two of them.

Three, if Max turning his life around was to be believed. She still wasn’t sure he was, but time would tell.

In the meantime, she followed Richard into the sitting room and found Linda on the floor with her back to the sofa, and Libby crawling busily over her while Ava headed for the plant stand in the corner.

‘I don’t think so,’ she said, disengaging her fingers from the fine mahogany legs of the stand before she pulled it over on herself. ‘You need to be put in the stocks, young lady. Come and say hello to your grandmother.’

And, turning her round, she dangled her across the room by her fingers, while her little legs tried valiantly to keep up.

‘She’s going to walk early,’ Linda said, shaking her head. ‘Just like Max. He was a nightmare. And she won’t be far behind,’ she added, grabbing Libby, who was climbing up her front and trying to get on the sofa. ‘How on earth do you keep up with them?’

She gave a tired laugh. ‘Oh, I have no idea. It’s getting worse by the day. I thought when they were in ITU and I’d just had my C-section that it couldn’t get any worse—’

‘You had a C-section?’

Max’s face was shocked, and she realised she hadn’t actually told him anything about their birth.

‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘I had to. The adhesions were too bad, they wouldn’t contemplate letting me deliver, especially not at thirty-three weeks.’

His face was ashen. She had no idea why the idea had shocked him so much, but obviously it had, and she realised she’d done yet another thing wrong. Oh, Max.

‘Hey, it’s OK, we’re all fine,’ she assured him, but he still looked pale.

‘You should have called me,’ Linda said gently. ‘I would have come and helped you.’

‘And told Max?’

Her face contorted, and she swallowed hard and bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry; it’s none of my business.’

‘It’s not you,’ she said hurriedly. ‘We were just having problems—’

‘You were having problems. I was too wrapped up in my life to realise,’ he said, his fairness and honesty amazing her yet again. ‘Julia pointed out to me yesterday that I’m only eleven years younger than Dad was when he died. And I don’t want to go the same way.’

‘Good,’ Linda said, her eyes filling. ‘He was a good man, your father, but he didn’t know when to stop, and I’ve been so worried about you. Maybe this was exactly what you needed to bring you to your senses.’

‘Well, let’s hope so,’ Julia said quietly. ‘Linda, I could do with heating some food for them. They’re going to start to yell in a minute; they’ve had a long morning.’

‘Of course. Come on through to the kitchen; the men can look after them for a minute.’

And, Julia thought realistically, it would give Linda a chance to grill her about her motives.

Except she didn’t, not at first; she just put the kettle on, put the baby food in the microwave and then turned and gave Julia a hug.

‘Oh, I’ve missed you,’ she said, letting her go. ‘I realise you couldn’t contact me if you felt you couldn’t talk to Max, but I have missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she said with a lump in her throat. ‘I could have done with a mum while they were in hospital. I had Jane, but she’d just had her own baby, and it was difficult for her.’

Linda’s face was troubled, and after a moment she said, ‘Do you mind if I ask you something? Why didn’t you tell him you were pregnant? Was it because of Debbie?’

‘Debbie?’ she asked, a feeling of foreboding washing over her. ‘Who’s Debbie?’

Linda’s face was a mass of conflicting emotions. ‘He hasn’t told you?’ She said in the end, and Julia shook her head.

‘I know nothing about anyone called Debbie. Who is she? Don’t tell me he’s having an affair—’

‘No! Oh, good grief, no, nothing like that. Oh, my goodness—’ She covered her mouth with her hand and stared at Julia, then shook her head and flapped her hand as if she was seeking a way out. ‘Um—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not my story to tell. You’ll have to ask Max. Oh, dear God, I can’t believe he hasn’t told you.’

‘Is it something to do with why he doesn’t want children?’ she asked, watching Linda carefully, but Linda obviously felt she’d said more than enough, and she shook her head and held up her hand.

‘No. I’m sorry, darling, I can’t tell you. You’ll have to talk to Max, but—tread carefully. At the time—No, you’ll have to ask him yourself, I can’t say any more.’ She straightened up, the pots of food in her hand, and found a smile. ‘Come on, let’s go and feed the babies. I never thought I’d ever be a grandmother, and I don’t intend to waste a minute of it.’

They had a lovely afternoon.

After lunch—which his mother had thrown together after a hasty trip to the supermarket deli-counter earlier when he’d phoned to warn her they were coming—they took the babies out for a walk on Hampstead Heath.

‘We should have brought Murphy,’ he said, but Julia just laughed.

‘I don’t think so. He’s better off at home. He’d be a nightmare in the mud, and your mother’s house isn’t exactly designed for dogs, with all that pale carpet.’

‘OK,’ he said with a wry grin. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

‘Of course I’m right. I’m—’ She broke off, and he eyed her thoughtfully.

‘Always right?’ he offered, and she shook her head, tears she’d scarcely shed before this week filling her eyes for the hundredth time.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, not now. We’re having a happy day.’

He held out his hand, and after a moment she slipped her fingers into his and squeezed, but there was a bit of her that wondered if he was putting on a show for his mother’s benefit.

But he didn’t hold her hand for long, because the buggy got stuck and he had to go and help Richard lift it up some steps, and then his mother put her arm through his and started to talk to him, and Julia was left with Richard and the babies.

‘He’s looking better.’

‘He needed to. He was haggard when he arrived on Monday. I was shocked. I’d managed to convince myself that he didn’t care—’

‘Didn’t care?’ Richard gave a short cough of laughter. ‘Oh, no. He cared. I’ve never seen a man so tortured. He was devastated when he couldn’t find you. I really think he imagined you were dead.’

Oh, lord. She closed her eyes for a second and stumbled, but Richard caught her arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

‘You’ll sort it out between you,’ he said comfortingly. ‘Just give it time.’

She’d given it two weeks, and nearly a third of that was gone. It was Thursday now, and he’d been there since Monday. So that was another ten days. Would it be enough to convince her that he’d changed? Or enough for him to know just what he was taking on?

She didn’t know. But Yashimoto was going to be out of the picture soon, and that meant no more trips to Tokyo. If he could do the same with the New York operation, so he only had his UK businesses to worry about, then maybe, just maybe, they’d be all right.

But, in the meantime, she had to find a way of asking him about Debbie, and, until she knew exactly who she was and what she meant to him, she had no idea what the future might hold. She just knew that, if Linda was to be believed, Debbie was hugely significant.

If only she knew what it was she was asking him…

‘Poor old Murphs. Did we abandon you, mate?’

Max ruffled his ears and stroked his side, and Murphy leant against him and thumped his tail enthusiastically.

‘I think that means “feed me”,’ Jules said drily, and he laughed and picked up his bowl.

‘Hungry, are you?’ he said, and the tail went faster. ‘Shall I feed him?’

‘Mmm—but, if you could take him out for a run first, that would be great. I’ll bath the girls.’

‘Are you sure you can manage?’

‘I’m fine. Go on, off you go.’

So he took him out for a run by the river, just for a few minutes, because the light was fading fast, and by the time they got home it was gloomy and Julia was in the kitchen with the girls giving them their supper and their evening feed.

‘Tea?’ he offered, knowing now that she liked to drink while she was feeding, and she smiled her thanks and settled down on the sofa with the babies.

He put her tea—with cold water—in reach, and sat down with his at the other end of the table and watched her feeding them while Murphy chased his bowl around the tiled floor.

‘I might buy him a bowl with a rubber base,’ she said ruefully, and Max laughed and sipped his tea and watched his wife and daughters, and thought that life had never been more complex or more challenging—or more fulfilling.

Happy families, he thought, and wondered how long it would last. He’d done his best—handed Yashimoto the deal of the century—but he didn’t care and it made him feel good, because the man had worked hard to turn his old company around, and, given a leg up, he’d be fine now.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg, of course. There was a ton of other investments which still needed his serious intervention, and with his eye off the ball—Well, who knew what could happen to it? He’d had to rescue a situation this morning because he hadn’t been on hand to deal with it, and Stephen had been tied up with Tokyo.

And for some reason Andrea hadn’t flagged it up to him.

Oh, well. It was sorted now, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend his empire could run itself.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked her, watching as she detached Libby and sat her up.

‘Starving. Why? What did you have in mind?’

He chuckled. ‘Nothing with garlic. I was wondering if I should get something from the pub again.’

‘Oh. That would be lovely. They do a really great thing with mozzarella and basil, a little tartlet. It’s fabulous. And sticky-toffee pudding.’

‘Stick—That sounds gross,’ he said with a laugh.

‘No. It’s gorgeous. You ought to try it.’

‘I’ll try some of yours.’

‘If I let you have any.’

‘Oh, you will,’ he said, taking Ava off her and wincing at the deafening burp. ‘I’ll sweet-talk you.’

‘You can try,’ she said, but her eyes were twinkling and he felt a sudden stab of longing. Damn. After the conversation they’d had last night, there was no way he was getting that close to her, so he’d be better off not thinking about it.

‘Come on, pest. Let’s take you up and change your nappy and tuck you up in bed, so your mother and father can have a little civilised conversation.’

‘Better keep them here, then,’ Jules said from behind him, and he turned back and caught her teasing smile, and felt desire lance through him again, hot and hard and needy.

It was going to be a long, long evening.

She lit the fire while he was over at the pub collecting their order, and by the time he came back the logs were blazing merrily behind the fireguard and the table was laid.

‘Is that woodsmoke I can smell?’ he asked, coming back into the kitchen, and she nodded.

‘I’ve lit the fire. I thought maybe we could play chess again, or watch some of the baby DVDs.’

She saw his smile slip. ‘OK. That would be nice,’ he said, and made a valiant attempt to resurrect the smile, but it didn’t fool her. And the first time they’d watched a DVD of the babies it had upset him. But why?

‘Max?’

‘Fancy a small glass of wine? There’s a bit of white left, or I’ve bought some rosé.’

‘Oh. Rosé would be nice. Thanks,’ she said, and let it drop for now.

She was watching him.

He ignored her, handing her the stacked plates with their covers and swiftly twisting the cork out of the wine. By the time he’d poured it and sat down opposite her, she was busy concentrating on her food, and, with the smell of the sticky-toffee pudding drifting from its resting place on the side of the Aga, he thought he might have got away with it.

For now. But the DVD’s were a minefield, making him feel raw, and he wasn’t sure he could watch a film shot in special care. Not see how close they’d come—

‘Wow, that was gorgeous. Thanks, Max.’

He put aside his black thoughts and smiled at her. She looked lovely tonight, her hair loose around her shoulders and her eyes warm and gentle. If only…

No. Not yet. She’d said so, with knobs on, but, if he could only get that close to her, maybe he could convince her to come back to him.

‘It’s a pleasure,’ he said. ‘So—how about letting me thrash you at chess again?’

She hesitated for a second, then gave him a mischievous grin. ‘OK. If you don’t mind being beaten. I’ve remembered how your mind works.’

‘Faster than yours,’ he pointed out, and she stuck her tongue out at him and stood up.

‘Let’s see, shall we?’

‘Indeed. Best of three?’

‘You think it’ll take that many?’

‘No. Two will be more than enough to have you whimpering off with your tail between your legs,’ he retorted, following her with the dog in his wake.

That was a mistake, because he almost had her for the second time when Murphy stood up and walked round the table, and, seizing her chance, Julia called him all excitedly, and his tail thrashed and cleared the board.

‘Oh, dear, what a shame, we’ll have to start again,’ she said with a wicked grin, but he wasn’t having it.

‘I can remember where every piece was,’ he said, and proceeded to reset the chessmen in place.

‘Your knight wasn’t there.’

‘Yes it was.’

‘No. It was there. Your bishop was there.’

‘Rubbish. How could my bishop have got there? Let’s face it, Jules, I’ve thrashed you,’ he said, lounging back on the sofa and crossing his ankle over the other knee. ‘Just admit it.’

‘Never.’

‘I never had you down as a cheat,’ he said softly, and she stopped in her tracks and stared at him.

‘I wasn’t cheating! I was just teasing, Max. Trying to lighten the atmosphere.’

He swallowed. ‘What’s wrong with the atmosphere?’

‘I don’t know, but ever since I mentioned the DVDs you’ve been funny. Why don’t you want to see them?’

‘I do,’ he lied. Well, it wasn’t really a lie, but he was scared and sick inside, and emotions he’d buried too long ago were bubbling to the surface. And he didn’t want to deal with them.

She got up and cleared away the chess pieces, folded the lid of the coffee-table over and straightened it, then dimmed the lights and switched on the television. ‘OK, then,’ she said quietly. ‘This is the next one—the babies in hospital. We were about to watch it the other night when you walked out.’

‘Just put it on, Jules,’ he said gruffly, his left hand wrapped tightly round the stem of the wine glass, and, before he knew what she was going to do, she’d started the disc and had taken hold of his right hand, wrapping it in both of hers and snuggling up against his shoulder.

‘OK, that’s Ava. She was stronger. She was born first, and, although she was smaller, she was better developed and she’s heavier now than Libby. And that’s Libby. She had to have much more help with her breathing, and there were a few days when—when we thought we might lose her,’ she said a little unsteadily, and he realised she was struggling just as much as he was. Her fingers tightened on his, and he squeezed them back, as much for himself as for her.

‘They look tiny.’

‘They were. Twins are always smaller. They’ve only got half as much room, so considering that they do pretty well, but by the time they were delivered my uterus had reached its limit and it was in danger of rupturing. They had to do two operations to free the adhesions, and then finally they couldn’t release any more and they had to deliver them. But I hung on as long as I could.’

‘It sounds awful,’ he said, wincing at the thought. It must have been so painful. Why on earth hadn’t she contacted him? Although God alone knows what use he would have been to her, haunted by his demons.

‘It was. And I was so scared. I nearly called you. If you’d rung before, I would have done, but then my phone was stolen and all I could do was get by, minute by minute, and then the crisis was over.’

‘I would have come,’ he said gruffly.

‘Would you?’

She turned and looked at him, and he met her gentle, searching eyes briefly before he turned away. ‘Yes,’ he said with conviction. ‘I would.’ Even though it would have killed him.

‘Max, can I ask you something?’

He looked back at her, and his heart started to pound. ‘Sure.’

‘Who’s Debbie?’

The wine sloshed over the rim of the glass, soaking his hand and running over the arm of the sofa. He leapt to his feet and got a cloth, dabbing and blotting and rubbing with it until she took it out of his hand and pulled him back down gently onto the sofa beside her.

‘Max, forget that, talk to me. Who is she? Why was your mother so surprised that I’d never heard of her? And what did she do to you that’s made you so shut down inside?’

He stared at her, his breath rasping, then he closed his mouth and swallowed. He could do this. He owed it to her—and he should have told her years ago.

‘She was my girlfriend,’ he said, his voice sounding strange to his ears. Rough and unused. Like his feelings. ‘She was pregnant, and she got pre-eclampsia. They did a C-section, but she was fitting when they took her into Theatre, and she died. So did the baby. My son. He lived for fifteen hours and seven minutes. He was twenty-six weeks. That’s why the DVD—’

He clenched his jaw, holding back the tears, keeping it all under control. For an age she said nothing, but then she dragged in a shaky breath and said, ‘Did he have a name? Your baby?’

‘Ye—’ He swallowed and tried again. ‘Yes. I called him Michael. It was my father’s name.’

‘Oh, Max.’

The tears welled in her eyes and splashed down over her cheeks, and she covered her mouth with her hand and tried to hold in the sob.

He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t watch her crying for Debbie and their tiny son, or for him, so locked in grief that he couldn’t even watch a film of his own daughters without replaying his baby’s short, desperate hours. He couldn’t watch it, or her, because, if he did, if he let the feelings up to the surface, they’d tear him apart like they had before, and he couldn’t take it all over again.

‘Oh, Max,’ she murmured, and he felt her fingers stroke away the tears that he could feel running soundlessly down his cheeks.

‘It’s OK, Max, I’ve got you,’ she said gently, and he realised that, far from tearing him apart, it felt good to let it go, because Jules was with him, and he wasn’t alone any more.

And so with a quiet sigh he turned into her arms, and for the first time in fifteen years he let the tears flow unchecked.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HE SLEPT until nine the following morning, the only time she’d ever known him to sleep late.

Even jet-lagged, he’d never slept for so long, so she crept into his room at eight to check that he was still breathing and found him lying spreadeagled on his front across the bed, snoring softly. The covers had slipped off one side, but the room was warm, so even though he was naked he wouldn’t be cold.

The urge to pull the covers up over him and creep in beside him and take him in her arms almost overwhelmed her, but instead she tiptoed out and went back downstairs and put the washing on, then let Murphy out into the garden for a romp. He brought her his ball on a rope, and she threw it for him a few times, but it was chilly out, and she didn’t like to leave the girls. They were getting so adventurous, and even in the playpen she didn’t trust them not to get up to mischief.

So she went back inside, and she put the radio on quietly and folded the washing that had aired overnight on the front of the Aga and made herself a coffee. Then, just when she was convincing herself he hadn’t been breathing at all and she’d imagined it, she heard the boards creak and the water running in the bathroom, and she gave a sigh of relief and relaxed.

They’d talked for hours last night. He’d told her all about it; about how he’d met Debbie, and how excited they’d been when they’d found out she was pregnant. And he talked about little Michael, and how he’d held him as he died, and how he’d vowed then never to put another woman at such risk.

‘So it wasn’t that you didn’t want children?’ she’d asked, pushing him, and he’d shaken his head emphatically.

‘Oh, no. I would have loved children, and the girls—Well, they’re just amazing. The most precious gift imaginable. I just can’t believe we’ve got them. But I don’t know if I could have coped with the pregnancy.’

‘So what would you have done if I’d told you?’ she’d asked, and he’d shrugged.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I could have gone through all those weeks of waiting, knowing it wasn’t going to be straightforward, watching you suffer, waiting for something awful to happen. I think it would have torn me apart.’

‘And if we were to have another?’

His eyes had been tortured. ‘I don’t know if I could take it. I’d rather not find out. We’ve been so lucky to have the girls. Let’s not push it.’

Not that it was really an issue. She didn’t really want to get pregnant again after the last time, and the doctors hadn’t seemed to think it would be a good idea, but in any case, until their relationship was a great deal more secure, there was no way she was going to risk it.

Even assuming she let him get that close.

But one thing she knew. She wasn’t going to let him sweep it all back under the carpet again. She was going to make him talk about it—about Debbie, and the baby, and how he felt about it—if it killed him. He owed it to them not to let them be forgotten, and so their memory would be treasured, and kept alive, and their girls would know one day that, a long time ago, they’d had a brother.