Adopted: One Baby

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.

It was unbelievable. Her sister’s baby. Tiny. Hands so perfect. Skin almost translucent.

‘She wouldn’t be in Neonatal now if Vikki was here to look after her. She really has done tremendously well.’

‘Does she have to have the tube up her nose?’ Lorna asked, feeling… overwhelmed. By everything.

‘It’s a nasogastric tube. A feeding tube. If there are no complications I expect it’ll be removed in the next twenty-four hours. She’s taking all her feeds by hand now.’

A sharp pain ripped through Lorna’s head once more.

Vikki’s baby. There were photographs of Vikki with the same mop of dark hair. A small bundle of potential.

‘Do you know what Vikki wanted to call her?’

Lorna shook her head. She’d no idea. None. How awful was that? They’d never once discussed what they might call their children. Never talked about favourite names.

She couldn’t even do that for Vikki. She felt tears prickle behind her eyes.

‘No? Well, that was a silly question, really, if you didn’t know she was pregnant. But she needs a name, all the same.’ Ellie looked up from the sleeping baby. ‘What are you going to call her?’

‘Me?’

‘She can’t be Baby Drummond for ever.’

Lorna’s hand moved to rest against her stomach. A name? Vikki would probably have chosen something slightly alternative. Maybe Delilah… or Lola? Or…?

Her mind was a complete blank. She might not be the earth mother figure everyone was hoping for, but she wanted to get this right. A name stayed with you for life.

‘Choose something you like.’

‘Katherine.’ Her voice was husky. She’d no idea where that name had come from. Pulled from somewhere deep within her. ‘I’ll call her Katherine,’ she said, more firmly.

‘Nice.’ Ellie reached for a pen and wrote ‘Katherine’ on the notes hanging off the end of the bed, then leant over the cot. ‘Hello, Katherine. Your auntie is here, and you’ll soon be going home.’

‘She can’t go home with me.’ Lorna’s voice rang out, overloud. She hadn’t meant it to sound like that.

Ellie unbent and looked at her.

‘I—I want to make everything lovely for her. I do. But she can’t live with me.’

‘Lorna—’

‘I don’t know anything about babies.’ Her voice rose in a mixture of panic and desperation. ‘I’ve never even held one, and—’

‘There’s nothing that needs to be decided this moment,’ Ellie cut her off. ‘Don’t rush it. I’ll put you in touch with all the interested parties. Decisions can come later. Much later. You’ve got a lot to adjust to.’

But Lorna knew better. You couldn’t grow up with someone, share their secrets, and not know that if their situations had been reversed Ellie wouldn’t have hesitated. Katherine would have had a home, been loved.

‘There are lots of options for Katherine’s future. You’ll need to think carefully about them all. It’s important we get it right. She’s already lost her mum. That’s a tough start for anyone.’

Lorna glanced back at Katherine. She was sleeping. Her right hand was curled into a fist and resting against her cheek. ‘What will happen to her?’

‘If she doesn’t have a relative to take care of her, you mean?’

Lorna nodded.

‘Most probably she’ll be fostered while everyone makes every effort to find one.’

And if there aren’t any? Lorna didn’t need to ask the question out loud.

‘Eventually she’ll be put up for adoption. But not until everyone is certain her father isn’t going to step forward and claim her. There’s plenty of time.’

It was what she’d thought she wanted. All the way over on the plane. But it felt different when you were faced with a person not an ‘it’. Lorna brushed her hair back off her face, feeling the heat and the stress. Pain thumped through her temples. If she could just sleep. She was sure everything would be clearer then.

‘Did you come in by taxi?’ Ellie asked, watching her.

‘Yes.’

‘Then Rafe and I will take you home.’

Home. It had never really felt like a home. Not like Ellie’s. Ellie’s and Rafe’s. Their home had been full of comfy sofas, real coffee and walls of books. A wonderful, magical, warm place.

Their mother hadn’t screamed for constant attention or taken a cocktail of pills to keep her alive. And, unlike Lorna’s mum, she hadn’t relied on either of her children to run the house for her.

‘You don’t need to—’

‘We practically pass your front door.’

‘Will Rafe mind?’

Ellie laughed. ‘Why should he? I’ll take that as ayes, then.’

CHAPTER THREE

RAFE looked up as Lorna Drummond walked into the Bistro. She stopped in the doorway and appeared to be scanning the tables, looking for someone.

He didn’t like her much, but she was a stunning-looking woman. Ice-blonde hair cut in a tousled just-got-out-of bed style. Pencil-thin and expensively chic. High, high heels at the end of legs that seemed to stretch on and up for ever. He loved a good pair of legs.

Rafe sat back in his chair and admired the view. Who’d have thought Lorna Drummond would evolve into anything so glamorous? There’d been no suspicion of it a decade ago. Of the two sisters, Vikki had been the eye candy. A little too predatory for his taste, but undeniably a looker.

Lorna weaved her way through the melamine tables and queued at the self-service counter. He pulled his gaze away from the way the fabric of her cream skirt pulled tight across a neat bottom. Perhaps she’d had more in common with her flighty younger sister than anyone had imagined?

He sipped his black coffee and filled in the word ‘Botticelli’ for three down in his cryptic crossword. A shadow fell across his table.

Rafe looked up as Lorna sat down in the opposite chair. She put her coffee in front of her. ‘Ellie asked me to find you here. I’m afraid you’re taking me back to Little Mellingham. She’ll be down in ten minutes.’

He folded his newspaper in half once more.

Lorna twisted the cup round so that she could pick up the handle. ‘I meant to take a taxi, but…’ She looked up, and he watched a red stain work across her cheek. ‘Having fainted, Ellie won’t hear of it.’

‘Probably wise,’ Rafe said easily, and stretched out his legs beneath the table.

She’d blushed. He’d have laid money on there not being a woman over sixteen who still did that. His attention was caught.

Vikki, certainly, had lost the ability to blush around the age of eleven. He couldn’t make Lorna out at all. What kind of woman was she? Her words suggested one thing. Her blush something completely different.

Lorna picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. He watched as her face crumpled at the bitter taste. ‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Like tar,’ he agreed. ‘It requires a strong constitution.’

She returned it to the table and splayed her hands out on the melamine tabletop. Nice hands. Long fingers with carefully manicured nails. He liked women with beautiful hands.

He rather liked the way her hair curled about her face, too. It emphasised her almond-shaped eyes. Deep, deep brown, with flecks of topaz.

Rafe pulled the newspaper onto his lap and picked up his mug, swigging down the last of his coffee. ‘Have you seen the baby now?’

‘Yes.’ Her hands moved across the tabletop once more. ‘I’ve called her Katherine. She needed a name.’

Lorna had a nice voice too. The faintest hint of an American twang laid over the top of a Home Counties accent. But it was the husky edge to it that made it so sexy.

If the circumstances had been different he might have been very interested in this new incarnation of Lorna Drummond.

Particularly because he remembered the old Lorna. She’d been the girl who was too bright to fit in easily with her peers, and she’d not been helped by a pair of unattractive glasses and some very unfashionable clothes. Mainly he remembered her as a blushing appendage to his more vivacious sister. Until today she probably hadn’t managed more than three words in his company.

‘Sorry. Really sorry.’ Ellie arrived, clutching her handbag and a large plastic supermarket bag.

Rafe stood up, picking up his newspaper. And then he noticed Lorna hadn’t drunk her coffee. ‘Do you want to finish your drink?’

She shook her head and bent down to pick up her handbag.

‘I stopped to ring the garage about my car—’

‘“Car” being a loose term for what Ellie drives,’ Rafe slid in, noticing the overly tight grip Lorna had on her handbag.

His sister glanced up at him and laughed. ‘You might be right. It’s going to be a six-hundred-pound bill. I said I’d let them know in the morning.’

‘Not worth it. You should scrap it. Get something else.’ Rafe took the shopping bag from her and led the way out across the car park. ‘I’ll help you if it’s a problem. I’d rather see you in something safe.’

As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he hadn’t spoken. The safety of cars wasn’t exactly the most tactful of conversation topics, and he’d been insensitive enough earlier. He wouldn’t forget how awful he’d felt when Lorna had crumpled at his feet.

He glanced across at her. To a casual observer she looked as if she had everything together. It was only the vacant look in her brown eyes and that tight grip on her handbag that gave her away.

Maybe Ellie was right about her. She’d been certain Lorna would come back to the UK when she heard about the accident—and she had. She was equally certain her friend wouldn’t walk away from her niece. Perhaps she wouldn’t. And if she planned on staying around Sittiford that might be interesting.

‘I’ll get in the back,’ Ellie said, as they approached his sleek vintage Jaguar.

Lorna slid into the seat next to him, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her tight cream skirt rose up. She really did have the most amazing legs. Long and lean. Tempting to slide his hand up the creamy skin, feel the softness of her inner thigh…

Rafe set his key in the ignition and turned it. What was the matter with him? He must have been single too long, because his thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

Even so, he watched as she adjusted her skirt. Caught a waft of her light perfume as she bent forward to put her bag down by her feet. She probably had beautiful feet. Slender, like her hands. Hands and feet usually went together, in his experience.

‘You know where we’re going?’ Ellie cut in to his X-rated thoughts.

‘Little Mellingham,’ he answered smoothly.

The village was barely three miles outside Sittiford. A small ribbon of a place. A mix of old and rather beautiful houses and bland council housing. He glanced over at his silent companion. Her face was mask-like, telling him nothing. But the hands in her lap were tense, and still clutched tightly together. She was barely coping.

‘You’ll need to tell me where to stop.’

Lorna looked over at him. Scared brown eyes. ‘On the main road will be fine.’

‘No.’ Ellie leant forward in the back seat. ‘I want to see you safely inside. I still think you should have come back to mine, really. For tonight anyway.’

‘I’ll be fine. You know I always manage.’ Lorna looked over her shoulder. ‘I might as well start clearing the house.’ Then, ‘It’s the second on the left.’

Rafe swung the car round the left hand bend, towards a small close of council housing.

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