Her Festive Doorstep Baby

‘Besides, there’s no reason why Josh should be interested in me,’ she added. She’d felt that frisson of attraction when they’d accidentally touched while caring for the baby earlier, but she had no idea whether it was mutual. ‘We might become friends. Which would be nice. But that’s it,’ she said firmly.

Hope gurgled then, as if to say, ‘How do you know what he thinks?’

She didn’t. But she did need his help, so she had no intention of doing or saying anything that might make him back away. ‘It’s just the way it is,’ she said. ‘And you, Missy, are going to have to go in the Moses basket for a few minutes, to let me put something together for dinner.’

In the end, Amy had to wait for Hope to fall asleep again. And then she worked at speed to peel and chop the veg, then put them in a casserole dish with a couple of chicken breasts and half a bottle of red wine.

By the time she’d finished, Hope was crying again. Amy suppressed a sigh and went through her mental checklist. Was the baby hungry, wet or just wanted a cuddle? And why was it so hard to work out which cry meant which?

* * *

Josh headed back to his flat after his shift. Right now all he wanted to do was to fall onto the sofa and watch something on TV that didn’t require him to think too much. He was bone-deep tired, and wished he hadn’t offered to help with the baby; but he had a feeling that Amy had only agreed to look after the baby because he’d promised to help. It would be pretty unfair of him to bail out on her now.

And she was cooking dinner for both of them. She hadn’t said anything about dessert, but he didn’t exactly have anything in his fridge that would pass muster. A bottle of wine was the best he could offer as his contribution.

He’d told her he’d be back for half-past eight—and it was twenty-five past now, so he didn’t have time for a shower. He was pretty sure he wasn’t sweaty and vile, and his hair had a mind of its own anyway, so it would be sticking out at odd angles within five minutes of him putting a comb through it. No point in wasting time.

Besides, this wasn’t a date. It wasn’t as if he had to dress up, or was trying to impress her by being smooth, suave and charming. Amy was his neighbour and he was simply helping with the baby who’d been abandoned on their doorstep.

At Christmas.

Not that you’d know it was Christmas, looking at his flat. It was even less Christmassy than Amy’s was, because he hadn’t even bothered putting any cards on the mantelpiece. He wondered if she loathed Christmas as much as he did. For him, Christmas Eve would always be the anniversary of the day his life imploded. When Kelly—who had been so adamant that she wanted to concentrate on her career rather than starting a family—had told him that she was pregnant. That the baby wasn’t his. And that she was leaving him for the baby’s father.

Josh had been too numb to believe it at first. But while he’d been saving lives and patching up wounds, Kelly had been packing her stuff, ready to leave him. Though in some ways she’d been fair. She’d been scrupulous only to pack things that were hers and to give him first dibs on anything they’d bought together; and she’d actually asked him to divorce her on the grounds of adultery rather than trying to make out that it was his fault or from joint ‘irreconcilable differences’. She’d done as much as she could to make it easy on him.

Happy Christmas. Indeed. Every single radio station had been playing Christmas heartbreak songs, and when the third station in a row had been playing a song about a man pleading with his beloved to come home for Christmas, Josh had given up and switched off the radio—because he knew that Kelly wasn’t coming home to him. Not for Christmas or at any other time.

He shook himself. It wasn’t Amy’s fault that his ex had changed her mind about wanting a baby and then decided that she didn’t want to have said baby with him.

And it definitely wasn’t Amy’s fault that his family had reacted in typical Farnham fashion. Josh, the baby of the family, was a big fat failure. He was the only one who hadn’t managed to combine a high-flying career with a perfect marriage and family. Obviously they hadn’t actually said the words to his face, but Josh was aware of it with every look, every raised eyebrow, every whispered aside that was cut short the second he walked into the room.

This year, Kelly would be spending her first Christmas with her new family. Including the new baby.

And Josh genuinely wanted her to be happy. Now he’d got most of the hurt and anger out of his system, he could see that he hadn’t been what Kelly had needed. If she’d stayed with him out of a sense of duty, she would’ve grown to hate him and it would all have grown miserable and messy. As it was, their divorce had been as amicable as possible. They’d sold the house and split the proceeds, and he’d bought the flat here six months ago.

But part of him was still in limbo.

And he really wanted to blot out Christmas Eve.

Except he couldn’t. He’d made a promise, and he needed to keep it. He took a deep breath and went down the corridor to Amy’s flat, then knocked on the door.

She opened it, looking slightly harassed, with Hope propped up against her shoulder. Clearly looking after the baby on her own had been hard going.

He suppressed the flush of guilt—he’d spent the last nine hours working his shift at the Emergency Department, not down at the pub taking part in several Christmas parties—and handed her the bottle of wine. ‘I didn’t know if you preferred red or white, so I played it safe.’

‘Thank you. It’s very nice of you, but you didn’t need to.’

‘You cooked dinner, so this is my contribution,’ he pointed out. ‘Something smells nice.’

‘It’s not very exciting, I’m afraid. Just a casserole and jacket potatoes, and all the veg are mixed in with the casserole.’

But it meant that he hadn’t had to cook. ‘It sounds lovely.’

‘It was the lowest-maintenance thing I could think of,’ she admitted wryly. ‘Looking after Hope took an awful lot more time and energy than I expected.’

Yes, and if things had been different he would’ve been celebrating his first Christmas with his daughter—except his ex-wife’s baby wasn’t actually his daughter. He pushed the thought away. ‘So I hear from my colleagues.’ And this was his cue to play nice. Amy’s brown eyes were so anxious, despite the calm she appeared to radiate. ‘Here. My turn to cuddle Hope and keep her happy for a bit.’

And that was definitely gratitude in her eyes as she handed the baby over.

Though her hands brushed against his as they transferred the baby between them, and a frisson of desire flickered down his spine.

Inappropriate. Amy was his neighbour, and he was helping out with a tricky situation. That was it, he reminded himself. He wasn’t going to hit on her and he wasn’t going to let himself wonder how soft her hair was, or how her skin would feel against his.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked.

‘A glass of wine would be lovely right now,’ he admitted. And it might distract him from all the ridiculous thoughts flickering through his head. Thoughts about how Amy’s mouth was a perfect Cupid’s bow, and wondering what it would feel like if he kissed her.

‘Hard shift?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s always busy this time of year. Ignoring all the viruses and the elderly coming in with breathing problems, there are the falls—especially when it’s icy like it has been tonight. And tonight the department will be full of people who drank too much at Christmas Eve parties and either ended up in a fight or fell and hurt themselves.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Tomorrow will be the people who had an accident carving the turkey, and a few more punch-ups because people who really shouldn’t be in the same room together for more than ten minutes are forced to play nice for the whole day and it’s too much for them, and the day after that will be the people who didn’t store the leftover turkey properly and gave themselves food poisoning.’

‘That,’ she said, ‘sounds a tiny bit cynical.’

‘Experience,’ he said, and grimaced. ‘Sorry. I guess I’m a bit tired and not the best company.’

‘It’s fine.’ She handed him a glass of wine. ‘Come and sit down. Dinner will be five minutes.’

He went into the living room and blinked in surprise. ‘You have a tree.’

She smiled. ‘Yes—and you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to put it up.’

‘But you didn’t have a tree this morning.’

‘That’s because I wasn’t intending to be here for Christmas,’ she said. ‘I was meant to be spending this week in Edinburgh with some of my oldest friends, but they rang yesterday to call it off because they’ve gone down with the flu.’ Amy shrugged. ‘There didn’t seem much point in putting up a tree when I wasn’t going to be here. But now I am, and it’s Hope’s first Christmas.’ Her fair skin flushed. ‘It might sound a bit daft, but I wanted to put up a tree for her.’

‘No, it’s not daft. I get what you mean.’ Josh paused. ‘So the lack of a tree earlier wasn’t because you don’t like Christmas?’

‘No.’ She frowned. ‘I take it you don’t like Christmas, then?’

‘It’s not my favourite time of the year,’ he admitted, and was relieved when she didn’t push it and ask why. Though his mouth didn’t seem to want to pay her the same courtesy, because he found himself asking questions. ‘So you’re not spending Christmas with your family?’

Amy shook her head. ‘My brother lives in Canada, so my parents spend alternate Christmases here and over in Canada.’

‘And this year is Canada’s turn, right?’

‘Right,’ she agreed.

‘So luckily for Hope that means you’re here.’

‘Yes.’ Her expression was sombre when she looked at him. ‘Things could have been very different.’

‘But you found her in time.’ He paused. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘I’m about to serve dinner, so if you want to settle Hope in her Moses basket, that’d be good.’

While Amy went to the kitchen, Josh put the baby in the Moses basket. Hope grizzled for a moment and then yawned and fell asleep.

Having dinner with Amy felt weirdly intimate. Like a date—though Josh couldn’t even remember the last time he’d dated. He’d had a couple of offers that he’d turned down, and some well-meaning friends had tried to match-make, but he’d taken them to one side and explained that he appreciated their effort but he wasn’t ready to date again.

Was he ready now?

And why on earth was he thinking about that?

‘The food’s very nice,’ he said, to cover his awkwardness.

‘Thank you.’

He didn’t have a clue what to talk about, and it made him feel slightly flustered. He was used to making polite conversation to distract his patients or get more information out of them, or being out with colleagues that he’d known for so long that he didn’t have to make small talk. This was definitely outside his comfort zone. Especially as he was becoming more and more aware of how attractive Amy was: not just those huge brown eyes, but the curve of her mouth, her pretty heart-shaped face and the slight curl to her bobbed hair. It made him itch to draw her, and he hadn’t felt that urge for a long time either.

‘So how long have you lived here?’ he asked, trying to get his thoughts back to something much more anodyne and much, much safer.

‘Eighteen months. You moved here last summer, didn’t you?’ she replied.

‘Yes. It’s convenient for the hospital, just a fifteen-minute walk.’

‘It’s about that to school, too,’ she said. ‘Just in the other direction.’

He remembered that she taught maths. ‘Did you always want to teach?’

‘I didn’t want to be an accountant, an engineer or an actuary, so teaching was my best bet for working with maths—and actually it’s really rewarding when the kids have been struggling with something and it suddenly clicks for them.’ She smiled. ‘Did you always want to be a doctor?’

‘It was pretty much expected of me—Dad’s a surgeon, Mum’s a lawyer, my brother Stuart’s an astrophysicist and my sisters are both lecturers.’ He shrugged. ‘One teaches history at Oxford and the other’s in London at the LSE.’

‘A family of high achievers, then.’

Yes. And he hadn’t quite lived up to their expectations. He’d suggested becoming a graphic designer and going to art college instead of studying for his A levels, and the resulting row had left him very aware that he’d been expected to follow in his parents’ and siblings’ footsteps. In the end he’d settled on medicine; at least there’d been a little bit of drawing involved. And he liked his job. He liked being able to make a difference to people’s lives. And he could still sketch if he wanted to.

When he had the time.

Which wasn’t often.

Pushing the thought away, he asked, ‘Have you heard anything from the police?’

‘Not yet. Though Jane the social worker came round with supplies this afternoon.’

‘So I notice. That Moses basket looks a little more comfy than a bunch of newspaper and a cardboard box.’ His smile faded. ‘That poor girl. I hope she’s all right.’

‘Me, too. And looking after a baby is a lot harder than I expected,’ Amy admitted. ‘Now I know what they mean about being careful what you wish for.’

He stared at her in surprise. ‘You wanted a baby?’

She looked shocked, as if she hadn’t meant to admit that, then glanced away. ‘It didn’t work out.’

That explained some of her wariness this morning. And it was pretty obvious to him that the baby situation not working out was connected with her being single. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.’

‘I know. It’s OK.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do to change it, so you make the best of the situation, don’t you?’

‘I guess.’ It was what he’d been doing since Kelly had left him. They’d sold their house and he’d bought this flat; it was nearer to work and had no memories to haunt him with their might-have-beens. ‘In the circumstances, looking after Hope must be pretty tough for you.’

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