LITMIR.BIZ

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looked at her. ‘Think what through?’

      ‘Bringing up a baby.’

      He frowned, remembering the rain-lashed night when Carmen had been mugged, the night he’d landed and been greeted by horizontal rain and the news that his wife was on life support.

      ‘Of course I didn’t think it through,’ he said savagely. ‘I didn’t have time. I’d adjusted to the idea that I was going to be a father, but that was all. Not the implications. Not this. But she was my wife—for better, for worse and all that crap. What was I supposed to do, Emily? Tell them to throw the switch? Let the baby die, just because she was going to be a bit of an inconvenience?’

      Em blanched and shook her head. ‘No, of course not.’

      ‘No. And you’re right, at the time I just didn’t think it through. So now we have to deal with it. Correction. I have to deal with it.’

      ‘Except it seems to be involving me.’

      ‘Yes. I’m sorry. Well, I’ve tried. She’ll take soya milk. Perhaps we should just give her that from now on, cut you out of the equation.’

      ‘That doesn’t help you.’

      ‘It gives me more choices.’

      ‘Of child care?’ She shook her head. ‘Maybe you should look at your job,’ she offered softly, and he stared at her in astonishment.

      ‘My job? I can’t change my job.’

      ‘Why not?’

      He was shocked. ‘Because it’s me. It’s what I am.’

      ‘No, Harry, it’s what you do.’

      He thought about it for a second. Barely. ‘Isn’t that the same thing? Aren’t you a garden designer?’

      ‘No. I’m a mother, and I’m me, and I design gardens for people to earn a living. And I’m lucky that I enjoy it. But it isn’t me. It’s not what I am.’

      He stared at her for a long, puzzled moment, then reached for his tea, retreating behind it while he thought over her words. Do something else? He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Nothing. The noise, the drama, the terror and pain, the injustice—bringing all that into people’s homes and showing them what was going on in the world was how he spent his life.

      It was what he was.

      ‘I have to do it,’ he said urgently. ‘I have to show people what’s happening out there.’

      ‘No. Someone has to, Harry—but it doesn’t have to be you.’

      ‘Yes—yes, it does, Em. It does have to be me. It is me.’

      ‘In which case perhaps you’d better think about whether you’re the right person to be bringing Kizzy up, because if you go back to work and leave her with a succession of unsupervised nannies, then you’re no better than your parents, and frankly, you’d all be better off if you gave the baby up for adoption,’ she said quietly, and, picking up her tea, she went back inside without another word.

      He stared after her, stunned.

      Adoption? Adoption?

      He looked down at the baby on his lap, her head lolling in sleep, and felt a wave of emotion so powerful it nearly unravelled him.

      But maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t the ideal parent for this beautiful little girl. He’d never meant to be her father, not in this way. He’d meant to pay her way, secure her future, make sure Carmen had everything she needed for a good life. A safe life.

      And she’d died, as a result of his interference.

      Hot tears scalded his eyes, and he scrubbed them away angrily. No. He wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. This wasn’t about him, it was about Carmen, and her daughter, little Carmen Grace—the tiny Mini-Dot who’d stolen his heart.

      And he owed it to her to do this right.

      If he could only know what that was—but he was beginning to wonder if Emily hadn’t already told him…

      ‘Seen Harry?’

      Emily shook her head. ‘Not for ages. Um—I might have upset him.’

      Dan tipped his head on one side and studied her thoughtfully, and she swivelled her chair round from the drawing board and recapped their conversation.

      ‘You told him to put her up for adoption? Ouch. I thought I’d been harsh.’

      ‘What did you do?’

      ‘Oh, it was days ago. I told him she wasn’t a puppy and he couldn’t just stick her in kennels every time went off after a news story.’

      ‘Ow. What did he say?’

      ‘Not a lot. He was talking about nannies.’

      ‘Mmm. He was talking about them today, as well, but I don’t think he’s considered things like time off and shift patterns. He’ll need a fleet of them. I don’t suppose he’s even thought about it.’

      ‘No, he’s good at that. Fancy a coffee?’

      ‘No. I’ve just had one. Now, go away and amuse yourself. I’ve got work to do.’

      ‘Actually, I was looking for Harry for a reason. I was thinking I might go up to London for a few days. I was wondering about his flat—thought if it was empty, I might scab it off him as a base.’

      She felt a rush of relief, followed by guilt, because she still didn’t know what he was doing over here from New York and yet all she wanted was time alone with Harry—time in which to change his mind, to convince him that there was more to life than running away from it. And she’d got less than two weeks left.

      ‘I don’t think there’s anyone in the flat at the moment. You’ll have to ask him. Phone his mobile, he’s usually got it with him. Is Beth OK?’

      ‘She’s fine. She’s colouring in the kitchen while I read the paper.’

      ‘Send her in to me if you go out.’

      ‘Will do.’

      She heard the door close, and looked down at the drawing in front of her.

      Rubbish. It was rubbish, the planting totally wrong. And she couldn’t for the life of her work out what was right.

      Seemed to be a lot of that going on at the moment, one way or another, she thought, and pushed back her chair. She could hear Freddie stirring from his sleep, the thump of his cot as he turned over and sat up, followed by a little wail. She went up to his room and was greeted by outstretched arms and a watery smile, and she lifted him out and cuddled him close and wondered what on earth she’d do without him.

      ‘Want to go for a walk?’ she asked, and he nodded.

      ‘Beach,’ he said.

      ‘Maybe. Let’s find Beth and ring Georgie. If they’re busy we can go the other way and feed the ducks—’

      ‘Want beach! Want Harry!’ he said, his voice rising, and she soothed him and changed his nappy and took him downstairs past the reinstated stair gate.

      ‘Beach!’ he told Beth cheerfully. ‘San’ castle. Mummy, down!’

      She put him down and he ran to the door, beaming up at her. ‘Harry,’ he demanded, but she wasn’t at all sure Harry would want to come.

      ‘We’ll see. I think he’s gone for a walk.’

      ‘With Kizzy?’ Beth asked.

      ‘Probably.’

      They went without him, taking the buggy in case Freddie’s legs got tired, and met him on the cliff top. He was sitting with Kizzy in his arms, staring out to sea, and as Beth and Freddie ran over to him, he lifted his head and

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