LITMIR.BIZ

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Carrying her, giving birth to her—it just makes it so much easier to love her. You know, I grew to love Maya, just as you’ve grown to love Kizzy, but I loved baby Lucie before she was born. Does that make sense?’

      ‘Absolutely.’ Emily nodded, thinking of Kizzy and how quickly she’d fallen under her spell, despite her best attempts to stay detached.

      ‘I don’t suppose there’s any progress with you and Harry, is there? I’d so love to see you two settled. You belong together—you always have.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ She gave a strangled little laugh. ‘Actually, I’ve got something to tell you. You know Harry’s gone? He’s in Indonesia, reporting on an earthquake.’

      ‘Really? Oh, Emily, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry—I haven’t noticed anything but the baby since I went into labour.’

      ‘No, well, I wouldn’t expect you to. But anyway, just before he went, he told me…’ She broke off, took a breath and went on, ‘He said he was thinking of putting Kizzy up for adoption.’

      Georgie’s expression was horrified. ‘Oh, Em, no! Oh, poor little thing! How can he?’

      She shrugged. ‘Says he can’t be a full-time father and carry on with his job. And I don’t know what to do. Dan says I should adopt her myself, but—I’ll never be free of him if I do that. And it’s so much worse this time.’

      She closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward so her hair shielded her face, but Georgie just reached out an arm and drew her down, holding her while she cried.

      ‘I miss him,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s so silly. But I’ve been really stupid and let myself fall for him all over again, and now he’s on the other side of the world and I just have this really bad feeling—’

      ‘Hush. You’ve had that really bad feeling every time you’ve seen him reporting from some hellhole or other. You need to get him out of your system—sleep with him. Maybe it’ll reveal some truly awful habits.’

      Emily straightened up and sniffed, rummaging for a tissue. ‘Nice theory. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to have any truly awful habits, so it didn’t work.’

      Georgie’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, my, you’ve done it. After all this time.’

      She nodded. ‘Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, but I just couldn’t let him go without knowing—just in case. And now…’

      ‘Oh, Em. I’m so sorry.’

      She sniffed again and tried for a smile. ‘No, I’m sorry. I should be here celebrating the baby with you, and all I can do is pour out my troubles. I’m a dreadful friend.’

      ‘Rubbish. You’re wonderful. Want to hold her?’

      ‘I’d love to,’ she said, and took the baby into her arms. ‘Gosh, she feels heavier than Kizzy!’

      ‘She probably is. She’s a real porker, and Kizzy was very tiny.’

      She nodded. ‘She was. She’s catching up now, though. Actually, there’s something else I should tell you—something else I’ve done which is incredibly stupid and just makes letting her go even harder. I’ve started breastfeeding her.’ She swallowed and forced herself to meet Georgie’s eyes, waiting for the revulsion, but there was only sympathy and compassion.

      ‘Oh, Em,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, how can you let her go? Now, after that?’

      ‘Wet nurses always did.’

      ‘They were usually poor women doing it for money or members of the same family. But you’ve done it for love.’

      She looked down at little Lucie, and sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, I have, but I shouldn’t have done. It was silly, but it turns out that formula upsets her, so I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been around.’ She brushed her finger over Lucie’s tiny palm, and it was immediately enclosed in a tight grasp. ‘Oh, she’s beautiful. Really strong. I’m so happy for you. I think you’ve been fantastic, both of you, taking on the kids, and I’m so glad you’ve got your own baby now. It just ties all of you together.’

      She sighed and handed her back. ‘I have to go. I’ve got work to do, and—’

      ‘Television news to watch?’ Georgie said astutely, and she gave a sad little laugh.

      ‘Maybe. You get some rest. She’ll be crawling before you know where you are. Enjoy her while she’s tiny, it’s over so very fast.’

      ‘I will. And ring me—any time you want to talk. Or come over. You know you’re always welcome.’

      Emily hadn’t lied.

      She did have lots to do, not least bringing order to Harry’s garden. If she could get it into some sort of shape before he came back, then it would be one less thing for them to have to deal with.

      She was convinced they had no future. Sleeping with him had been rash and stupid—and she wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but it hadn’t been her cleverest move. And she was more than ever certain that when he came back, he’d put the house on the market, give Kizzy up for adoption and that would be the last she’d see of him. If the garden was done, he’d be gone all the sooner and she could get back to normal.

      She scrubbed the silly, foolish tears from her eyes and marshalled the children. ‘Who fancies a picnic in the garden?’ she said brightly. They chorused, ‘Yes!’ at the tops of their voices.

      ‘Right, in the kitchen, everybody. Let’s make it now. Uncle Dan?’

      Uncle Dan unfolded himself from his chair, grabbed Beth and tickled her in passing and presented himself in the kitchen. ‘Give me a job,’ he said, and she handed him a pile of bread and the butter.

      ‘Just a scrape,’ she reminded him. ‘We’re having sandwiches.’ And she busied herself pulling out food from the fridge and the cupboards, and refused to allow herself to think about Harry or what he might be doing…

      It was horrendous.

      The heat, the flies, the stench of bodies trapped beneath the buildings. Harry scrambled over the rubble in his path and walked down a street he’d known for years—a street now unrecognisable. The buildings had crumbled, the shops and houses falling in on each other, and everywhere there were desperate people digging.

      He paused beside a house and spoke to a young man who was digging in the rubble with his bare hands. They were running with blood, but he didn’t seem to notice.

      ‘My wife and child,’ he told Harry, and the dust on his face was streaked with tears. ‘Just a baby. Help me.’

      Harry’s knowledge of the language was patchy, but the man’s simple plea was universal. He questioned him a little more, then turned back to the cameraman.

      ‘This is Ismael. His wife Rom is inside, with their two-week old baby son. He’s desperate, because he can hear them crying, but there aren’t enough rescue workers to help him find them, and time’s running out. They won’t have any food or water, and the baby’s cries are so weak now he can hardly hear him. He’s found a hole, and he’s trying to clear it to see if he can get inside. I’m going to help him.’

      He turned back to the man, tapped him on the shoulder and took the rock from his hands, lobbing it behind him. Together they shifted a large slab of what had once been wall out of the way, and crouched down, peering in through the hole. Ismael called his wife, and they heard a whimper from deep inside the building.

      Fresh tears spilled over the man’s cheeks, and he set about the rubble with renewed energy. Finally they shifted the last big lump of concrete out of the way, and the man lay down and squirmed in, calling as he went. He had a torch, and he was shining it around, then there was a shout from inside and Harry lay flat and stared after him.

      There, in the mass of rubble and wood and twisted

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