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ought to be my turn,’ he said, ‘because she’s due some more paracetamol.’ He paused. ‘They weighed her at hospital. Can you remember how much they said she weighed?’

      ‘I didn’t even register it,’ she said. ‘I was so worried that they were going to find something seriously wrong.’

      ‘It’s gone clean out of my head, too.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I don’t want to guess at her weight and estimate the dose of paracetamol, so we’re going to have to weigh her.’

      ‘I don’t actually own a pair of bathroom scales,’ Amy admitted.

      ‘How about kitchen scales, and a tray we can put her on for a moment?’ Josh suggested.

      She snapped the light on and gave him a wry smile. ‘This has to be the strangest Boxing Day morning I’ve ever spent.’

      ‘Me, too,’ he said.

      But at the same time it was a morning that filled her with relief—even more than the first night they’d spent with Hope, because now she knew that with Josh by her side she could face anything life threw at her.

      ‘Give her a cuddle and I’ll get the scales out,’ she said.

      She put a soft cloth on a baking tray, then put it on her kitchen scales and set them to zero. ‘All righty.’

      He set Hope on the tray and Amy peered at the display on the scales. ‘Five pounds, ten ounces—or do you need it in metric?’

      ‘Pounds and ounces are fine,’ he said. ‘I know how much infant paracetamol to give her now.’

      He measured a dose of medicine for the baby and gave it to her through the oral syringe while Amy heated the milk.

      ‘Sofa?’ he asked.

      She nodded and he carried Hope back to the sofa. This time, after he’d transferred the baby into Amy’s arms so she could feed the baby, he slid one arm round Amy’s shoulder.

      It felt too nice for her to protest; right at that moment she felt warm, comforted and safe. After the scare that had taken them to the hospital, this was exactly what she needed. Maybe it was what he needed, too, she thought, and she tried not to overthink it. Or to start hoping that this meant Josh was starting to see her as more than just a neighbour. Yes, they could be friends. But on New Year’s Day they’d have to give Hope back to the social worker—and when that part of their lives came to an end, what would happen?

      Once the baby had finished drinking her milk—all sixty millilitres of it—Amy put her back in the Moses basket. Without comment, Josh put his arm round her shoulders again. Although part of Amy knew that she ought to put some distance between them, she couldn’t help leaning into him, enjoying the feel of his muscular body against hers and his warmth.

      They kept watch on the baby with the light turned down low, but finally Amy drifted back to sleep.

      The next time Hope woke, it was a more reasonable time. Josh fed the baby while Amy showered and washed her hair, and then she took over baby duties while Josh went next door to shower and change.

      She put cereals, yoghurt, jam and butter on the table, placed the bread next to the toaster, and while she waited for the kettle to boil she texted Jane Richards, the social worker.

      Hope doing well. Had a bit of a temperature in the middle of the night but we checked her out at hospital and all OK. We have a theory about her mum: might be a girl from my class, but no proof. How do we check it out?

      When she’d sent the text, she suddenly realised that she hadn’t signed it. From the context, she was pretty sure that Jane would probably be able to work out who the text was from, but she sent a second text anyway.

      This is Amy Howes btw. Not enough coffee or sleep! :)

      Josh was back in her flat and they’d just finished breakfast when his phone rang.

      ‘Do you mind if I get that?’ he asked.

      She spread her hands. ‘It’s fine.’

      He returned with a smile. ‘Remember Alison, the doctor who saw us last night?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘She’s bringing us a pram and a snowsuit. She’ll call me when she’s parked and I’ll go and let her in.’

      Amy blinked. ‘A pram and a snowsuit?’

      ‘I’ll let her explain. She’s about twenty minutes away.’

      True to her word, Alison called him to say that she’d just parked and had all the stuff with her.

      ‘Feel free to ask her up for coffee,’ Amy said as he headed for the door. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

      ‘Thanks.’

      He returned with Alison, carrying a pram, and Amy sorted out the hot drinks.

      ‘Thank you so much for lending us the pram and snowsuit,’ Amy said.

      ‘No problem.’ Alison smiled at her. ‘I didn’t think about it until after you’d left, but my sister was about to put her pram on eBay—it’s one of those with a car seat that clips to the chassis to make a pram. She’s happy to lend it to you while you’re looking after Hope. And her youngest was tiny, so I’ve got some tiny baby clothes and a snowsuit as well. At least then you can take her out and all get some fresh air.’

      ‘That’s so kind,’ Amy said.

      ‘She didn’t take much persuading,’ Alison said. ‘In situations like this, you always think how easily it could have been you or someone close to you. Poor little love. How’s she doing?’

      ‘Her temperature’s gone down—but, when we had to give her more paracetamol this morning, I forgot how much she weighed,’ Josh admitted.

      ‘So poor little Hope had to lie on a towel on a baking tray, so we could weigh her on my kitchen scales,’ Amy added.

      Alison laughed. ‘I can just imagine it. And, tsk, Josh, you being a consultant and forgetting something as important as a baby’s weight.’

      ‘I know. I’m totally hanging my head in shame,’ Josh said, looking anything but repentant.

      Amy suddenly had a very clear idea of what he was like to work with—as nice as he was as a neighbour, kind and good-humoured and compassionate, yet strong when it was necessary. Given his gorgeous blue eyes and the way his hair seemed to be messy again five minutes after he’d combed it, she’d just bet that half the female staff at the hospital had a crush on him. Not that he’d notice. Josh wasn’t full of himself and aware of his good looks, the way Gavin and even Michael had been. He was genuine.

      And he was off limits, she reminded herself.

      Alison peered into the Moses basket. ‘She’s a little cutie.’

      ‘Pick her up and give her a cuddle, if you like,’ Amy said.

      Alison smiled, needing no second invitation. ‘I love babies. Especially when I can give them back when it comes to nappy changes.’

      ‘Noted,’ Josh said dryly.

      ‘So she was just left in the lobby in your flats?’ Alison asked.

      ‘Yes.’ Amy ran through what had happened. ‘And we have a theory that her mum might be in my form group.’

      ‘But if the mum’s in your class, Amy, how come you didn’t recognise her handwriting?’ Alison asked.

      ‘Because she’s in my form group, not my class. I don’t teach her,’ Amy explained. ‘It means she’s there in the form room for five minutes in the morning for registration, and twenty minutes in the afternoon for registration and whatever other activities we’re doing in form time—giving out letters for parents, a chance for any of them to talk to me if they’re worried about something, and sometimes

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