A Forever Family: Their Christmas Delivery

CHAPTER THREE

WHAT HAVE I DONE? Amy asked herself as Josh went to collect his duvet.

Two years ago, she’d been in what she’d thought was a secure relationship, trying to start a family. A year ago she’d had a broken relationship, broken dreams and a broken heart. This year, she was on an even keel; but it seemed that she was going to be spending the next week with a man she barely knew and a baby who’d been left on their doorstep. It was an odd version of what she’d wished for.

Josh came back carrying a duvet. She wasn’t sure if she felt more relieved or awkward that he was still fully dressed; clearly he intended to sleep in his ordinary clothes on her sofa. Though she guessed that went with the territory of his job.

He folded the duvet neatly over the back of her sofa. ‘Anything you need me to do?’

‘No. Hope’s milk is on the top shelf of the fridge. But help yourself to anything you want.’

He smiled. ‘Fifteen years ago, that would’ve guaranteed you an empty fridge.’

‘That’s what my colleagues at school say.’ She smiled back. ‘The boys leave crumbs everywhere, and the girls make chocolate mug cakes at three in the morning and leave everything in the sink.’

‘Mug cakes?’ He looked blank.

‘You mix everything together in a mug and then stick it in the microwave. Three minutes later, you have cake,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t actually tried it. But apparently it works perfectly when you really, really want cake at three in the morning.’

‘Three minutes. Hmm. You can make a cheese toastie in that,’ he said.

She smiled. ‘If you get the munchies when it’s your turn to feed Hope, feel free to make yourself a cheese toastie.’

He grinned back. ‘If I do, I promise I’ll clean up the crumbs.’

Almost on cue, Hope woke, wanting milk.

‘I’ll do the next feed,’ Josh said when she’d finished. ‘Go and get some sleep, Amy.’

Once Amy had showered and changed into her pyjamas, she lay awake in the dark, thinking that this was the Christmas she’d never expected. It must be just as weird for Josh, too, spending Christmas with an almost complete stranger—and tough for him, because his wife had left him on Christmas Eve last year and the memories had to hurt. But maybe looking after the baby would help distract him from some of the pain.

Part of her wanted to sleep for eternity, she was so tired—which was ridiculous, because she hadn’t exactly done much all day. But looking after a newborn baby had been fraught with worry that had unexpectedly worn her out. Was she doing the right thing? How would she know if she was getting it wrong? What if the baby was ill and she hadn’t spotted the signs? Or if she made such a mess of changing Hope that the baby ended up with nappy rash—and where would you be able to buy nappy rash cream on Christmas Day, when all the shops were shut?

The worries flickered through her head, stopping her from falling asleep. Part of her wanted to go and check that the baby was OK—but what if she woke Josh? He’d already worked a busy shift today at the hospital. Plus he was used to dealing with babies, and he’d said this was his shift; if he woke and found her checking on the baby, he might think she didn’t trust him. And if that upset him enough to make him walk out on her without really discussing anything, the way Michael had walked out on her, how was she going to cope with the baby all on her own for a week?

Be careful what you wish for...

She’d longed for a baby. Now, she had exactly that. A baby to look after. For a week.

And it was terrifying.

Maybe Michael was right about her. She’d been too stupid to guess that Gavin might have given her a symptomless STD, so when she’d finally discovered the truth the treatment had been too late to prevent the damage to her Fallopian tubes. So it was her fault that she was infertile. Maybe she was too clueless to look after a baby, too. Why, why, why had she agreed to help?

She heard the baby start crying, and glanced at the clock. She hadn’t even managed to sleep for five minutes. It was Josh’s turn to feed the baby, but clearly he was in a deep sleep because the baby’s cries grew louder.

Get up and see to the baby, she told herself sharply. The poor little mite has nobody. Stop being so whiny and self-pitying and get up. You can’t worry about not coping because you just have to. There isn’t another option.

She dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the living room. ‘Shh, baby,’ she whispered—but the baby just kept screaming.

Just as Amy scooped the baby out of the Moses basket, she heard Josh mumble, ‘My turn. I’ve got this.’

‘I’m awake now. I’ll do it,’ she said.

‘We’ll do it together,’ Josh said. ‘Cuddle the baby or do the milk?’

Amy inhaled the sweet, powdery scent of the baby.

A baby she couldn’t afford to bond with. So it would be better not to get too close now.

‘Milk,’ she said, and handed Hope to him.

‘Shh, baby,’ he crooned.

On autopilot, Amy boiled the kettle and put the baby’s bottle in a glass jug to heat the milk. She nearly scalded herself when she poured boiling water into the jug, and it splashed.

‘Everything OK?’ Josh asked, seeing her jump.

‘Yes,’ she fibbed. The last thing she wanted was for him to guess how stupid and useless she felt.

‘Sorry I didn’t wake sooner. I guess my shift took more out of me than I thought,’ he said. ‘I’m supposed to be helping. I’ve let you down.’

And then the penny dropped.

She wasn’t the only one finding it hard to do this.

‘You’re fine,’ she said. ‘We’re both new at this. I always tell my class, you learn more if you get it wrong first time.’

‘I guess.’ He sounded rueful. ‘Except a baby is a hell of a lot tougher than a page of maths problems. And, given how many babies I treat in the course of a month, I should be better at this.’

‘There’s a big difference between treating a baby and looking after one full time,’ she reminded him. ‘And didn’t you say to me earlier that Hope doesn’t know if we’re doing it wrong?’

‘Yeah. I’m glad I’m not doing this on my own,’ he said.

He’d admitted it first, so it made it easier for her to say, ‘Me, too. I never expected it to be this hard—you’re desperate for sleep, but you’re also too scared to sleep because you want to keep an eye on the baby.’

‘All the what ifs,’ he agreed. ‘Being a medic is a bad thing, because you know all the worst-case scenarios and your mind goes into overdrive. You start thinking you’re seeing symptoms when there aren’t any. And then you’re not sure if you’re being ridiculously paranoid or if you really are seeing something.’

‘And if you’re not a medic, you look up stuff on the Internet and scare yourself stupid,’ she said. ‘Being a parent—even a stand-in—is way harder than I thought.’

‘Especially the first night, when you don’t have a clue what to expect,’ Josh agreed.

‘We’re a right pair,’ she said ruefully.

‘No. We’re a team,’ Josh said.

And that spooked her even more. It was so long since she’d seen herself in a partnership that she didn’t know how to react. Then she shook herself. He meant they were a team, not a couple. She was reading too much into this. To cover how flustered she felt, she shook a couple of drops of milk onto the inside of her wrist to check the temperature. ‘I think it’s OK for her, now.’

‘Thanks. Go back to bed,’ he said. ‘I’ve got this.’

‘Sure?’ she checked.

‘Sure.’

‘OK.’ And this time she felt more relaxed when she snuggled under the duvet—enough to let her drift into sleep.

The next time the baby cried, Amy got up and scooped up the Moses basket. ‘Shh, baby,’ she whispered. ‘Two minutes.’

‘OK?’ Josh asked from the sofa, sounding wide awake this time.

He hadn’t been joking about usually being fully awake in seconds, then.

‘It’s fine. It’s my turn to feed her,’ she said quietly. And the way they’d muddled through together earlier had given her confidence. ‘Go back to sleep.’

She took the baby into the kitchen and cuddled her as she warmed the milk, then took the baby into her bedroom, kept the light down low, and cuddled the baby as she fed her.

This felt so natural, so right. But she had to remind herself sharply that this was only temporary and she couldn’t let herself bond too closely to Hope—or start thinking about Josh as anything more than just a neighbour. By New Year, life would be back to normal again. They’d be back to smiling and nodding in the corridor, maybe exchanging an extra word or two. But that would be it.

Once the baby fell asleep again, Amy laid her gently back in the Moses basket and padded into the living room. Josh was asleep on the sofa, and this time he didn’t wake.

* * *

A couple of hours later, when Hope started to grizzle again, Josh was awake in seconds.

‘Shh, baby,’ he whispered, and jiggled her one-handed against his shoulder as he set about making up a bottle.

When it had been his turn to deal with the baby, he’d made a complete hash of it. Not being used to listening out for a newborn, he’d slept through Hope’s cries. But it turned out that Amy had been having the same kind of self-doubts that he had. Given that she’d seemed so cool, calm and collected, he’d been shocked. And then relieved. Because it meant that they were in this together.

And they made a good team.

To the point where he actually believed that he could do this—be a stand-in parent to an abandoned baby.

Then he realised he’d been a bit overconfident when he burped Hope and she brought up all the milk she’d just drunk. All over both of them.

He really hoped Amy didn’t wake and find them both in this state. ‘I dare not give you a bath,’ he whispered to the baby. He knew she’d scream the place down, even if he managed to put water in the bath without waking Amy. But when he stripped off her sleep suit and vest, he discovered that luckily the baby wasn’t soaked to the skin. Unlike him—but he was the adult and he’d live with it. He changed the baby into clean clothes, gave her more milk, then finally settled her back into the Moses basket.

Which left him cold and wet and smelling disgusting. He could hardly have a shower right now without waking Amy, and he couldn’t go back to his own flat because he didn’t have a key to Amy’s. Grimacing, he stripped off his T-shirt and scrubbed the worst of the milk off his skin with a baby wipe.

Was this what life would’ve been like if he and Kelly had had a family? Would he have made as much of a mess of being a real dad as he was making of being a stand-in dad? Or maybe Amy was right and he was being too hard on himself. But he was seriously glad he wasn’t looking after the baby on his own. It helped to be able to talk to someone else and admit that you didn’t know what you were doing, and for them to say the same to you. And he was pretty sure now that he’d be able to get through this week—because Amy was on his team.

* * *

The next time Amy heard Hope crying, her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. Either the baby had slept a bit longer between feeds this time, or Amy had been too deeply asleep to hear her crying at the last feed.

When she stumbled into the kitchen to put the kettle on and checked the top shelf of the fridge, she realised it was the latter; Josh had done the last feed. He’d left her a note propped against the kettle. His handwriting was hard to read and she smiled to herself. Josh was definitely living up to the cliché of all medics having a terrible scrawl. Eventually she deciphered the note.

On early shift this morning—back for about 5.30 this evening—Merry Christmas, J

Christmas.

Amy hadn’t planned to cook the traditional turkey dinner; she hadn’t seen the point of bothering when she was going to be on her own. But now she had unexpected company for dinner. She didn’t have a turkey, but she did have the ingredients to make something nice. She could wrap a couple of chicken breasts in bacon, stir fry some tenderstem broccoli with julienned strips of butternut squash and carrot in butter and chilli, and make some baked polenta chips sprinkled with Parmesan.

‘I forgot how much I enjoyed cooking,’ she told the baby as she fed her. ‘I haven’t even had people over for dinner since I moved here. I always eat out with my friends. So maybe it’s time to move on a bit more and start doing the things I enjoy again.’

The baby simply drank her milk and stared at Amy with those huge dark blue eyes.

‘I’ve spent the last eighteen months living on autopilot,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t you ever make that mistake, Hope. Life’s for—well, enjoying.’

Though she was pretty sure that Hope’s mum was having a thoroughly miserable Christmas. ‘I hope we can find your mum,’ she said softly. ‘And I really hope we can do something to help her. I really don’t know why she left you in our lobby—whether she knew me or Josh from somewhere, or whether it was a completely random choice—but I’m glad she did, because I think you’re going to help us as much as we can help you.’ And she was glad that Josh had moved in on her floor, because the reason she’d got through that first night with a baby was because of him.

Once she’d showered, washed her hair and dressed, she sent Josh a text.

Hope you’re having a good shift. Alternative Christmas dinner this evening. Amy

And whether Hope was responding to her sunny mood and burst of confidence, Amy had no idea, but the baby seemed content, too; she wasn’t quite as fractious and unsettled as she’d been the day before. To her relief, there wasn’t one of the protracted crying sessions that had left Amy feeling hopeless and frustrated and miserable.

‘Merry Christmas, baby,’ she said softly. ‘It isn’t quite the one I think your mum would’ve liked for you, but hopefully the police are going to find her and reunite you in the next few days.’

Amy ate yoghurt and granola for breakfast, then looked at the small stack of presents beneath the tree. It felt odd, opening her Christmas presents all on her own. But she pushed away the melancholy before it could take hold. She intended to make the best of this Christmas, and she wasn’t the only one on her own. It must be much harder for Josh in the circumstances.

Most of the envelopes contained gift vouchers, but one friend had given her the latest crime novel by one of her favourite authors, another had given her some nice Christmassy scented candles and another had bought her posh chocolates.

‘That’s my table decorations and dessert sorted for this evening,’ she told the baby. ‘And in the meantime you and I are going to curl up together on the sofa and watch a pile of Christmas movies.’

CHAPTER FOUR

AFTER HIS SHIFT, Josh showered and changed before going down the corridor to Amy’s flat.

He felt a bit mean; she was cooking Christmas dinner for him, but he hadn’t bought her even a token present. Then again, neither of them had expected this Christmas: for a newborn to be left on their doorstep, and then to be looking after a stranger’s baby together when they barely knew each other. A present probably wasn’t appropriate in the circumstances. Besides, even if the shops had been open, he didn’t have a clue what kind of thing Amy liked—apart from coffee ice cream, and you could hardly wrap that and leave it under a tree. The wine he was carrying came from the rack in his kitchen, and the chocolates were a kind of re-gift. Which definitely made him feel like Scrooge.

‘Merry Christmas,’ he said when she opened the door in answer to his knock.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she said. ‘I thought we’d eat at about half-past six, if that’s OK with you?’

‘More than OK. You have no idea how much I appreciate not having to cook for myself, or be forced to munch the leftover sausage rolls people brought in to the department because I’m starving but too tired even to make a cheese toastie,’ he said with a smile. He handed her the chocolates and wine. ‘This is my contribution for tonight.’

‘You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’

‘And I have to admit that the chocolates are from the Secret Santa at work, which makes me a bit of a Scrooge for kind of re-gifting them,’ he confessed.

‘No, it just means that you don’t usually have chocolate in the house and there aren’t any shops open. And they’re definitely appreciated,’ she said, smiling back. ‘How was your shift?’

‘Let’s just say we’ve renamed one of the twelve days of Christmas. “Five Turkey Carvers”,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’ve done quite a bit of stitching up today.’

‘Ouch,’ she said.

‘So how’s our little one doing?’ Then he realised what he’d said and felt his eyes go wide. ‘Um,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t quite...’

‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘It kind of feels like being part of a new family.’

‘Even though she isn’t ours, and we’re not...’

‘...a couple. Yeah,’ she said.

Josh looked at her. Amy wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, but she was naturally beautiful. He itched to sketch her, and it had been a long while since anyone had made him feel that way.

This was dangerous.

Part of him wanted to run; but part of him was intrigued and wanted more. To cover his confusion, he asked, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

She shook her head. ‘Hope’s still asleep and I haven’t started cooking dinner yet, so do you want a glass of wine or a cup of tea?’

‘As it’s Christmas, let’s go for the glass of wine,’ he said.

‘And, as you said you wanted to help, you can open it.’

He followed her into the kitchen. When she handed him the corkscrew, his fingers brushed against her skin and it felt weird, as if he’d been galvanised. He was shockingly aware of her, but he didn’t dare look at her because he didn’t want her to guess what he was thinking. Had she felt it, too? And, if so, what were they going to do about it?

He shook himself mentally. They weren’t going to do anything about it. They were neighbours. Acquaintances. And that was the way it was going to stay.

He opened the wine while she took two glasses from a cupboard; then he poured the wine before lifting his own glass and clinking it against hers. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas,’ she echoed.

‘I haven’t bought you a present,’ he said, ‘and I feel kind of bad about it.’

‘I haven’t bought you one, either,’ she said. ‘I did think about wrapping up a bottle of wine for you or something, but it didn’t feel appropriate.’

‘Considering we hardly know each other and don’t have a clue what each other likes,’ he agreed.

‘We haven’t bought Hope anything, either,’ she said, ‘but it’s fine. Christmas isn’t really about the presents, and perhaps what we’re actually giving each other is a better Christmas than we were expecting.’

‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think you might be right. You’re a wise woman, Amy Howes.’

‘It goes with the territory of being a maths teacher,’ she said with a smile.

He liked her sense of humour. And, actually, the more he talked to her, the more he liked a lot of other things about her. Which again set his alarm bells ringing. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking like that. He was newly divorced. Not in a place to start anything with anyone.

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘we can make a kind of present for Hope. A book of her days with us. Photographs, that kind of thing.’

‘Add in her feed and sleep charts, too?’ Amy said. ‘That’s a really nice idea. And then she’s got something to keep.’

‘So how has it been with the baby today?’ he asked.

‘Easier than yesterday. We’ve been watching Christmas movies,’ she said.

‘Sounds like a good plan.’

‘Love Actually is one of my favourite films. And you really can’t top the Christmas lobster.’

* * *

Then Amy remembered that one of the storylines in the movie involved an affair. Talk about rubbing salt in his wounds. How could she have forgotten that Josh’s wife left him for another man, last Christmas Eve? ‘Sorry. I just put my foot in it. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.’

‘I’m not a fan of romcoms,’ Josh said, ‘and you haven’t put your foot in it—even though I get what you’re saying. This is way better than Christmas was last year, believe me.’

Which didn’t make her feel any less guilty. Just about anything would be an improvement on his last Christmas. ‘Maybe I should start prepping dinner,’ she said awkwardly.

‘As the baby’s asleep, is there anything I can do?’

‘You can keep topping up the wine and chat to me in the kitchen, if you like,’ she suggested.

‘I’d like that. Funny, two days ago we were almost complete strangers,’ he said, ‘and now we’re spending Christmas together.’

‘As a kind of blended family with a baby who’s a complete stranger, too,’ she said.

‘I still don’t know anything about you,’ he said, ‘other than that you’re a maths teacher and you have a brother who lives in Canada.’

‘And you’re an emergency department doctor who’s the youngest of four.’ She shrugged. ‘OK. So what do you want to know? I’m thirty.’

‘I’m thirty-two,’ he said.

Amy started chopping the carrots into matchsticks.

‘And you obviously enjoy cooking—or at least you’re good at it,’ Josh said.

She smiled. ‘Thank you, and I do. Does that mean you don’t?’

‘I’d rather wash up than cook,’ he said. ‘Obviously I can cook a few basics—you wouldn’t survive as a student unless you knew how to make stuff like spaghetti Bolognese and cheese toasties—but spending all that time making something that people will wolf down in two seconds flat and then forget about...’ He smiled. ‘Or maybe that’s the medic in me talking.’

‘So food’s fuel rather than a pleasure?’

‘At work, yes,’ he admitted. ‘Shamefully, I eat a chocolate bar on the run for my lunch way more often than I ought to.’