About the Author

NATASHA OAKLEY told everyone at her primary school she wanted to be an author when she grew up. Her plan was to stay at home and have her mum bring her coffee at regular intervals – a drink she didn’t like then. The coffee addiction became reality and the love of storytelling stayed with her. A professional actress, Natasha began writing when her fifth child started to sleep through the night. Born in London, she now lives in Bedfordshire with her husband and young family. When not writing, or needed for ‘crowd control’, she loves to escape to antiques fairs and auctions.

Find out more about Natasha and her books on her website www.natashaoakley.com

Adopted: One Baby
Natasha Oakley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my Mum

CHAPTER ONE

SITTIFORD was pretty enough, but it wasn’t somewhere you’d want to stay for long. At least it wasn’t if you harboured any kind of ambition beyond the cultivation of the most perfect petunia.

Lorna Drummond reached for her handbag as her taxi pulled into a lay-by within the hospital car park. So why had her sister chosen to come back to Sittiford to have her baby when practically the only thing they’d ever agreed on was the need to leave?

It didn’t make any sense. Not unless Vikki had experienced some kind of epiphany. She looked up and caught the driver watching her in his rearview mirror.

He swivelled round in his seat. ‘You’re the sister of that girl in the accident, aren’t you? The one who died?’

‘That’s right.’ Lorna reached for her purse, hiding her face with her blonde hair. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘£7.40, love.’ He reached out a tattooed hand to take the ten-pound note she offered, then, ‘I was sorry to hear about your sister and that.’

‘Thank you.’ Lorna convulsively reached for the door handle, desperate for escape.

‘The baby is doing all right, is she?’

‘I haven’t seen her yet, but I think so. Thank you. Please keep the change.’ She uncurled herself from the car and shut the door firmly, standing back to let the taxi drive away.

Lorna took a deep breath and looked up at the high walls of Sittiford Hospital. Gone was the dour Victorian building she remembered, and in its place was curved brickwork and commissioned sculptures.

And up there, apparently, was her sister’s baby. Vikki’s baby. It was unbelievable. She felt guilty thinking it now… but Vikki with a baby didn’t make any sense either. Her life was all about parties, new places, exciting people…

Had been about all those things, Lorna corrected silently. Vikki was dead. However many times she said that over to herself, she couldn’t quite accept it.

Ever since that late-night phone call she’d felt like a non-swimmer in one of those wave pools. Wave after wave crashing against her. Consequence after consequence. And each one coming so fast that it was difficult to know what she should be reacting to first.

Lorna walked across the sweeping drive towards the entrance to the Rainbow Wing. The doors opened automatically as she approached, and, obedient to the sign, she paused long enough to cleanse her hands with the jellylike hand-wash.

The heels of her shoes clipped loudly on the hard surface of the floor, and the sterile smell caught at the back of her throat. Vikki must have come back for a reason other than that she was pregnant. She’d hated this town. Hadn’t been able to get away quick enough…

Was the reason a man?

Somewhere out there was the father of her sister’s baby. Was he here? In Sittiford? And, if so, why hadn’t he come forward? Vikki had been irresponsible, and generally feckless in the choices she’d made, but she must have known who the father was.

Surely she’d told someone? Even if the police hadn’t been able to find them yet. Lorna came to an abrupt stop at the reception desk and waited while an involved conversation was translated by an elderly woman’s son.

It was the strangest feeling to know the baby’s father could be anywhere. The man sitting in the corner reading a newspaper. The one she’d just passed in the car park, perhaps? Anywhere. He could be absolutely anywhere.

Was he married? With other children? Was that why he’d not come forward yet? And, if he was married, did that mean he’d never come forward?

‘Can I help you?’

Her head spun round. ‘I’m here to see Baby Drummond. M-My sister—’

‘Ah, yes. They’re expecting you in Neonatal.’ The receptionist’s hand was reaching for her receiver before Lorna had time to consider what she was going to say. ‘I have Ms Drummond in reception now. I’m sending her up.’

The receptionist’s eyes were suspiciously glossy as she looked at her, and it made Lorna’s control falter. Too much sympathy was difficult to cope with. ‘You need the third floor. There’s a lift to—’

‘I’ll walk. Thank you.’ Anything to escape that caressing kindness. Lorna started towards a likely pair of double doors. ‘Through here?’

‘Yes. Third floor.’

Lorna pulled the door open and started up the staircase. At the large black number three she stopped to read the sign that stated Neonatal was to the left. She pushed through the fire door and walked onto a utilitarian landing.

One large window looked out on an ugly arrangement of cylindrical storage containers connected by pipes—who knew what for? Lorna stood for a moment, bracing herself for what was to come next, and emotion flooded through her.

It was all so sudden and unexpected. One moment she was living the life she’d chosen, happily immersed in academia, the next she was on a plane back to Heathrow and dealing with the death of a sister she hadn’t seen in almost nine years—and seemingly expected to deal with the baby she’d left behind.

It was all so ridiculous.

What did she know about babies? Or even family for that matter? She’d spent a decade avoiding both. Lorna placed a hand on her flat stomach as though it would stop the churning inside. She was scared. She didn’t do babies. Didn’t know one end from the other.

‘Not the best view,’ a male voice said behind her. Sexy, deep…

Startled, Lorna whipped round in time to see the lift doors close and a man walk towards her. Tall. Scruffy… In a kind of actor-promoting-a-film style.

‘Are you going in?’ he asked, indicating the buzzer with a tilt of his head.

Lorna’s eyes skimmed his denim-clad thighs, took in the worn leather jacket and continued on up to the too-long hair. A confident and all together too sure of himself type of male—with an incongruous pink teddy bear tucked nonchalantly under his arm.

No sooner had she thought it odd that a man like him would be carrying a soft toy than she remembered that this was outside Neonatal and he must have a baby in there…

She bit her lip. He might even be quite worried by that. He didn’t look traumatised, but he might be.

And at least he was here. Showing support. Doing the best he could. Shame if his best was a pink bear. ‘Yes. Yes, I am.’

‘Only you need to push the buzzer or they won’t know you’re here.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I was just about to buzz.’ Did she really look so stupid that he thought she couldn’t work that out for herself?

He was exactly Vikki’s type of man. The thought slipped into her mind. Her sister had always seemed to go for the kind of man who, personally, made her feel as if her blouse was buttoned up a little too high and her make-up just that little bit too perfect.

He strode forward and pushed the red button, and Lorna had ample opportunity to see that his denim jeans clung equally tightly to his firm buttocks. There was an arrogant confidence in every line of his body. Sexual simply because of the way he moved.

She hated that. It made her feel so uncomfortable. Some memory jagged, like cobwebs on nails. She’d seen him before. Or someone like him?

Had she seen him in one of Vikki’s photographs?

‘It doesn’t usually take this long to get an answer,’ he said, peering through the strengthened glass aperture.

‘I—I wouldn’t know.’

He glanced over his shoulder and then back, as a young and harried-looking student midwife pulled the door open.

‘Sister’s not finished her shift yet.’

‘No worries. Can you tell her I’ll wait in the Bistro. Oh, and I’ve brought this up for Baby Drummond—’

‘Why?’ The question shot from Lorna like a bullet from a gun, scarcely allowing time for her to register that the younger woman had clearly recognised him.

‘Sorry?’

‘W-why have you brought that for my niece?’ she asked, pointing at the teddy bear.

‘Niece?’ He turned and really studied her. He’d not done that before, and it made her feel flustered. ‘That must make you Lorna Drummond. I’d never have recognised you.’

Lorna pulled a distracted hand through her blonde hair. ‘Have we met?’

He held out his hand. ‘Raphael McKinnion. Ellie’s brother.’

Raphael McKinnion. Rafe McKinnion.

She allowed him to take her hand, feeling as though her stomach had been invaded by several hundred butterflies.

Ellie’s elder brother. At fourteen she’d have thought she’d died and gone to heaven if her best friend’s brother had so much as spoken to her. Now he was shaking her hand.

And still holding a pink teddy bear intended for her niece. Was Raphael McKinnion the reason Vikki had come back to Sittiford?

Her sister wouldn’t have been intimidated by a man like Rafe McKinnion. If she’d wanted him she’d have crooked her little finger and he’d have come running. All men had. Always. Like moths around a candle.

Whereas she… found them threatening. Just about as threatening as they usually found her. Lorna swallowed the hard lump in her throat. ‘And the bear?’

‘Oh, that. I’m afraid you’re going to find he’s just the tip of the iceberg. The hospital has been inundated with soft toys,’ he responded, with a swift smile at the student midwife—who melted in a pool of hormones.

Lorna felt a flicker of irritation. Nothing had changed in Rafe’s life then.

‘Why?’ Her voice sounded unnecessarily clipped.

‘Your sister’s accident has been in all the local papers. It’s touched a nerve, and people have responded in their hundreds.’

But not, apparently, the baby’s father. Lorna felt as if a big black cloak was being wrapped tightly around her. It was trapping her, stifling her…

And there was no escape.

Everyone expected her to take this baby. But how? She’d never even held a baby. Not once. She couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t in her. A feeling of nausea surged through her.

‘I’m sorry about Vikki,’ he said, watching her. ‘We all are.’

‘Th-thank you. I…’ She reached a hand up to hold her head as the walls started to close in on her. She felt so hot. Hot, and a little confused. Colours started to blur and the walls disappeared into blackness.

And then nothing…

‘She’s fainted.’

Lorna heard the words as though they were being spoken down a long dark tunnel.

‘Rafe, fetch a chair from my office and bring it out here, will you? Let’s get her sitting down and off the floor. She’s going to ruin her skirt down there, and it looks like it cost a fortune.’

It didn’t seem worth speaking. Lorna’s head was thumping and her eyelids felt unbelievably heavy.

‘Lorna? Lorna? Can you hear me?’ The female voice was quite authoritative, so she opened her eyes. ‘You’re going to be fine. You’ve just fainted.’ Then, seconds later, ‘Bring the chair over here.’

Which didn’t appear to be directed at her, so Lorna let her eyes shut again.

‘Lorna?’ A hand moved under her arm. ‘Come on, now, let’s get you up on a seat. That’s it. Now, put your head between your knees.’

Strange, embarrassing, but after a moment or two the world began to steady. She was aware of small rhythmic movements across her back, and a quiet-voiced conversation happening way above her.

‘I’m sorry. Really, I…’she began as she struggled to sit up.

‘Take it steady,’ said the voice that had been directing it all. Then the woman who owned it knelt down in front of her and smiled. ‘Feeling better?’

Familiar features swam in front of her face. ‘Ellie! I’m so glad to see you.’ Thank God it was Ellie. If she’d ever needed a friendly face this was the time. In all the trauma it hadn’t even occurred to her to hope her old schoolfriend might be on duty.

Ellie would know how unfair it was to expect her to take on responsibility for Vikki’s baby.

‘How are you feeling now?’

Terrible. ‘Fine. Better,’ she conceded, putting a hand up to steady her head. ‘In a minute. I’ll be fine in a minute.’

‘There’s no hurry. Take your time.’

Lorna leant forward and rested her pulsating head on her hands. She’d never fainted in her entire life. Slowly she sat back up. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be daft.’ Ellie broke off from her conversation and knelt down to Lorna’s level. ‘I ought to call someone, but—’

‘No! Please don’t. I should have stopped for something to eat. That’s all this is.’

Ellie bit her lip. ‘Let’s see how you are in a little while. After we’ve got a cup of tea inside you. Rafe?’ She turned her head to look up at her brother. ‘Can you help support Lorna? She might be a bit unsteady. I’ll manage the chair.’

The hand under her elbow felt strong. Lorna took a shaky breath and then responded. The room swam a little, and she reached out to clutch at the nearest support. Soft leather was beneath her fingers, and she looked up into Rafe McKinnion’s strong face. ‘My bag…’

‘I have it,’ said a new voice from behind her… it was too difficult to work out who it belonged to.

All she wanted to do was lie down somewhere very comfortable. Somewhere dark and quiet. Somewhere Rafe McKinnion wouldn’t be around to see what a fool she was making of herself.

‘Tea, please, nurse,’ Ellie said, putting the chair down and coaxing Lorna into it. ‘As soon as you have a moment.

‘I’m so sorry. I’ve never fainted before. I’m—’

‘—having the worst day of your life,’ Rafe finished for her. Lorna looked across at him and his mouth twisted. ‘Don’t apologise for anything. This must be very difficult for you. How are you feeling now?’

She let her hands fall back into her lap. ‘It wasn’t that. I’m…’ She trailed off. Having the worst day of her life was exactly right. In fact, she was slap-bang in the middle of the worst week of her life.

‘Tea.’ Ellie came back into her vision and handed her a cup and saucer. ‘I’ve also asked for some toast and butter.’

Lorna smiled, though she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage to eat anything. Everything had tasted like cardboard since she’d heard the news.

Strange how funny little things she’d thought she’d forgotten long ago were coming back to her. Like the genuinely good times she’d shared with her sister when they were very young…

‘It should help, even if you don’t feel like eating it,’ Ellie said, reading her mind as she moved to sit behind her desk. ‘Do you remember my brother, Raphael? Rafe, this is Lorna Drummond.’

‘We introduced ourselves out on the landing,’ Rafe said, moving forward suddenly as her cup tipped. ‘Careful.’

She felt so woozy, but the tea was warm. Sweet. She looked up and caught the edge of Rafe’s smile. He must think she was a complete no-hoper. But then he’d probably always thought that about her. Assuming he’d ever thought about her at all. Which he almost certainly hadn’t.

The boffin and the sex god. There was a joke in there somewhere. Oh hell.

Lorna took another sip of tea and concentrated on bringing it down in the centre of her saucer. It was easier to do that than risk seeing what Ellie’s elder brother thought of her now.

There was a brief knock at the door, followed by, ‘Sister, can you take a look at Baby Benjamin? His BP is a little low…’

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me for a minute,’ Ellie said standing. ‘Just sit quietly and drink your tea. This’ll probably not take more than a moment.’

The door shut behind her and there was silence.

Rafe shrugged his way out of his jacket and threw it across the back of the chair. ‘It’s hot in here.’ Then, ‘Have you only just flown in?’

‘Yes.’ She bristled against the implied criticism. No doubt he’d have been able to clear his desk in minutes, but she had responsibilities. Things she’d needed to do first. ‘Almost.’ She’d almost just flown in. She took another sip of tea, letting the warmth slide down her throat, and tried again. ‘I’ve already been to the police station.’

Lorna rubbed her fingers against her left temple. She felt so tired. So buffeted.

‘Have they given you all the details? About the accident?’

‘Well, they told me they found her car in a ditch.’ Precious few details, it seemed to her. They’d been more interested in asking questions.

Questions she hadn’t been able to answer. She’d absolutely no idea whether her sister was usually considered a safe driver. She didn’t know why Vikki might have been in Sittiford. And she couldn’t even begin to speculate on whether her accident might possibly not have been an accident at all.

Guilt ripped through her, and the pain in her left temple intensified. Sisters should know things about one another. She should have tried harder to find some common ground between them. Fought harder to stay in real contact.

Rafe moved to perch on the table in front of her. ‘If it’s any consolation, I doubt she’d have known much about it. Ellie said she never regained consciousness.’

‘The police said that too.’ Lorna sipped her tea, struggling to swallow past the hard lump in her throat. ‘They hoped I’d know who they should contact about the baby.’

‘Don’t you?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t even know she was pregnant.’

Rafe didn’t react. ‘So what happens now?’ he asked quietly.

The million-dollar question. What would happen now? ‘They seem to want me to take responsibility for the baby. Since I’m the only relative to have come forward so far.’

‘You want that too, don’t you?’

Lorna’s hand shook as she picked up the teacup. ‘No. No, I don’t.’ Deep inside her she felt a scream building. A mixture of panic, anger and pure fear. ‘Why the… hell does everyone think I would?’

CHAPTER TWO

RAFE’S eyes narrowed, but other than that he schooled his features not to react. It was, after all, none of his business.

Even so, he couldn’t help but have an opinion on a statement like that. It was repulsive.

And it was going to shock anyone who heard it. The general assumption was that she’d want to take on the care of her sister’s baby. Even Ellie thought it… and she knew Lorna better than most.

But clearly not well enough.

The uptight blonde seemed to have no intention of doing anything that might conflict with the way she’d arranged her life. He might have some sympathy for her not wanting the responsibility of a child—he’d avoided it himself—but he couldn’t like it.

Selfishness was unattractive. Always. And with a motherless baby girl needing someone to love and nurture her he thought it inexcusable. Family was everything. And anything else was always going to be a poor alternative.

‘I don’t know anything about babies.’ She brushed a hand across her face, clearly defensive. ‘I don’t like them. And they don’t like me.’

Rafe said nothing. What was there to say? He didn’t know a great deal about babies himself. Time bombs waiting to explode, he thought them. But…

This was an exceptional situation. Under these circumstances, surely one would simply get on with it?

He looked at her curiously. Lorna had to be colder than ice to seriously contemplate putting her sister’s daughter in foster care. Because that was what her refusal would mean. Did she realise that?

‘I’m sorry,’ Ellie said, returning and shutting the door. ‘Everything’s fine with Baby Benjamin. How are you feeling?’

‘B-better. Much better.’

Lorna didn’t look in Rafe’s direction again. No doubt ashamed. And with reason.

‘Good.’

Rafe took in his sister’s warm smile, and the real concern in her face as she looked at her friend—he didn’t understand it. Normally she valued kindness over and above any other virtue. If Lorna were that cold, why did Ellie like her so much? And she did. Lorna Drummond was one of the few people Ellie had conscientiously kept in touch with over the years.

He looked at the nervous twitch of Lorna’s hands, the tight hold of her mouth. She was tighter than a bowstring. Beyond grief, he thought. Frightened.

‘Why don’t you slip your cardigan off?’ Ellie suggested, sitting down and pulling a pile of papers towards her. ‘It’s kept very warm in here for the babies. Then… we’d better get the business side of this out of the way, so I can introduce you to your niece.’

Rafe stood up and held out his hand for Lorna’s empty teacup. She passed it over with the merest flick of a look in his direction.

‘I’ll wait downstairs in the Bistro for you,’ he said, with a glance at his sister as he set the cup and saucer on the table. ‘There’s no hurry.’

He turned in time to see Lorna pull at the oyster-pink ribbon holding her cardigan together. Like her skirt, the cardigan shrieked money. Whatever else Ms Drummond was, she wasn’t financially challenged. No reason there for her to refuse to care for her sister’s baby.

Ellie was going to be disappointed. And he hated to see her rose-tinted view of humanity challenged.

‘Thanks, Rafe.’ His sister smiled, first at him and then at the woman opposite. ‘My car is at the garage, and since Rafe has nothing to do…’

‘But serve you,’ he agreed smoothly, picking up his jacket.

Perhaps he was being too hasty in judging Lorna? She’d only said she didn’t want to take on responsibility for her sister’s baby, not that she wouldn’t.

There was no doubt it would be a steep learning curve for her. Not that he imagined for one second much of the actual care would be done by her. Not exactly the ‘yummy mummy’ type, Ms Drummond.

‘I’ll see you later.’ He nodded at Lorna. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you. Again.’

The door clicked shut.

Ellie smiled. ‘Rafe’s been very good to me since Steve left. And it’s so nice to have him near again rather than travelling all over. He’s just bought a place on the outskirts of Framley…’

Lorna couldn’t think what there was on the outskirts of Framley, baring Priory Manor, but she wasn’t particularly interested in where he’d bought a house. She was just glad he’d left and taken his disturbing presence with him.

Rafe McKinnion seemed to have the ability to fill a room simply by being in it. And it made her uncomfortable. He’d always made her feel uncomfortable. Right back when he’d been the boy every girl had secretly hoped would take them behind the bike sheds. A little bit bad… and a whole lot fascinating.

‘I’m so sorry about Vikki. I know you two weren’t close, but…’ Ellie trailed off and reached for a brown file among the pile of papers on her desk. ‘Had you spoken to her recently?’

Lorna shook her head. ‘I sent her an e-mail last Christmas and she replied to it.’ Lorna rubbed a hand up her arm. ‘She must have been pregnant then, but she didn’t tell me.’

‘So you’ve no idea who the father might be?’

‘I’d long since stopped asking if she was seeing anyone.’ It had been too difficult. Vikki’s life had been so different from anything she would ever want for herself. ‘I should have tried harder. I could have helped her, perhaps.’

‘You weren’t to know she was expecting a baby. Not if she didn’t tell you.’

But she should have known. Wasn’t that the point? They’d been sisters. Sisters should share things, care about each other…

It was all too late now. Vikki was gone… and she felt numb about it. Why hadn’t she cried? There must be something lacking in her that she couldn’t cry for her own sister.

‘I don’t know how I feel.’ The words were wrenched out of her. ‘I haven’t cried. Not once.’

Ellie reached out and touched her hand. ‘Early days, hon. There’s no right or wrong way to feel, and there’s no use pretending you feel something if you don’t. Vikki was a difficult person to be close to.’

Lorna drew in a shaky breath. Glad beyond description that it was Ellie sitting the other side of the desk. Glad for the gentle touch on her hand and the understanding that shone from her eyes.

She sniffed—and she never sniffed. She looked round for her handbag, to find the small packet of tissues she always kept in the front zipped pocket. ‘What do I have to do here?’

‘Primarily, meet your niece. And I need some contact details from you…’

Lorna nodded. She felt so tired. Normally she was the type of woman who got things done, took control of situations, but here, now, she felt as if she was clawing through fog.

‘Where are you staying?’

‘Mum’s old house. Vikki lives—lived—there.’ She put her bag down on the floor. ‘I dropped my things off there before talking to the police.’

Ellie wrote down the address. ‘How much have the police been able to tell you about the accident?’

‘They don’t seem to know much about it yet. No other cars seem to have been involved. Vikki had no alcohol in her system.’ Lorna put a hand up to her temple and tried to remember exactly what she had been told. ‘They said one of the paramedics noticed Vikki was having contractions…’

Lorna felt her throat tighten. She couldn’t bear to think of Vikki trapped in the wreckage. It was too difficult, too graphic.

‘Vikki had an amniotic embolism,’ Ellie began, after a moment. Her voice had become matter-of-fact, exactly what Lorna needed. Facts appealed to the scientific part of her brain. She could deal with facts. Respond appropriately.

‘It’s rare—usually fatal for both mother and baby.’

‘Wh-what is it, exactly?’

‘It’s where—’ There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Ellie stopped. ‘Yes?’ It opened, and the student midwife entered carrying a plate of buttery toast. ‘Ah, thank you. You’ll probably feel much better when you’ve eaten something.’

Lorna smiled her thanks, even though she’d given up adding fat to her food more than three years ago. Future cholesterol issues seemed very insignificant right now.

The door shut and Ellie continued. ‘An amniotic embolism is where the amniotic fluid is forced into the mother’s bloodstream. As I’ve said, it’s incredibly rare, and usually fatal for both mother and baby.’

But not this time. This time the baby had survived. Lorna picked up a triangle of toast and took a bite.

‘Your niece is a little miracle. Baby Drummond, as we’ve been calling her, was born by emergency Caesarean section at 5:06 a.m. on the 26th. We’ve estimated her to be at about thirty-four weeks’ gestation, but Vikki didn’t seem to have had any antenatal care anywhere.’ Ellie looked down at her notes. ‘Baby scored three in the Apgar test—’

Lorna didn’t even try and understand what that meant. Three out of what? Five? Ten? She could tell from her friend’s expression that it wasn’t good.

‘But she’s now holding her own beautifully, and I imagine she’ll be discharged towards the end of the week. Maybe sooner. She really is doing that well.’ Ellie looked up. ‘Lorna?’

Lorna looked up too, with a start. ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to work out if I knew where Vikki might have been thirty-four weeks ago.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve got no idea. No use, am I?’

‘Concentrate on what you can do.’ Ellie smiled gently. ‘I think you need to see baby. She’s beautiful. You’re going to love her.’

From a distance. That was all she was capable of. She was all cared out. Surely Ellie knew that?

‘She’s a really good birth weight for a prem baby. Her biggest difficulty has been that she suffered severe birth asphyxia.’

Lorna tried to concentrate on what Ellie was saying, but it was desperately difficult. She obediently washed her hands once more, and walked towards the small ward of maybe six incubators. Or were they called cots? Plastic cots.

And only two were filled. ‘This is Benjamin. He weighed two pounds fourteen ounces at birth, and is a real fighter. And this,’ she said moving along one, ‘is your niece.’

Lorna looked down at Vikki’s baby.

It was unbelievable. Her sister’s baby. Tiny. Hands so perfect. Skin almost translucent.

‘She wouldn’t be in Neonatal now if Vikki was here to look after her. She really has done tremendously well.’

‘Does she have to have the tube up her nose?’ Lorna asked, feeling… overwhelmed. By everything.

‘It’s a nasogastric tube. A feeding tube. If there are no complications I expect it’ll be removed in the next twenty-four hours. She’s taking all her feeds by hand now.’

A sharp pain ripped through Lorna’s head once more.

Vikki’s baby. There were photographs of Vikki with the same mop of dark hair. A small bundle of potential.

‘Do you know what Vikki wanted to call her?’

Lorna shook her head. She’d no idea. None. How awful was that? They’d never once discussed what they might call their children. Never talked about favourite names.

She couldn’t even do that for Vikki. She felt tears prickle behind her eyes.

‘No? Well, that was a silly question, really, if you didn’t know she was pregnant. But she needs a name, all the same.’ Ellie looked up from the sleeping baby. ‘What are you going to call her?’

‘Me?’

‘She can’t be Baby Drummond for ever.’

Lorna’s hand moved to rest against her stomach. A name? Vikki would probably have chosen something slightly alternative. Maybe Delilah… or Lola? Or…?

Her mind was a complete blank. She might not be the earth mother figure everyone was hoping for, but she wanted to get this right. A name stayed with you for life.

‘Choose something you like.’

‘Katherine.’ Her voice was husky. She’d no idea where that name had come from. Pulled from somewhere deep within her. ‘I’ll call her Katherine,’ she said, more firmly.

‘Nice.’ Ellie reached for a pen and wrote ‘Katherine’ on the notes hanging off the end of the bed, then leant over the cot. ‘Hello, Katherine. Your auntie is here, and you’ll soon be going home.’

‘She can’t go home with me.’ Lorna’s voice rang out, overloud. She hadn’t meant it to sound like that.

Ellie unbent and looked at her.

‘I—I want to make everything lovely for her. I do. But she can’t live with me.’

‘Lorna—’

‘I don’t know anything about babies.’ Her voice rose in a mixture of panic and desperation. ‘I’ve never even held one, and—’

‘There’s nothing that needs to be decided this moment,’ Ellie cut her off. ‘Don’t rush it. I’ll put you in touch with all the interested parties. Decisions can come later. Much later. You’ve got a lot to adjust to.’

But Lorna knew better. You couldn’t grow up with someone, share their secrets, and not know that if their situations had been reversed Ellie wouldn’t have hesitated. Katherine would have had a home, been loved.

‘There are lots of options for Katherine’s future. You’ll need to think carefully about them all. It’s important we get it right. She’s already lost her mum. That’s a tough start for anyone.’

Lorna glanced back at Katherine. She was sleeping. Her right hand was curled into a fist and resting against her cheek. ‘What will happen to her?’

‘If she doesn’t have a relative to take care of her, you mean?’

Lorna nodded.

‘Most probably she’ll be fostered while everyone makes every effort to find one.’

And if there aren’t any? Lorna didn’t need to ask the question out loud.

‘Eventually she’ll be put up for adoption. But not until everyone is certain her father isn’t going to step forward and claim her. There’s plenty of time.’

It was what she’d thought she wanted. All the way over on the plane. But it felt different when you were faced with a person not an ‘it’. Lorna brushed her hair back off her face, feeling the heat and the stress. Pain thumped through her temples. If she could just sleep. She was sure everything would be clearer then.

‘Did you come in by taxi?’ Ellie asked, watching her.

‘Yes.’

‘Then Rafe and I will take you home.’

Home. It had never really felt like a home. Not like Ellie’s. Ellie’s and Rafe’s. Their home had been full of comfy sofas, real coffee and walls of books. A wonderful, magical, warm place.

Their mother hadn’t screamed for constant attention or taken a cocktail of pills to keep her alive. And, unlike Lorna’s mum, she hadn’t relied on either of her children to run the house for her.

‘You don’t need to—’

‘We practically pass your front door.’

‘Will Rafe mind?’

Ellie laughed. ‘Why should he? I’ll take that as ayes, then.’

CHAPTER THREE

RAFE looked up as Lorna Drummond walked into the Bistro. She stopped in the doorway and appeared to be scanning the tables, looking for someone.

He didn’t like her much, but she was a stunning-looking woman. Ice-blonde hair cut in a tousled just-got-out-of bed style. Pencil-thin and expensively chic. High, high heels at the end of legs that seemed to stretch on and up for ever. He loved a good pair of legs.

Rafe sat back in his chair and admired the view. Who’d have thought Lorna Drummond would evolve into anything so glamorous? There’d been no suspicion of it a decade ago. Of the two sisters, Vikki had been the eye candy. A little too predatory for his taste, but undeniably a looker.

Lorna weaved her way through the melamine tables and queued at the self-service counter. He pulled his gaze away from the way the fabric of her cream skirt pulled tight across a neat bottom. Perhaps she’d had more in common with her flighty younger sister than anyone had imagined?

He sipped his black coffee and filled in the word ‘Botticelli’ for three down in his cryptic crossword. A shadow fell across his table.

Rafe looked up as Lorna sat down in the opposite chair. She put her coffee in front of her. ‘Ellie asked me to find you here. I’m afraid you’re taking me back to Little Mellingham. She’ll be down in ten minutes.’

He folded his newspaper in half once more.

Lorna twisted the cup round so that she could pick up the handle. ‘I meant to take a taxi, but…’ She looked up, and he watched a red stain work across her cheek. ‘Having fainted, Ellie won’t hear of it.’

‘Probably wise,’ Rafe said easily, and stretched out his legs beneath the table.

She’d blushed. He’d have laid money on there not being a woman over sixteen who still did that. His attention was caught.

Vikki, certainly, had lost the ability to blush around the age of eleven. He couldn’t make Lorna out at all. What kind of woman was she? Her words suggested one thing. Her blush something completely different.

Lorna picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. He watched as her face crumpled at the bitter taste. ‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Like tar,’ he agreed. ‘It requires a strong constitution.’

She returned it to the table and splayed her hands out on the melamine tabletop. Nice hands. Long fingers with carefully manicured nails. He liked women with beautiful hands.

He rather liked the way her hair curled about her face, too. It emphasised her almond-shaped eyes. Deep, deep brown, with flecks of topaz.

Rafe pulled the newspaper onto his lap and picked up his mug, swigging down the last of his coffee. ‘Have you seen the baby now?’

‘Yes.’ Her hands moved across the tabletop once more. ‘I’ve called her Katherine. She needed a name.’

Lorna had a nice voice too. The faintest hint of an American twang laid over the top of a Home Counties accent. But it was the husky edge to it that made it so sexy.

If the circumstances had been different he might have been very interested in this new incarnation of Lorna Drummond.

Particularly because he remembered the old Lorna. She’d been the girl who was too bright to fit in easily with her peers, and she’d not been helped by a pair of unattractive glasses and some very unfashionable clothes. Mainly he remembered her as a blushing appendage to his more vivacious sister. Until today she probably hadn’t managed more than three words in his company.

‘Sorry. Really sorry.’ Ellie arrived, clutching her handbag and a large plastic supermarket bag.

Rafe stood up, picking up his newspaper. And then he noticed Lorna hadn’t drunk her coffee. ‘Do you want to finish your drink?’

She shook her head and bent down to pick up her handbag.

‘I stopped to ring the garage about my car—’

‘“Car” being a loose term for what Ellie drives,’ Rafe slid in, noticing the overly tight grip Lorna had on her handbag.

His sister glanced up at him and laughed. ‘You might be right. It’s going to be a six-hundred-pound bill. I said I’d let them know in the morning.’

‘Not worth it. You should scrap it. Get something else.’ Rafe took the shopping bag from her and led the way out across the car park. ‘I’ll help you if it’s a problem. I’d rather see you in something safe.’

As soon as the words left his mouth he wished he hadn’t spoken. The safety of cars wasn’t exactly the most tactful of conversation topics, and he’d been insensitive enough earlier. He wouldn’t forget how awful he’d felt when Lorna had crumpled at his feet.

He glanced across at her. To a casual observer she looked as if she had everything together. It was only the vacant look in her brown eyes and that tight grip on her handbag that gave her away.

Maybe Ellie was right about her. She’d been certain Lorna would come back to the UK when she heard about the accident—and she had. She was equally certain her friend wouldn’t walk away from her niece. Perhaps she wouldn’t. And if she planned on staying around Sittiford that might be interesting.

‘I’ll get in the back,’ Ellie said, as they approached his sleek vintage Jaguar.

Lorna slid into the seat next to him, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her tight cream skirt rose up. She really did have the most amazing legs. Long and lean. Tempting to slide his hand up the creamy skin, feel the softness of her inner thigh…

Rafe set his key in the ignition and turned it. What was the matter with him? He must have been single too long, because his thoughts were entirely inappropriate.

Even so, he watched as she adjusted her skirt. Caught a waft of her light perfume as she bent forward to put her bag down by her feet. She probably had beautiful feet. Slender, like her hands. Hands and feet usually went together, in his experience.

‘You know where we’re going?’ Ellie cut in to his X-rated thoughts.

‘Little Mellingham,’ he answered smoothly.

The village was barely three miles outside Sittiford. A small ribbon of a place. A mix of old and rather beautiful houses and bland council housing. He glanced over at his silent companion. Her face was mask-like, telling him nothing. But the hands in her lap were tense, and still clutched tightly together. She was barely coping.

‘You’ll need to tell me where to stop.’

Lorna looked over at him. Scared brown eyes. ‘On the main road will be fine.’

‘No.’ Ellie leant forward in the back seat. ‘I want to see you safely inside. I still think you should have come back to mine, really. For tonight anyway.’

‘I’ll be fine. You know I always manage.’ Lorna looked over her shoulder. ‘I might as well start clearing the house.’ Then, ‘It’s the second on the left.’

Rafe swung the car round the left hand bend, towards a small close of council housing.

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