The Firefighter’s Baby
Alison Roberts

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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With thanks to the guys at Sockburn Fire Station,

Christchurch, New Zealand, for their help

in researching this story.

Especially, Dave, Paul, Ray and Mark on Brown Watch.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘IT’S OK, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be OK.’

For a split second, paramedic Laura Green envied the girl whose head she was holding. How crazy was that? She tightened her grip to ensure she was providing stability for the potential neck injury of the nineteen-year-old. The girl had been travelling home at the end of a night shift in a rest home. She had rounded a corner too quickly, run smack into the back of a heavy, slow-moving street sweeper and now lay trapped and terrified inside the wreckage of her car.

‘Keep very still, Courtney,’ Laura reminded her patient. ‘Don’t try and move your head.’

She could understand why the girl wanted to turn towards the owner of that voice. The words were so comforting, the tone completely sincere, and while the endearment was automatic it had the effect of creating an instant and powerful connection. And it was that connection that Laura envied.

She had never had anyone so totally focussed on her well-being. So committed to protecting and helping her. Not that she would want to experience it in a professional setting like this, of course. Courtney had a fractured right elbow and left femur and goodness only knew what condition her lower legs were in, trapped and hidden beneath the crushed front section of her small car.

A whimper escaped the injured girl as the car rocked slightly. The fireman now crouching beside the open driver’s door leaned in far enough to be seen without causing another attempt to move.

‘It’s OK,’ he repeated. His smile was reassuring. ‘The car’s moving a little because we’re putting some blocks in to stabilise things. Then we’re going to get you out of here.’

‘It hurts…my leg hurts.’

Laura twisted her own head to peer through the shattered glass of a back window. Her partner, Tim, was approaching with a cervical collar in his hand and she could see the other supplies he had set out on a blanket beside the wreck. Some of the tension evaporated as Laura took a deep breath. They could get moving now. Get their patient’s neck protected, get some oxygen on, an intravenous line in place and some pain relief on board.

‘And…and I’m scared!’

‘I know you are, sweetheart. But hang in there. You’re doing just fine.’

Tim leaned past the bulky figure of the fireman assigned to patient communication. Laura adjusted her grip to allow the collar room to slip behind the girl’s neck. The fireman straightened and stepped back to allow Tim more room to manoeuvre, but his action elicited a forlorn cry from the accident victim.

‘Don’t go. Oh, please, don’t go!’

‘I’m right here.’ A heavy glove was stripped off and Laura frowned as she saw the fireman catch the fingers of the hand stretched towards him.

‘I’m Jason,’ the fireman introduced himself. ‘What’s your name?’

‘C-Courtney.’

The neck collar was secured. Tim slipped the elastic of an oxygen mask over the patient’s head and squeezed the metal band at the top of the mask to make it a snug fit over her nose.

‘Pleased to meet you, Courtney.’ Jason’s grin made his teeth gleam in the powerful artificial lights now set up to illuminate the rescue scene. ‘How’re you doing?’

‘N-not so good.’ The response was broken by a frightened sob.

Tim hung his stethoscope back around his neck. ‘Chest’s still clear,’ he told Laura. ‘Equal air entry.’

Laura nodded, but she was reaching into the pocket of her coat with one hand.

‘Put some gloves on, Jase.’ She passed them over the barrier the front seat created.

‘Sure.’ The fireman was smiling at Courtney again. ‘I’m in trouble now,’ he confided. ‘Laura’s going to tell me off later for forgetting my gloves.’

The sound that now came from the injured girl sounded like a cross between a groan and a giggle.

‘I’d rather not cannulate this arm.’

‘No.’ Laura agreed with Tim’s decision. ‘Not with that elbow injury.’ There was no way of knowing how well the blood vessels were still functioning below an injury like that.

‘Have we got access through the passenger door?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Is that what you need?’ Jason’s quick shift of attention revealed that his focus wasn’t entirely on the girl he was comforting. A quick glance over his shoulder made him nod with satisfaction. ‘The gear’s all ready to go. We can start cutting wherever you need it.’

‘C-cutting?’

‘The car, sweetheart—not you.’ Jason seemed to fill most of the remaining space in the crushed car as he leaned even closer. ‘We’re getting you out of here, remember?’

Courtney clung to him with her uninjured hand. ‘It hurts,’ she sobbed. ‘Get me out now.’

‘I can reach the other arm,’ Laura told Tim. ‘Pass me the gear. You should be able to maintain alignment from where you are now that she’s in a collar.’

‘I can hold her neck,’ Jason offered.

‘That would be great. I’d like to get a blood pressure done.’

‘No!’ Courtney refused to release the hand she was holding.

‘Keep still, Courtney,’ Laura instructed. She squeezed the top half of her body through the gap between the front seats. This job would be so much easier if she were skinny. Even a few kilos off would help. The flash of annoyance increased a second later when she had to push her dislodged spectacles back into place. Small irritations that would normally not distract her at all from the job in hand. Was it simply her close proximity to Jason Halliday that was making her aware of them now?

‘Laura needs this hand, love,’ Jason was saying. ‘Once she gets a little needle in, she can give you something to help that pain.’

‘No! I hate needles. And my hand feels funny. Just get me out!’

‘What kind of funny?’ Laura queried.

‘It’s got pins and needles.’

Laura caught Tim’s glance. With a symptom that suggested an even stronger likelihood of a spinal injury, they were going to have to manage this extrication with particular care.

‘It might help if you keep holding her hand, Jase.’ Laura tightened the tourniquet and swabbed an area she could reach easily on Courtney’s left forearm. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’

Jason obliged. He also placed his other arm gently on Courtney’s shoulder, ready to stop any struggle if necessary. Then he tried to distract the terrified teenager.

‘You’re lucky you’ve got our Laura here,’ he told her. ‘Do you know, I’ve been working with her for six months now and I haven’t heard a single complaint from any of her patients?’

‘You haven’t met many of my patients,’ Laura muttered.

‘She’s a fireman?’ Courtney’s surprise indicated that the distraction was working.

‘Nah. She’s not tall enough to be a fire officer. Our station is a base for both fire and ambulance. Just one of each. We’re on the outskirts of town in Inglewood.’

‘That’s where I live.’

‘Cool. You’ll have to drop in and visit us. Mrs Mack makes the world’s best scones.’

‘All done,’ Laura announced. ‘I’m going to give you some morphine now, Courtney. You’re not allergic to any drugs that you know of, are you?’

‘No.’ The distraction Jason had been providing was still working a treat. ‘Who’s Mrs Mack?’

‘She looks after our station. It’s kind of a long story.’

‘I’m just giving you something to make sure the morphine doesn’t make you feel sick, Courtney.’ Laura injected the dose of metaclopramide.

‘Is she your wife?’

Jason chuckled and Laura found herself smiling wryly as she snapped off the top of a glass ampoule to add morphine to the saline another syringe already contained. Jason Halliday married? Tied down to single choice from amongst the model-like creatures that entered his social orbit? That would be the day!

‘Mrs Mack is at least sixty,’ Jason informed Courtney. ‘She’s Scottish and she’s as tough as an old boot. She lives next door to the station and kind of adopted us. We’re in an old house that got converted and…’

And Courtney didn’t appear to be listening any longer. Her eyelids fluttered shut as the morphine took effect and her distress was obviously diminishing despite the increase in noise and activity of the rescue workers outside the vehicle. Another helmeted figure appeared between Jason and Tim, who was still maintaining Courtney’s spinal alignment.

‘How do you want to get her out?’

‘Straight over the back would be great,’ Tim responded. ‘We’ll tilt the seat back and get a backboard in.’

‘Right. We’ll get the roof off as soon as we’ve dealt with these doors.’

Jason looked up at the tarpaulin a colleague was unfolding nearby. ‘Things are going to get a bit noisy and messy now, sweetheart,’ he told Courtney. ‘We’re going to cover you up so you don’t get hit by any bits of glass or anything.’

Her eyes snapped open. ‘Don’t leave me.’

‘I won’t. I’ll be right here with you under the covers.’ Jason winked. ‘My favourite spot when I’m with a gorgeous girl like you.’

‘That’d be right.’ The grin from his colleague acknowledged the kind of humour and encouragement that only Jason could get away with. Even Laura smiled. He’d be saying the same thing if the accident victim were a seventy-five-year-old grandmother of eight and it would probably have the same effect of keeping their patient comforted and calm.

‘We’ll need a dash roll as well,’ Tim told the fire chief. ‘We’ve got a leg trapped.’

‘No problem. You staying in there, Laura?’

‘May as well.’ She moved back to a position where she could support Courtney’s head and neck again. Only she knew that her comment referred to more than providing company for the victim. This was the only way Laura would ever get under any covers with Jason Halliday, but she wasn’t complaining. Any job where she got to work with this particular fire crew was a bonus, and being one on one with a patient and only Jason was the closest they had ever worked together.

The car rocked and shook as hydraulic cutting gear was used to open it up like a giant sardine can. Tiny shards of glass peppered the tarpaulin sheltering those still inside the vehicle, and Laura made sure she kept Courtney’s head immobile. A more violent rocking motion occurred as the roof was lifted clear of the car and Laura could hear the grin in Jason’s voice.

‘The earth sure moved for me. How’re you doing, Courtney?’

‘I’m fine.’

Amazingly, the injured girl did sound fine and Laura’s lips curved a little, unseen in the darkness of their covering. Jason’s somewhat unorthodox communication skills were a new experience and, surprisingly, she liked them. Six months ago she wouldn’t have believed it could be remotely possible to add humour or—heaven forbid—flirting to an accident scene with beneficial results, but it worked. The Green Watch fire crew of Inglewood station were a closely bonded team of intelligent and dedicated firemen and Jason, in particular, had a gift of lightening even the grimmest of atmospheres.

He had his work cut out for him in the next few minutes as the tarpaulin was removed and the rescue shifted into a higher gear. The car was now completely open to the elements with the windscreen, roof and doors removed. The pre-dawn chill was noticeable and scene time had already been nearly twenty minutes. Everyone wanted to move as quickly as possible now and get their patient to the medical care she needed.

The dash roll that lifted crushed metal from Courtney’s right leg revealed a nasty compound fracture of her tib-fib. She tried to move her leg as the weight was lifted but her foot was trapped beneath the brake pedal and she screamed as her pain level skyrocketed. The blood loss was also increasing. Laura opened the flow on the IV fluids she now had running.

‘Can you draw up another 10 milligrams of morphine, Tim?’

‘Got it here,’ her partner responded. ‘Ready for the backboard?’

‘Not yet. Her foot’s still trapped.’

‘I can deal with that.’ Jason still had a heavy protective glove on one hand. He reached carefully past the gaping wound on Courtney’s leg to ease his fingers between her foot and the top of the pedal. Only Laura noticed the way the lines deepened at the corners of his eyes. To anyone else he must have made bending the pedal upwards far enough to clear the trapped foot appear effortless.

‘Ah-h-h! It hurts!’

‘Almost there, love.’ Jason’s tone was calmly reassuring. ‘We’re going to tip your seat back now and slide a board underneath you.’

Too many figures were crowding in now and Courtney’s grip on Jason’s hand was lost as they finally lifted her clear of the wreck.

‘BP was 80 systolic five minutes ago,’ Laura told Tim. ‘We need to get another line in.’

‘Hare traction on that femur before we roll?’

Laura nodded. The low blood pressure could well be caused by the blood loss associated with the fractured bones Courtney had sustained. It was a two-person job to apply a traction splint so it wasn’t something that could be done en route. It would mean a delay of another few minutes before transporting, but effective splinting would help control further blood loss and was therefore a priority.

It wasn’t just the fire officers of Green Watch she was lucky to be working with, Laura decided as the ambulance rolled clear of the accident scene only three minutes later. Tim was one of the most competent paramedics she had ever had as a partner and they were perfectly matched to remain calm and efficient in virtually any circumstances. A few years over Laura’s twenty-nine, Tim had the added advantage of more experience and he also had the kind of laidback personality that made him fit in seamlessly at Inglewood station despite being in a different emergency service. He was just one of the boys.

As was Laura now. The novelty of having a female officer on the watch had worn off rapidly. A shade too rapidly maybe, but who could blame them for losing any interest her gender might have sparked? And it didn’t matter. She was part of a great team and she’d be delighted to be considered an honorary bloke if only it wasn’t for—

‘How’s it going back there?’

‘Fine.’ Laura scribbled down the update of recordings she’d been making automatically as her mind wandered. ‘BP’s up—100 over 60. Oxygen saturation is 98 per cent on 15 litres. Sinus tachy at 110.’

‘We’ll be at the hospital in about eight minutes.’

‘OK. I’ll radio through in a minute.’ Laura turned back to her patient. ‘How’s the pain score out of ten now, Courtney?’

‘About four, I guess.’

‘That’s a lot better but I’ll give you a little bit more morphine. I’d like to get it down to at least two if I can.’

Caring for a multi-trauma patient en route gave little time to attend to paperwork so Laura completed the task using a spare patch of counter in the trauma room as the emergency department staff assessed the new arrival. By the time she was finished, X-rays had been completed and Courtney was being readied for Theatre where the orthopaedic surgeon would need to deal with the open lower leg fracture and the dislocation-fracture of her right elbow. Laura paused on her way out with the completed paperwork.

‘All the best, Courtney. You’re in good hands. You’ve got one of the best orthopaedic surgeons in town coming in to fix you up.’

‘I just want to get it over with,’ Courtney groaned. ‘But thanks…for everything.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

‘And can you thank that fireman for me? What was his name?’

‘Jase. Jason Halliday.’

‘Yeah, that’s him. He was fantastic.’

‘I’ll tell him.’ Laura had to suppress a wistful smile. It wasn’t something she could tell Jason herself, no matter how much she might agree with the sentiment.

‘How old is Jason?’

Perhaps Laura would also need to tell him that his techniques of distracting a patient had long-lasting effects. Courtney didn’t look as though she was thinking about her injuries or impending surgery at all right now.

‘Ancient.’ Laura smiled. ‘Pushing forty.’

‘Oh…he didn’t seem that old.’

Laura wasn’t really lying. Anything over thirty was on the way to forty, wasn’t it? And thirty-two was still far too old for a nineteen-year-old.

‘He’s really nice, isn’t he?’

‘Mmm. I’d better go now, Courtney. Looks like they’re nearly ready to move you.’

Tim appeared in the trauma room doorway. ‘We’re all cleaned up and ready to go,’ he told Laura. ‘And I can almost smell Mrs M.’s bacon and eggs. You ready?’

Laura was more than ready to head back and finish her shift but her most recent patient wasn’t quite ready to let her go.

‘I couldn’t really see what he looked like with that uniform and everything. Is he cute?’

‘Cute’ wasn’t the word Laura would have chosen. Jason Halliday could be used as a pin-up model for the fire service any day. Six feet two inches with a build to match his height. Sun-streaked, curly hair, dark blue eyes and a killer smile. There was only one word to describe Jason and that was…perfect.

‘Imagine your typical surfer and add ten years and a pot belly.’

‘Oh…He said he wasn’t married, though, didn’t he? Has he got a girlfriend?’

‘’Fraid so.’ Laura’s smile was not without sympathy but she escaped without offering any consolation in the face of Courtney’s obvious disappointment. She could have said that Maxine was only a newbie and might not last long but what was the point? She knew only too well the strength of attraction Jason Halliday could inspire and this teenager had as much hope of sparking a reciprocal interest as she herself had.

Well, maybe that was wishful thinking. Courtney was slim, probably several inches taller than Laura’s five feet two inches and her hair was an attractive russet rather than dead mouse, but even so she didn’t measure up to Jason’s usual standards in female companions. Better to be briefly disappointed now than to carry a torch and find the flame not only refused to get extinguished but simply burned a little brighter with every passing week.

‘Jase is going to kill you when he hears about that “pot belly” remark,’ Tim informed her a few minutes later.

‘Only if you tell him,’ Laura countered. She indicated a right turn and slowed the ambulance as she reached the main route back to their station. ‘And if you do, I’ll tell Mrs Mack who walked over her clean lino with those muddy boots last week.’

‘You wouldn’t!’ Tim’s expression feigned fear. Then he grinned. ‘OK, my lips are sealed.’ He tipped his head back and closed his eyes wearily. ‘Can’t say I blame you for trying to put her off. We get quite enough women turning up asking for our Jase as it is.’ His tone became thoughtful. ‘I wonder what it’s like to be so compellingly attractive to the opposite sex?’

‘Boring,’ Laura said firmly. ‘You can have too much of a good thing, you know.’

‘No.’ Tim sounded almost wistful now. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

Laura snorted softly. ‘Join the club, Tim. I think I’m the founding member.’

‘Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a minute.’ Tim’s quiet voice was suddenly serious. ‘You’re great, Laura. Best partner I’ve ever had. You’re a brilliant paramedic, you’ve got a terrific sense of humour and…and your smile’s lovely.’

‘Thanks.’ Laura’s wry tone acknowledged the hesitation before Tim had found something physical to praise. ‘I’m also short, fat and I wear glasses.’

‘So?’

‘So men don’t make passes at girls who wear glasses.’

Tim’s snort was much more definite than Laura’s had been. He grinned again. ‘So take them off when you want someone to make a pass at you.’

Laura laughed. If only it was that easy. Even the wry amusement lifted her spirits, however. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re a nice person, Tim?’

‘Nah. The last woman that dumped me had a considerable command of adjectives that let me know precisely how boring I am.’

‘You’re not boring, Tim.’ Laura pulled the ambulance to a halt and then started backing into the garage. ‘You’re dependable. Safe.’

‘Ha! Safe is pretty close to boring if you ask me. Women want excitement, not safety.’

‘There’s a woman out there who’s going to find safe pretty exciting.’ Laura smiled at Tim. ‘Hey, you’re the best partner I’ve ever had. I love working with you.’ It was just such a shame it hadn’t been Tim she’d fallen in love with, but life was never that neat, was it?

‘We do have fun, don’t we?’

‘Sure do. I can’t believe I’ve been here for six months already. Seems like only last week I was wondering what it would be like to be stationed with a fire crew instead of just ambulance.’ Laura climbed out of the driver’s seat and walked around to join Tim at the back of the vehicle. ‘I still haven’t got over how funny they are, though.’

‘What?’

‘The boots.’ Laura pointed to where the crew’s heavy footwear was lined up, the tops of the boots protruding through the rolled-down legs of protective over-trousers. ‘It looks for all the world like a crew was standing around the truck and they all got vaporised by some alien force or something.’

‘Makes for a quick getaway.’

‘I know.’ Laura had seen Jason and his colleagues respond to a call. Feet slid into boots, over-trousers were yanked up and secured by elastic braces, and matching, heavy, mustard-yellow jackets with reflecting stripes were grabbed from the locker room along with helmets. The items of protective outer clothing were always left in precisely the same position on returning to the station, which left the officers wearing their uniforms of black trousers and navy blue T-shirts emblazoned with the red and white fire service logo.

As they were now. Laura and Tim had elected to wait until closer to the end of their shift before restocking and cleaning the ambulance. They had enough supplies if they got another call, and tempting fate by having a freshly prepared truck for the oncoming crew was not a good idea this close to their finishing time of seven a.m. A late call after a busy night such as they’d just had would not be welcome.

They entered the old house through the automatic side door that now joined it to the large, purpose-built garaging. The spacious lounge that ran nearly the whole width of the lower floor had become a common room, filled with comfortable furniture. The couches and chairs were being well patronised by weary men at the moment, half of whom had their feet resting on the coffee-tables. The other half had their footwear resting on the arms of the couches.

‘In the name of St Bride!’ Laura did her best to imitate the broad accent that fifty years of living in New Zealand hadn’t dampened in Mrs McKendry’s case. ‘How many times do I have to tell you boys to keep your dratted feet off that furniture?’

To her delight, the accent and surprise factor were enough to initiate a guilty leap into compliance. Her laughter caused more than one head to turn, and then the amusement was general.

‘Good one, Laura!’ Tim shook his head at the firemen. ‘You should have seen yourselves jump!’

‘Lucky I didn’t scream,’ Cliff complained. ‘She’s just as scary as Mrs M.’

‘Ah…but can she cook bacon and eggs?’

‘And polish the furniture?’

‘And get nasty stains out of any clothes?’

‘Even Mrs M. couldn’t get the stains out of your underwear, Stick.’

Laura shook her head and flopped into the nearest available armchair during the laughter that followed the last flippant remark. Maybe she was just too tired to feel amused. Or maybe the idea that she might measure up to the perfect housekeeper cut a little too close to the bone. She could do all those things but she wasn’t going to be some man’s housekeeper ever again. Not when that ended up being the main attraction she possessed.

Several pairs of eyes were fastened on the wall clock.

‘It’s 6.15.’

‘Mmm. That bacon will be in the pan any minute now.’

‘Why don’t you do it for yourselves for once?’

That wasn’t a suggestion one of the boys would have considered making. Laura found she had caused a brief but rather surprised silence. Jason looked positively bewildered.

‘What…and make Mrs M. feel like she’s not wanted?’

Laura’s sigh revealed that she didn’t have the energy to try and re-educate the men around her. Maybe it was an impossible task anyway. Was that why John had never lifted a finger in the kitchen? Or the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter? Had he, in fact, been a kind and caring partner who had simply been trying to show her how much he’d needed her? Ha!

‘She would be upset.’ Tim’s glance was speculative and Laura knew she deserved the gentle reprimand. The men of Inglewood station might complain and joke about Jean McKendry when she wasn’t around, but she was part of the family if anyone else tried it. And the kitchen was strictly her domain during her ‘office’ hours.

‘We’ve never asked her to do any of the stuff she does for us, you know,’ Bruce added. ‘She’s just become an institution—ever since she popped over with a plate of scones the day this station opened five years ago.’

‘Yeah, it just grew.’ Cliff nodded. ‘By the end of the year she was here every day, all day, cleaning and cooking.’

‘And making sure we all had a clean hanky.’

‘At least she gets paid for it now,’ Bruce told Laura. ‘And we all put in to buy all the food she insists on cooking us.’

‘She loves us,’ Jason said. He still looked puzzled. ‘She wants to do it.’

‘I know.’ Laura smiled. ‘She’s wonderful and we’re the envy of any other peripheral city station. Sorry.’ She pushed her glasses up and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m just tired, I guess, and from where I’m sitting it’s easy to take offence at the idea of a perfect woman’s attributes being how easy she can make life for others.’

The second brief silence had a contrite air to it.

‘Hey, we weren’t getting at you, Laura.’

‘No…we don’t think of you as a woman.’

‘Gee, thanks.’ Not only was she the only member of Green Watch not to have earned some kind of nickname, they didn’t even see her as being female.

‘That wasn’t helpful, Stick,’ Jason said firmly. He gave Laura one of his killer smiles. ‘What he meant was that you’re one of us.’

‘One of the boys,’ Bruce put in kindly.

‘No.’ Jason sounded even firmer. ‘Laura is most definitely not a boy. Heck, even I’m not that blind.’

Laura couldn’t help smiling. Or help the pathetic little glow that started somewhere inside at the thought that Jason had not only noticed her femininity, he was defending her. Then her smile faded. What had the comment really meant…that it was really so hard to see anything attractive about her?

‘We’re not really chauvinistic,’ Bruce said a little defensively. ‘But this job requires people with pretty assertive personalities. So does yours. You wouldn’t expect a firefighter who’s risked life and limb to pull someone from a burning house or cut open a wrecked vehicle to extricate the injured to go home and bake a cake or clean a toilet, would you?’

‘Why not? You’d expect me to,’ Laura told them. ‘I’ve just been squished inside a car wreck looking after the injured, but I bet you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight if I offered to go and make you all coffee or throw some bacon and eggs together.’

‘Mmm.’ The sound was a frustrated groan. ‘Bacon and eggs!’

‘Don’t worry, Laura,’ Tim said. ‘We all know you’re just as much of a hero as we are.’

‘Yeah.’ Cliff winked at her. ‘Maybe you need a wife as well.’

Laura gritted her teeth. She knew they were teasing her but it was easy to think that her protest had not made the slightest impression on any prejudice held by these men. And what did it matter, anyway? She couldn’t imagine being attracted to a man who was keen to bake cakes or clean toilets. She’d never wanted to find a sensitive New Age guy. She was just twisted and bitter because John had never really wanted her for herself. Apart from the freely available sex, he would probably have been happier being married to Jean McKendry.

Jason seemed to have picked up at least part of her thoughts by telepathy.

‘You should also know,’ he said seriously, ‘that we don’t consider Mrs M. to be the perfect woman.’

‘No.’ Stick grinned. ‘She’s about forty years past her use-by date.’

‘And she’s grumpy as hell.’

‘Yeah.’ Jason rubbed his elbow reflectively. ‘She hit me with a wooden spoon the other day.’

‘Well, you were sticking your dirty, fat finger in her gravy.’

‘I was only tasting it.’

The mention of food provoked another general glance towards the clock and yet another short silence.

‘What was that?’ Laura frowned at the faint but noticeably unusual sound.

‘Just a cat.’

‘Gate squeaking?’ Cliff suggested hopefully. ‘Mrs M. arriving for breakfast?’

‘Jeez, we’d better not get another callout,’ Jason said unhappily. ‘I’m starving.’

‘You’re always starving, Jase.’

‘Can’t help it. I’m a growing lad.’

‘We’ve noticed.’ Stick leaned over the side of the chair and poked Jason’s midriff. ‘You’d better watch out, mate. Pot belly city!’

Laura’s lips twitched as she gave Tim a warning glance. He grinned and raised his eyebrows as though acknowledging that Laura might have already been provocative enough, especially for this time of day.

They were all startled at the sound made by the original back door of the house. Not that it wasn’t Mrs McKendry’s normal entranceway, but she didn’t usually open and shut it with quite such purpose. The room fell uncomfortably silent now. Mrs M. wasn’t happy. Someone had upset her and they were all likely to suffer the consequences. Laura was suddenly acutely aware of just how right her colleagues had been not to trespass on their housekeeper’s self-designated areas of responsibility.

Never mind the culinary and other benefits they all received—letting Jean McKendry think she was indispensable was actually an act of kindness. Looking after Inglewood station was her life and while she could be nosy, grumpy and always opinionated, she was never unfair. If she was this upset there would be a good reason for it.

The determined tap of sensible, low-heeled shoes got louder as Mrs McKendry traversed the kitchen’s linoleum floor. All eyes were drawn to the arched opening that joined the dining-room end of the lounge to the kitchen that ran along the other side of the house. Those same eyes swivelled in unison to the large cardboard box that Mrs M. deposited carefully on the table. Wiry arms were now folded in front of the small woman’s spare frame. And, in case her body language wasn’t enough to let them know that this time they were in serious trouble, her tone backed it up more than adequately.

‘I’m waiting,’ she snapped.

‘What for, Mackie?’ Jason’s smile was one of his most winning. It wasn’t even directed at Laura and it was enough to melt her bones. Using the affectionate nickname had to be overkill, surely? ‘What have we done?’

‘I know what one of you has done,’ Mrs M. enunciated with precision. ‘What I want to know is, who is responsible?’

‘Who is responsible for what?’

A sound rather similar to a cat’s mew or a gate squeaking was suddenly produced by the box on the table. Mrs McKendry’s lips almost disappeared into a straight, grim line.

‘Who is responsible for this puir wee bairn being left on the back doorstep of Inglewood station?’

CHAPTER TWO

A SPELL had been cast.

Laura experienced an odd sensation, as though a wand had actually been waved over the group of people sitting in the lounge of the Inglewood emergency response station. An electric tingle—a feeling she was unable to identify on the spectrum between elation and fear—ran through her entire body, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that the axis of her world was tilting.

Only an insignificant amount of time followed Mrs McKendry’s startling demand but it marked the transition between normal life and something totally unknown. One minute they had all been slumped in various positions of rest, filling in time and carefully not tempting fate by saying they were probably safe from the disruption of a late callout, and now they were suddenly involved in a disruption that was completely without precedent.

Laura wasn’t the only one to be stunned. Or to feel nervous in taking that first step of an unknown journey. The whole of Green Watch was moving. Slowly, silently, they approached the box on the table with as much caution as if it contained a live cobra.

Stick was the first to open his mouth. His nickname had been derived from affectionate ribbing that he’d been hit more than once by the ugly one. Right now, his pockmarked face had softened dramatically and his incredulous smile was almost as large as his nose.

‘It’s a baby!’

The murmur was probably intended to be a personal observation but the silence surrounding him was so profound the words might as well have been shouted.

‘Go to the top of the class, Stick.’ Bruce grinned.

‘Is it a girl or a boy?’ Tim queried.

‘It’s not colour-coded,’ Jason complained. ‘How are we supposed to know?’

‘Change its nappy,’ Cliff advised knowledgeably.

‘Not on your life!’ Jason held both hands up, palms outwards, and leaned back to emphasise the invisible barrier. ‘I don’t do babies.’

‘Someone did,’ Mrs McKendry snapped. Her arms were still folded and she was tapping one foot impatiently. ‘And I’d like to know who.’

‘Wasn’t me,’ Jason declared firmly.

‘Or me,’ Stick and Cliff said simultaneously.

‘Definitely wasn’t me.’ Tim raised an eyebrow at Laura and she smiled. Having a baby dumped on your doorstep certainly wasn’t a boring thing to happen.

‘I should be so lucky,’ Bruce sighed.

They all stared at the infant. Fluffy, dark blue polar fleece fabric with cute yellow ducks on it had been folded to form a mattress in the box. The baby had been wrapped in a blanket of the same fleece but tiny limbs had been active enough to loosen the covering and miniature hands could be seen poking from the armholes of a white stretch suit. A tiny fist threatened to clout its owner’s cheek but somehow it escaped causing pain and settled against a questing mouth instead. Surprisingly loud sucking noises filled the new silence and large dark blue eyes stared up fearlessly at the crowd of faces leaning over the box.

‘It’s hungry.’ As a father of three, Cliff was entitled to take the lead as far as experience in such matters went.

‘Could be hereditary.’ Stick gave one of his usual cheerful grins. ‘Who’s always hungry around here?’

‘Don’t look at me!’ Jason’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘I told you, I don’t do babies. I’m careful, man. Always have been.’

‘There’s always one that slips through the net.’

There was a ripple of laughter. ‘Especially when the catch is that big!’

‘It has got blond hair,’ Bruce observed. ‘Except I don’t suppose it means that much at this age.’

‘How old do you reckon it is?’

For some reason everyone looked at Laura. Was she supposed to know the answer due to some feminine intuition? Had she always been lumped in the ‘motherly type’ basket? Or had everybody simply noticed how quiet she’d been so far? Cliff wasn’t about to be outdone in the knowledge stakes, however.

‘It’s pretty newly hatched, I’d say. Two or three weeks?’

Laura caught her breath but her reaction had nothing to do with the thought of such a young baby being abandoned. She had just realised why the baby’s face was so fascinating.

The eyes weren’t really that dark. They were blue, certainly. A lovely sort of cornflower blue. They gave the initial appearance of darkness because of the edging to the iris, which was a shade deep enough to compete with the pupil. Why had nobody else noticed such an obvious genetic link to a potential parent in this group of men? There was only one person who had eyes like that.

And they were exactly like that.

Another frisson of an unidentifiable emotion caught Laura unexpectedly. Jealousy, perhaps? No. It was more like a feeling of connection to that baby. A longing to touch it. To pick it up. When the little fist was suddenly flung free of the sucking mouth and a tiny face crumpled and reddened she had no hesitation in reaching into the box.

Nobody else was going to do it, she told herself. The men were backing off in alarm at the deterioration in the baby’s mood. At her touch, the screwed-up face relaxed and the tiny fist unfurled to encompass her finger. Laura smiled into a carbon copy of Jason Halliday’s eyes.

‘Hello, there,’ she whispered.

Only a few short minutes had passed since Mrs McKendry had dropped this bombshell in their midst but it was very unusual that the older woman had not yet said more than she had. Nobody was surprised to hear her begin to issue some firm instructions.

‘Sit down at this table—every last one of you. I don’t care if half of Wellington burns to the ground. You’re no’ going anywhere till we get to the bottom of this.’

Amazingly, the whole group of burly, dedicated firefighters complied. They were all out of their depth right now and it clearly came as a relief for their self-appointed surrogate mother to take charge.

‘We should call the police,’ Bruce suggested mildly. ‘It’s a criminal offence to leave a baby unattended.’

The look he received questioned his level of intelligence rather eloquently. ‘Whoever left this bairn had reason to think it would be attended to.’

A dainty foot tapped on linoleum in the silence that followed.

‘And there can be only one explanation for that. One of you is this baby’s father.’

‘You’re lucky.’ Jason’s comment was directed at Laura, who, along with Mrs McKendry, was the only person now standing. ‘It can’t be yours. I think we would have noticed.’

The chuckle of appreciation at the attempt to lift the atmosphere was short-lived and it hadn’t even raised a smile as far as Laura was concerned. Carrying a full-term baby may well have made her large enough for Jason to notice. In fact, it was probably the only way he’d really notice her as a woman.

As though her resentment was contagious, the baby emitted a fractious cry and Laura did what she’d been wanting to do ever since she’d first seen what was in the box. She scooped the baby up and cradled it in her arms.

It was crying in earnest now and there was no doubt it was well overdue for a nappy change but Laura didn’t mind. The slight weight of the infant in her arms triggered an instinctive and remarkably fierce desire to protect and comfort it. She rocked her noisy, smelly bundle and directed soothing words towards its ear. The words she spoke were unimportant. So was what was being said around her for the next few moments.

The first Red Watch arrivals to take over the day shift started to form a secondary tier of astonished spectators. As far as these men were concerned they were not involved. The baby had been left during the night, therefore it had to be someone on Green Watch who was implicated as the father. Some even found the situation highly amusing.

‘No wonder someone left it on the doorstep. Noisy little bugger, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t get too close. It doesn’t smell great either.’

‘Let’s put it back where Mrs Mack found it.’ The speaker suddenly thought of an urgent job that needed attending to as he felt the heat of Jean McKendry’s glare.

‘I still think we should call the police,’ Bruce said heavily. ‘Or Social Welfare. We can’t sit here all day, Mrs M. We’ve had a busy night shift and what we need is some sleep.’

‘What she needs is feeding,’ Laura informed them. How she knew it was a girl was not questioned.

‘Bacon and eggs?’ Jason suggested hopefully. They all looked at Mrs McKendry but any prospect of a cooked breakfast evaporated instantly on reading her face.

‘I’ll make some toast,’ someone on Red Watch offered. ‘Have you guys cleaned the truck?’

‘We’re not allowed to move,’ Stick responded gloomily. ‘Not until one of us owns up to fathering this kid.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Red Watch members were backing away now. ‘We’ll do it.’

The new crew for the ambulance day shift was equally co-operative. Helpful, even.

‘We could go out and find some formula or something at the supermarket.’

The pager messages signalling a priority-one callout to a chest pain put an end to that scheme. Within another few minutes the hooter sounded to alert the fire crew.

‘Alarm sounding at a warehouse on the corner of George and Matton streets,’ the loudspeaker announced. ‘Smoke seen to be coming from the rear of the building.’

Green Watch members could see the departing vehicles through the dining-room’s window. They listened to the fading sirens with almost defeated expressions.

‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ Bruce declared finally. ‘Look, Mrs M. If one of us had any idea that we were related to this baby we would have said so by now.’

Raised eyebrows and pursed lips suggested that this was not necessarily an accurate assumption.

‘Half of us are married. We’ve got families of our own.’

‘Precisely. A good reason not to confess, wouldn’t you say?’

Laura was jiggling an increasingly unhappy infant now. No one knew how long this baby had been outside in the box. It might have been hours since its last feed. Her reluctance to cast the first stone was wearing thinner by the minute. If this carried on any longer she was going to open her mouth and point out the obvious. Why hadn’t anyone else noticed yet? She shifted the baby’s weight slightly and became aware that the patch of blanket under her arm was distinctly damp.

‘Stick, could you get that other blanket out of the box?’ Laura asked. ‘She’s leaking a bit and getting cold won’t make her any happier.’

‘Hope you’ve got gloves on.’ Jason blinked at the look he received from Laura. ‘Hey! What have I done?’

He found out soon enough. As Stick pulled the folded fleece from the box his eyes widened.

‘There’s stuff in here,’ he exclaimed. ‘A bottle and a tin of baby food. There’s nappies and—What the hell is this?’

The piece of paper said it all. Officially stamped by the authority vested in the registrar of births, deaths and marriages, it gave all the information Mrs McKendry had been waiting for. She peered at the certificate and then transferred a steely gaze to one of the men staring anxiously back.

‘Jason Halliday. What have you got to say for yourself now?’

‘Huh?’

The piece of paper was passed along the table and everyone had scanned it by the time Bruce handed it to Jason.

‘Here you go…Dad.’

Jason’s colour had faded to give his bewilderment a decidedly pale background. He stared at the birth certificate, with his name handwritten on the empty line for ‘Father’s Name’, for a seemingly interminable length of time. It became too long for his audience.

‘Megan’s a nice name,’ Cliff said hesitantly.

‘It’s her one-month birthday today,’ Bruce added.

‘She was born in England,’ Stick said kindly. ‘You can’t really be blamed for having missed the big event, Jase.’

Laura said nothing. She reached into the box and extracted a disposable nappy, some wipes and a clean stretchsuit. She could still see Jason when she moved towards one of the couches to find room to put the baby down. She could see growing consternation replacing shocked disbelief.

‘So.’ Mrs McKendry looked up from where she was reading the instructions on the tin of formula. ‘I take it you were no’ informed about this baby’s existence, Jason?’

‘No. Someone’s made a mistake.’ Jason rested his forehead on the palms of both hands. ‘A really big mistake.’

Bruce reached for the certificate again. ‘The mother’s name is Shelley. Shelley Bates.’

‘I don’t know any Shelleys,’ Jason said miserably. ‘Never have.’

‘It says here that her occupation is a model.’

Laura wasn’t the only one to see how well that fitted.

‘You’ve been out with plenty of models, Jase.’

‘I don’t sleep with them all,’ Jason said defensively. ‘In fact, I haven’t had a good s—’ He stopped abruptly, glanced up at Mrs McKendry who was still standing at the other end of the table, groaned and buried his face in his hands again. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he muttered.

Laura disagreed. She was very interested to hear that Jason didn’t have sex with every female that gave him the opportunity. She stuck down the tabs to hold the fresh nappy secure. She would also very much like to know how long it had been since he’d had a good…whatever crude noun he’d been tempted to use to describe the experience. It couldn’t have been more than ten months ago, that was for sure.

‘I guess we’re off the hook.’ Bruce yawned. ‘We could go home now, eh, Mrs Mack?’

‘No!’ Jason’s face appeared again. ‘I don’t know anyone called Shelley and I haven’t been in England for six years. This has to be a mistake.’

‘Why would someone make a mistake like that?’

‘Maybe it didn’t happen in England,’ Cliff said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe Shelley whoever she is was in New Zealand on holiday.’

‘A holiday with Halliday.’ Stick chuckled. His smile faded rapidly as he realised his quip was not appreciated.

‘I don’t care where Shelley was. Or who she was with. It wasn’t me.’

‘The bairn’s four weeks old.’ Mrs McKendry had moved to the kitchen bench and was spooning formula into the bottle. ‘That means she was conceived about nine to ten months ago.’

‘December,’ Stick said helpfully. ‘No…more like late January.’

‘Let’s say New Year, give or take a week or two.’

‘Can you remember that far back, Jase?’

‘You were going out with Britney,’ Cliff declared. ‘I remember her. Red hair and legs up to her—’

‘That was March. We broke up at Easter when we had an argument about chocolate bunnies.’

‘OK, what about Melissa? You know, the one with those Pamela Anderson—’

‘She was after Britney,’ Jason interrupted swiftly. ‘I think.’

‘No…I’m sure she was the one that came to that barbecue we had on the beach in February. Yellow bikini?’

Laura hadn’t forgotten that yellow bikini—or the assets it had supported. She glanced up from fastening the snaps on the stretchsuit, intending to direct a ‘you know you deserve everything that’s coming’ glance, but to her astonishment, the tips of Jason’s ears were bright pink. Good grief—the man was embarrassed!

He should be ashamed of himself if he couldn’t even remember the order or names of the string of women in his life. Maybe this was the first occasion he’d ever had to consider the repercussions of such an active social life. Or maybe he was disturbed by the wider picture he was currently having to confront. In any case, Laura liked the fact that he was embarrassed. She picked up the baby again and her lips curved into a smile against the soft wisps of blonde hair.

‘Daddy’s blushing,’ she whispered. ‘How about that?’

‘Daddy’ was still fielding a list of potential conquests that might have had confusing names.

‘What about Charlotte?’

‘Sounds a bit like Shelley.’

Despite the spotlight being so firmly on Jason, even Bruce, who was stifling frequent yawns, was not about to leave his fellow firefighter in the lurch and go home for some well-deserved rest. Stick shook his head sorrowfully.

‘This should be a lesson to us all. Anyone could just scribble in our names on some bloody birth certificate.’

‘Speak for yourself, mate. I’m happily married.’

‘DNA,’ Cliff said with relief. ‘You could get a test, Jase, and prove it’s not yours.’

‘That could take weeks! What the hell am I supposed to do with it in the meantime?’

‘Maybe the mother’s only gone shopping or something. She could be back any minute.’

‘Yeah, right. Like she’s come all the way from England for a spot of shopping and she leaves the baby on a doorstep in the middle of the night so she doesn’t have to bother finding a babysitter.’

Laura sat down at the table and Mrs McKendry silently handed her the bottle of formula. Tentatively, she poked the teat into the baby’s mouth and to her delight it was accepted enthusiastically.

‘Well, that’s a blessing,’ Mrs McKendry said. ‘At least she’s used to a bottle.’

Laura could feel the rhythmic tug of the sucking movements. The baby’s wide-eyed gaze fastened onto hers as though she was receiving the nourishment via some kind of visual connection. Laura found herself smiling.

‘Oh…she’s gorgeous!’

‘Aye.’ Jean McKendry’s expression softened noticeably. Then she pushed her spectacles more firmly onto the bridge of her nose and leaned a little closer to peer at the baby’s face.

‘It was Sharon!’ Jason announced.

‘What was?’

‘The woman who’s set me up. It has to be.’ Jason nodded to confirm his own statement. ‘A girl from England that I met when I had that summer holiday in the Coromandel.’

‘Sure it wasn’t Shelley?’

Jason frowned in concentration. ‘She had a sister and I remember that their names were alike enough to be confusing. It was a bit of a joke and they didn’t mind when I got it wrong.’ Jason nodded again, more slowly this time. ‘That must be where this has come from. Sharon’s sister has had a baby and they’ve decided to name me as the father.’

‘Maybe they want to emigrate or something,’ Cliff suggested.

‘Of course, that’s what it’ll be. It’s pretty hard to get into the country and having a New Zealand father for a child is probably a great start.’

‘Marrying the New Zealand father would have been a much safer plan,’ Laura said dryly. ‘I mean, writing in your name like that doesn’t make you the legal father. Why didn’t she turn up months ago?’

‘Dunno.’ Jason shrugged. ‘Maybe the sisters didn’t get together and come up with the plan until after the baby was born.’

‘How much alike did these sisters look, Jase?’

‘Identical. They were twins. Long blonde hair and cute accents. Young, though. I think they were only about nineteen.’ Jason rubbed the back of his neck as though something was hurting. ‘I suppose it could have been Shelley. Names didn’t actually seem that important at the time.’

The sniff that emanated from Mrs McKendry’s direction was an expression of frank disapproval.

‘It was only one night,’ Jason sighed. ‘There was this big beach party. Hey, I was on holiday. You’re supposed to have a good time on holiday!’

‘Not that good,’ Stick said enviously.

‘And not with twins!’ Tim sounded appalled.

‘It wasn’t with both of them. It was…I was…Oh, hell.’ Jason closed his eyes with apparent exhaustion. ‘It doesn’t matter. I can’t be the father.’ He stood up. ‘You were right, Bruce. Let’s hand this problem to the police. For all we know this baby’s been abducted and the birth certificate is some sort of nasty practical joke.’

‘It’s no joke.’ Mrs McKendry had simply been waiting for a gap in the rapid-fire conversation between the men. ‘And you might as well stop your havering, Jason Halliday. This bairn is yours.’

‘How can you say that?’ Jason’s astonishment at being betrayed by someone he trusted was directed at Mrs McKendry only briefly. Then it was transferred to Laura. ‘You think it’s mine, too, don’t you?’

Laura nodded. ‘It’s as plain as the nose on your face, I’m afraid, Jase. Or should I say the eyes.’

‘What about them?’ Jason asked faintly.

‘Come and have a look.’

They all came and had a look. They stared at baby Megan and then at Jason. And one by one they all nodded slowly.

‘It doesn’t matter if it was Sharon or Shelley or bloody Madonna,’ Stick said sadly. ‘Yep. This kid’s yours, all right, Jase.’

Laura couldn’t help it. ‘The eyes have it,’ she murmured.

Jason wasn’t amused. ‘Lots of people have eyes with rings around them.’

‘No.’ Laura was careful to keep her tone perfectly neutral. ‘Your eyes are actually quite unusual, Jase. And Megan’s are a carbon copy.’

Jason sank into the chair opposite Laura. ‘What am I going to do?’

You had to feel sorry for him, Laura decided. For someone like Jason who played almost as hard as he worked and made no secret of intending to enjoy his bachelor status for as long as possible, this had to be his worst nightmare. He looked defeated right now. Lost. And Laura couldn’t help offering a sympathetic smile. Jason’s forlorn gaze locked onto hers as though encouraging her to say something that might make this whole mess go away.

But it was Mrs McKendry who spoke and she wasn’t going to let Jason off any hook. ‘You’re going to take responsibility for your child, that’s what you’re going to do,’ she said crisply. ‘Laura, hand the baby over to its father.’

‘No! I’ll drop it.’

‘Don’t be such a gowk,’ Mrs McKendry snapped. ‘Laura?’

She felt like an executioner but Mrs Mack was right. This was Jason’s baby. His problem. He was now in such a shocked state he simply accepted the bundle Laura placed carefully into his arms. Then he stared at the baby’s face with an even more forlorn expression.

For several seconds, father and daughter exchanged stares of equal intensity. Then Megan Bates Halliday opened her tiny rosebud mouth and bellowed her disapproval.

‘She doesn’t like you much, does she?’ Bruce observed unnecessarily.

‘The feeling’s probably mutual right now,’ Stick said sympathetically.

‘You lot…’ Mrs McKendry peered over the top of her half-moon spectacles ‘…can all go home. You’re no’ helping and you need some sleep.’

‘You’re not wrong there.’ Bruce rubbed his face and didn’t bother hiding a yawn. ‘I’m absolutely knackered.’

‘Me, too,’ Cliff sighed. ‘Sorry, mate, but I’m going to have to head home and hit the sack.’

Megan’s cries became louder and Tim stood up as well. ‘You coming, Laura?’

‘In a minute.’ Laura couldn’t abandon Jason. Not when he looked at her with that kind of mute appeal. He needed help.

Stick was clearly torn. He shared a house with Jason and another fireman, Mitch, from Red Watch. After an apologetic glance at Jason he turned to Mrs McKendry.

‘I s’pose Jase is going to have to take this baby home with him if he has to look after it, isn’t he?’

‘I can’t look after it. I don’t know the first damn thing about babies.’ Jason had to raise his voice over the increasing noise level. ‘And we’re not allowed pets, remember?’

‘Your daughter’s just been fed,’ Mrs McKendry informed Jason. ‘I expect she needs burping now.’ Clicking her tongue at Jason’s expression, she reached out. ‘Like this!’ She put the baby upright and rubbed her back. Megan obligingly belched loudly and sent a dribble of milk across the lacy collar of Mrs McKendry’s blouse.

Stick stared in horrified fascination but Jason looked impressed. ‘Hey, you know about babies, Mackie.’

‘Well, I may no’ have been blessed with any of my own but I’ve picked up the odd one or two in my time.’

‘You could look after her.’

‘No, Jason. This is your bairn.’

‘I’ll pay you.’ Jason sounded desperate. He obviously didn’t want to hold the baby again but he had no choice. It was simply pressed into his arms. ‘I’ll pay you anything you like!’

Mrs McKendry shook her head.

‘But anyone can see she hates me.’

Stick took a step backwards as Megan started crying again. ‘Look, mate. No offence but it’s going to be hard to sleep with that noise in the house. I might stay on station.’

‘I’ve got beds in my sleep-out if you want one of those,’ Cliff offered.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ Stick gave Jason an apologetic grin. ‘Sorry, mate…but…well, you know.’

‘Yeah…’ Jason sounded despondent. Then he looked beseechingly at Laura. ‘I guess you’re going to desert me, too. You probably think I deserve this.’

Laura held his gaze. ‘What I think, Jason Halliday, is that you’re in need of a friend right now.’

He still hadn’t looked away. His daughter stopped howling as though her father’s tentative smile had been enough to distract her. ‘You’ll help me, Laura?’

He could see her. For the first time he could really see her. As a person rather than a profession. A valuable person. OK, so maybe that valuable person was a babysitter but beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they?

‘Yeah.’ Laura smiled back. ‘I’ll help you, Jase.’

Jason was on his feet and somehow the baby was in her arms again, but Laura hardly registered the fact as Jason planted a kiss on her forehead.

‘Laura Green, I love you.’ His smile widened. ‘Be back in a tick. I’m desperate to go to the loo.’

Jean McKendry gave Laura a steady glance. ‘Och, hen, do you know what you’re doing here?’

‘I think I do.’

Laura was making herself indispensable, that was what she was doing. Jason was going to be very grateful but it wasn’t his appreciation Laura sought. This was the first opportunity she’d ever had to spend time alone with him. Well…almost alone. If they had even a few hours together Jason might realise there was more to her than appearances suggested. And if that was too much to hope for, she would at least be able to give herself a lesson in distinguishing fantasy from reality and then move on with her life. It wasn’t just the first opportunity. It was quite likely to be her only opportunity, and Laura had no intention of letting it slip through her fingers.

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sure I know what I’m doing.’

Disconcertingly, Laura had the impression that Mrs McKendry knew precisely what she had been thinking but if that was the case, she was being granted permission to carry on.

‘If you run into real problems, call me,’ the older woman said. ‘And if the mother hasn’t come back by the time you’re both on duty again, I’ll help during work hours.’

Green Watch had just completed two days and two nights on duty. It would be four days before the next day shift. Was there really a chance that Laura could have that much time alone with Jason and his daughter?

‘Heavens, I’m sure the mother will be back long before then. Nobody could just leave their baby with a virtual stranger for that long.’ Laura blinked at Mrs McKendry. ‘Could they?’ Her jaw dropped a fraction. ‘You know something about this that you’re not saying, don’t you, Mrs Mack?’

‘Let’s just say that the bairn was no’ on the doorstep for as long as I made out.’

‘You saw her?’ Laura breathed. ‘You saw the mother leaving the box?’

‘Not precisely.’ Mrs McKendry lowered her voice. ‘I saw a man leaving the box. Then he got back in the car and kissed a woman with long, blonde hair. Rather more thoroughly than the occasion called for, in my opinion. They drove off, laughing.’ Her eyes narrowed in disgust. ‘She didn’t look back. No’ even once.’

‘Did you get the number of the car?’

‘No.’

Laura found it unlikely that such a detail would have escaped those sharp grey eyes but the implications were not escaping either of them. If the mother had callously abandoned her almost newborn baby and gone off with her lover, laughing, then it was highly unlikely they would be back in a hurry.

If at all.

A mix of emotion washed over Laura. Excitement. Hope. And a good dose of nervousness. This was her chance and she’d better be very careful not to screw it up.

‘Why didn’t you say something before?’

‘I think Jason will have more than enough to cope with, thinking he’s looking after his bairn on a very temporary basis. What do you think he would do if he thought there was any chance it was intended to be a more permanent arrangement?’

He’d run screaming into the middle distance, that was what. He’d call the police or Social Welfare and do whatever it took to sidestep the responsibility. Informing the authorities was actually quite likely to be exactly what they should be doing at this point and Mrs Mack knew that as well as Laura did. So why was she doing this? To teach Jason Halliday a life lesson, perhaps? Or could she also see it as the opportunity Laura might otherwise never have had?

Jean McKendry smiled at her and Laura had her answer. She dropped her gaze to the baby in her arms, suddenly embarrassed that anyone could have guessed what she thought had been an increasingly well-guarded secret.

‘Just remember, hen,’ the housekeeper said softly. ‘You’re helping, no’ taking over. You’re no’ this baby’s mother, you know.’ The pause seemed deliberate. ‘You’re no’ Jason Halliday’s mother either.’

‘I’ll remember,’ Laura promised.

‘If you turn yourself into a doormat you have only yourself to blame when people start wiping their feet all over you.’

Laura’s swift glance was startled. Mrs McKendry was a fine one to talk about not mothering people. It was precisely the relationship this widow had with a great many men. Laura swallowed. Maybe that was why she did know what she was talking about. Had Mrs McKendry’s marriage been as empty and unfulfilling as the relationship she herself would have had if she’d stayed with John?

The twinkle in Mrs McKendry’s eyes seemed to be wishing her luck. ‘Jason’s got very big feet, hasn’t he?’

Laura grinned. ‘I’ll make sure there’s a very big doormat…outside the house.’

‘You do that, hen.’

‘What’s Laura going to do?’ Jason must have been splashing water on his face. Damp tendrils of blond-streaked curls clung to his forehead. Had he been hoping to wake himself up from a bad dream, perhaps?

‘She’s going to make a list of what you need to buy on the way home,’ Mrs McKendry said brightly.

‘A large bottle of gin?’ But Jason’s attempt at humour was half-hearted.

‘Nappies,’ he was informed sternly. ‘And formula and some more clothes. And something for that bairn to sleep in.’

‘Can’t we just take the box home?’

Jason seemed to have aged ten years in the last hour but Laura could see through the faint edge of despair he was trying to cover with humour. He wasn’t about to run away, no matter how unwelcome this situation was. In the face of total unwillingness and ignorance he was prepared to do what he had to do, and Laura loved him even more for the courage he was unwittingly displaying.

‘Don’t worry.’ Laura stood up, holding a now sleeping infant. ‘There’s a baby’s car seat in the ambulance storeroom. We’ll borrow that for the day and Megan can sleep in it. There’s enough formula and nappies to last until tomorrow and who knows?’ Laura avoided looking at anyone but Jason. ‘Maybe Shelley will be back by then.’

A ray of hope shone from Jason’s smile. ‘Shall…shall I hold it, then, while you go and find the seat thing?’

Laura bit back a wry smile as she handed Jason his daughter. ‘She’s not an “it”, Jase. Her name is Megan.’

The bob of Jason’s Adam’s apple gave away his nervous swallow but, to his credit, he looked quite calm as he regarded the tiny peaceful face shrouded in blue polar fleece. He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.

‘Hi, Megan…I’m Jase.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Your…um…dad, I guess.’

Laura hurried towards the storeroom, swallowing rather hard herself to clear the unexpected prickle of tears. She had been right to think that something fundamental in her life had changed the moment Mrs McKendry had demanded an explanation for the unprecedented delivery to the station. The axis of her world had tilted so sharply she was in freefall right now.

It was scary because there was absolutely no way of knowing what condition she might be in when she found her feet again. But it was also exhilarating because what really mattered was that she wasn’t alone. Baby Megan and her father were both coming along for the ride, and Laura intended to make the most of every possible moment.

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