In memory of Jean and Bob Taylor,

       the best parents anyone could have had.

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

      ‘DR KHAPUR WILL see you now, Mrs Adams.’

      ‘Thank you.’

      Mia Adams stood up and followed the receptionist along the corridor. It had been almost six years since she’d last visited the fertility clinic. Although she had intended to come back after Harry was born, to thank everyone, somehow she had never got round to it. The journey into central London from Kent had seemed too daunting with a baby in tow, plus there’d been Chris to consider.

      Although Chris had coped remarkably well with the problems of living his life as a paraplegic, there had been times when he had needed that extra bit of care and attention. Consequently, the months had slipped past before she had realised it. It was doubtful if she would ever have come back, in fact, if she hadn’t received that letter.

      Mia frowned, wondering once again why Dr Khapur had contacted her. Harry was five now and she couldn’t understand why the consultant wanted to see her. It wasn’t as if she was hoping to have another child; Chris’s death two years ago had ruled out that possibility. So what did Dr Khapur want? Had something happened? Something to do with Harry?

      Mia’s stomach lurched at the thought. It was an effort to appear composed as the receptionist ushered her into an elegantly appointed office. Dr Khapur rose from his seat, smiling warmly as he came around the desk.

      ‘Mrs Adams! Thank you so much for coming. Please…take a seat, my dear.’

      The elderly doctor guided her towards a group of comfortable chairs near the window and Mia felt her unease intensify. Whenever she had visited the clinic in the past, she had sat at one side of that huge mahogany desk and Dr Khapur had sat at the other. Maybe it was silly but this new approach made her feel more nervous than ever so that her hands were shaking as she placed her bag on the floor.

      ‘Did you have a good journey?’ Dr Khapur asked solicitously as he sat down. He smiled at her but Mia detected a certain strain about his expression that heightened her feeling that something wasn’t right. It was an effort to reply calmly when her nerves seemed to be stretched to breaking point.

      ‘Fine, thank you, Doctor. Chris and I moved to London a few years ago, so I didn’t have as far to travel.’

      ‘Ah, I see. Good. Good.’

      He rubbed his hands together and Mia had the distinct impression that he was finding it difficult to decide how to continue. She leant forward, knowing that she had to get to the bottom of what was going on. If something was wrong, and if it had anything to do with Harry, she needed to know what it was.

      ‘Dr Khapur, I… .’

      She got no further when the door suddenly opened. Mia looked round in surprise, frowning when she saw the tall, dark-haired man who had entered the room. Privacy was of the utmost importance to the clinic’s clients and she couldn’t understand how he had got past the receptionist. That Dr Khapur was less than pleased by the interruption was obvious from the way he jumped to his feet.

      ‘Mr Forester, please! I really cannot allow you to come barging in like this.’

      ‘Is this her?’ The man ignored Dr Khapur as he turned to Mia and she shivered when she felt his cold grey eyes sweep over her. Colour rushed to her cheeks as she imagined what he would see. Medium height, medium build, mid-brown hair and regular features didn’t add up to all that much in her opinion. Her eyes were her best feature, a pure emerald green that lit up her face when she was happy. However, as she was feeling far from happy at that moment she doubted they would do much to enhance the impression he formed of her.

      She stood up, surprised that she should care one way or the other what he thought of her. She had no idea who he was even though it appeared he knew her.

      ‘I’m