Her Festive Doorstep Baby. Kate Hardy
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we’re looking at the day after New Year.’
‘Right.’ Amy took a deep breath. Which meant she was spending the next week with a baby that she’d have to give back. It was a warning not to let herself bond too deeply with Hope.
‘So how’s it going?’ Jane asked.
‘It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be,’ Amy said. ‘And I’m supposed to be a well-organised adult. How on earth would a young, inexperienced mum cope on her own?’
‘She’d be struggling,’ Jane said. ‘I don’t suppose the police have found Hope’s mum, yet?’
‘Not that I’ve heard,’ Amy said.
‘Right. So what are you struggling with most?’ Jane asked. ‘Is there anyone you can call on?’
‘Only my neighbour,’ Amy said. And she had the strongest feeling that Josh might have some issues with looking after a baby, too. Not that she could ask him without either being rude and intrusive, which might make him decide he didn’t want to help, or telling him about her past—and the last thing she wanted was for him to start pitying her and seeing her in a different light. ‘As for what I’m struggling with, I’m worrying that I’m doing everything wrong. I mean, I know I can follow the instructions with the sterilising stuff and the formula milk, and obviously I know to heat the milk in a jug of hot water rather than in the microwave, but am I feeding her enough and is she getting enough sleep?’ She grimaced. ‘And she cries an awful lot more than I was expecting. I’m not very good at getting her to feel secure and happy.’
‘Crash course,’ Jane said. ‘If the baby’s crying, she either wants feeding, a nappy change or a cuddle. Sing to her, rock her, hold her, dance with her—obviously I mean more like a slow dance than break-dancing.’
That made Amy smile. ‘I don’t think I can break-dance on my own, let alone with a baby in my arms.’
Jane grinned back. ‘I guess. OK. Make the feeds in batches that’ll be enough for a day’s worth and keep them in the fridge, so all you have to do in the middle of the night is heat up the milk in a jug of hot water. Keep a note of the baby’s feed times and how much she takes, and write down when she sleeps and how long. That’ll help you see what her routine is. And obviously try to get some sleep when Hope sleeps, or you’ll be exhausted by Boxing Day.’ She scribbled down a phone number. ‘If you’re stuck, that’s my mobile.’
‘You’re on duty over Christmas?’
‘No,’ Jane admitted, ‘but without you I wouldn’t know what to do with Hope, so I’m happy for you to call me if you need me.’
‘Thanks,’ Amy said.
‘Good luck.’
And then she was on her own with the baby again. She just about had time to make up the Moses basket with the bedding, sterilise the bottles Jane had brought and make up the feeds before Hope woke, crying.
Amy could definitely tell the reason for this one: Hope needed a fresh nappy.
And then the baby was hungry.
And then she wanted a cuddle.
Time was rushing away. Amy knew that Josh would be back soon, and she hadn’t even looked at the inside of her fridge, let alone started preparing something to eat.
‘I’m supposed to be cooking dinner tonight,’ Amy told the baby. Even if the shops hadn’t closed early for Christmas Eve, she wouldn’t have been able to go out and pick up a pizza in any case because she couldn’t leave the baby alone. It was hardly fair to ask Josh to get a takeaway on the way back from his shift. ‘We’re going to have to go for something that can look after itself in the oven.’
The baby gurgled.
‘You have no idea how weird this is,’ Amy said. ‘Josh and I smile and nod at each other if we pass in the hallway, and that’s it. And now he’s having dinner with me tonight and helping me look after you.’
No comment from Hope.
‘But it’s not a date,’ Amy added. ‘OK, so we’re both single. But my past is messy and my future would be problematic for anyone who wants to date me. In fact, I’m just rubbish at picking men. Gavin was a liar and a cheat, and when it came to a crisis Michael walked away because I wasn’t enough for him. So I’m better off forgetting all about romantic relationships.’
Though maybe looking after Hope might help her finally come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to have a child of her own. To the point where she could reconnect with her friends—OK, she’d have a bit of grovelling to do, but she had a feeling that they’d understand when she explained why she’d gone distant on them. She could enjoy babysitting her friends’ children and reading stories to them, and hopefully the joy would outweigh the ache in her heart.
‘Besides, there’s no reason why Josh should be interested in me,’ she added. She’d felt that frisson of attraction when they’d accidentally touched while caring for the baby earlier, but she had no idea whether it was mutual. ‘We might become friends. Which would be nice. But that’s it,’ she said firmly.
Hope gurgled then, as if to say, ‘How do you know what he thinks?’
She didn’t. But she did need his help, so she had no intention of doing or saying anything that might make him back away. ‘It’s just the way it is,’ she said. ‘And you, Missy, are going to have to go in the Moses basket for a few minutes, to let me put something together for dinner.’
In the end, Amy had to wait for Hope to fall asleep again. And then she worked at speed to peel and chop the veg, then put them in a casserole dish with a couple of chicken breasts and half a bottle of red wine.
By the time she’d finished, Hope was crying again. Amy suppressed a sigh and went through her mental checklist. Was the baby hungry, wet or just wanted a cuddle? And why was it so hard to work out which cry meant which?
* * *
Josh headed back to his flat after his shift. Right now all he wanted to do was to fall onto the sofa and watch something on TV that didn’t require him to think too much. He was bone-deep tired, and wished he hadn’t offered to help with the baby; but he had a feeling that Amy had only agreed to look after the baby because he’d promised to help. It would be pretty unfair of him to bail out on her now.
And she was cooking dinner for both of them. She hadn’t said anything about dessert, but he didn’t exactly have anything in his fridge that would pass muster. A bottle of wine was the best he could offer as his contribution.
He’d told her he’d be back for half-past eight—and it was twenty-five past now, so he didn’t have time for a shower. He was pretty sure he wasn’t sweaty and vile, and his hair had a mind of its own anyway, so it would be sticking out at odd angles within five minutes of him putting a comb through it. No point in wasting time.
Besides, this wasn’t a date. It wasn’t as if he had to dress up, or was trying to impress her by being smooth, suave and charming. Amy was his neighbour and he was simply helping with the baby who’d been abandoned on their doorstep.
At Christmas.
Not that you’d know it was Christmas, looking at his flat. It was even less Christmassy than Amy’s was, because he hadn’t even bothered putting any cards on the mantelpiece. He wondered if she loathed Christmas as much as he did. For him, Christmas Eve would always be the anniversary of the day his life imploded. When Kelly—who had been so adamant that she wanted to concentrate on her career rather than starting a family—had told him that she was pregnant. That the baby wasn’t his. And that she was leaving him for the baby’s father.
Josh had been too numb to believe it at first. But while he’d been saving lives and patching up wounds, Kelly had been packing her stuff, ready to leave him. Though in some ways she’d been fair. She’d been scrupulous only to pack things that were hers and to give him first dibs on anything