CHAPTER ONE

      WHEN Gemma heard the pounding on her front door, she knew something was desperately wrong. Startled, she hurried to answer it, hardly expecting to find her best friend on her doorstep, clutching her ten-month-old daughter to her chest as if the baby were a life-preserver.

      ‘I need your help, Gemma. Are you terribly busy?’

      Shocked by the fear in her friend’s eyes, Gemma slipped a reassuring arm around her shoulders. ‘Bel, you know I’m never too busy for you. Come in and tell me what’s wrong.’

      Isobel stepped into the flat with a shaky sigh and hefted baby Mollie higher on her hip. Her eyes darted to the pile of paperwork on Gemma’s dining table. ‘Oh, you are busy. I’m sorry.’

      ‘Don’t worry about this mess.’ With a quick dismissive gesture, Gemma gathered up the designs she’d just finished and slipped them into a manila folder. For the moment she would have to put aside her own panic about deadlines and the need to dash this marketing brochure to the printers this afternoon. Isobel was obviously besieged by much more serious problems. ‘How can I help?’

      To Gemma’s horror, Isobel’s normally serene face crumpled and tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘It’s Dave.’

      ‘Dave? Has something happened in Africa?’ Two months earlier, Isobel’s husband Dave had been seconded by an Australian aid agency to sink wells in Somalia.

      Isobel hugged Mollie even closer and rested a trembling chin on the baby’s curly head. ‘It’s so sudden, it’s terrible. He’s being held hostage. I’m sure it’s all some awful mistake, but rebels are involved.’ She drew a deep shuddering breath, clearly trying to suppress the urge to burst into full-scale crying.

      ‘I can’t believe it,’ Gemma whispered, gripping her friend’s cold fingers while she gaped at her.

      Surely this sort of thing didn’t happen to ordinary people? Not to easygoing, cheerful Dave Jardine?

      She groped for the right words and gave up the struggle. ‘I’m so sorry. This is terrible. Poor Dave.’ The thought of her childhood friend—the boy she’d grown up with in the bush—facing armed rebels was appalling. How could his wife bear it? She stared helplessly at Isobel’s white face and whispered, ‘What can we do?’

      ‘I’m going to him,’ Isobel answered with a determined lift of her chin.

      ‘You’re going to Africa?’ Gemma pulled out another chair and sat down swiftly. This second shock was almost worse than the first. ‘What can you do?’ she asked at last.

      ‘Apparently I’m the only one who can do anything,’ Isobel explained with wide, frightened eyes. ‘Because I’m Dave’s wife, the people at the Australian Embassy think I can help. Dave’s there for humanitarian reasons and they think the rebels are more likely to respond if we work on the family angle.’

      ‘Oh, Isobel, how brave of you!!’ Gemma jumped up again and hugged her. ‘Lucky Dave to have such a wonderful wife.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Love and the kind of marriage that you guys have—it’s—it’s amazing!’ For Gemma it was beyond imagining. With a short burst of pride, she remembered that she shared responsibility for this wonderful partnership by introducing Isobel and Dave during their university days.

      Her gaze dropped to the innocent baby perched happily on her mother’s lap. ‘You couldn’t dream of taking little Mollie into a dangerous situation like that?’

      ‘No, of course I couldn’t.’ Isobel sighed and pressed her lips to her daughter’s chubby cheek. ‘I can’t bear the thought of leaving her behind, but that’s where you come in, Gem. I’ve an enormous favour to ask.’

      ‘Of course—I’ll do anything.’ Gemma did her best to ignore the nervous knot tightening in her stomach as her mind raced.

      ‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring you first to warn you, but I knew you were going to be home and…’ Isobel’s voice trailed away as she looked at her friend hopefully.

      ‘Just tell me how I can help.’

      ‘I was hoping you could mind Mollie for me.’

      Gemma gulped. While she adored Mollie, she knew absolutely zilch about caring for babies. She pressed her lips tightly together before she verbalised any of the sudden doubts that swamped her. Of course she could mind a baby. Millions of women all over the world had been doing it for centuries without turning a hair. ‘I’d love to have her,’ she said with a bright smile.

      Isobel reached out and squeezed Gemma’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I’ve dumped this on you at such short notice, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else to look after my little girl. My parents are on holiday in Spain, as you know. Dave’s