CHAPTER TWO

      THIS COULDN’T BE HAPPENING.

      They had promised her that nothing like this could ever happen.

      And yet, here it was. Happening.

      The shock waves kept on rolling in. There was no point at all in trying to summon denial to deal with this. At some level, Sophie realised, she’d known from that first instant with that puzzling sense of recognition when she’d seen the twins. And her poor mother…

      No wonder Judy had almost fainted with the shock of feeling as if she’d stepped back three decades in time and was seeing not only her own young daughter again but seeing double.

      How could anyone think it was acceptable to shock people like this? Her mother could have had a heart attack. Sophie was already worried about her father’s state of health and now that anxiety had just increased exponentially to include her mother. As for her own state of mind… Well, she wasn’t even going to go there right now. This should not be happening. For this man to have tracked her down meant that somebody, somewhere—perhaps in the very IVF clinic she and Matthew had used themselves—had broken confidentiality.

      Had broken the law?

      Okay. Sophie knew how she felt now. Angry. Furious, in fact.

      ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ she hissed fiercely, keeping her voice as low as possible. ‘How did you even find out who I was?’

      Finn was still watching her intently after dropping that bombshell, so she couldn’t miss the flash of…guilt? Yes, that was what it was all right. He knew he’d done something he shouldn’t have. But it was gone as fast as it had appeared and what took its place looked disturbingly like defiance. Finn Connelly might know he’d done something that could get him into serious trouble but he was prepared to stand up for himself. He had a reason for doing this and he believed he could defend it.

      Judy took a gulp of air in. And then another. Sophie had to admire the way her mother was pulling herself together. She was staring at the two children on the other side of the room and she was also protecting them from hearing any of this conversation. Her voice was a whisper.

      ‘This has something to do with the eggs you donated, Sophie, doesn’t it? These girls are your biological children? My…’

      The whisper cracked and faded into silence but what she’d been about to say hung in the air as loudly as if it had been spoken.

       My grandchildren…

      This…this stunt…hadn’t just detonated an emotional bomb in her own life, it was going to affect other people. Her parents. They’d had to grieve the loss of their son-in-law and then the devastating extra loss of their unborn grandchild. It had taken years for them all to accept those losses and build a new version of their lives but they had done it. Together. With the help of a loyal and close community.

      This was such a slap in their faces. A living, breathing reminder of what had been lost. These were someone else’s children but they were what her own would have looked like. Who could have known that the genes for her type of uncontrollable hair were so strong? Sophie could feel the sharp teeth of her own grief against her heart, getting ready to bite with a force she hadn’t had to deal with for years. Her mother shouldn’t have to cope with this as well—it was just so unfair.

      But Judy seemed to be coping better than she was herself. She looked up at the two people who were staring at each other over her head and then she pushed herself to her feet. She was still pale, but seemed quite steady as she turned to Finn.

      ‘You know what? I’m thinking you’ve had a long drive, haven’t you?’

      Finn nodded slowly. ‘We’ve come from Wexford, in Ireland. Took the earliest ferry.’

      ‘You must be very tired.’ Judy’s tone held the kind of sympathy that made her patients comfortable to follow any advice she might have to offer. ‘And those little girls are probably exhausted.’

      She walked towards the twins. Sophie found herself holding her breath. Her mother was the quintessential maternal figure—more than a little overweight, a bit rumpled, with a smile so genuine nobody could resist smiling back—and babies and children adored her.

      How would these subdued little girls respond? Could they actually be aware, at some subconscious level, that there was such a strong genetic link?

      ‘You’re Ellie, aren’t you?’ Judy was smiling. ‘No…you’re Emma. I’m right, yes?’

      The twins nodded. They couldn’t possibly be aware of any link, Sophie thought, but there was no mistaking that they were falling under Judy Greene’s spell.

      ‘Would you like to come with me?’ she asked. ‘I’m thinking that you’re probably very hungry. Am I right?’

      Her query earned another nod. Slightly more enthusiastic this time, and Sophie heard what sounded like a defeated sigh escape from Finn.

      ‘Let’s put your hoods up. It’s raining outside but we don’t have far to go.’ Judy had a twin holding each of her hands as she came back towards where Finn and Sophie were still standing.

      ‘If it’s all right with you,’ she said to Finn, ‘I’m going to take the girls to the house and give them something to eat.’

      Finn seemed to be falling under her spell as well. He just nodded.

      ‘You two need to talk,’ Judy added.

      ‘But…what about Dad?’ Sophie caught her mother’s gaze. Her father had already given them a health scare. Wasn’t it a risk to add this shocking development to an already tough day?

      ‘He’s fine,’ Judy said. ‘All he needed was some food and a rest.’

      ‘But…’ Desperately, Sophie tried to grasp some element of control in an impossible situation. It might be better if her father didn’t see these children. ‘He might guess. Like you did…’

      ‘We can hardly keep it a secret, Sophie.’ Her mother’s gaze was steady. ‘It’s already too late for that. Talk to—’ Her eyebrows rose as she turned her head.

      ‘Finn,’ he supplied. ‘Finn Connelly.’

      ‘Talk to Finn.’ Judy nodded. ‘And then you can come and talk to me and Dad.’

      The twins seemed happy to follow her towards the back door of the clinic. Judy paused as she opened it.

      ‘And make that poor lad a cup of tea, Sophie. He looks done in.’

      The mechanics of making a cup of tea in the tiny kitchenette of the clinic were helpful. The actions of filling the electric jug and pushing the button to make it work, opening a cupboard to take out mugs, opening the old toffee tin to find some teabags—was a curiously normal bubble in the aftermath of the explosion.

      Had her mother known that it would make Sophie feel a little calmer?

      ‘Do you take milk?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Sugar.’