A Baby In His In-Tray. Michelle Douglas
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was picked up on the first ring. ‘I’m sorry I hung up so abruptly, but I had to—’
‘There’s no need to apologise, Ms Gilmour. The noise was driving me to distraction as well and I’m not even in the same country, let alone the same room. It all sounds quiet now, though.’
‘Baby Jemima has been changed and fed and, having thrown up on my blouse, is now blissfully asleep. All’s well in Baby Land.’
‘I’ll replace your blouse.’
She blinked. ‘That won’t be necessary. It’ll wash out.’ She stared down at the sleeping baby and something inside her chest clenched. ‘She really is the sweetest little thing. Would you like me to send you a photo?’
‘Why?’
She shook herself. What was she thinking? Sebastian Tyrell didn’t sound like the kind of man who oohed and aahed over cute baby pictures. ‘Maybe...maybe she looks like her mother and that’ll give you a clue to the baby’s identity.’
‘I...uh... OK.’
She was grasping at straws and they both knew it. Nevertheless she took a picture on her phone and sent it through to him.
A long silence ensued. ‘Babies all look the same to me.’
She bit her lip. ‘You don’t have much experience with babies, do you?’
‘No.’
She drummed her fingers against her desk. He’d ruled out the police, so... ‘Do you want me to organise a nanny or some kind of babysitting service?’
‘I may not know much about babies but I know business. Questions will be asked and the answers recorded. The baby’s full details will need to be provided—a birth certificate may need to be produced.’
She doubted an actual birth certificate would be required, but she caught the gist of his concerns. They didn’t know Jemima’s full details. They barely knew any details at all! And if he was the baby’s father...
Another long silence ensued—a silence that started to burn and chafe through her. ‘Look, I don’t know if you’ll consider this any kind of solution, but Jemima can stay with me until you get back to London. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds perfect.’
His relief was evident and it occurred to her now that those long silences of his had been strategic devices to lead her to the point of making this precise offer. She didn’t know whether to be outraged or not.
‘I understand this is a great imposition on you, Ms Gilmour, and you have my sincere gratitude.’
She chose not to be outraged.
‘I also understand that you can’t be expected to perform both nanny duties and office duties at the same time. Please organise a temp to take over in your absence. Judith performs her duties ably, but...’ He trailed off. ‘The woman you arranged to come in while you were on holiday was very good.’
‘I’ll check with the agency and see if she’s available.’ Playing nanny would be far more fun than playing office manager. And she couldn’t help thinking that the further away from the office she was, the less the likelihood of her and Liz’s deception being detected.
Win-win.
She glanced at the sleeping baby. Except what was baby Jemima winning? Nothing. She faced upheaval and an uncertain future. She bit back a sigh. Thankfully the baby was blissfully unaware of that fact.
‘I hope your mother is all right,’ she murmured.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Oops! ‘Oh... I was talking to the baby, but... Her mother must’ve felt in the direst of straits to leave her baby like this.’
And she’d left her baby in the care of Sebastian Tyrell. What did that show?
That she trusted him?
She swallowed. That he was the father?
‘I’d prefer it, Ms Gilmour, if you refrained from enacting a Cheltenham tragedy.’
Her chin shot up. ‘To be perfectly frank with you, sir, I’m not sure it much matters what you’d prefer. I’d have preferred not to have come back from lunch to find an anonymous baby abandoned on my desk. There’s not only a mystery to solve—’ who was the child’s mother ‘—but a couple of serious issues to be dealt with too. I can’t help feeling time is of the essence.’
Don’t lose me my job, Livvy.
She grimaced and waited for him to take her to task for her insolence. He didn’t. Instead there was that darn silence again. She suddenly laughed. ‘You don’t feel that you can reprimand me at the moment because you’re in my debt.’
‘I have no wish to reprimand you. You’re worried, understandably so, and I share your concerns. I will own, however, to a little...surprise over your fieriness.’
She winced. She needed to tread carefully—channel her more level-headed sibling. ‘Babies bring it out in me,’ she offered weakly.
‘I see.’
‘I should go and let you make your travel arrangements.’ She blinked. ‘I mean...you are planning to return immediately, aren’t you?’ She’d simply taken that for granted.
‘Absolutely.’
‘Or perhaps you’d like me to organise your travel arrangements?’ She gave a silent scream. Were they part of her job description? She had no idea.
‘The arrangements are already underway.’
The tap-tapping noises in the background suddenly made sense. She wondered how many devices he had open in front of him besides his phone—his tablet and laptop perhaps? Those strategic silences suddenly took on a different complexion.
A moment later she dismissed that thought. No, she’d bet her life on the fact that Sebastian Tyrell was a master of the strategic pause.
‘I’ll be back in London as soon as I can.’
‘Travel safe, sir.’
‘Wait!’
She wanted away from him—now! Though she couldn’t explain why. ‘Yes?’
‘I’d like you and the baby to move into my house on Regent’s Park.’
Not a chance! ‘I’m sorry, Mr Tyrell, but I’m not comfortable with that. I’ll go back to my—’ she gulped back the word sister’s, covered it with a cough ‘—flat. I know where everything is there.’
‘I—’
‘Please don’t waste time arguing with me.’
‘Very well.’
She winced at the tightness of his voice.
‘You’re going to incur expenses—the baby will need things. Please charge them to my personal account. I insist that I take care of all the expenses.’
‘OK, will do.’ She made a mental note to keep all receipts.
‘I hope to see you very soon, Ms Gilmour.’
And then he was gone. Liv scowled at the receiver, miffed beyond measure that she hadn’t had the chance to hang up first. She dropped the receiver back into its cradle. ‘I can hardly wait.’
* * *
Liv sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed her phone before it could ring again. The clock by the bed read five forty-four a.m. Please don’t have woken the baby! She held her breath but no answering wail met her expectant ears. Thank you, God!
‘What?’ she growled into the phone without the slightest bit of grace. It was too early and she was too tired.
‘Ms Gilmour?’