‘So what time did you get to bed last night?’

      ‘God, you sound like my mother,’ Harry groaned, and scrubbed a hand over his already rumpled hair.

      ‘I thought your mother had no idea what time you went to bed because she was there as little as possible? And maybe I have a flicker of sympathy for her,’ she said unkindly.

      ‘Ouch.’ He winced and sat down on the arm of the sofa. ‘And don’t waste your sympathy on her. She didn’t know, didn’t care—didn’t want to have anything to do with me. Let me rephrase that. You sound as if you could be my mother.’

      She smiled and relented a little. ‘So—what time? I feel I have the right to ask, since this is the second feed I’ve given your daughter since you crashed into your bedroom at three-thirty this morning.’

      ‘So why ask if you know what time?’ he groaned, getting up and heading for the kitchen. ‘Tea?’

      ‘Thanks, that would be lovely.’

      Kizzy—like Harry and Dan—had finished the bottle, so Emily lifted her up against her shoulder and followed him through to the kitchen.

      ‘So did you get anything out of my brother last night?’

      He shook his head. ‘Nothing that made any sense, but I have to say I think Kate’s at the bottom of it.’

      ‘Mmm. I agree. Oh, rats. I did so hope he was settled this time. They seemed to get on well enough.’

      Harry looked at her closely. ‘Do you like her?’

      Oh, blast. Now she was going to be torn between loyalty and truth.

      ‘That’s a no, then.’

      ‘I didn’t say a word.’

      ‘No. And you don’t hang back for nothing. So you don’t like her—or you don’t think she’s right for him.’

      ‘it’s not for me to decide that,’ she protested, but her heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t like Kate—never had, never would. She thought she was superficial and self-serving, and she’d never been able to understand what Dan saw in her. But she’d thought he loved her, was happy with her, and so she’d been happy for him.

      She sighed and took her tea, then put it down again, took his from him and handed him the baby. ‘Yours, I think,’ she said. Picking up her tea again, she went back upstairs to bed. Five minutes, she thought. Just five minutes alone, with a cup of tea and a good book—

      ‘Mummy!’

      She gave Freddie a tired smile, scooped him up in one arm and carried him back to bed with her. ‘Hello, little man. How are you today?’

      ‘’K,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Want tea!’ And he slid off the bed and headed for the stairs, turning as he got to the top to look back at her.

      She saw it coming. Saw the inevitable, but as if her feet were stuck in treacle, she just couldn’t get there in time.

      ‘Freddie, careful!’ she said, running towards him, but he laughed and turned and then went, in slow motion, end over end over end until he hit the floor at the bottom and was still. She screamed and flew down the stairs after him, arriving a fraction after Harry.

      ‘Don’t touch him!’

      His voice checked her, but he held her back, then let her go once he was sure it had registered, but of course it had. She couldn’t move him in case of making his injuries worse—oh, dear God, what if he’d broken his neck? What if he’d got a head injury?

      ‘Mummy,’ he wailed, and, rolling over, he stumbled into her arms, sobbing pitifully.

      She clung to him, tears pouring down her face, rocking him gently. ‘It’s all right, baby, it’s all right. You’re OK, Freddie, I’ve got you,’ she murmured, over and over again, soothing him until his sobs slowed to a steady hiccup.

      She became aware of Dan sitting on the bottom step with his arm around her, Harry crouching beyond her, one hand gently, rhythmically stroking her knee. Beth was standing wide-eyed beside him, a look of terror on her face.

      She tried to smile. ‘He’s OK. I think he’s probably just bruised. Freddie, let me look at you,’ she said, shocked at how shaky her voice was.

      ‘Head,’ Freddie said, rubbing his forehead tearfully. She could see a blue bump coming up, and all her fears about head injuries came to the fore again. ‘Magic kiss!’ he demanded, and she closed her eyes and pressed her lips, oh, so gently to the little bump.

      ‘There,’ she said, her voice shaking still. ‘Magic kiss—all better now.’

      And then she looked up and caught Harry’s eyes, and saw the tenderness and concern for her son in them—and the memory of their own magic kiss in his wry, gentle smile.

      ‘Want tea,’ Freddie said, but Harry shook his head.

      ‘He ought to be nil by mouth until he’s checked over.’

      ‘Shouldn’t I just watch him? Keep him awake and check him?’ Just the thought of hours in A and E was enough to make her want to weep, but she knew he was right. ‘OK,’ she sighed, before he could answer. ‘I’ll get dressed. Freddie, stay with Harry and Uncle Dan and Beth, and I’ll get ready, then we’ll go in the car to the hospital and you can see the nice doctors again—OK?’

      ‘Again?’

      She looked up at Harry. ‘Oh, yes. Freddie lives life in the fast lane. We’re regulars. And while I’m gone, could you two find the stairgate and put it up, and give Beth her breakfast, and then, if Kizzy’s all right, why don’t you both go over to the garden and get started on clearing the patio slabs? But for now a clean nappy on him would be good.’

      And handing Freddie over to his uncle, she got to her feet and ran upstairs, her legs like jelly. And shutting her bedroom door, she leant back against it, buried her head in her hands and sobbed.