discovered that at twenty-eight years of age she could still blush like the shy fourteen-year-old who’d first come to this house.
Maybe Josh, too, was experiencing whatever similar response men felt when, without warning, they stumbled into emotional quicksand because, for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Grace said, ‘You’re okay, Josh. I don’t have a father who cares enough to get out his shotgun and make you do the decent thing.’
‘I know all about uncaring fathers, Grace. You’re right. Having seen the dark side, fatherhood is not something I ever wanted, but here I am, like it or not.’
And Grace, who hadn’t thought beyond the next hour for more than a week, realised that she had better start putting in some serious thinking time about what future she saw for Posie. For herself.
‘This changes everything, doesn’t it?’ she said, sinking onto the stairs.
Josh sat down beside her, put his spare arm around her, pulled her against his chest. ‘Everything,’ he agreed.
They sat there for long minutes, both of them contemplating the future. Until last week, each had seen the road clear ahead of them. Two separate paths. One a quiet small-town road, the other a challenging climb up a twisting mountain path with the end lost in the clouds. Now their ways merged in a pothole-strewn lane that was shrouded in swirling mists.
It was Posie, waving a hand and grabbing a handful of Josh’s hair, who finally brought them back to now, this minute and, as he yelped, Grace lifted her head, smiling despite everything as she rescued him from Posie’s tight little grasp.
‘Did she pull it out by the roots?’ he asked, rubbing at his scalp.
‘Not much. Get used to it.’
‘Will you help?’
‘I’m in it for the duration, Josh.’
And that, she realised, was all that mattered. She was now the only mother Posie would ever have and she just had to get on with it. If Josh wanted to be a father… Well, that was good, but she wasn’t holding her breath.
And, with that, the world steadied and, realising that she was still clutching the feeders, she got to her feet. Milk. Shower. Work. Concentrate on one thing at a time. Do what had to be done and the rest would fall into place….
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ she said, glancing down at him.
‘You’re leaving Posie with me?’ She saw panic flash across his face. ‘What do I do with her?’
She paused, the words ‘Be a father’ burning in her brain. Not fair. She wanted him around for Posie, but she wouldn’t stoop to blackmail.
He hadn’t asked for—or wanted—this.
‘Just keep her amused for a while,’ she said, forcing herself to walk up the stairs, away from them. She got very nearly halfway before she looked back.
He hadn’t moved, but was looking up at her, dark hair still ruffled from bed, ancient jogging pants sagging below his waist, exposing a band of paler skin, feet bare. Posie propped in his elbow, happily sucking at his naked shoulder.
If she had trawled her imagination for a perfect picture of fatherhood, she couldn’t have bettered it.
Don’t go there, she warned herself. It might only take one little tadpole waking up from deep freeze and eager to explore to make a baby, but being a father required a lifetime of commitment.
Josh thought one night made them lovers. He couldn’t even stay married to the same woman for more than a year. He saved his energies for the really important stuff, like dominating his own field of engineering.
‘Better still,’ she said, a catch in her throat, ‘let her amuse you.’
Josh looked at the baby, then back up at her. ‘What does she do?’
‘Do? She’s not a performing seal.’ Then, because he was clearly so far out of his depth he was in danger of drowning, she threw him a lifeline. ‘She’s just learned to roll over. If you put her down on the carpet, she’ll show you.’
She didn’t wait to see what he did, but ran up the two flights of stairs to her own flat, her brain pounding out the words Josh’s baby over and over.
She’d been carrying Josh’s baby inside her for nine months and not known. Had given birth to Josh’s baby and had given her away.
How could she have done that?
How could she have looked at her and not seen? The little eyelid tuck. The grey eyes flecked with amber. A little curl that fell over her right eye.
He was right not to have told her.
To have known and have to give her up, even to her sister, would have been like tearing her heart from her body and, without it, she would never have survived.
Once she finished expressing her milk, Grace took a shower, then sorted through her wardrobe for something suitable for their trip into Maybridge, ignoring her usual bright colours as inappropriate, choosing the navy trouser suit she normally kept for visits to the bank.
She’d suggest walking into town. Apart from avoiding the hassle of parking, it would be good to stretch their legs, get some fresh air. They could cut through the park on the way home, maybe take some crusts. It was way past time that Posie was introduced to the joys of feeding the ducks. Phoebe had always loved doing that.
To the outside world they’d look like any ordinary family, she thought. Mother, father, baby. All they lacked was a dog.
She put her hand over her mouth, squeezed her eyes tight shut. Hung on until the urge to howl passed.
Grace’s baby…
The words thumped through Josh’s head as he took the stairs down to the basement flat. Last night he’d stood for a long time in the shadows of the nursery, watching his child sleeping, as every shade of emotion raced through him.
Anger, confusion, guilt. Grief at not just the loss of his brother and Phoebe, but of this last year when he’d walled himself up, unable to come to terms with what he’d done, what his brother had done. Feeling somehow cheated, used. Worst of all, having deep buried feelings for Grace stirred up to torment him.
The minute he’d stopped concentrating on something else, his mind would sandbag him with memories of how it had felt to be buried to the hilt in her sweet, hot body, her legs wrapped around him as she’d cried out his name. Creating pictures of her carrying his child, as if the one had led from the other.
He’d never wanted to be a father. No man had ever been more careful to avoid it. Even when he’d gone to that clinic, done what was necessary, he had managed to distance himself from the reality of it. Any baby would be Michael’s, not his. And it had worked until he had discovered that it was Grace who’d be carrying his seed, at which point dispassion had deserted him.
Now, lifting his little girl from his shoulder, holding her in front of him, he was faced with more reality than he could handle.
‘So, Posie,’ he said, ‘are you going to amuse me?’
Posie, head wobbling slightly, frowned in concentration as if considering his question, just as her mother had once frowned over her homework.
‘Your mother said you can roll. Is that the extent of your repertoire?’
That earned him his first smile.
‘What? You think that’s a funny word, do you?’
Posie made a grab for his cheek, found the short stubble of his beard and tugged.
‘Oh, no, you don’t, young lady,’ he gasped and, eyes watering, put her down on the carpet, pulled on the sweater he’d discarded the night before, then settled down on the floor beside her.
Posie stuck her fingers