The Midwife's Little Miracle. Fiona McArthur

a leather umbilical cord for emergencies.

      It meant she was joined again to her daughter and she liked the idea for the flight.

      She wondered who would be drawing reassurance from whom in the coming flight. Thank God Andy was there to look after both of them.

      Then Andy climbed into the other side of the plane and squeezed his big frame down next to her, and she could feel the warmth from his body like a soothing shield. She enjoyed feeling slightly safer until she remembered his presence meant they were close to take-off.

      Oh, boy, she thought grimly, and concentrated on his strong hands as they caressed the controls. An unexpected wish to feel those fingers squeeze her hand in comfort made her twist to stare out the window.

      ‘You OK?’ She heard his voice and she turned back and hoped her face at least appeared calm.

      ‘Fine,’ she lied, and he looked across at her and grinned.

      He nodded and resumed his flight preparations. She chewed her lip while he talked to the flight control tower and then it was too late to change her mind because the little Cessna had begun to taxi in an ungainly rattle down the runway.

      Another small plane in front of them awaited take-off and she watched in sick fascination as it lined up and then hurtled away from them down the runway before it climbed precariously away into the sky. She swallowed the fear in her throat. Their plane would have to do that.

      She wished irrationally that Dawn would be less settled and whimper or do something to distract her, but her daughter snoozed on regardless.

      Andy positioned the plane and the engine built in noise until it seemed to scream—a little like the noise Montana wanted to make but couldn’t—and her nerves stretched.

      He looked across at her and flashed his white teeth in the joy of the moment before take-off. Pretty impressive dentistry, she acknowledged, by grimacing back, then she returned to the only thing she could do as she breathed in and out. She prayed.

      Breathing was a good thing and improved the lightness in her head at least, and praying could be helpful if divine intervention was required.

      He released the brakes and the plane began its thunder down the runway and when she risked a look the tarmac beside her blurred. Suddenly the noise changed and her stomach plummeted and she realised they were in the air as the ground dropped woozily below her window.

      OhmyGod. She turned her head away and closed her eyes.

      Obviously Dawn travelled better than her mother. She was asleep. Montana tried to think of something different that rhymed with doom and gloom and boom. She moistened her lips and risked opening one eye.

      They’d levelled out and Andy looked pretty relaxed. She opened her other eye.

      She’d talk about the weather. ‘So, do you have emergency supplies in this thing and a homing beacon?’ That wasn’t what she’d meant to say.

      Andy smiled. ‘GPS tracker and, yes, we have basic emergency supplies. Today we even have English muffins, ginger marmalade and Norfolk punch as extras for my housekeeper and jasmine tea for you. But despite the size of the plane, we’re safe.’

      He glanced at her sleeping daughter. ‘Dawn isn’t worried.’

      Montana looked down at her. ‘Hmm. She has less imagination than I have.’

      ‘Wimp.’

      His eyes danced and she noticed he had little brown flecks through the green of his irises, then she frowned at the unfairness of the comment.

      ‘Hey, if I was a wimp, I wouldn’t be here.’

      The hundred-watt smile he sent her way warmed the ice around her heart and made her forget she and Dawn were in a fragile capsule a mile above the earth. Now it felt more like she floated in the air without support amongst the clouds outside her window. Heady stuff. Probably oxygen deprivation.

      ‘That’s true. You are not a wimp. Well done.’ His words continued to warm that cold spot she’d had in her chest for far too long, though it was probably just reactionary euphoria that they hadn’t died on take-off.

      He changed the subject and began to recite anecdotes about the older doctor he lived with, and by the time they were nearly there she had acclimatised to the concept of flight, with Andy at least.

      Montana’s first sight of Lyrebird Lake was as they broke through the low cloud and saw it lying ahead.

      The grey of the water on the lake reflected the grey of the clouds that had dogged most of their journey and suddenly it suited her mood and her spirits plummeted.

      She didn’t know anyone in this town except Andy. No doubt this sudden low feeling was helped by residual pregnancy hormones, but what had she been thinking of to leave everything she knew behind and literally take off with her week-old baby and a man she’d barely met? Even if he was the most restful man she’d ever known?

      What if it didn’t work out? What if Dawn cried every night and kept the whole household awake? What if she lost this rapport with Andy that she relied on so much?