in,’ Amy said. ‘We think she might be a girl in my form. I didn’t recognise the handwriting on the note because I don’t actually teach her, so there’s no reason for me ever to see her work or her writing.’
‘We did think about maybe going round to see her for a chat,’ Josh said.
‘No—it’s better to leave this to the authorities,’ Jane said, ‘especially if you don’t have any proof that it’s definitely her. What makes you think it’s her, Amy?’
‘She’s gone very quiet, lately. I did bring it up with her mum, who said it was because her new partner had moved in and Freya was having trouble adjusting to the idea of someone she saw trying to take her dad’s place.’ She paused. ‘Freya wears quite baggy clothes, not skinny trousers or anything. And because it’s winter it’s easier to hide a pregnancy under a baggy sweater.’
‘Does she look as if she’s put on weight?’
‘A little bit, but body image is a really sensitive area for teens, and I guessed she might be comfort-eating if she wasn’t happy at home,’ Amy said. ‘Drawing attention to it would only have made her feel worse, and the last thing I wanted was for her to start starving herself or taking diet pills. I was going to have a chat with her in the New Year.’ She paused. ‘I thought that might be why she kept rushing to the loo.’
‘But that’s also a symptom of late pregnancy,’ Josh said.
‘So how do we tackle this?’ Amy asked.
‘You don’t. I do it,’ Jane said. ‘Under the safeguarding rules, Amy, I know you can give me the contact information of a student you’re worried about, so can you tell me her name and address?’
Amy had accessed Freya’s school records earlier, and gave Jane the relevant details.
‘Thanks. I’ll liaise with the police, then do a preliminary visit and see if I can get any information,’ Jane said. ‘And thank you.’
‘Will you let me know how you get on?’ Amy asked.
‘I’m afraid any conversations I have will be confidential, unless I have Freya’s permission to talk to you,’ Jane said, sounding regretful.
‘We understand. But please tell her from us that the baby’s doing just fine and we’d be happy to send her a picture, or for her to come and visit Hope,’ Josh said. ‘And if she does turn out to be our missing mum, please persuade her to see a doctor to get checked over. She won’t be in trouble, but we need to be sure that she’s all right.’
‘I will,’ Jane promised.
Amy looked at Josh when she’d ended the call. ‘I really hope we’ve done the right thing.’
‘We have,’ he said. ‘Jane’s in a neutral position so, if our theory’s wrong, then Freya won’t be too embarrassed to walk into your form room next term. If it’s right, then Jane knows all the procedures and can get Freya the help she needs.’
‘I’d still rather go and see her myself,’ Amy said. ‘As you say, Jane’s neutral and she’s really nice, but she’s still a stranger. Surely Freya’s more likely to open up to me because she knows me?’
‘If our theory’s right, Freya left Hope with you because she trusted you to do the right thing and talk to the right people for her. Which you’ve done,’ Josh pointed out.
‘I guess.’
Hope woke; as soon as Amy picked her up, she could tell what the problem was. ‘Nappy. Super-bad nappy,’ she said.
‘Oh, great,’ Josh said with a sigh. ‘And it’s my turn to change her.’
‘I’m not arguing.’ Amy smiled and handed the baby over. Josh carried Hope to the bathroom. ‘Come on, Munchkin. Let’s sort you out.’
Josh was gone a very long time. And Amy could hear screaming, interspersed with him singing snatches of what sounded like every song that came into his head. Each one sounded slightly more desperate.
She was just about to go and see if she could do anything to help when he came back into the kitchen carrying a red-faced, still grizzly baby.
‘I was just about to come and see if you needed anything. Do I take it that it was really bad?’ she asked.
‘Let’s just say she needed a bath,’ he said grimly. ‘And she doesn’t like baths yet.’
‘Hence the screaming and the singing?’
‘Yeah.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I’m glad I’m not a teenager. After that nightmare in the bathroom just now, I’d be paranoid that my face was all it took to make any girl scream and run away.’
Amy couldn’t help laughing. ‘Hardly. You’re quite pretty.’
‘Pretty?’ He gave her a speaking look.
‘If you were a supply teacher at my school,’ she said, ‘you’d have gaggles of teenage girls hanging around the staff room every lunchtime in the hope of catching a glimpse of you.’
‘That,’ he said, ‘sounds scary. I think I’d rather deal with—wait for it...’ He adopted a pose and warbled to the tune of ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. ‘Five turkey carvers! Four black eyes, three throwing up, two broken ankles and a bead up a toddler’s nose.’
‘I ought to introduce you to our head of music,’ she said, laughing. ‘Between you, I can imagine you writing a panto about The Twelve Days of ED.’
‘Better believe it.’
‘So, what do you want to do this afternoon?’
‘It’s wet and miserable out there, and although Hope’s on the mend I’d rather not take her out, even though we’ve got the pram and snowsuit,’ Josh said.
‘Festive films on the sofa, then,’ she said.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘I feel a bit guilty, just slobbing around on the sofa.’
‘As you said, it’s not the weather for going out,’ she reminded him. ‘And you’ve had tough enough shifts to justify doing nothing for a day or so. Well, nothing but alternate feeds, changing the odd really vile nappy and singing songs to stop Hope crying.’
‘Well, if you put it that way...’ He stole a kiss. ‘Bring on the films.’
Snuggled up on the sofa with Josh and the baby, Amy had never felt more at peace. What had started off as a miserable Christmas was rapidly turning into one of the best Christmases ever.
‘Do you want me to take the sofa tonight?’ he asked when Hope had had her late evening feed.
‘I think we go for the same deal as last night,’ Amy said. ‘Except maybe this time we could change into pyjamas instead of sleeping in our clothes?’
‘Give me two minutes next door,’ he said.
And she burst out laughing when he returned in a pair of pyjamas covered in Christmas puddings. ‘That’s priceless. I’m almost tempted to take a snap of you wearing them and put it in Hope’s book.’
‘Absolutely not. These were my best friend’s wife’s idea of a joke,’ he said. ‘I don’t usually wear pyjamas. When they stayed at my flat after my housewarming, I ended up wearing a ratty old T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts so I’d be decent, and she said I needed proper pyjamas for when I had guests. This is the only pair I own. And this is the first time I’ve worn them.’
Amy went hot all over at the thought of Josh, in bed with her, naked. All the words flew out of her head and she just said, flustered, ‘I, um...’
He took her hand and kissed the back of each finger in turn, then turned her hand over and pressed a kiss into the palm. ‘Don’t be flustered. There’s no pressure,’ he said, his voice low and husky