chance to sound him out a little more. ‘The year after will be better,’ she said. ‘Because by then the baby will be talking and know what’s going on.’
‘We’re so getting a train set for the second Christmas,’ he said. ‘Whether we have a girl or a boy. Wooden trains are the best fun.’
And she could just see him kneeling on the floor with their baby, helping their little one put the train tracks together. Her heart constricted. But would she be there with him?
‘You’re going to be an amazing mum,’ he said. ‘Singing nursery rhymes and telling stories with all the voices.’
He’d been thinking about the future, then? Just the baby, or about them too? She let herself get carried away with the fantasy that it was all of them. ‘And you’re going to be the dad who does all the scary stuff—the highest slide in the park, pushing the swings as fast as they’ll go.’
‘That sounds good to me,’ he said. ‘But not that scary. I’ll always keep my own safe.’
Right at that second she wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the baby or her. And she so wanted it to be both of them.
‘Ella—can I borrow you for a second?’ Jennie, their trainee midwife, asked.
Oh, help. Ella really hoped that Jennie hadn’t overheard any of that conversation.
‘Sure,’ she said, keeping her fingers crossed that she didn’t sound flustered. ‘I’ll just let my mum know I’ll be with you for a little while before I finish writing up her notes. I think they’re next for Santa, so they won’t miss me. Catch you later, Oliver.’
‘Later,’ he agreed with a smile.
It was just a work pleasantry, that was all, she reminded herself. She might not even see him again before the end of her shift. But at least they hadn’t been fighting. That had to be a start.
Once Ella had helped Jennie and finished writing up her notes, she was called to the birthing suite for another delivery. This was the best job in the world, she thought, watching the little family in front of her: the dad with tears of pride and joy in his eyes, the mum looking tired but radiant, and the baby cuddled up between them. To be able to share these first few precious minutes of a new life was so amazing.
The delivery had been free from complications, the baby had had a perfect Apgar score, and now the three of them were settled back on the ward.
Would Oliver cry when their baby arrived, the way this baby’s dad had cried with sheer joy? Or would he be perfectly cool, calm and collected? Given what he’d said to her when Santa came onto the ward, she had a feeling it would be the former. And he had talked about next Christmas, so it sounded as if he wanted to be part of the baby’s life.
There was still a lot they weren’t saying to each other, but at least they weren’t arguing. So maybe they’d manage to work things out between them.
She left the little family to bond and went to write up her notes in the quiet of the office.
She was halfway through when there was a rap on the door. She looked up to see Oliver standing in the doorway.
‘Can I have a word?’ he asked.
Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about the way he’d kissed her in the ultrasound room yesterday; but then she remembered how quick he’d been to dismiss it as a simple reaction to seeing the baby and hearing the good news. Despite what he’d said to her earlier today about their baby and next Christmas, they hadn’t actually resolved their relationship. And she had to be objective about this. Oliver Darrington might be the father of her baby, but he wasn’t in love with her. She’d be a fool to dream it would ever happen. She damped down the flare of desire. ‘Sure,’ she said, as coolly as she could. ‘Though I’m in the middle of writing up the birth notes.’
‘Did it go well?’
‘Very. There were no complications, and I left the new mum and dad bonding with their little girl.’ She smiled. ‘The dad cried when she was born. It was so lovely to see how happy they were.’ And oh, she had to stop talking. The last thing she wanted was for Oliver to guess how she was feeling. ‘You wanted something?’
‘Yes. What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Cleaning my flat,’ she said, ‘as it’s my day off. And I really ought to do a bit of Christmas shopping. I’m a bit behind, this year.’
‘Are you busy in the evening?’ he asked.
‘Why?’
‘Because my parents are having a cocktail party.’ He looked awkward. ‘I wondered if you’d like to come with me.’
He wanted her to meet his parents?
Ella stared at him in surprise. ‘Are you sure? I mean... They didn’t invite me.’
‘They have now. I asked if I could bring you.’
So he’d already talked to his family about her? Had he told them about the baby, despite the fact he’d suggested she shouldn’t tell anyone until she was past the first trimester?
She pushed down the rising panic. Cocktail party, he’d said. She didn’t know anyone who actually held cocktail parties. She knew that Oliver had quite a posh accent. But how posh exactly were they? Would she fit in?
As if he’d guessed what she was thinking, he said, ‘It’s not a big deal. Just a drinks party they hold every year before Christmas.’
It was an annual event? That sounded even scarier. ‘It sounds a little bit fancy,’ she said.
Oliver’s face shuttered. ‘All right. So you don’t want to meet my family.’
She shook her head. ‘No, that’s not what I meant, Oliver. I was just thinking that it sounds like quite a big party and your parents will be busy. Wouldn’t it be better if I met them at something a bit quieter and more low-key rather than a big event?’ And something she could escape from more easily. ‘Like, I don’t know, meeting at a café in town for a cup of tea?’
‘It’s probably better,’ he said, ‘if there are a lot of people there.’
That sounded ominous. Did that mean he thought they were going to hate her, especially when they found out about the baby? Or did they already know about the baby and they weren’t pleased?
Clearly her worries showed in her face because he said, ‘What I mean is that my family can be a little bit pushy—I guess that’s where I get my overbearing streak. I think the first time you meet them will be better if they’re a bit diluted. They’re the problem, not you.’
That didn’t calm Ella’s worries in the slightest. Particularly as she knew that her own family would welcome Oliver warmly when she introduced him to them. They’d draw him straight into the middle of things and treat him as if they’d known him for years and years. Her father had already said they wanted to welcome him to the family.
Clearly Oliver’s family was very different, and she’d have to tread very carefully.
‘Have you told them about the baby?’ she asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Because they won’t approve of me?’ The question burst out before she could stop it.
‘Because,’ he said, ‘it’s still early days. I’d prefer to wait until you’re safely through the first trimester before we tell my family about the baby.’
That was sensible; though it made her feel guilty that everyone in the department already knew. It felt wrong to be sharing this with their colleagues and not Oliver’s family, especially as she’d already shared the news with her own family. But how could she explain that? ‘OK.’ She paused. ‘So