Her Festive Doorstep Baby. Kate Hardy

time either.

      ‘So how long have you lived here?’ he asked, trying to get his thoughts back to something much more anodyne and much, much safer.

      ‘Eighteen months. You moved here last summer, didn’t you?’ she replied.

      ‘Yes. It’s convenient for the hospital, just a fifteen-minute walk.’

      ‘It’s about that to school, too,’ she said. ‘Just in the other direction.’

      He remembered that she taught maths. ‘Did you always want to teach?’

      ‘I didn’t want to be an accountant, an engineer or an actuary, so teaching was my best bet for working with maths—and actually it’s really rewarding when the kids have been struggling with something and it suddenly clicks for them.’ She smiled. ‘Did you always want to be a doctor?’

      ‘It was pretty much expected of me—Dad’s a surgeon, Mum’s a lawyer, my brother Stuart’s an astrophysicist and my sisters are both lecturers.’ He shrugged. ‘One teaches history at Oxford and the other’s in London at the LSE.’

      ‘A family of high achievers, then.’

      Yes. And he hadn’t quite lived up to their expectations. He’d suggested becoming a graphic designer and going to art college instead of studying for his A levels, and the resulting row had left him very aware that he’d been expected to follow in his parents’ and siblings’ footsteps. In the end he’d settled on medicine; at least there’d been a little bit of drawing involved. And he liked his job. He liked being able to make a difference to people’s lives. And he could still sketch if he wanted to.

      When he had the time.

      Which wasn’t often.

      Pushing the thought away, he asked, ‘Have you heard anything from the police?’

      ‘Not yet. Though Jane the social worker came round with supplies this afternoon.’

      ‘So I notice. That Moses basket looks a little more comfy than a bunch of newspaper and a cardboard box.’ His smile faded. ‘That poor girl. I hope she’s all right.’

      ‘Me, too. And looking after a baby is a lot harder than I expected,’ Amy admitted. ‘Now I know what they mean about being careful what you wish for.’

      He stared at her in surprise. ‘You wanted a baby?’

      She looked shocked, as if she hadn’t meant to admit that, then glanced away. ‘It didn’t work out.’

      That explained some of her wariness this morning. And it was pretty obvious to him that the baby situation not working out was connected with her being single. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.’

      ‘I know. It’s OK.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do to change it, so you make the best of the situation, don’t you?’

      ‘I guess.’ It was what he’d been doing since Kelly had left him. They’d sold their house and he’d bought this flat; it was nearer to work and had no memories to haunt him with their might-have-beens. ‘In the circumstances, looking after Hope must be pretty tough for you.’