‘I forgot how much I enjoyed cooking,’ she told the baby as she fed her. ‘I haven’t even had people over for dinner since I moved here. I always eat out with my friends. So maybe it’s time to move on a bit more and start doing the things I enjoy again.’
The baby simply drank her milk and stared at Amy with those huge dark blue eyes.
‘I’ve spent the last eighteen months living on autopilot,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t you ever make that mistake, Hope. Life’s for—well, enjoying.’
Though she was pretty sure that Hope’s mum was having a thoroughly miserable Christmas. ‘I hope we can find your mum,’ she said softly. ‘And I really hope we can do something to help her. I really don’t know why she left you in our lobby—whether she knew me or Josh from somewhere, or whether it was a completely random choice—but I’m glad she did, because I think you’re going to help us as much as we can help you.’ And she was glad that Josh had moved in on her floor, because the reason she’d got through that first night with a baby was because of him.
Once she’d showered, washed her hair and dressed, she sent Josh a text.
Hope you’re having a good shift. Alternative Christmas dinner this evening. Amy
And whether Hope was responding to her sunny mood and burst of confidence, Amy had no idea, but the baby seemed content, too; she wasn’t quite as fractious and unsettled as she’d been the day before. To her relief, there wasn’t one of the protracted crying sessions that had left Amy feeling hopeless and frustrated and miserable.
‘Merry Christmas, baby,’ she said softly. ‘It isn’t quite the one I think your mum would’ve liked for you, but hopefully the police are going to find her and reunite you in the next few days.’
Amy ate yoghurt and granola for breakfast, then looked at the small stack of presents beneath the tree. It felt odd, opening her Christmas presents all on her own. But she pushed away the melancholy before it could take hold. She intended to make the best of this Christmas, and she wasn’t the only one on her own. It must be much harder for Josh in the circumstances.
Most of the envelopes contained gift vouchers, but one friend had given her the latest crime novel by one of her favourite authors, another had given her some nice Christmassy scented candles and another had bought her posh chocolates.
‘That’s my table decorations and dessert sorted for this evening,’ she told the baby. ‘And in the meantime you and I are going to curl up together on the sofa and watch a pile of Christmas movies.’
AFTER HIS SHIFT, Josh showered and changed before going down the corridor to Amy’s flat.
He felt a bit mean; she was cooking Christmas dinner for him, but he hadn’t bought her even a token present. Then again, neither of them had expected this Christmas: for a newborn to be left on their doorstep, and then to be looking after a stranger’s baby together when they barely knew each other. A present probably wasn’t appropriate in the circumstances. Besides, even if the shops had been open, he didn’t have a clue what kind of thing Amy liked—apart from coffee ice cream, and you could hardly wrap that and leave it under a tree. The wine he was carrying came from the rack in his kitchen, and the chocolates were a kind of re-gift. Which definitely made him feel like Scrooge.
‘Merry Christmas,’ he said when she opened the door in answer to his knock.
‘Merry Christmas,’ she said. ‘I thought we’d eat at about half-past six, if that’s OK with you?’
‘More than OK. You have no idea how much I appreciate not having to cook for myself, or be forced to munch the leftover sausage rolls people brought in to the department because I’m starving but too tired even to make a cheese toastie,’ he said with a smile. He handed her the chocolates and wine. ‘This is my contribution for tonight.’
‘You really didn’t have to, but thank you.’
‘And I have to admit that the chocolates are from the Secret Santa at work, which makes me a bit of a Scrooge for kind of re-gifting them,’ he confessed.
‘No, it just means that you don’t usually have chocolate in the house and there aren’t any shops open. And they’re definitely appreciated,’ she said, smiling back. ‘How was your shift?’
‘Let’s just say we’ve renamed one of the twelve days of Christmas. “Five Turkey Carvers”,’ he said ruefully. ‘I’ve done quite a bit of stitching up today.’
‘Ouch,’ she said.
‘So how’s our little one doing?’ Then he realised what he’d said and felt his eyes go wide. ‘Um,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t quite...’
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘It kind of feels like being part of a new family.’
‘Even though she isn’t ours, and we’re not...’
‘...a couple. Yeah,’ she said.
Josh looked at her. Amy wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up, but she was naturally beautiful. He itched to sketch her, and it had been a long while since anyone had made him feel that way.
This was dangerous.
Part of him wanted to run; but part of him was intrigued and wanted more. To cover his confusion, he asked, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
She shook her head. ‘Hope’s still asleep and I haven’t started cooking dinner yet, so do you want a glass of wine or a cup of tea?’
‘As it’s Christmas, let’s go for the glass of wine,’ he said.
‘And, as you said you wanted to help, you can open it.’
He followed her into the kitchen. When she handed him the corkscrew, his fingers brushed against her skin and it felt weird, as if he’d been galvanised. He was shockingly aware of her, but he didn’t dare look at her because he didn’t want her to guess what he was thinking. Had she felt it, too? And, if so, what were they going to do about it?
He shook himself mentally. They weren’t going to do anything about it. They were neighbours. Acquaintances. And that was the way it was going to stay.
He opened the wine while she took two glasses from a cupboard; then he poured the wine before lifting his own glass and clinking it against hers. ‘Merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas,’ she echoed.
‘I haven’t bought you a present,’ he said, ‘and I feel kind of bad about it.’
‘I haven’t bought you one, either,’ she said. ‘I did think about wrapping up a bottle of wine for you or something, but it didn’t feel appropriate.’
‘Considering we hardly know each other and don’t have a clue what each other likes,’ he agreed.
‘We haven’t bought Hope anything, either,’ she said, ‘but it’s fine. Christmas isn’t really about the presents, and perhaps what we’re actually giving each other is a better Christmas than we were expecting.’
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think you might be right. You’re a wise woman, Amy Howes.’
‘It goes with the territory of being a maths teacher,’ she said with a smile.
He liked her sense of humour. And, actually, the more he talked to her, the more he liked a lot of other things about her. Which again set his alarm bells ringing. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking like that. He was newly divorced. Not in a place to start anything with anyone.
‘Maybe,’