‘No—it’s a loan from the sister of one of my colleagues,’ he said. ‘She lent us a snowsuit as well, so we took Hope for a walk in the park across the road today. I think she enjoyed her first trip out.’
‘And her temperature’s normal again?’ Jane asked.
‘Yes. We wouldn’t have taken her out if we’d been in the slightest bit worried about her—that’s why we left it until today,’ Amy said. ‘She’s doing fine. We weighed her this morning and she’s put on two ounces.’
‘You’ve borrowed baby scales?’ Jane asked.
‘Not exactly.’ Josh and Amy shared a glance and grinned.
‘What am I missing?’ Jane asked.
‘We improvised,’ Josh said. ‘It involved Amy’s kitchen scales, a towel and a baking tray.’
Jane laughed. ‘Well, clearly it worked. And you both look very comfortable with her.’
‘We’ve had our moments,’ Josh said wryly. ‘She really hates having baths. You have to sing her through them.’
‘But I can show you her sleep and feed charts,’ Amy said. ‘And we’re doing a book of her first days, either for her mum or for Hope herself. We’re including photos and what have you, so Hope—and her mum—don’t feel they’ve missed anything in the future.’
‘That’s really sweet of you,’ Jane said, accepting the mug of tea gratefully from Josh.
‘Do you have any news for us?’ Josh asked.
‘About Freya?’ She grimaced. ‘I’m telling you this unofficially, because strictly speaking this should all be confidential, but I need some help—and, because it’s your theory, I think you’re the best ones to give me advice.’
‘Why do you need help?’ Amy asked, confused.
‘I went to the house, but Freya’s mum refused to let me in,’ Jane said. ‘She was quite difficult with me, so my gut feeling tells me that she has something to hide. If Freya definitely hadn’t had a baby, all she had to do was call the girl down and let me see her, and I could’ve ticked whatever box on a form and gone away again.’
‘Unless she didn’t actually know that Freya had had the baby. Amy, you said she was wearing baggy clothes at school?’ Josh asked.
Amy nodded.
‘So she might have done the same at home. Freya could have hidden the pregnancy from her mum, had the baby—well, wherever—then gone straight home again after she’d left the baby on our doorstep. If she told her mum that she was having a really bad period, that would explain why she was bleeding so much after the birth. She’s at the age where periods are still all over the place, and some girls get quite severe period pains,’ Josh said thoughtfully.
‘And Freya’s mum did say that there were problems with the stepfather. Maybe there had been a huge row or something,’ Amy suggested, ‘and one of the neighbours had tried to intervene, and Freya’s mum thought that someone had called you to complain about the way she was treating her daughter.’
‘I still think she’s hiding something. She wouldn’t look me in the eye,’ Jane said. ‘Does Freya have a close friend she might have confided in?’
‘Her best friend Alice is the most likely person,’ Amy said.
‘Do you have her details? And this comes under the safeguarding stuff for Freya, if you’re worrying about data protection,’ Jane added quickly.
Amy powered up her laptop, logged into the school system and wrote Alice’s details down for Jane.
‘I could have an unofficial word with her, maybe,’ Amy suggested.
Jane shook her head. ‘No, you need to leave this to official channels. If Alice tells me something helpful then I can do something to help Freya.’ She sighed. ‘Poor kid. I kind of hope your theory’s wrong.’
‘So do I,’ Josh said, ‘but I have a nasty feeling that we’re right.’
‘I’ll be in touch, then,’ Jane said. ‘And thank you for everything you’re doing. Obviously we’ll get you financial recompense for—’
‘No,’ Amy cut in. ‘It’s nice to be able to do something practical to help. Call it a Christmas gift to Hope and her mum.’
‘Seconded,’ Josh said firmly. ‘We’re not doing this for the money.’
‘OK. Well, thank you,’ Jane said. ‘I’ll go and have a word with Alice.’
* * *
When the social worker had gone, Josh looked at Amy. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded. ‘Just thinking about Freya.’
‘Hopefully Jane can intervene and get her the help she needs,’ Josh said. ‘Hey. I could cook us dinner tonight.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. You’ve made me rethink about my cooking skills, since you taught me how to make that salmon thing.’
‘OK. That’d be lovely.’
‘I’ll just go and get some supplies,’ he said. ‘I can’t keep raiding your fridge.’
‘You mean, I don’t have anything in my kitchen that you can actually cook,’ she teased.
He grinned. ‘Busted.’
‘I’ll print out the photos we’ve taken of Hope and stick them in her book while you’re gone,’ she said.
‘And label them,’ he said, ‘because your handwriting’s a lot neater than mine.’
‘Agreed.’
‘Anything you need from the shops?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She kissed him lingeringly. ‘See you later.’
In the supermarket, Josh bought ingredients for spaghetti Bolognese. Pudding would definitely have to be shop-bought, he thought, and was delighted to discover a tiramisu cheesecake in the chiller cabinet. He knew Amy liked coffee ice cream, so this looked like a safe bet.
And then he walked through the healthcare aisle and saw the condoms.
He didn’t have any, and he guessed that she didn’t either. It wasn’t quite making an assumption; tonight wasn’t going to be the night. But at some point in the future he was pretty sure that they were going to make love, and it would be sensible for them to have protection available. And he had a feeling Amy would be a lot more comfortable using condoms than any other kind of contraception, given her history.
Putting the packet of condoms in his basket felt weird. He hadn’t even had to think about this for a long time; during most of their relationship, Kelly had been on the Pill. Or so he’d thought. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d bought condoms. But this made him feel like a teenager, nervous and excited all at the same time.
He shook himself and added a bottle of Pinot Grigio to his basket. And then, by the checkouts, he saw the stand of flowers. He couldn’t resist buying a bunch for Amy—nothing flashy and over-the-top that would make her feel awkward and embarrassed, but some pretty gerberas and roses in shades of dark red and pink.
When he got back to the flat, she greeted him with a kiss.
‘For you,’ he said, handing her the flowers with a flourish.
She looked delighted. ‘They’re gorgeous. Thank you. That’s so sweet—you didn’t have to.’
‘Apart from the fact that men are supposed to buy their girlfriends flowers, and you’re officially my girlfriend,’ he pointed out, ‘I