With This Baby.... Caroline Anderson

him, after all? What if he claimed she was his baby, and not his brother’s?

      Her eyes went to the photos, the only proof she had that the man who had fathered her sister’s baby had been the one with the appendix scar. There were no negatives, and no other copies. If the photos were to fall into the wrong hands…

      ‘Claire, what’s wrong?’

      She jumped, swivelling her eyes from the photos to him, and met his clear, steady green-grey gaze.

      ‘You said you wanted to be involved in her upbringing,’ she said, her voice a little taut.

      ‘That’s right. I do.’

      ‘How involved? What exactly did you mean?’ she asked, unable to prevaricate. She’d always been direct, always gone for the jugular. If he planned to take the baby from her, she needed to know.

      ‘I don’t know,’ he said, and she could see the confusion and honesty in his eyes. ‘I suppose it means I want to see her as often as possible, but she lives here with you, and I live and work in London. That’s not really very straightforward.’

      ‘You can visit her whenever you want,’ she said, trying to make it easy so he wouldn’t try and take her from him. ‘You can stay here—there’s room. I won’t try and stop you seeing her.’

      He cocked his head on one side and regarded her keenly. ‘You think I’m going to go for custody, don’t you?’ he said, his voice deceptively soft, and she swallowed and looked away.

      ‘I don’t know. I just know I can’t lose her. She’s all I’ve got of my sister.’

      She broke off, the wound still too raw, and he tsked softly.

      ‘Silly girl, I’m not going to take her from you. How can I? I’m not married, I live in a flat at the top of my office block with a tiny roof garden and a hell of a long drop to the street below. You’re a woman, you’ve cared for her since she was born, you live in the country in a totally safe setting. What judge in their right mind would rule in my favour?’

      She closed her eyes briefly and nodded. ‘I suppose so. I was just…’

      ‘Panicking?’ he finished for her, his voice gentle. ‘Don’t. On the other hand, don’t expect it all your own way. My parents will want to be involved in her life as well, and they’ll want to have her to stay—there’ll be birthdays and Christmases and all sorts.’

      Claire nodded again. He was right, it wouldn’t be easy, but if they were able to work together, perhaps they could dream up a solution that would help them all.

      ‘First things first, though,’ he said, his mouth kicking up in a wry grin. ‘There’s a strange smell coming from this little bundle of laughs, and I think she needs her auntie.’

      I want to be involved with her upbringing.

      Claire smiled, some of the tension easing away. ‘Time for your first nappy-changing lesson, then,’ she said, and stood up. ‘Come on.’

      ‘But—I can’t!’

      ‘Oh, you can. You’ll be amazed what you can do. And once she’s washed and changed, it’ll be time for her next feed—and then, of course, there’ll be another nappy.’

       The look on Patrick’s face was priceless, and it was all Claire could do to stop from laughing out loud.

      ‘I’ll make the feed up,’ he said, flailing for an excuse, but she was adamant.

      ‘They’re all made up,’ she assured him. ‘But you can do the next lot. I promise.’

      Funny, he didn’t look in the least bit grateful…