He was conscious of the footsteps beside him. The ones that broke into a gentle run when he did. He’d been surprised by April’s appearance earlier—it had made his heart lurch for a few seconds. But it hadn’t taken long to notice the paleness of her complexion. The worry in her bright blue eyes. And she was right by his side. Trouble was, right now he couldn’t think straight.
By the time he reached the ward area his brain was spinning completely. He slowed down to a walk, took a few deep breaths and tried to put on his professional face. He was a soldier. He could deal with whatever news he was about to receive.
The Colonel ushered him into a room where a woman in a grey coat was sitting with a file in front of her.
April hovered near the door—she didn’t seem to know whether to leave or not—and he was kind of glad she was still around.
‘Lieutenant Callaghan. Please take a seat.’
He didn’t want to sit. In fact, sitting was the last thing he wanted to do. But if it would get this thing over with quicker then he’d do it.
He sat down and glanced at the woman. She leaned across the table towards him. ‘Dr Callaghan, my name is Elizabeth Cummings. I’m a social worker.’
He frowned. A social worker? Why did she need to speak to him?
She flicked open her file. ‘I understand that this might seem a little unusual. Can I ask, do you know an Isabel Porter?’
He flinched. This was not what he’d been expecting to hear. He glanced at the Colonel. ‘Sir, my parents? My brother?’
The Colonel shook his head and gestured back to Ms Cummings. ‘No. They’re fine. They’re absolutely fine. Please, this is something else entirely.’
Riley shifted in his chair. He glanced behind at April. She looked just as confused as he was.
Now he felt uncomfortable. He looked back at the social worker. ‘Isabel Porter, from Birmingham?’
The woman nodded.
‘Yes, I know Isabel. At least, I did. Around five years ago. Why are you asking me that?’
Ms Cummings gave a nod. ‘I see. Dr Callaghan, I’m sorry to tell you that there was an accident a few days ago. Isabel was killed in a road traffic accident.’
It was like a cold prickle down his spine. Nothing about this seemed right. ‘Oh, I see. I’m really sorry to hear that. But I don’t understand. Why are you telling me?’ He looked from one tight face to the other.
Ms Cummings glanced at the Colonel. ‘There is an issue we need to discuss. Ms Porter left a will.’
‘Isabel had written a will?’ Now that did sound weird. Isabel had been a bit chaotic. Their relationship had barely lasted a few months. And they hadn’t kept in touch. He hadn’t heard from her at all in the last five years. ‘Why on earth are you telling me this?’
Ms Cummings slid an envelope across the desk to him. ‘Maybe this will help explain things.’ She kept talking. ‘Obviously there’s been a delay. Isabel had no other family. No next of kin, which is probably why she left a will and wrote this letter for you. It takes time to find out if someone has left a will or not.’
Riley glanced at the letter on the table in front of him. He had no idea what was going on. Nothing about this made sense.
April walked over and put her hand on his shoulder. From the woman who’d seemed so shut off, it was such an unexpected move. But the warm feel of her palm on his shoulder sent a wave of pure comfort through his confused state.
Ms Cummings stared at April for a second then continued. ‘It’s apparent that your name wasn’t on the birth certificate. I’m not quite sure why that was. But because Isabel didn’t have you formally named as next of kin, Finn has been in temporary foster care for the last few days.’
Riley shook his head. ‘Who?’
She stared at him. ‘Finn. Your son.’
For the first time he was glad of the chair. If he hadn’t had it, his legs might have made him sway.
‘My son?’
Ms Cummings glanced at the Colonel again. ‘Yes, Dr Callaghan. That’s why I’m here.’
‘I have a son?’
She stared at him again. ‘Finn. He’s five. Isabel never told you?’
He shook his head as his brain just spun. Not a single rational thought would form. ‘No. Isabel never told me.’
Ms Cummings pushed the letter towards him again. He noticed it was sealed. The social worker had no idea of the contents. ‘Well, maybe that’s why she left you the letter.’
Riley looked at the cream envelope in front of him. He picked it up and ripped it open, pulling out a matching cream sheet of paper.
Dear Riley,
I hope you never have to read this. But if you do it’s because something’s happened. I’m sorry I never told you about Finn. You’d already left for Afghanistan and it just seemed pointless. We already knew our time was over and I didn’t need to complicate your life.
I hope I’m not about to spoil things for you. I hope you’ve managed to meet someone, marry and have a family of your own.
Finn and I have been great. We haven’t needed anything at all. He’s a funny, quirky little boy and I can see traits of us both in him every single day. I love him more than you can ever know, and I hope you’ll feel that way about him too.
He knows who you are. I only had a few pictures, but I put them in his room and told him you worked away and would meet him when he grew up.
Please forgive me, and love my darling boy for both of us.
Isabel
He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. His life had just been turned upside down and on its head. He had a child. He had a son.
And he’d never been told. Rage filled his brain, just as April’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. She could probably read every word of the letter over his shoulder.
April leaned over and spun the letter around to face the social worker, giving her a few seconds to read it. Her face paled.
Ms Cummings looked at him. ‘You didn’t even know that Finn existed?’
He shook his head. The firm touch by April was dissipating the rage that was burning inside. Isabel had been quirky. She’d been a little chaotic. This didn’t seem completely out of character. He just hadn’t had a clue.
‘Where is Finn now?’ April’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Ms Cummings looked up. ‘And you are?’
April leaned across and held out her hand. ‘I’m April Henderson. I’m a friend and colleague of Dr Callaghan’s.’ She said the words so easily. A friend. It almost sounded true.
Ms Cummings shuffled some papers. ‘Finn’s been in temporary foster care in Birmingham.’
Panic started to fill Riley. ‘My son is in foster care?’ He’d heard about these things. Wasn’t foster care bad for kids?
Ms Cummings nodded. ‘We have a few things to sort out. As your name isn’t on the birth certificate, you may want to arrange a DNA test. However, Ms Porter named you as her son’s guardian in her will. Pending a few checks, I’ll be happy to release Finn into your custody. You will, of course, be allocated a local social worker to help you with any queries.’ She lifted something from her bag. ‘As you’ll know, in England we have