where there were surely none, but as she picked up Harry she wished, and not for the first time, that Harry was just a little bit more pleased to see her, a little more receptive.
There couldn’t be something wrong with him. It wasn’t just for selfish reasons that she panicked at the thought—it was Courtney’s reaction that troubled Bridgette, or rather Courtney’s lack of reaction towards her son. Her sister wasn’t exactly coping now, let alone if her son had special needs.
Special needs.
It was the first time that she had actually said it, even if only in her mind, and instantly she shoved it aside because there was just so much to deal with at the moment. She had so many things to contend with, without adding the unthinkable to the pile. But she had to approach it.
‘How do you think he’s doing?’ she asked Mary.
‘Grand.’ She beamed. ‘Mind, he does have a bit of a temper—’ she tickled him under the chin ‘—if one of the other littlies knocks over his bricks.’
‘What about his talking?’ Bridgette looked at Mary, who just smiled at Harry.
‘He’s not much of a talker,’ Mary said, ‘but, then, he’s just been here a couple of weeks and is still settling in so maybe he’s a bit shy. If you’re concerned, though…’ Mary was lovely, but she told Bridgette what she already knew, that maybe his mum should take him to his GP if she was worried that he wasn’t reaching his milestones.
‘How is Mum?’ Mary asked, because, despite Courtney collecting him a couple of times, it mainly fell to Bridgette.
‘She’s okay,’ Bridgette answered. ‘Though I’ll be bringing Harry in for the next couple of days. She’s got some job interviews lined up in Bendigo and is staying there with friends for a few nights.’
‘Bendigo!’ Mary’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s a good few hours away.’
‘Well, it’s early days,’ Bridgette said, ‘but it’s good that she’s looking for work.’
Bridgette had mixed feelings. Yes, she wanted her sister to get a job and to make a fresh start, but the thought of her, or rather Harry, so far away had Bridgette in a spin. She was doing her best not to dwell on it as she left the crèche.
‘Excuse me!’ She heard the irritation in the man’s voice as she, a woman who wasn’t looking where she was going, collided with him as she walked out of the daycare centre. And then Dominic looked down, saw who he was talking to, saw who she was holding, and she was quite sure that he frowned as he gazed into Harry’s eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same sludgy grey as hers, and though he quickly moved his features to impassive and gave her a very brief nod, she could feel the tension. They walked down a long corridor, Bridgette several steps behind him. As he headed out through the ambulance bay and turned left, it was clear they were both heading for the car park.
She should have managed to avoid him, given that she now walked incredibly slowly, but one of the security guards halted him and they spoke for a moment. No matter how Bridgette dawdled, no matter how hard she tried not to catch up, the security guard gave him a cheery farewell at the very second Bridgette walked past and, like it or not, for a moment or two there was no choice but to fall in step alongside him.
‘Is that why you had to dash off?’
It was the first time he acknowledged he even recalled the details of that night, that morning, the slice of time when things had felt more than right.
‘I should have explained…’ She really didn’t know what to say, what could she say. ‘I didn’t know how…’ She still didn’t. Should she plead, ‘I’m his aunt. He’s not my responsibility’? Harry was, he was solid in her arms—and whether Harry understood her words or not, he certainly did not need to be present as she defended her reasons for not telling this man of his existence. Instead she walked to her car that, unlike his, which lit up like a Christmas tree the second he approached, needed keys. Bridgette had to scrabble in her bag for them, with Harry, who was becoming increasingly heavy, but she was too nervous to put him down in the middle of a car park. He was, she realised, just too precious to let go.
As Dominic’s sleek silver car slid past her, she deliberately did not look up, did not want to remember the night he’d driven her to heaven then returned her home again.
She was very close to crying, and that Harry did not need, but finally she found her keys and unlocked the car, opening the windows to let it cool down before she put Harry in.
‘Here we go.’ The car still felt like a sauna but she strapped Harry in, climbed into the seat and looked in the rear-vision mirror at his wispy curls and serious grey eyes. She gave him a very nice smile. ‘You’re ruining my love life, Harry!’
‘WOW!’ Bridgette walked into the delivery room, where Maria was pacing. ‘I turn my back for five minutes…’ She smiled at Maria, who had progressed rapidly in the past half hour.
‘I was worried you wouldn’t make it back,’ Maria said.
‘I’m sorry I had to dash off.’ Harry had been a touch grizzly this morning when she’d dropped him off and had, half an hour ago, thrown the most spectacular temper tantrum, bad enough for Mary to call her on the ward and for Bridgette to take an early coffee break.
‘I know what it’s like,’ Maria said. ‘I’ve got three of my own.’
‘Four soon,’ Bridgette said, and Maria smiled.
‘I can’t wait to meet her.’
‘Neither can I,’ Bridgette admitted. It was, so far, turning out to be a gorgeous labour—especially as it was one that could have been labelled ‘difficult’ because the testing and scans had revealed that Maria and Tony’s baby had Trisomy 21. The diagnosis, Maria had told Bridgette, had caused intense upset between both families—Spanish passion combined with pointless accusations and blame had caused a lot of tension and heartache indeed. Maria and Tony, however, once they had got over the initial shock, had researched as much as they could, and had even met with a local support group who ran a regular playgroup.
‘It took away a lot of the fear,’ Maria had explained, when Bridgette admitted her. ‘Seeing other Down’s syndrome babies and toddlers and their parents coping so well. We’re so looking forward to having our baby. I just wish our families would stop with the grief.’
So upset was Maria with the response of her family that she hadn’t even wanted them to know that she had gone into labour, but with three other small children to care for she’d had no choice but to tell them. And now two anxious families were sitting in the maternity waiting room. Still, Maria was doing beautifully and was helped so much by her husband’s unwavering support. He rubbed her back where she indicated, stopped talking when she simply raised a hand. They had their own private language and were working to deliver their daughter as a team.
‘How are things?’ Rita popped her head around the door. ‘The family just asked for an update.’
‘It’s all going well,’ Bridgette said.
‘Tell them it will be born when it’s
