grey eyes but the implications were not escaping either of them. If the mother had callously abandoned her almost newborn baby and gone off with her lover, laughing, then it was highly unlikely they would be back in a hurry.
If at all.
A mix of emotion washed over Laura. Excitement. Hope. And a good dose of nervousness. This was her chance and she’d better be very careful not to screw it up.
‘Why didn’t you say something before?’
‘I think Jason will have more than enough to cope with, thinking he’s looking after his bairn on a very temporary basis. What do you think he would do if he thought there was any chance it was intended to be a more permanent arrangement?’
He’d run screaming into the middle distance, that was what. He’d call the police or Social Welfare and do whatever it took to sidestep the responsibility. Informing the authorities was actually quite likely to be exactly what they should be doing at this point and Mrs Mack knew that as well as Laura did. So why was she doing this? To teach Jason Halliday a life lesson, perhaps? Or could she also see it as the opportunity Laura might otherwise never have had?
Jean McKendry smiled at her and Laura had her answer. She dropped her gaze to the baby in her arms, suddenly embarrassed that anyone could have guessed what she thought had been an increasingly well-guarded secret.
‘Just remember, hen,’ the housekeeper said softly. ‘You’re helping, no’ taking over. You’re no’ this baby’s mother, you know.’ The pause seemed deliberate. ‘You’re no’ Jason Halliday’s mother either.’
‘I’ll remember,’ Laura promised.
‘If you turn yourself into a doormat you have only yourself to blame when people start wiping their feet all over you.’
Laura’s swift glance was startled. Mrs McKendry was a fine one to talk about not mothering people. It was precisely the relationship this widow had with a great many men. Laura swallowed. Maybe that was why she did know what she was talking about. Had Mrs McKendry’s marriage been as empty and unfulfilling as the relationship she herself would have had if she’d stayed with John?
The twinkle in Mrs McKendry’s eyes seemed to be wishing her luck. ‘Jason’s got very big feet, hasn’t he?’
Laura grinned. ‘I’ll make sure there’s a very big doormat…outside the house.’
‘You do that, hen.’
‘What’s Laura going to do?’ Jason must have been splashing water on his face. Damp tendrils of blond-streaked curls clung to his forehead. Had he been hoping to wake himself up from a bad dream, perhaps?
‘She’s going to make a list of what you need to buy on the way home,’ Mrs McKendry said brightly.
‘A large bottle of gin?’ But Jason’s attempt at humour was half-hearted.
‘Nappies,’ he was informed sternly. ‘And formula and some more clothes. And something for that bairn to sleep in.’
‘Can’t we just take the box home?’
Jason seemed to have aged ten years in the last hour but Laura could see through the faint edge of despair he was trying to cover with humour. He wasn’t about to run away, no matter how unwelcome this situation was. In the face of total unwillingness and ignorance he was prepared to do what he had to do, and Laura loved him even more for the courage he was unwittingly displaying.
‘Don’t worry.’ Laura stood up, holding a now sleeping infant. ‘There’s a baby’s car seat in the ambulance storeroom. We’ll borrow that for the day and Megan can sleep in it. There’s enough formula and nappies to last until tomorrow and who knows?’ Laura avoided looking at anyone but Jason. ‘Maybe Shelley will be back by then.’
A ray of hope shone from Jason’s smile. ‘Shall…shall I hold it, then, while you go and find the seat thing?’
Laura bit back a wry smile as she handed Jason his daughter. ‘She’s not an “it”, Jase. Her name is Megan.’
The bob of Jason’s Adam’s apple gave away his nervous swallow but, to his credit, he looked quite calm as he regarded the tiny peaceful face shrouded in blue polar fleece. He cleared his throat and spoke very softly.
‘Hi, Megan…I’m Jase.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘Your…um…dad, I guess.’
Laura hurried towards the storeroom, swallowing rather hard herself to clear the unexpected prickle of tears. She had been right to think that something fundamental in her life had changed the moment Mrs McKendry had demanded an explanation for the unprecedented delivery to the station. The axis of her world had tilted so sharply she was in freefall right now.
It was scary because there was absolutely no way of knowing what condition she might be in when she found her feet again. But it was also exhilarating because what really mattered was that she wasn’t alone. Baby Megan and her father were both coming along for the ride, and Laura intended to make the most of every possible moment.
CHAPTER THREE
‘OH, WHAT a sweetie. How old is she?’
‘Four weeks.’
‘Look at those eyes!’ The sales assistant at Baby Warehouse glanced up and Laura could swear the eyelashes fluttered. ‘Just like Daddy’s.’
‘Yeah.’ Any flutter had been lost on Jason. With more than twenty-four hours’ practice, that trapped expression and tone was becoming almost normal.
‘So, how’s it going?’ The sales assistant smiled brightly at Jason and then glanced at Laura. Her tone oozed sympathy. ‘Incredibly tiring business, being new parents, isn’t it?’
Laura looked down at the small face peeping out from the blue polar fleece blanket. Of course, she looked enough of a wreck to induce sympathy. The short, snatched periods of sleep between the dauntingly unfamiliar and full-on occupation of caring for such a young baby would take it out of anybody. Add the stress of being with somebody who was struggling to contain the desire to bail out, a house that was a prime example of how horrible three males could make their living environment and absolutely no baby equipment to make the job any easier, and she was nearly ready to bail out herself.
It had been precisely that threat that had finally persuaded Jason to come to this large specialist retail establishment.
‘Either we get some gear or you’re on your own, Jason Halliday,’ she had said wearily that morning. Astonishingly, she had experienced only a muted tingle at the sight of Jason wearing nothing but a pair of ancient pyjama pants held loosely on his hips by a frayed cord. His bare, well-tanned chest had only a smattering of hair, the tips of which had been sunbleached to a pale gold. The shaft of desire had put up only a weak struggle against burgeoning resentment.
‘I am not going to bathe this baby in a kitchen sink with a dishcloth that looks like it needs a government health warning slapped on it,’ Laura had continued. ‘And where the hell did these dishes come from? We spent two hours last night getting this bench cleared.’ She’d known she’d sounded like a harpy or a nagging wife but she hadn’t cared. The enthusiasm to make herself totally indispensable and show Jason just what a wonderful personality she had was wearing off
