away. Or his mother, who only ever acknowledged the impact things had on her. He hadn’t bothered asking either of them for support after Lara and Cassandra had died, knowing from long experience that he wouldn’t get it. His brother would simply have changed the subject, because it was easier to stick his head in the sand than to deal with something painful, and his mother would have sobbed about how much she missed poor dear Lara, how terrible it was not to be a grandmother after all, and whatever was she going to do without them? And Brad would have had to put his own feelings to one side, comfort her when all the time he’d have been crying inside for someone to hold him, comfort him, tell him there was a light at the end of the tunnel and he just had to keep walking towards it.
No.
‘There’s no one,’ he said softly.
‘Then talk to me,’ she said, equally softly.
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘I think there is. You look like hell,’ she said honestly. ‘You’re chalk white beneath that tan. What’s happened?’
‘I had a call to Theatre. A case of eclampsia.’
‘That’s pretty rare.’ She paused. ‘I take it you couldn’t save the baby?’
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