photographs of happy families to prove it.
She had to keep believing that. Just because life had been unbearably cruel to her, it didn’t mean that these women didn’t have every chance. The irony was that it was Niall who was helping them when he was patently unable to help her.
BY THE time Robina finished for the day, she was emotionally exhausted and looking forward to spending some time with Ella. After she had read her a story, she would work on her book before collapsing into bed. Sometimes she wondered if it was all too much, the filming and the writing. Most people would be happy with just one career and she had two. Perhaps she was tearing herself into pieces just trying to prove she could do it all? But prove it to whom? Niall, herself—or her dead father? The time off she had promised Ella was her first break from work since her marriage. Robina felt a shiver of guilt, remembering that she and Niall hadn’t even taken a honeymoon because of her work schedule.
The thought of the weekend away was becoming more appealing by the minute. Even if it did mean Niall and her circling each other like two wary tigers. But since their day out with Ella the tension between them had eased. So perhaps it was what she and Niall both needed. But how would they cope? Thrust into one another’s company for two whole days? Her heart rate upped a notch. Maybe they could build on the fragile truce of the day out.
Her thoughts turned to her mother. She missed her terribly. Something was worrying her—that much was obvious to Robina from their last phone call, no matter how much her mother tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Perhaps she should go and see her? They were due to have a break from filming in a couple of weeks. She could take Ella with her—show her Africa, and introduce her to her family. Her spirits lifted. It was an appealing thought—a couple of weeks back in the country she yearned for, with her mother, would give her time to think at least.
Once Ella was tucked up in bed, Robina popped a lamb joint into the oven and left it cooking while she ran herself a bath. Perhaps Niall would be home in time to join her for dinner. If so, she could discuss her plan with him then. It would give them something to talk about and would make a change from the usual fraught mealtimes where they both struggled to find something uncontroversial to talk about.
The slamming of the door signalled Niall’s arrival home and Robina felt the predictable squeezing of her heart. This was the bit where he should be calling out to her, running up the stairs to take her in his arms…then they would make love, uncaring that dinner was ruined.
Wrapping herself in her dressing gown, she went to greet him. He was shaking the rain off his coat. Robina’s breath caught in her throat as she took in his damp hair. He looks tired, she thought anxiously. Tired, but devastatingly handsome. As she looked at him the thought hit her like a sledgehammer. She still loved him. Completely and hopelessly. All this talk about staying together for Ella’s sake was only half-true. A life without Niall was no life at all.
‘Robina! Is something wrong? Is Ella all right?’
He looked surprised to see her waiting for him. Once again her heart contracted. They had both been so stubborn. They had been in love once; surely he couldn’t have lost all feeling for her?
‘Ella’s fine. She’s sleeping. I thought we might have dinner together,’ she said, feeling a blush steal over her cheeks. ‘And have a chat.’
‘What about?’ His voice was flat. ‘Is there something about the documentary you want to discuss? Because I have to tell you, I’m tired and not really in the mood.’
‘No, it’s not work,’ Robina retorted, disappointment making her brusque. ‘I was thinking of taking a couple of weeks and going to see Mum. I wondered about taking Ella with me.’
They moved into the kitchen where delicious smells were emanating from the oven. Niall cocked an eyebrow in Robina’s direction, but said nothing, instead taking his place at the table.
‘Why now?’ he asked. ‘I thought we agreed that we both needed to spend time with Ella. Or had you forgotten?’
‘I miss Mum,’ Robina said as she removed the lamb from the oven. She had made dauphinoise potatoes and green beans to go with the roast. Somehow the potatoes looked more like mash and the lamb was burnt at the edges, but at least the beans were fine, if a little limp and anaemic-looking.
‘I just know something’s bothering her, and I’d like to find out what. Apart from my brothers, who have their own families, she’s all I’ve got.’
Neil winced then dragged his hand through his hair.
‘We’re your family now, Robina,’ he said quietly.
‘Are you? I want to believe that, but I don’t know if I can.’
‘I thought that’s why we were going away this weekend. So we can try to be a family again. Or have you already decided that it’s not going to work?’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Are you thinking of going back to South Africa for good, Robina? Because if you are, you’d better tell me.’
‘No! Of course not!’ Robina replied. ‘I told you and Ella I wouldn’t leave, and I have no intention of doing so. Niall, why are we going round in circles like this? All I want is some time with my mother. I thought Ella would enjoy the trip. We’re still going away this weekend, aren’t we? And I have every intention of making it a happy couple of days.’ She pushed the lamb towards Niall. ‘Would you carve?’ she said.
Niall attacked the roast with the sharp knife and manfully tried to cut a slice, without much success.
‘Shall I get the saw from the garden shed?’ Robina suggested, and suddenly they were both laughing. Niall managed to carve enough for them to share and the earlier tension drifted away as they chatted about the documentary. Watching Niall as they talked, Robina revelled in the companionship she had missed for so long. It was a start; a small step in the right direction. Her sore heart began to ease.
It was late on Friday by the time they set off. Niall had been held up at the hospital. Although he wasn’t on call, one of his patients had gone into labour and Niall had stayed to do her C-section.
‘I’m sorry, Robina,’ he had apologised when he’d eventually made it home. ‘I promised her I’d deliver her baby and I just couldn’t let her down.’ He sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed a tired hand across his forehead.
‘What happened?’ Robina asked. There had been a time when they’d spend the evenings discussing their patients, sharing the ups and downs of their medical lives, but it had been a long time since they had done that. Robina handed Niall a coffee and waited.
‘She had a stillbirth at thirty-five weeks in her last pregnancy. We don’t know why. God, Robina, it still beats me that we lose babies, even now when we have all this technology at our disposal, and we don’t know why.’
Robina felt the familiar sharp stab of pain.
‘I would have done anything to have been able to save our baby. You do know that, don’t you?’ Niall said gently.
Robina closed her eyes, hearing the undercurrent of sadness in his words. ‘I know, Niall. There was nothing anyone could do.’ She took a deep breath, summoning her courage while trying to find the words to tell him how she
