* * *

  The prospect of going to check on Finn’s physical condition again the next day was daunting. Sophie needed a break from the emotional turmoil that seemed to be coming at her from all directions. As if it wasn’t enough that she had to deal with the fact that she was a mother, whether she chose to take on that role or not, she also had the unexpected—and unwelcome—knowledge that her body had finally woken up again enough to remind her of how compelling physical desire could be.

  So, instead of going over to the house to see for herself, she simply asked her father how Finn was doing.

  ‘Improving,’ he said. ‘Nowhere near a hundred percent yet, of course, but he’s getting there.’

  ‘Do you think I should take another blood test to check on his renal function?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s necessary. He just needs a bit more time to rest and your mother’s good food. I might take him out with me in the car for my house calls this afternoon. A change of scene and a bit of fresh air might do him the world of good.’

  Afternoon clinic provided the warning signs that a new virus was gaining ground amongst North Cove’s population—a heavy cold that was making people miserable with a nasty sore throat, increasing the incidence of ear infections in young children and meant that everyone with any kind of lung disease would need extra care.

  Jillian, one of her mother’s friends, was one of those people.

  ‘I hate getting a cold,’ she told Sophie, her voice no more than a croak. ‘It always makes my asthma so much worse. And I’m getting low on my medications and inhalers.’

  She got up to leave after a thorough check up and a prescription for everything she needed to avoid complications and make her life a little less miserable over the next few days. She didn’t quite get to the door before she turned back, however.

  ‘Oh...my head must be really fuzzy.’ She held the carrier bag in her hands out to Sophie. ‘Can you give these to your mum, please? They’re needed urgently for the school fair committee to price up. I was supposed to drop them off to Isabelle McKenzie a couple of days ago, but I was feeling too grotty, and I don’t want to be spreading this cold around if I can help it.’

  ‘Good thinking.’ Sophie took the bag. ‘And it’s no problem. I’ll pop over as soon as things are quiet here.’

  It wasn’t until another hour or more had passed that the waiting room emptied and Sophie had a chance to peep inside the carrier bag. Jillian must have put a great many hours into knitting all these booties and other baby clothes that were just the kind of thing people loved buying at a school fair. Despite it being decades since Sophie had attended North Cove primary school, her mother had remained the head of the annual fair committee.

  Her father hadn’t returned from making house calls. And hadn’t he said that he was taking Finn with him to give him a change of scene and some fresh air? Sophie picked up the bag and left her office.

  ‘Time to pack up,’ she told Marion and Liz. ‘Thanks for all your help today. Can you lock up? I just want to pop over to deliver something to Mum.’

  She hurried through the garden and into the kitchen where she found her mother pouring milk into two small tumblers. A saucer beside the glasses was piled with small, teddy-bear-shaped biscuits.

  ‘Sophie! How lovely. Do you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘No. I can’t stop. I just came over to give you this from Jillian. Apparently Isabelle McKenzie needs this stuff urgently for the school fair and Jillian’s not feeling too well.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Judy took the bag and peered inside. ‘Oh...fantastic. Some of this is needed for a raffle that Isabelle’s putting together. She’s been fretting about it. In fact...’ Judy was heading towards the back door ‘...be a love and stay here for five minutes. I’m just going to dash down the road and give her this. It’ll stop her ringing me yet again this evening.’

  ‘No, I can’t... I’ve got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me in my office.’

  But Judy was already halfway through the door, having plucked her coat from the hook beside it. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I’ll be back by the time you’ve given the girls their snack.’

  The door shut behind her and Sophie’s breath came out in an incredulous huff.

  Her mother knew perfectly well that Sophie didn’t do babysitting, even for her good friends. At first, it had been because it was too hard a space to visit after losing a baby, and then it had just become normal, something that Sophie Bradford simply didn’t do. But her mother had deliberately just left Sophie alone with these children.

  Her children.

  Small children who were currently alone in another room where there was a potentially dangerous open fire. She picked up the glasses, balancing the saucer of biscuits on top of one of them, and went through to the living room.

  The girls’ eyes widened when they saw Sophie.

  ‘Where’s Nana?’ one of them asked in a small voice.

  ‘She’s gone out just for a minute. I’ve got some milk for you.’

  Sophie put the glasses and saucer down on the coffee table and then perched on the edge of the couch, feeling uncomfortable.

  The twins eyed each other and then stared at Sophie. They looked as timid as they had yesterday, peering out from the shelter of being behind her mother’s legs—scared of her, almost, and that was a little heart-breaking.

  ‘Would you like me to read you a story?’ She picked up the book on top of the pile on one end of the couch. ‘Just until... um... Nana gets back?’

  Again, the twins shared a glance. And then they reached for the biscuits and milk and Sophie started reading.

  ‘Once upon a time, in a land far, far away there lived a little princess. A princess who had the curliest hair in the world...’

  Oh, she remembered this story. Her mother had read it to her so many times and she had loved it, because this princess had the same issues that she had had with hair that didn’t want to do anything normal and always hurt to get brushed or combed. As she read the part about the terrifying ordeal with the comb that always made her cry, one of the twins looked over her shoulder. Some biscuit crumbs fell out of her mouth as she spoke.

  ‘Just like us.’

  ‘Mmm...’ Sophie smiled. ‘Like me, too, when I was little. Like me now.’ Her smile widened. ‘Except I don’t cry any more.’

  The other twin—she wasn’t sure if it was Ellie or Emma—had a milk moustache. She also had a biscuit in each hand but she was getting to her feet.

  ‘Where?’ she demanded. ‘I can’t see...’

  A minute later, Sophie found that she had taken out the hairclips and band that confined her long curls into a manageable ponytail. She also had a small girl on either side of her and, a moment later, she had small sticky fingers playing with her hair.

  But it felt as if those fingers were actually playing with her heart.

  She’d been wrong about not being able to bond with these children because she hadn’t known them as babies.

  It would be quite possible to fall in love with the twins.

  The feeling of connection coming through those busy little hands was seeping into her own body at a cellular level. What she really wanted to do was to gather both these little girls into her arms and hug them gently, hold them close...

  But she couldn’t let herself do that. She hadn’t thought through enough of the implications of even taking responsibility for these children. Going that step further and becoming emotionally involved with them was too much to consider.

  Too terrifying.

  Sophie extricated herself from the tangle of small fingers and elbows and legs.

  ‘Finish your milk,’ she told the twins. ‘I’m just going to get a glass of water.’

  To her relief, she heard the back door shutting as she neared the kitchen. Her mother was home, which meant that she could escape.

  Except it wasn’t just Judy who’d arrived home. Right behind her were her father and Finn and they were all staring at her.

  ‘What happened to your hair?’

  ‘Long story,’ Sophie muttered. ‘Or rather, a specific story. That one about the princess with the curliest hair in the world?’

  ‘Ah...’ Her mother’s smile was tender. ‘You loved that story when you were little.’

  ‘You did,’ her father agreed.

  As Sophie’s glance shifted to her father, it took in the expression on Finn’s face. He was looking rather too pale, as if the outing in the car had been a bit much for him, but the way he was looking at what had to be a mess of curls framing her face was doing something very peculiar to her body. For a horrible moment, she thought her knees might even forget how to keep her upright.

  ‘Mmm...’ She edged towards the door. She could still feel the touch of those sticky fingers and the look that Finn was giving her felt like another physical touch. It was all too much. ‘I have to go.’

  ‘Stay for dinner?’

  ‘Too much to do, Mum. Another time.’

  ‘Okay, love.’ There was a hint of apology in her mother’s face as she gave Sophie a hug. Did she realise that she might have pushed a little too hard in forcing Sophie to spend time with the twins like that? ‘Soon?’

  Sophie nodded and escaped but she knew perfectly well that ‘soon’ would be way too soon as far as she was concerned.

  * * *

  Thankfully, her parents backed off over the next couple of days, maybe because they could see that she was under too much pressure. The nasty cold had been spreading like wildfire and patient numbers had increased enough for Sophie to be worried about the workload her father was coping with. In an effort to relieve that pressure she was working longer and longer hours herself, which meant putting off some house calls until the evenings, and that meant paperwork was piling up. Even if she had wanted to check on Finn or have dinner with her parents, it simply wasn’t possible.

  Jack kept her updated on Finn’s progress, however, which seemed to be going well, although her father would add a rider such as, ‘You can’t rush recovery from something like this, you know, or you might find yourself back at square one.’

  She knew that her mother would know that she was deliberately avoiding contact with the twins but Judy wasn’t pushing her, either, other than to call every day and say that there was plenty for dinner if she had the time to drop in.

  ‘It’d save you cooking,’ she’d say. ‘I know how busy you are. I can just leave something keeping warm in the oven, if that’s better.’

  It wasn’t just the twins that she was avoiding. It was Finn. Because the disturbance of that moment of attraction was still hovering in the back of her mind and she didn’t want to risk anything that might make it more of an issue. Like that look he’d given her when he’d seen her unrestrained hair. Staying away from him was certainly making it easier to deal with but it couldn’t go on much longer. Finn was recovering. Decisions had to be made.

  It was her father who called time on her avoidance tactics, coming into the clinic on Sunday morning when Sophie had just come back from a house call.

  ‘Your mother sent me over to tell you to come and have lunch with us.’

  ‘I’ve just been to see Joanne Coombs. I need to write up my notes and then get these blood samples into town for urgent analysis. Her heart failure’s getting worse. I’d like to admit her to hospital but she’s adamant she’s staying at home. I’m going to go and check her again later today and, if it’s any worse, I’m going to put my foot down.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’ Her father was frowning. ‘I’ll come with you, if you like. I’ve known Joanne a very long time. She might listen to me.’

  ‘That would be great. She couldn’t argue with both of us.’

  Jack smiled. ‘Don’t bet on it. But if we work together, we’ll find a solution.’ His gaze softened. ‘It’s time to start trying to find a solution to our other problem, too, love. Your mum’s making your favourite Sunday lunch. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. We’ve tried to give you as much time as possible to get used to what’s happened but Finn is almost well enough to leave now. We all need to talk.’

  And there it was. Sophie had no choice but to follow her father home. It was with some trepidation that she went into the house. She couldn’t be sure that her body wouldn’t ambush her with unwanted sensations when she saw Finn again but, more importantly, she had no idea what she was going to say if her parents offered to raise these girls, as she was pretty sure they were going to.

  Trepidation morphed into astonishment as soon as she was through the door because the home she had known and loved for ever felt completely different. The kitchen was full of a delicious smell of roasting meat but the table wasn’t set for a meal, it was covered with sheets of paper, crayons and some toys that Sophie recognised from a very long time ago.

  Her mother was red-cheeked from the heat of the oven but she was beaming as she wiped her hands on her apron and came towards Sophie to kiss her.

  ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve made extra gravy.’

  ‘Are those...my old toys?’

  ‘Yes. I didn’t think you’d mind so I got Dad to bring the boxes down from the attic. It was too cold to go to the beach on Friday.’

  ‘Okay...’

  But Sophie’s heart was sinking fast. Apart from a few toys that had been relegated to the box in the corner of the clinic’s waiting room, her mother had always insisted on keeping everything else. Packing it away into boxes. For the grandchildren, she’d say with a smile.

  She had felt the sands of her life shifting under her feet with the arrival of the twins in their lives but, in the space of a few days, while she’d had her head turned away trying to pretend that she might have some control over this, she hadn’t noticed the tide on top of that sand and the current was alarmingly strong. Were those toys ever going to be put back into their boxes and hidden in the attic again?

  Sophie did her best to put a smile on her own face. ‘Can I help? Clear the table or something?’

  ‘No, no...’ Her mother urged her to keep moving with a gentle push. ‘Your dad and I have everything under control. Go and put your feet up for a few minutes.’

  But there was music coming from the living room and it was nothing like anything her parents normally listened to. It was something bouncy and silly—that kids’ song that invited you to clap your hands if you were happy. And there was hand clapping going on.

  Had it only been a couple of days ago when she’d seen these children peeping shyly from behind her mother’s legs? And being so tentative in her own company when she’d been left to supervise them?

  Children could be amazingly resilient and these two girls were bouncing now and clapping their hands. Even more astonishingly, Finn was standing between them and clapping his hands. All three of them stopped as soon as they saw Sophie, though, and it felt as if the world was holding its breath, waiting to gauge her reaction. The children actually looked delighted to see her, she realised. Finn looked slightly embarrassed, although nothing like when he’d been caught dripping wet and stark naked.

  Oh, no...how could her brain take her straight back to that moment?

  With a supreme effort, for her own sake as much as anybody else’s, she tried to put them all at ease.

  ‘Hey...looks like you’re all having fun.’ Her gaze was still snagged on Finn’s. He was clean shaven, today and...and he was smiling.

  She hadn’t seen him smiling before and it seemed to be contagious. She could feel the corners of her own mouth lifting. It felt like even more of an effort to pull her gaze away from his than it had been to sound as if she often came across musical games happening on a Sunday afternoon in her parents’ living room.

  ‘Don’t stop on my account,’ she said. ‘I could hear some really good singing there.’

  But Finn was turning the music down. ‘I’m exhausted,’ he said. ‘I can’t dance any more, girls.’

  Sophie picked her way past the toys on the floor. Good grief, she hadn’t seen that rag doll for decades. And there was an old cane doll’s pram, currently overflowing with stuffed animals. And—oh—she’d forgotten she’d ever owned that tiny china tea set. She stooped to pick up one of the cups with its pretty pattern of flowers.

  ‘I believe there’s tea in that pot,’ Finn said.

  ‘Really?’ Sophie’s smile was wider this time.

  ‘It’s pretend tea,’ Ellie explained. Or was that Emma? The girls weren’t quite identical, Sophie realised, but she hadn’t taken enough notice when she’d met them to know which was which. Or even when she’d had that time alone with them. ‘But Nana said we’re too little to have real tea. I’ll make it for you,’ she added. ‘But you have to sit down so it doesn’t spill.’

  ‘You, too, Unca Finn,’ Emma said. ‘Sit down.’

  So, moments later, Sophie found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing Finn, the girls taking turns to carefully pretend to pour tea from the miniature tea pot into the tiny cups, followed by imaginary milk from the matching jug.

  The sort of thing that young parents would do with their children, she thought. For a moment, she was looking at the scene from somewhere outside herself. As if she and Finn were the parents and these little girls were their own children.

  The image carried a punch that was disturbing. As she distracted herself by focussing on something actually in front of her, Sophie was aware of a wash of emotion as the image faded.

  Longing...?

  She focused harder on the little china cups which were the perfect size for those small hands. Emma was balancing one in its saucer with palpable concentration as she handed it to Sophie.

 

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