A Very Special Holiday Gift

They were having the time of their lives and, within moments, Chloe was climbing into a proper shiny black London taxi and her excitement mounted as they whizzed along busy rain-slick streets filled with other taxis and cars and bright red double-decker London buses. Ahead, on a pedestrian crossing, people huddled beneath umbrellas glistening with rain.

Zac asked the taxi driver to stop at their hotel to leave their luggage and Chloe caught a brief impression of huge glass doors, massive urns filled with greenery and enormous gold-framed mirrors in a white marbled foyer.

‘Now, we’d better head straight to the Metropolitan Police,’ Zac said when he returned.

‘Yes.’ Chloe dug out her phone and checked the arrangements she’d made for Zac to meet with Sergeant Davies. She gave their driver the address and then they were off again.

Three blocks later, they had stopped at traffic lights when she saw the trio of soldiers. The tall, broad-shouldered men were simply standing and chatting as they waited to cross a road, but all it took was the sight of their camouflage uniforms and berets to bring back memories of Sam.

It could still happen like that, even though she’d had three and a half years to recover. The smallest trigger could bring the threat of desperate black grief.

Not now...I can’t think about him now...

But now, on the far side of the world with her handsome boss, this painful memory was a timely reminder of the heartache that came with falling in love. Chloe knew she had to be super-careful...and she was grateful she’d trained herself to think of Zac as nothing but her boss...glad that she’d become an expert at keeping a tight lid on any deeper feelings...

At the police station, Sergeant Davies was very solicitous as he ushered them into his office. He told them that Liv’s death had been clearly accidental and there was no reason to refer it to the coroner.

‘The young man who was driving your sister to the hospital is definitely in the clear,’ he added. ‘He’s a Good Samaritan neighbour. He was injured, but he’s going to be OK. A badly broken leg, I believe.’

Zac sat stiffly, his face as grim as granite, as he received this news.

‘We’ll be laying serious charges against the driver of the other car,’ the sergeant then told them.

‘Driving under the influence?’ Zac asked.

This was answered by a circumspect nod of assent.

Zac sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

Outside, Chloe wanted to suggest that they found somewhere for a coffee. She was sure Zac could do with caffeine fortification, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised that he was determined to push on with his unhappy mission. At work he always preferred to confront the unpleasant tasks first. It was one of the things she’d always admired about him.

Within moments of hitting the pavement, he hailed another taxi and they were heading for the cold reality of the Royal London Hospital.

Once there, Zac insisted on seeing his sister, but as Chloe watched him disappear down a corridor, accompanied by a dour-looking doctor in a lab coat, she was worried that it might be a mistake. Her fears were more or less confirmed when Zac returned, white-faced and gaunt, looking about ten years older.

She had no idea what to say. There was no coffee machine in sight, so she got him a drink of water in a paper cup, which he took without thanking her and drank in sips, staring at the floor, his eyes betraying his shock.

Eventually, Chloe couldn’t bear it. She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug.

He sent her a sideways glance so full of emotion she felt her sympathetic heart swell to bursting. He offered her a nod, as if to say thanks, but he didn’t speak. She was quite sure he couldn’t speak.

For some time they sat together, with their overcoats bundled on the bench beside them, before one of the hospital staff approached them, a youngish woman with bright red hair. ‘Mr Corrigan?’

Zac lifted his gaze slowly. ‘Yes?’

The woman’s eyes lit up with the predictable enthusiasm of just about any female who met Zac. ‘I’m Ruby Jones,’ she said, holding onto her bright smile despite his grimness. ‘I’m the social worker looking after your case.’

‘Right. I see.’ Zac was on his feet now. ‘I guess you want to speak to me about the...the child?’

‘Yes, certainly.’ Ruby Jones offered him another sparkling smile, which Chloe thought was totally inappropriate. ‘Am I right in imagining that you’d like to meet your niece?’

‘Meet her?’ Zac looked startled.

‘Yes, she’s just on the next floor in the maternity ward.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ He turned to Chloe. ‘You’ll come, too, won’t you?’

‘Yes, if you like.’

Ruby, the social worker, looked apologetic. ‘I’m afraid—in these situations, we usually only allow close family members into—’

‘Chloe is family,’ Zac intervened, sounding more like his usual authoritarian self.

Chloe stared at the floor, praying that she didn’t blush, but it was a shock to hear Zac describe her as family. She knew it was an expedient lie, but for a crazy moment her imagination went a little wild.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ruby sounded as flustered as Chloe felt. ‘I thought you mentioned a PA.’

Zac gave an impatient flick of his head. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t count this child’s close family on two fingers.’ He placed a commanding hand at Chloe’s elbow. ‘Come on.’

Chloe avoided making eye contact with Zac as the social worker led them to the lift, which they rode in silence to the next floor.

‘This way,’ Ruby said as they stepped out and she led them down a hallway smelling of antiseptic, past doorways that revealed glimpses of young women and bassinets. From all around were sounds of new babies crying and, somewhere in the distance, a floor polisher whined.

Zac looked gloomy, as if he was hating every minute.

‘Have you ever been in a maternity ward before?’ Chloe asked him out of the side of her mouth.

‘No, of course not. Have you?’

‘Once. Just to visit a friend,’ she added when she saw his startled glance.

Ahead of them, the social worker had stopped at a glass door and was talking to a nurse. She turned to them. ‘If you wait here at this door, we’ll wheel the baby over.’

Zac nodded unhappily.

Chloe said, ‘Thank you.’

As the two women disappeared, Zac let out a heavy sigh. His jaw jutted with dismal determination as he sank his hands deep into his trouser pockets. Chloe was tempted to reach out, to touch him again, to give his elbow an encouraging squeeze, but almost immediately the door opened and a little trolley was wheeled through.

She could see the bump of a tiny baby beneath a pink blanket, and a hint of dark hair. Beside her, she heard her boss gasp.

‘Oh, my God,’ he whispered.

The trolley was wheeled closer.

‘So here she is.’ The nurse was middle-aged and hearty and she gave Zac an encouraging smile. ‘She’s a proper little cutie, this one.’