The Baby Of Their Dreams

At the end of July and at twenty-five weeks gestation Cat went into spontaneous labour and Gemma delivered her a little son. Thomas Gregory Hayes. Thomas because she loved the name. Gregory, after her brother. Hayes because it was her surname.

Cat would treasure every minute of the two precious days and one night that Thomas lived.

Most of them.

His severe cleft palate meant she couldn’t feed him, though she ached to. She would never get out of her mind the image of her mother’s grimace when she’d seen her grandson and his deformities—Cat had asked her to leave.

For two days she had closed the door to her room on the maternity ward and had let only love enter.

Her brother, Gemma and her new boyfriend, Nigel, a couple of other lifelong friends, along with the medical staff helped her care for him—and all played their part.

When Cat had no choice but to sleep, Greg, Gemma or Nigel nursed him and Thomas wasn’t once, apart from having his nappy changed, put down.

His whole life Thomas knew only love.

After the funeral, when her parents and some other family members had tried to tell her that maybe Thomas’s passing was a blessing, it was Gemma who held Cat’s hand as she bit back a caustic response.

Instead of doing as suggested and putting it all behind her and attempting a new normal, Cat took all her maternity leave and hid for a while to grieve. But as her return-to-work date approached she felt less and less inclined to go back, especially as Mike still worked there.

She applied for a position in the accident and emergency department at the London Royal, where her baby had been born and where Gemma worked.

Four months to the day that she’d lost her son Cat stepped back out into the world… Only, she wasn’t the same.

Instead, she was a far tougher version of her old self.

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_86009e78-6af2-55cf-a263-a6c1a1a1654d)

Seven years later

‘YOU’RE FAR TOO cynical about men, Cat.’

‘I don’t think that I am,’ Cat answered, ‘though admittedly I’d love to be proven wrong. But, no, I’m taking a full year off men.’

Cat was busy packing. Just out of the shower she was wearing a dressing gown and her long, curly black hair was wrapped in a towel. As she pulled clothes out of her wardrobe she chatted to her close friend Gemma, who was lying on Cat’s bed and answering emails on her phone.

They were two very busy women but they usually managed to catch up a couple of times a week, whether at the hospital canteen, a coffee shop or wine bar, or just a quick drop-in at the other’s home.

This evening Cat was heading to Barcelona for an international emergency medicine conference, where she was going to be giving a talk the following morning. She had got off early from her shift at the hospital to pack and Gemma had popped around to finalise a few details for the following weekend. Gemma and Nigel’s twin boys, Rory and Marcus, were being christened and Cat was to be godmother to Rory.

They were used to catching up on the run. Any plans they made were all too often cancelled at the last minute thanks to Cat’s position as an accident and emergency consultant and Gemma juggling being a mother to two eighteen-month-old boys as well as a full-time obstetrician.

Their lives were similar in many ways and very different in others.

‘So you and Rick have definitely broken up?’ Gemma checked that Cat’s latest relationship was really over.

‘He’s been gone a month, so I’d say so!’

‘You’re not even going to think about it?’

‘Why would I consider moving to Yorkshire when I’m happy here?’

‘Because that’s what couples do.’

‘Oh, so if Nigel suddenly decided that he wanted to move to…’ Cat thought for a moment and then remembered that Nigel was taking French lessons. ‘If he wanted to move to France, you’re telling me that you’d go?’

‘Not without consideration,’ Gemma said. ‘Given that I’m the breadwinner there would have to be a good reason, but if Nigel really wanted to, then, of course, I’d give it some thought. Relationships are about compromise.’

‘And it’s always the woman who has to be the one to compromise,’ Cat said, but Gemma shook her head.

‘I don’t agree.’

‘You’ve never played the dating game in your thirties.’

‘Yes, I have—Nigel and I only married last year.’

‘Ah, but the two of you had been going out for ever before then. It’s different at our age, Gemma. Men might say that they don’t mind independent working women and, of course, they don’t—just as long as you’re home before them and have the dinner on.’

‘Rubbish!’ Gemma responded from her happily married vantage point. ‘Look at Nigel—I work, he gave up teaching and stays home and looks after the children, and the house and me…’

‘Yes.’ Cat smiled. ‘Well, you and Nigel are a very rare exception to my well-proven theory.’

But Gemma suddenly had other things on her mind when she saw what Cat was about to add to her case. ‘Please don’t take them,’ Gemma said, referring to Cat’s running shoes. ‘They’re ugly.’

‘They’re practical,’ Cat said. ‘And they are also very comfortable. I’m hoping to squeeze in a little bit of sightseeing on Sunday afternoon once the conference wraps up. There’s a modern art museum, hopefully I’ll get some inspiration for this room…’

She looked around at the disgusting beige walls and beige carpet and beige curtains and wished she knew what she wanted to do with the room.

Gemma got off the bed and went to Cat’s wardrobe and took out some espadrilles.

‘Take these instead.’

‘For walking?’

‘Yes, Cat, for walking, not striding…’ She peered into her friend’s luggage. ‘Talk about shades of grey—that’s the saddest case I’ve ever seen. You’re going to Spain!’

‘I’m going to Spain for two nights to catch the end of a conference. I’m not going on a holiday. I shan’t even see the beach,’ Cat pointed out. ‘I wish that I was flying off for a holiday,’ she said, and then sat on the bed. ‘I hate July so much.’

‘I know you do.’

It had been seven years since Thomas had died.

She didn’t lug her grief around all the time but on days like today it hurt. Gemma smiled as her friend went into her bedside drawer and took out his photo. Cat kept it there; it was close enough that she could look at it any time and removed enough not to move her to tears. The drawer also meant she didn’t have to explain the most vital piece of her past to any lovers until she was ready to.

She simply found it too painful.

‘Rick asked how likely I was to have another one like him,’ Cat admitted. It was what had really caused the end of her latest relationship. ‘I told him about Thomas and then I showed him his photo…’

‘He’s not a doctor, Cat,’ Gemma said. ‘It’s a normal question to ask. It’s one you’ve asked.’