The Baby Of Their Dreams

‘I know that. It was more the way…’ She was so hypersensitive to people’s reactions when they saw her son but she smiled when Gemma spoke on.

‘I loved how he smiled if you touched his little feet,’ Gemma said, and her words confirmed to Cat that she was very blessed to have such a wonderful friend. ‘He’s so beautiful.’

He was.

Not to others perhaps but they had both seen his lovely eyes and felt his little fingers curve around theirs and they had felt his soft skin and heard his little cries.

And this was the hard part.

It was late July and she’d be away on those days.

The day of Thomas’s birth and also the day that he had died.

‘Do I take his photo with me?’ Cat asked, and Gemma thought for a moment.

‘I don’t think you need his photo to remember him,’ she said.

‘But I feel guilty leaving him in the drawer.’

‘Leave him with me, then,’ Gemma said. ‘I’ll have a long gaze.’

Yes, she had the very best friend in the world, Cat thought as she handed over her most precious possession, and because she was going to start crying Cat changed the subject. ‘Hey, did you have any luck tracking down that dress for the christening?’

‘Nope.’

Gemma shook her head as she put the photo in her bag. ‘I knew that I should have just bought it when I saw it. It was perfect.’

‘It was very nice, but…’ Cat didn’t continue. A white broderie anglaise halter-neck with a flowing skirt was a bit over the top for Cat’s tastes but, then, that was Gemma.

And this was her.

She pulled on some white linen pants and a coloured top and added the espadrilles.

‘Am I girlie enough for you now?’

‘You look great.’ Gemma laughed. ‘It’s once you get there that worries me. With those clothes you’ll just blend in with all the others…’

‘Which is exactly my intention,’ Cat said. ‘I have to go soon.’

‘But your flight’s not till nine.’

‘I know but I’ve booked in to get my hair blow-dried on the way.’

Her long black curls would be straightened, just as they were twice a week. Cat always washed it herself before she went to the hairdresser’s, though.

It saved time.

They headed downstairs, chatting as Cat did a few last-minute things. ‘You’re speaking in the morning?’ Gemma checked.

‘At nine.’ Cat nodded. ‘I’d have loved to have flown last night but I couldn’t get away. Hamish isn’t back till tomorrow and Andrew is covering me this weekend. Same old. It would have been nice to stay on for a bit and spend a few days in Barcelona…’

‘Are you ever going to take some time off?’

‘I’m off in October for three weeks.’ Cat smiled. ‘My exams will be done and I’m going to celebrate by decorating my bedroom. I can’t wait to turn it into something that doesn’t make me want to sleep downstairs on the sofa.’

‘You’ve done an amazing job with the house.’

Last year, after a year of looking, Cat had bought a small two-bedroom home in a leafy London suburb. It was a twenty-minute drive to work at night, which meant, if Cat was on call, that she had to stay at the hospital. Yes, perhaps she could have bought somewhere just a little bit closer but the drive did mean that when she left the hospital, she really left the building.

Here, she could pull on tatty shorts and a T-shirt and get on with her second love—knocking down walls, plastering and painting. The house had been a real renovator’s delight and Cat had delighted in renovating it.

The ghastly purple carpet had been ripped up to expose floorboards that, once sanded and oiled, brought a warmth to the house. A false wall in the lounge had been removed to reveal a fireplace and the once-purple-themed bathroom was now tiled white with dark wood fittings and had a gorgeous claw-foot bath.

‘Will you sell it once you’ve decorated the bedroom?’

‘I really don’t know,’ Cat admitted, tipping milk down the sink. ‘Initially that was the plan, but now I love the place and want to simply enjoy it, but…’

‘But?’

‘I’ve really enjoyed doing it up bit by bit. I’m going to miss that.’

‘After your bedroom you’ve still got the garden to make over.’

‘Oh, no!’ Cat shook her head. ‘I’ll get someone in to do that.’

As they headed out, Cat locked up and Gemma looked at the small front garden.

‘It’s the size of a stamp,’ Gemma pointed out. There was just a rickety path and two neglected flower beds, and the back garden, Gemma knew, was a small strip of grass and an old wooden shed. ‘You could have it sorted in a few days…’

‘Nope!’ Cat smiled. ‘I have black thumbs.’

They said goodbye on the street.

‘We’ll catch up properly soon,’ Cat promised. Both women knew that they wouldn’t get much of a chance to gossip at the christening. ‘I’ll come over to yours after the conference. I haven’t seen the twins for ages. I’ll bring them a stuffed donkey each back from Spain.’

‘Please, don’t!’ Gemma winced and glanced at her phone to check the time. ‘Ooh, I might make it home in time to give them their bath before bed. Nigel’s cooking a romantic dinner for the two of us tonight…’

‘Lovely.’

‘Enjoy Spain,’ Gemma called. ‘You might find yourself some sexy Spanish flamenco dancer or matador…’

‘At an emergency medicine conference?’ Cat laughed. ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that.’

‘Well, a gorgeous waiter, with come-to-bed eyes and—’

‘Oh, please!’

‘Why not?’ Gemma winked. ‘If you can’t manage a love life, then pencil a few flings into that overcrowded diary of yours.’