Be My Baby: Her Parenthood Assignment / Three Weddings and a Baby

‘I haven’t really told you how much I appreciate all you’ve done with Heather.’

‘I haven’t done anything special.’

Oh, no? Then why couldn’t he duplicate it? Why was it so hard for him to connect with his daughter the way she did? He threw the carton he was scraping out back on to the coffee table.

‘Do you think we’re ever going to find some common ground, Heather and I?’

‘Luke—’ Gaby shook her head and laughed ‘—I can’t believe you don’t see it! The pair of you are so alike, you’re practically carbon copies. Of course, you’ll find some common ground.’

‘We are? I mean, we will?’

‘Yes! She’s a mini version of you. A baby control freak.’

‘I’m sorry. Did you say “control freak”?’

Gaby nodded. She looked as if she were trying not to laugh. ‘That’s why you clash so much. Neither one of you is willing to give an inch sometimes. She needs to be in charge of her destiny just as much as you do.’

He opened his mouth to contradict her, but closed it again and stared at the ceiling. ‘You think?’

‘You just need to ease off a bit and she’ll calm down. Stop trying to do everything for her. She’s not the little six-year-old you left behind any more. And you can’t make up for lost time by treating her as if she were.’

‘And you think this will improve things?’

‘It certainly won’t hurt. You’ve already started doing it a little. Just keep going, a step at a time.’

‘How do you know all this stuff? Is this what they teach you at nanny school?’

Gaby shuffled in her seat a little. She seemed to be embarrassed. ‘Let’s just say that, as a child, I used to feel a lot like she did. I know what it’s like to have your whole life mapped out for you. It’s suffocating. Every little thing had to be just so, or it was the end of the world. I don’t know how I stood it as long as I did.’

Somehow the conversation had shifted and he knew she wasn’t talking about her childhood any more. It had to be the ex-husband. What an idiot.

‘Earlier on…’

‘I thought we weren’t going to talk about earlier on, Luke.’

‘Let me finish, woman. I was going to ask you about your drawing—the one you had in the pad when you came in.’

‘It wasn’t very good. I threw it away. I’m a bit rusty.’

‘Better than me. I have problems drawing a straight line.’

‘Painting is what I really like to do. I was planning to start again in my free time. The colours on the river are just so beautiful.’

Were they? He couldn’t say he’d noticed that much. Too busy looking inside to notice the world around him.

‘What’s your favourite colour, then?’ Okay, sparkling conversation was still out of reach, but she didn’t seem to notice. She looked as if she were enjoying herself as much as he was.

‘Green, I think. It’s hard to choose. But not that garish bright green. Soft mossy greens and deep emerald greens are my favourite. What about you?’

He was mesmerised by her. When she talked about things she loved, she sparkled. How had he ever thought of her as ordinary? She was looking right at him and her eyes were positively glowing…

‘Brown.’ The word was out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

‘Brown? Your favourite colour is brown. Seriously?’ She pulled a face.

‘No, not brown, I mean…’

Then he looked back into her eyes. Polished chestnut, warm and dark with gold lights. At that moment he couldn’t think of a colour to top it.

CHAPTER SIX

A NOISE dragged Gaby from sleep. She propped herself up on an elbow and listened. The clock showed it was some time past three.

There it was again.

Suddenly, she was very much awake. She flung back the duvet and jumped out of bed. Her movements were swift and silent as she crossed the room and eased the door open. Everything was quiet again. All she could hear was her own magnified heartbeat. She crept towards Heather’s door and pushed it gently.

Heather was fast asleep, one leg out of the duvet and an arm around a toy rabbit. Poor kid. She might act tough, but underneath she was a scared little girl who hung on to security anywhere she found it.

Gaby was just pulling the door closed again when she heard a shout. The hairs on the back of her neck immediately stood to attention.

Luke! Was he ill? You could never be too careful with Chinese takeaway. All it took was one dodgy prawn.

She ran across the landing and knocked lightly on his door. There was no answer, but she could hear him groaning and moving around inside. She stayed frozen to the spot, fingertips resting on the door, not wanting to intrude, but reluctant to go back to bed without offering help.

One more loud noise from inside the master bedroom was all it took. She pressed the flat of her hand on the door and pushed. The room was pitch dark. The door swung closed behind her and it took a good few seconds before her eyes adjusted to the blackness.

‘Luke?’ she whispered. ‘Are you all right?’

He muttered something unintelligible.

She tried again. ‘Are you ill?’

This time she managed to work out a few words. ‘…can’t get out…’

‘Do you need help getting to the bathroom?’ Panic began to register in her voice. ‘Luke, please! Tell me what’s wrong.’

She moved closer to the bed and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. Luke sat bolt upright and she jumped back, almost falling over.

His eyes were open and he was staring—not at her—but at a bare patch of wall directly in front of him.

He was still asleep.

This was a nightmare or something. She vaguely remembered Justin sleepwalking and having what her parents called ‘night terrors’ when he was a boy. He used to scream and shout. Sometimes he’d walk around the house and do the strangest things—like put his wellies on and then just go back to bed as if nothing had happened.

Trying to wake Luke was a bad idea. He’d probably lie down in a second and move into a deeper phase of sleep. She would just sit on the edge of the bed and watch him for five minutes, just to make sure it wasn’t the prawns after all.

Her bottom had only just started to make a dent in the mattress when he moved his head in one swift turn to stare at her. She held her breath. If he’d just woken up, she was going to have a tough time explaining her presence in his bedroom—on his bed, no less—wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt.