‘My cat had four kittens…’ Alfie placed the kittens in Hayley’s lap ‘…and Dad says I can only keep two. So I’m giving you the other two. I want them to go to someone nice.’
The kittens snuggled into each other and Hayley stared down at them with a lump in her throat. ‘They’re gorgeous.’
‘Alfie…’ Patrick ran his hand over his jaw ‘…you can’t just give someone an animal. Hayley doesn’t have anywhere to keep them.’
‘Well, they’re hers just for Christmas, then,’ Alfie said stubbornly. ‘While she’s staying here. I’ll let her feed them and things.’
‘I think she’s going to be busy enough feeding us,’ Patrick muttered, but Hayley shook her head, enchanted by the kittens.
‘They’re beautiful, Alfie. And wherever I go after Christmas, I’ll make sure it’s somewhere I can have kittens. Thank you.’
Later, while Alfie and Posy were playing with their presents and her kittens were curled up on the sofa asleep, Hayley slipped away to the kitchen.
This was the perfect Christmas, wasn’t it?
Snow falling outside the window and children laughing in the next room.
She worked steadily and without fuss and when she eventually placed the bronzed turkey in the centre of the table, Alfie gasped and clapped his hands.
‘For once it looks the way it always looks in the pictures. Thanks, Hayley. I’m starving.’
Lunch was a noisy, happy affair. Crackers were pulled, jokes were read and paper hats were worn, although Hayley had to make use of a roll of tape in order to stop Posy’s from falling down around her neck.
She was just setting light to the Christmas pudding when Patrick’s mobile rang.
He fished it out of his pocket, frowning as he saw the number. ‘Excuse me—I need to answer this. Tom?’ Moving away from the table, he strolled to the other end of the living room and Hayley’s gaze lingered on his broad shoulders.
‘Hayley, the pudding is going to fall off the plate,’ Alfie said helpfully, and she gave a start and concentrated on what she was doing.
‘Pudding?’ But she could still hear Patrick talking.
‘Well, it’s her first labour…No, I wouldn’t think so…Calm down, will you?’
‘Someone is in trouble,’ Alfie predicted, pouring brandy sauce onto his pudding. ‘Is this alcoholic? Am I going to get drunk?’
‘You’re not going to get drunk.’
‘Good, because the next thing that’s going to happen is that Dad is going to come off the phone and say he has to go to the hospital.’
Patrick slipped the phone back into his pocket and strode back to them. ‘I’m really sorry but I’m going to have to go to the hospital.’
‘Told you.’ Alfie leaned across the table and pushed the candle away from his sister’s fingers. ‘Don’t touch that, Pose, or you’ll be going to the hospital too. In an ambulance. What is it this time, Dad? Twins?’
‘No.’ Patrick looked distracted. ‘Tom Hunter’s wife has gone into labour. And he’s worried about her.’
‘Tom works with Dad,’ Alfie told Hayley, and Patrick gave a frown of apology.
‘Sorry, Hayley.’
‘It’s fine. Do you want pudding or are you going straight in? I can stay with the children.’
‘It’s more complicated than that.’ Patrick ran a hand over the back of his neck, and then looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You’re a midwife.’
Hayley slowly put the pudding down on the table, wondering where this was leading. ‘You know I’m a midwife.’
‘We’re chronically short of midwives at the moment—particularly over the Christmas period. People are being struck down by flu and apparently there isn’t an agency midwife to be had north of Birmingham. Tom’s worried that Sally won’t have continuity of care.’
‘I registered with the agency when I arrived in the UK, but I haven’t—’