CHAPTER ONE
‘SAY CHEESE!’
Somewhat inexpertly holding her brand-new godson, Carla Blake looked at the camera and concentrated on not dropping the eleven-month-old that belonged to her best friend, Georgie, and Georgie’s husband, Finn. They’d only been posing for a couple of minutes, yet already her arms ached in an effort to contain the squirming child. The strain of maintaining her smile was taking its toll on her facial muscles and her head throbbed.
Not that she wasn’t happy for Georgie and Finn, or indeed to be here. She couldn’t be happier. She was delighted to have been asked to be Josh’s godmother, and, with everything that her best friend had been through recently, Georgie deserved every one of the bright grins wreathing her face. Finn was divine—gorgeous, supportive, utterly in love with his wife—and as for their son, who was the spitting image of his father, dark of hair, blue of eye and rosy of cheek, well, he was simply adorable.
Nor was she jealous. As picture perfect as today’s christening had been so far, Carla did not want what Georgie had. She couldn’t think of anything worse than swapping the bright lights and high-octane buzz of the city for a sprawling pile in the middle of nowhere, however beautiful.
In no conceivable way would a baby fit with her career, and she certainly didn’t want a husband or partner. She didn’t even want a boyfriend. Casual flings? Absolutely. Anything long term? Definitely not. She didn’t have the time, and her freedom and her independence were too important to her to ever compromise.
In fact, the mere thought of putting the welfare of her emotions into the hands of a man sent chills shooting up and down her spine. Besides, she wouldn’t know how to actually have a romantic relationship even if she did want one. Not a proper, healthy, adult one, at any rate.
No, the tension gripping her body and the pounding inside her skull were purely down to stress and exhaustion. Twenty-four hours ago she’d been in Hong Kong, massaging the ego and manipulating the mind of a truculent CEO who’d spent far too long point-blank refusing to accept that the only response to the massive data protection breach the company had just experienced was an apology to every single customer and a generous goodwill gesture to those directly affected.
Once he’d eventually seen sense and the way forward had finally been signed off, Carla had dashed to the airport, making her flight with minutes to spare. Having landed and cleared Customs early this morning, she’d swung by her flat to shower and change and had then driven the ninety minutes it took to reach the chocolate box Oxfordshire village Finn and Georgie had recently moved to.
She’d bust a gut to get here on time but she didn’t mind one little bit because she and Georgie were more than best friends. The moment they’d met on the commune where Georgie had been living, and to which Carla and her parents moved, they’d each recognised a kindred spirit in the other and from then on they’d shared everything. Together they’d navigated the challenges of adolescence and a parenting style that bordered on neglect. Through the bleakest of times they’d provided each other with badly needed support.
However, jet lag was catching up with her now and the adrenalin that had been keeping her going was flagging. Her usual party mojo had disappeared without trace. Conversation was proving an unfamiliar slog and the heat was stifling.
But it wouldn’t be long before she could go home and crash out. And once there, then she’d be able to worry about possible burnout and ponder the wisdom of requesting some leave. In the meantime she would simply pull herself together and carry on smiling because today was all about Georgie and her family, and nothing—least of all, she—was going to ruin it.
The photographer finally gave her the thumbs-up, and as he turned away to check the pictures he’d taken Carla set
Josh on the grass. While he toddled off in the direction of the gazebo where lunch was being set up, she straightened and shook out her arms, and tried not to grimace when her muscles twinged.
‘My godson is as wriggly as an eel,’ she said to Georgie, who’d been standing a few metres away but now stepped forward.
‘He took his first solo steps a week ago,’ said Georgie with a fond smile while her gaze tracked her son’s progress. ‘Now he just wants to practise. All the time.’
Carla watched as Josh toppled like a ninepin then got up without a whimper and resumed his journey, her amusement turning to admiration. ‘His determination is impressive.’
‘He takes after his father.’
‘How is Finn?’
Georgie’s grin faded and a small frown creased her forehead. ‘Climbing the walls while trying to pretend everything’s fine.’
‘Still no news?’
Late last year Finn had learned he’d been adopted as a six-month-old, and had poured considerable resources into investigating his roots. Back in March he’d discovered that he’d been born in Argentina and was one of a set of triplets, but as far as Carla was aware that was all anyone knew.
Georgie sighed. ‘None.’
‘It must be so frustrating.’
‘It is. Finn says it doesn’t matter, that he’s let it go because he has us now, and I think he genuinely wants to believe that, but he isn’t as good at pretending as he thinks. It’s eating him up.’
And because it was eating Finn up, it was eating Georgie up too, Carla knew, and she hated knowing her best friend was hurting. If only she could somehow fix it. ‘What’s being done?’
‘The investigation agency is still trying to track down his brothers but the trail’s gone cold.’
‘Is there some way I can help? Some kind of PR campaign, maybe?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Georgie with a shake of her head. ‘But thank you. And thank you for coming today. I know what an effort it must have been.’