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‘So what happens now?’ Josh asked.
‘Once the social worker’s here, she’ll take the baby to the hospital,’ the policeman said.
Josh shook his head. ‘I don’t really think that’s a good idea. Right now, the children’s ward is stuffed full of little ones with bronchiolitis.’
‘Bronchi-what?’ PC Graham asked.
‘Bronchiolitis. It’s a virus,’ Josh explained. ‘If adults catch it they get a really stinking cold, but in babies the mucus gums up the tiny airways in the lungs—the bronchioles—and they can’t breathe or feed properly. Usually they end up being on oxygen therapy and being tube-fed for a week. And I really wouldn’t want a newborn catching it—at that age it’s likely to be really serious.’
‘What about the general ward?’ PC Graham asked. ‘Could they look after her there?’
Josh shook his head. ‘At this time of year the winter vomiting virus and flu are both doing the rounds in all the wards. As a newborn, she’s at high risk of picking up either or both.’
The policeman shrugged and spread his hands. ‘Then I don’t know. We’ll see what the social worker says when she gets here.’
By the time Amy had made mugs of tea, PC Walters was back from his forensic examination of the hallway.
‘Did you manage to get anything?’ Amy asked.
‘A smudged footprint, but no fingerprints. Hopefully we’ll get something from the box she left the baby in.’ PC Walters looked at Amy’s pale beige carpet. ‘Though I’m afraid fingerprint powder’s a bit messy.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It won’t take that long to vacuum it up afterwards,’ Amy said. ‘It’s more important that you discover something that’ll help you find the baby’s mum.’
But he didn’t manage to get much from the box, either. ‘There’s a couple of long blonde hairs, but they don’t necessarily belong to the mother. Though I found an envelope under the newspaper at the bottom of the box.’
‘Newspaper?’ Josh asked.
‘For insulation against the cold, maybe,’ PC Walters said. ‘There’s a gold chain in there and a note—though there aren’t any prints. There are a couple of fibres, so she was probably wearing gloves.’
Amy read the note and then passed it to Josh.
Please look after Hope. I’m sorry.
‘So the baby’s name is Hope?’ Josh asked.
‘Seems so.’
Amy shared a glance with Josh. Hope. How terribly sad, because hope was clearly the last thing the baby’s mother felt right now.
‘Do you recognise the handwriting at all?’ PC Graham asked.
‘No,’ Amy said.
‘Me neither,’ Josh agreed.
‘We can take the box back with us—and the blanket—but I don’t think it’s going to help much,’ PC Walters said, accepting a mug of tea.
They went through the whole lot again when Jane Richards, the social worker, arrived ten minutes later.
‘So what’s going to happen to the baby?’ Amy asked.
Jane grimaced. ‘At this time of year, everyone’s on leave. You’re lucky if you can get anyone even to answer a phone. And with Christmas falling partly on a weekend, the chances of getting hold of someone who can offer a foster care placement are practically zero. So I guess the baby’s going to have to stay in hospital for a while.’
‘The local hospital’s on black alert,’ Josh said. ‘Apart from the fact that beds are in really short supply right now, there’s bronchiolitis on the children’s ward, and there’s flu and the winter vomiting virus in the rest of the hospital. The chances are that Hope would go down with something nasty, so they’ll refuse to take her.’
Jane looked at Amy. ‘As you’re the one who found her, and Christmas is meant to be the season of goodwill... Would you be able to look after her for a few days?’
‘Me?’ Amy looked at her in shock. ‘But don’t you have to do all kinds of background checks on me, first?’
‘You’re a teacher,’ Jane said, ‘so you’ll already have gone through most of the checks. The rest of it is just formalities and, as I’m the senior social worker on duty in this area today, I can use my discretion.’
‘I’m more used to dealing with teenagers,’ Amy said. ‘I’ve not really had much to do with babies.’ Much less the baby she’d so desperately wanted to have with Michael. Something that could never, ever happen for her. ‘I’m not sure...’ And yet Jane was right. Christmas was the season of goodwill. How could Amy possibly turn away a helpless, defenceless newborn baby?
‘I could help out,’ Josh said. ‘I’m working today and tomorrow, but I could help out between my shifts.’
So she’d have someone to talk things over with, if she was concerned. Someone who had experience of babies—and, better still, was a doctor.
But there was one possible sticking point. Even though she knew it was intrusive, she still had to ask. ‘Will your partner mind?’ she asked.
‘I don’t have a partner,’ Josh said, and for a moment she saw a flash of pain in his expression.
Did he, too, have an ex who’d let him down badly? Amy wondered. She was pretty sure that, like her, he lived alone.
‘I can make decisions without having to check with anyone first,’ he said. ‘How about yours?’
‘Same as you,’ she said.
‘Which makes it easy.’ He turned to Jane. ‘OK. We’ll look after Hope between us. How long do you need us to look after her?’
She winced. ‘Until New Year’s Eve, maybe?’
A whole week? ‘Just as well it’s the school holidays,’ Amy said wryly.
‘I’m off for a couple of days between Christmas and New Year,’ Josh said. ‘I’ll do as much as I can. But the baby has nothing, Jane. I just went out to get emergency milk, nappies and enough clothes to keep her going until you got here. Her mother left her wrapped in a blanket in the box, and there wasn’t anything with her. Well, the police found a note and a gold chain that the mum obviously wanted the baby to have,’ he amended, ‘but the baby doesn’t have any clothes.’
‘We don’t have anywhere for her to sleep—and, apart from the fact that the police have taken the box, a cardboard box really isn’t a suitable bed for a baby,’ Amy added.
‘I can help there,’ Jane said. ‘We have things in the office. I can bring you a Moses basket, bedding, nappies and spare clothes, and I can organise milk. Do you have any bottles?’
‘Two,’ Josh said, ‘and I bought a couple of cartons of ready-mixed formula. We’ve muddled through with very hot water to sterilise them for now.’
‘If you don’t mind mixing up your own formula, I can organise more bottles and sterilising equipment,’ Jane said. ‘What about the baby’s mum?’
‘We haven’t got much on the forens
ics side,’ PC Walters said. ‘The best we can do is to put out a press release and ask the local media to tell her to get in touch.’
‘If she’s as young as I think she might be,’ Josh said, ‘she’ll be worried that she’s in trouble—especially if she managed to hide her pregnancy.’
‘Strictly speaking, it’s a criminal offence to abandon a baby,’ PC Graham said, ‘but judges are always lenient in the case of newborns and very young, very frightened mums.’
‘She really needs to get to hospital or a doctor and let them check her over,’ Josh said. ‘That’s important because, if she’s retained any of the placenta or she tore during the delivery, there’s a high risk she’ll develop an infection—and if it’s left untreated she could become really ill.’
‘We’ll make sure everyone says she won’t be in any trouble and we’re worried about her health,’ PC Graham said.
‘And tell her the baby’s absolutely fine and being looked after. The poor girl’s probably going to be worrying about that, too,’ Amy added.
Josh looked at his watch. ‘Sorry. I’m going to have to leave you now. I need to be at work.’ He scribbled a number on one of the spare sheets of paper. ‘You’ve got my mobile number, Amy, and this is my direct line in the department. You can get a message to me if it’s urgent. I’ll be back about half-past eight this evening—unless there’s a crisis in the department, in which case I’ll get a message to you as early as I can.’
Amy really hoped that she wasn’t going to have to use that number. ‘OK. Thanks.’ She paused, knowing that this probably sounded like a come-on, but hoping that he’d take it as the practical suggestion it actually was. ‘Look, as you’re helping me with the baby, you might as well have dinner here. It’s as easy to cook for two as for one.’
‘That’d be nice.’
They exchanged a glance, and another frisson of desire ran down her spine—which was completely inappropriate. OK, so they were both single, but this was all about caring for Hope, not having a wild fling with her neighbour.
She fought to keep herself sounding professional. ‘Do you have any food allergies, or is there anything you don’t eat?’
