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‘OK.’ She didn’t seem to be listening to him. And she didn’t touch the hot chocolate—just stared into the mug and watched a skin form on the milk.
Deciding that sleep was the priority, he gently eased the mug from her hands and pulled her to her feet.
‘You need to go to bed.’ He led her up the stairs, opened her bedroom door and gently nudged her inside. ‘You did brilliantly with Angie, by the way. She’s going to be all right now.’
‘Is she? What about the baby?’
He frowned. ‘The baby is doing well, Miranda. Thanks to the fact that you discovered her so quickly, she’s going to be fine.’
‘But what sort of life will she have?’ Miranda turned to look at him and her dark eyes were huge and sad. ‘Goodnight, Jake.’ She closed the door, leaving him on the outside battling with a powerful inclination to go back inside and drag her into his arms.
He stared at the closed door, trying to work out what was going on in her mind.
What had she meant by that comment about the baby?
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to decide what to do. She was tired, he reasoned, and pregnant women were always more emotional when they were tired.
The best thing was for her to have a good night’s sleep.
They could talk in the morning.
He strolled into his bedroom and glanced at the clock with a humourless laugh. It was already morning.
He went to bed and woke suddenly to darkness and the sound of noises coming from the kitchen.
Miranda?
Tugging on his jeans, he padded downstairs.
She was sitting at the table with her head in her hands. Her dark hair flopped forward, hiding her face from his view, but he knew from the movement of her shoulders that she was crying. He swore softly under his breath and went straight to her, dragging out the chair next to her and sitting down.
‘Miranda?’ He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. ‘Sweetheart, what’s wrong?’
For a long moment she didn’t answer and then she lifted her head and the pain in her eyes shocked him.
‘I just k-keep thinking about B-Bonnie.’ She hiccoughed and he frowned slightly as he stroked her shoulders gently.
‘Bonnie? But she’s fine, angel. Doing really well. Thanks to you.’
Miranda shook her head and tears spilled down her cheeks. ‘She’s not fine. She has a mother too young to look after her and no father. What is her life going to be like?’ She scrubbed the palm of her hand over her cheek and he frowned, helpless to know what to say.
‘Angie seemed like a really nice girl and her mother was—’
‘Angie is nothing more than a child, Jake!’ She interrupted him, her voice fierce and her eyes glistening with more tears. ‘A child! She should be playing with her friends, doing exams and dreaming about her future, instead of which she’s going to be living the life of an adult. Do you have any idea what it’s like, being a mother at the age of sixteen?’ Her voice shook. ‘Having a baby is daunting at any age but at sixteen it’s nothing short of terrifying. So much responsibility when you’re nothing more than a child yourself. And your whole life is suddenly violently rearranged. You can’t do any of the things you should be doing. Instead of studying, you’re changing nappies. Instead of going out with friends, you’re pushing a pram. So you become isolated and lonely and no one really understands because all the teenagers you know are studying or partying and all the mothers you know are in their thirties, married with other children. No one is like you.’ She broke off, her chest rising and falling, and he studied her face and wondered.
Even for an extremely tired, pregnant woman, her reaction was a little too emotional. ‘We’re not talking about Angie and Bonnie any more, are we?’ He reached across the table and grabbed the box of tissues that was stacked on top of a pile of unopened post.
She took the tissue he offered her, blew her nose and then looked away. ‘Ignore me—it’s been a long and stressful night. I should probably go back to bed.’ Her nose was blocked up, her dark lashes were damp from crying and he just wanted to cuddle her.
‘You’re never going to sleep in this state. You need to get it off your chest and then perhaps you’ll be able to relax. Talk to me, Miranda. Tell me what’s on your mind.’ He hesitated and then decided to take a risk. ‘I’m wondering why you care so much and I’m wondering why you know so much about it. Did it happen to you? Were you that mother you described so eloquently?’
‘The mother?’ She stared at the table and then at him. ‘I wasn’t the mother, Jake. I was the baby.’
His was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on her pale face. ‘You’re—’
‘My mother had me at sixteen. I was the baby.’
It made sense, of course. The reason she’d been so desperate to find Bonnie’s mother. The way she’d understood Angie’s situation. ‘You were abandoned?’
