Page 33 of The Baby Plan

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Sophie, Samson, Mutt and Alana were ready to leave after breakfast on Saturday. Samson seemed even more nervous than Sophie as they packed up her car. Once the dog, Alana, her bags, travel cot and buggy were in there, there wasn’t a lot of space for anything else. Sophie had to put her overnight bag by her feet. Samson was driving as he knew the way.

Samson’s family lived in a village outside Oxford, a two-hour trip. Traffic permitting, they were hoping to get there without having to stop on the way.

They drove out of Brighton. Alana fell asleep quickly and they listened to the radio. Samson told Sophie more about his work, and some of the projects he’d been involved in — she was impressed. It seemed he played down how good he was at his job. She couldn’t help thinking back to her first impression of him when she opened Natasha’s front door and saw him for the first time. He was nothing like the lazy, surfer dude she’d envisaged. She found it hard to imagine Samson and her sister together; they didn’t exactly seem well-suited.

They arrived at Samson’s parents’ picture-perfect village, complete with cricket green, country pub and duck pond, and continued up a narrow country lane for another kilometre or so, then pulled up outside the gates of an old vicarage, set inside ancient-looking stone walls, covered in a cloak of ivy and honeysuckle.

“This is where you were brought up?” Sophie asked incredulously.

“Yep,” answered Samson, climbing out of the car.

Yikes, thought Sophie. This was exactly the type of house she would have loved to have grown up in. It was like something from an Enid Blyton novel with its sash windows and red brick facade.

The front door was flung open and a small, round woman with long grey hair and wearing a bright orange flowing top and loose, pale linen trousers, came hurrying out and straight over to Samson, enveloping him in a hug.

“Hi, Mum, it’s good to see you,” Samson said, affectionately, hugging her back.

“Where is she?” she asked excitedly, pulling away from Samson and peering around him to the car.

Smiling, Samson opened the car’s back door. He reached in, undid Alana’s seatbelt and brought the baby out, handing her to her grandmother.

Glancing back at the house, Sophie saw a large man, probably in his sixties, standing in the doorway.

“Hey, Dad,” said Samson, noticing him, “Come and meet Alana.”

Samson definitely took after his father with his looks, except for his mouth and eyes, Sophie noticed, which were like his mother’s.

His father came to join his wife, and she passed him Alana.

“Mum, Dad, this is Sophie,” Samson introduced, once the initial excitement of his parents holding their grandchild for the first time had calmed.

“Hi,” she said, giving a self-conscious little wave.

Samson’s mum gave Sophie a hug. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m Maggie, and this is my husband, Peter.”

Peter removed his focus from his granddaughter briefly to smile a welcome.

“Come inside,” ushered Maggie, and she and Peter walked together towards the house, both cooing over the baby, Mutt close at their heels, eager not to miss out on any of the action.

Sophie followed hesitantly. This was a very private family moment, and she felt she was intruding. She wished she’d stayed behind in Brighton, but then she’d be alone in Samson’s home for the weekend. For the first time since she left it, Sophie missed her little London flat. She longed for somewhere that was hers which she could hide away in.

She faltered outside the door, debating. Despite Samson’s plea for her to come, should she offer to stay at a hotel and leave the family to themselves — would they be grateful not to have the outsider hanging around, or insulted that she wouldn’t be sleeping in their home? As if sensing her doubt, Samson turned and gave her a reassuring smile. He held out his hand, and Sophie accepted it.

“Don’t worry, they’re not nearly as scary as they seem,” he joked, leading her into the house.

Sophie’s awkwardness was eased further when they reached the large country-style kitchen, and Maggie’s welcoming warmth couldn’t help but make her relax.

“You must both be tired after your drive,” Maggie said. “Why don’t you take your things up to your rooms and have a wash up while I get a pot of tea on?” she suggested. “I wasn’t sure where you’d like Alana to sleep, so put the travel cot wherever you think is best.”

Sophie and Samson went upstairs, leaving Alana with her grandparents. He was in his old bedroom, which Sophie didn’t get a chance to get a decent peek at before he led her up another level to the attic bedroom she’d be sleeping in.

“I’m happy to have Alana in with me if you like,” Sophie offered.

“Sure,” Samson replied easily. “I’ll set up her cot at the bottom of the bed.”

Samson going out to the car to retrieve the travel cot he’d bought for the occasion, gave Sophie time to properly examine her surroundings. The large window facing the bed looked out over the walled garden. The oak furniture was antique, though well-loved and a bit battered on the edges. Thick cream carpet covered the floor and the wall was papered in a floral Laura Ashley print. Sophie wondered whether this room had previously belonged to one or both of Samson’s sisters.

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