Page 43 of The Baby Plan

“Should I pop home and pick up some stuff for us?”

“We’ll be all right, won’t we?” Samson said, seeming worried.

“I guess...” Sophie thought she’d appreciate having her toothbrush with her.

“Sorry.” Samson seemed more stressed than Sophie had ever seen him before. “It’s just, I know I’m being a bit rubbish, but I’d rather you didn’t leave us for too long.”

Despite everything, Sophie felt her insides lift. This was such a horrible situation, but it was good they felt they were in it together, and touching to hear Samson needed her there with him.

“You’re right,” she said. “We’ll be fine until tomorrow. If it looks like Alana’s going to have to stay here for longer, one of us can pop home and grab anything we need.”

“I’ll organise for someone to take care of Mutt,” Samson said. He made a very hurried phone call to a friend who was going to pick him up and have him for the night. Sophie found herself worrying Mutt would miss them and be upset, and wonder why he’d been sent to a strange house — he was such a sensitive soul. She couldn’t help liking that daft creature.

* * *

By the time Sophie returned from her supply run with cold drinks, sandwiches and crisps, Alana had been checked again by the doctor, who was so pleased with her progress, she was allowed to go without the oxygen mask. She was gnawing on a piece of toast one of the nurses had made for her as she’d been feeling too bad to eat the tea she’d been offered earlier. Samson had found a second chair, albeit a hard, uncomfortable plastic one, so they could both sit down.

There wasn’t any point in trying to keep Alana to her routine that evening as everything else was so different for her, but they attempted to anyway, to give themselves something to do if nothing else.

Alana wasn’t keen to go to sleep, despite the fact it was an hour later than they usually put her to bed. She stared at them from her cot as they ate their sandwiches, the adults trying to keep as quiet, and appear as uninteresting, as possible. They even turned the overhead lights off, leaving only the smallest side lamp on.

Finally, Alana gave in and went to sleep. It was only nine, so too early to go to bed themselves. Samson went to get more tea, and came back, looking very proud of himself with a small pile of books he’d found in the parents’ lounge.

“Can I interest you in a Dan Brown? Or possibly a Lee Child?”

Sophie screwed up her face.

“Maeve Binchy then? That’s my final offer.”

“Maeve,” Sophie decided. “My mum used to love her books.”

“When did she pass away?” Samson asked gently.

“Three years ago last January, about four months after my dad. They both had cancer — Mum in her breast and Dad in his throat.”

“That must have been dreadful.”

“It was,” Sophie admitted. “They both tried to hide it from me for as long as they could — Natasha was travelling, and I think they thought it was too much for me to deal with on my own. I moved back home with them when I found out. It was a really sad time, but I’m glad I had it with them.”

“What about Natasha? Did she come home?”

Sophie paused for a second before continuing onto a subject still a little raw, “No. We couldn’t get in touch with her. We didn’t have a contact number or an address. The only time we’d hear from her was when we received the occasional postcard. When she finally called, it was the week after Mum’s funeral. I don’t think she saw much point in coming back then, so she didn’t. I saw her briefly when she met me at the solicitor’s office to finalise Mum and Dad’s will settlement.”

Sophie became aware tears were running down her cheeks.

“I had no idea . . .” Samson said.

“Why would you?”

Sophie wiped her eyes.

“Would you mind if we changed the subject?” she asked, suddenly realising she was giving away more of her relationship with her sister than she ought to. If she’d said any more, she might have admitted the meeting at the solicitors was the last time she’d seen Natasha, and Samson would realise she hadn’t known Alana any longer than he had.

“Of course, no problem,” said Samson, giving her a kind smile, which immediately made Sophie feel guilty, however essential she knew her duplicity to be.

They got as comfortable as they could in their chairs, close to one another through necessity so they could see to read by the tiny lamp.

Alana was definitely feeling a bit better, but her breathing was still a little laboured and they both jumped every time she coughed, and would look up to check on her. She wriggled around a lot and didn’t seem to go into a proper deep sleep until eleven.

---