Page 13 of His Best Friend's Baby

Seth had also kept abreast of what had happened to most of their teachers—those who’d been promoted, others who’d retired, a couple who had died.

Polly was a little ashamed that she hadn’t kept up with any of this news. ‘I haven’t even exchanged Christmas cards with any of the Wirralong gang,’ she confessed to Seth now. ‘There didn’t seem much point when I wasn’t going to see them anymore.’

‘Some people think that’s the point of Christmas cards,’ Seth remarked dryly. ‘A way of staying connected, even though they don’t see each other.’

‘I guess.’ Polly sighed. For her, this was yet another example of how different she was from most folk. She was happy enough in her own little world, or at least she had been happy enough when she’d had a comfortable place to live in and plenty of work to keep her busy.

Seth had always been a ‘people person’, though, and she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he was once again the relaxing companion he’d always been. As their journey continued, he even managed to coax info out of Polly about Stringtech’s collapse and about Mariah, and how Polly and her stepmother had never really clicked.

‘I hope I get on well withmybaby.’

Seth shot her a sharp look. ‘Of course you will. You’re her mother. You’ll fall head over heels in love with her.’

Polly gave her tummy a gentle rub and the baby responded with a little kick against her hand. Polly smiled. She was totally in love with theideaof her baby, all snuggly and helpless and cute as pie. She’d read a host of how-to books and she knew raising a kid wasn’t going to be easy, but she really wanted to be the right kind of mum for her little girl—patient and loving and fun.

‘Have you chosen a name?’ Seth asked.

‘Yes,’ Polly replied promptly, but she didn’t want to tell him. She hadn’t told anyone. She’d overheard two women in Celia’s salon, discussing the names their daughters were considering for their babies, and they’d been so happily disparaging as they’d sat there under their black capes, Polly had vowed not to tell anyone about her own choices.

But Seth wasn’t just anyone, was he? And when he didn’t push her to tell him the name she’d chosen, she found herself spilling it anyway. ‘I want to call her Summer.’ Polly held her breath as she waited for his reaction.

‘Summer,’ Seth repeated. ‘That’s different.’ After a smallish pause, ‘Summer Martin. It’s pretty. I like it. Good choice, Pollz.’

Polly was so relieved she could have kissed him. ‘I know she’s not due till next month, and it’ll be autumn by then, but I’ve stuck with Summer. It’s the warmest and happiest season. Summer’s all about relaxing and holidays.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Seth. ‘Good for you. I should have known you’d give a lot of thought to any name you chose.’ He turned to her now and his eyes were shining in a way that sent sweet shivers rippling through her.

*

It was latein the day before Seth showed Polly the house. First thing when they arrived in Wirralong, he’d gone to the service station where he checked with his staff that business had gone smoothly while he’d been away. Then he’d deposited Polly’s luggage in the flat before taking her to the café around the corner where he’d ordered hamburgers with the lot.

‘I can’t eat all that,’ Polly protested, before promptly setting to and cleaning up her plate. Seth suspected she hadn’t been eating enough lately. Apart from her bump, she was very thin.

At least she looked gratifyingly contented as she finished the meal. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’s good to be back in Wirralong.’ She was gazing through the café’s big glass window into the wide, sun-filled main street. Now, on a quiet Saturday afternoon, there were only a few straggling pedestrians on the footpaths, and half a dozen or so cars angle-parked. The potted trees on the footpaths looked neat and pretty, just as they had in their schooldays.

Two kids whizzed past on bicycles, calling to each other.

‘That was us, once,’ Polly said, watching them with a wistful smile until they disappeared around a corner. ‘Remember how we used to ride our bikes for miles and miles?’

‘Of course.’

‘You know, when Dad and I left this place, I told myself I was glad to get away. I decided that Wirralong was boring.’ Across the café table, her lively blue eyes now glistened with a silvery sheen. ‘But it was never boring for us, was it?’

The question landed in Seth like a fisherman’s hook. What was Polly remembering?

Their afternoon rambles down by the creek? The canoe they’d made out of old metal rubbish bins? The way Polly used to help him with penning English essays?

Notthattime after the formal, the one and only time they’d kissed, surely?

‘There was always plenty to do, wasn’t there?’ she said next, and with a blink, the emotion in her eyes evaporated, making Seth wonder if he’d imagined it. ‘And look at you now, Seth—building your own house. I can’t wait to see it.’

Seth swallowed uncomfortably. He’d only mentioned the house, because Polly had seemed so worried about staying in the flat with him. But having seen the meagre accommodation she’d been reduced to, he wasn’t all that comfortable about showing off his place.

He was also bothered about the thought of her going back to Melbourne after this weekend. No way could he just stick her on a bus and wave her off.

She had no family support and she didn’t seem to have many friends in Melbourne. She couldn’t really manage entirely on her own, surely? Hopefully, at some point over the weekend, he’d get a clearer picture.

*

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