About the Authors

ALISON ROBERTS is a New Zealander, currently lucky enough to be living in the South of France. She is also lucky enough to write for the Mills & Boon Medical Romance line. A primary school teacher in a former life, she is now a qualified paramedic. She loves to travel and dance, drink champagne, and spend time with her daughter and her friends.

Award-winning author LOUISA GEORGE has been an avid reader her whole life. In between chapters she’s managed to train as a nurse, marry her doctor hero and have two sons. Now she writes chapters of her own in the medical romance, contemporary romance and women’s fiction genres. Louisa’s books have variously been nominated for the coveted RITA® Award and the New Zealand Koru Award, and have been translated into twelve languages. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand.

Also by Alison Roberts

Their Newborn Baby Gift

Twins on Her Doorstep

Melting Her Trauma Doc’s Heart

Rescued Hearts miniseries

The Doctor’s Wife for Keeps

Twin Surprise for the Italian Doc

Rescue Docs miniseries

Resisting Her Rescue Doc

Pregnant with Her Best Friend’s Baby

Dr Right for the Single Mum

Also by Louisa George

How to Resist a Heartbreaker

200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick

A Baby on Her Christmas List

Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon

Her Doctor’s Christmas Proposal

Tempted by Hollywood’s Top Doc

The Nurse’s Special Delivery

Reunited by Their Secret Son

A Nurse to Heal His Heart

Saved by Their One-Night Baby

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Single Dad in Her Stocking & A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal

Alison Roberts and Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90201-8

SINGLE DAD IN HER STOCKING & A PUPPY AND A CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL

Single Dad in Her Stocking © 2019 Alison Roberts A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal © 2019 Louisa George

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Single Dad in Her Stocking

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

About the Publisher

Single Dad in Her Stocking

Alison Roberts

The greatest gift he could give her?

A family…

After losing her baby, and sacrificing her pediatric career, Emma spends every Christmas as an emergency locum—and this year she’ll be covering A&E consultant Max Cunningham. Their one kiss years ago was unforgettable, and now that this ex-playboy is daddy to three orphaned children, he’s dangerously tempting! But as Max welcomes Emma into his home, she soon wishes her family for Christmas could be forever…

CHAPTER ONE

‘OH, NO…YOU can’t be serious.’

‘I’m so sorry, Dr Cunningham, but there it is. I’m sure you understand that acute appendicitis isn’t something we can plan for. We’re doing our very best to find someone else to fill the position but, realistically, that’s not going to happen until after New Year. People want to be with their families over the festive season and…it’s such late notice. It’s the twentieth of December, for heaven’s sake. Christmas is only a few days away, you know.’

Of course he knew. There was tinsel in all sorts of odd places in his emergency department here at the Cheltenham Royal Hospital and there was a small Christmas tree in the waiting room. Some staff members had taken to wearing earrings that had flashing lights or headbands with reindeer antlers or little red hats with pompoms attached and he kept hearing people humming Christmas carols. They’d even had a man in a Santa suit come in by ambulance earlier today after suffering a suspected heart attack as he coped with all those small people wanting to sit on his knee and have their photographs taken in the town’s largest department store.

And, of course, he knew that people wanted to be with their families. Or felt obliged to be. It was precisely the reason why Max Cunningham always worked right through the holiday season to make sure as many people as possible in his department could have time at home with their loved ones. He’d done it for so many years now he was quite comfortable ignoring the commercial hype that tried to make it compulsory for happy families to gather and have an over-the-top celebration as they enjoyed each other’s company. It was as much of a myth as Santa Claus as far as he was concerned—or it was for the Cunningham family, at any rate.

Everybody knew that. He could just imagine how much of a field day any gossips of Upper Barnsley would have when the news of a third December tragedy to hit the Cunningham family filtered out. Talk about history repeating itself.

It’s struck again, they’d probably say. The Christmas Curse of the Cunninghams…

He’d been too young to do anything but cope the first time when his mother had died. Last time had been gutting when he’d lost his only brother but he’d got through it. Somehow. Life had gone back to normal. But this year was different. This year, his entire world was being tipped upside down and the phone call he’d just taken meant that Max could expect even more disruption. So much more, he wasn’t at all sure he knew what to do about it and feeling less than confident was as new and uncomfortable a sensation as any of the changes that were about to happen in his life. Nothing was ever going to go back to normal now, was it?

‘Hey…it can’t be that bad.’ The Royal’s senior nurse in the emergency department, Miriam, came into Max’s office. ‘Here, have a chocolate. I thought I’d bring you one before they all got scoffed by those gannets in the staffroom. Look, how cute are these? Like little plum puddings.’

Max shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I’m not really in the mood for chocolate. I’ve got a bit of a problem, to be honest.’

Miriam’s face creased in sympathy. ‘I did hear that something was going on. To do with your brother? And his children…?’

‘My brother Andy died just over a year ago. A car accident.’ It was a testament to how Max managed to keep his private life private that nobody here was aware of the full story but Miriam was trustworthy—the kind of motherly type that inspired confidence from both her patients and her colleagues. A great listener, too, with enough life experience to offer sage advice in almost any situation. Max could do with some advice.

‘It was his wife, this time,’ he added. ‘Or, I should say, his ex-wife. I haven’t seen his children since his funeral. I didn’t even know that there was a third one.’

‘Oh?’ Miriam’s eyebrows rose as she sank into the chair in front of Max’s desk. ‘Why ever not?’

Max sighed. ‘His marriage had broken down and he was dealing with difficult custody issues. He didn’t know that his wife was pregnant when she left and she obviously wasn’t too keen to keep in touch with the rest of his family after he died. She moved all the way up to somewhere north of Glasgow.’

‘And she’s the one who’s just died?’

‘Yes. She was taking the oldest one to school. Ben. He’s six. Icy road and an elderly driver must have panicked when he went into a skid and put his foot down on the accelerator. She managed to shove the baby’s pushchair out of the way but got killed instantly herself. There was an elderly aunt or someone who made funeral arrangements but she couldn’t take care of the children. They were all put into foster care while they tried to track down any other family.’

‘And you’re the children’s guardian?’

‘So it would seem. Maybe it was a legal document that got overlooked in the separation and then Andy died so a formal divorce never happened. It’s a good thing. It would have been appalling if Andy’s kids had been left in foster care when they’ve got an uncle and grandfather who are quite willing and able to take care of them.’

Well…being willing was one thing. Being able could prove to be a lot harder.

‘Your dad’s the GP in Upper Barnsley, isn’t he?’

‘Yes. And he lives in a house that’s ridiculously big for one person, but the house has been in the family for generations and he says the only way he’s leaving it is feet first when they carry out his dead body.’ Max found a smile. ‘That’s also a good thing because there’s plenty of room for the children. His housekeeper is happy to help out a bit more than doing her usual weekly shop and clean and I’d made arrangements for a live-in nanny who was going to get here tomorrow, in time for when the children arrive.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got things well under control.’

Max rubbed at his jaw. ‘I thought I had. But I’ve just had a call from the agency and the nanny got rushed into hospital a couple of hours ago with acute appendicitis. She’s probably on an operating table as we speak…and they have no one else available until after New Year.’

‘Oh…no…’ Miriam’s despairing tone was an exact echo of the one he’d used on receiving that news. ‘I wish I could offer to help but I’ve got family coming from all over the country this year. Christmas dinner for fourteen people and I’ve only got one day off to do the rest of the grocery shopping. It’s going to be a bit of a nightmare.’ But the older woman’s smile suggested that she was rather looking forward to the chaos.

‘I do have an idea, though,’ she added a moment later.

Max was open to any ideas because he had none of his own. He could even feel an edge of panic hovering—as if he was about to go into a skid that he wouldn’t be able to control—like the unfortunate one that had killed his ex-sister-in-law a few weeks ago. Who was going to get injured by this one? Himself or his father? His nieces or nephew? He was about to become the father figure to children who had suffered unimaginable loss of both their parents and their home. Their whole world. Was he about to stumble at the first hurdle of this new journey? No…he couldn’t allow that to happen.

‘What’s your idea?’ he asked.

‘There’s an agency we’ve used before. London Locums. They’re a specialist medical recruitment agency and they might be worth a try even with such short notice and at such a difficult time of the year. I could ring them if you like?’

‘But I need a nanny, not a locum doctor.’

Miriam’s smile was gentle. ‘Don’t you think it would be better for those poor children to have family looking after them instead of strangers? Why not get a locum to cover you? That way, you could be with the children to help them settle in. They must be so scared by all the changes happening around them.’

Max swallowed hard. He was a bit scared himself, to be honest. It wasn’t that he didn’t like children. He had enjoyed being an uncle and welcoming his brother’s first two children into the world and he got on very well with the small people who came through the doors of his emergency department. He just hadn’t ever planned to have any of his own.

Ever.

The disintegration of his own happiness when he was a child, after losing his mother—the sun of their family universe—had left an indelible stain. He had watched his father grapple with a sadness that meant he had no resources to provide for the emotional needs of two young boys and it had been Max who had tried to help his younger brother. That the sadness had morphed into a lasting depression that his father would never admit to or seek help for had cemented the deeply absorbed knowledge that the fallout of a family breaking apart for whatever reason was simply not worth the risk.

Max Cunningham had finally discovered the delicious balance of his passion for working hard and as brilliantly as possible with playing just as hard outside of work hours and that time almost always included a beautiful woman as a playmate. Max was confident that he had honed his skills in making a woman feel very, very special but only for a limited amount of time, of course. He wasn’t ever going to get caught in the trap of having his happiness depend on a family, only to have his world destroyed. If his own childhood memories hadn’t been enough, his brother’s death last year had more than reinforced his belief that the risk was far too great. He hadn’t ever intended to be responsible for the happiness of others either, by trying to create and protect the safety of a family unit or to patch up the fragments of a world that had been irreparably broken.

But, here he was, about to attempt exactly that and the responsibilities about to land on his doorstep were more than daunting. Who knew how traumatised these children already were? The girls might be too young to remember losing their father last year but little Ben was six and maybe he was already trying to wear the mantle of the oldest child and look after his siblings and Max knew how hard that could be. And Miriam was right. The children had been in the care of total strangers since they’d lost their mother and that wasn’t acceptable. Max might think his world was being upended but for his nephew and nieces the only world they knew had just vanished for ever.

‘And it’s Christmas,’ Miriam added softly, as she got to her feet—as if that settled the matter. ‘They’re family. And they need you.’

‘Emma?’

‘Hi, Julie.’ Emma Moretti paused beneath the bare branches of trees in London’s Hyde Park as she answered her phone, watching a squirrel race up the trunk of the nearest tree. ‘I hope you’ve got some good news for me?’

Julie was the manager of London Locums, the specialist medical recruitment agency that Emma had been employed by for the last few years.

‘You’re not going to believe it. After telling you there was absolutely nothing on the books for the Christmas period, I just got a call from someone at the Royal in Cheltenham. They’re desperate for someone to take over from their emergency department HOD. Seems he’s got some family crisis happening until some time in early January.’

‘ED? My favourite.’ Emma’s outward breath was almost a sigh of relief. She was desperate to get out of London for a few days. At least until Christmas was over. There were too many memories here and it felt harder this year, for some reason. Maybe she hadn’t got past things as well as she thought she had. Or maybe it was because, at thirty-six, her last birthday had reminded her that the window of opportunity for having the family she’d always dreamt of was beginning to close. Worse, she still wasn’t sure she was ready to do something proactive about that. Even after nearly five years, she hadn’t ever given serious thought to changing her single status.

‘Are you sure, Em? I don’t think the Royal really expects us to be able to provide someone at such short notice and you know how crazy emergency departments can get over Christmas. People drink far too much and there’s all those weird accidents you hear about, like people falling off the roof because they’re trying to change the bulb on Rudolph’s nose or something. You could just go on holiday if you wanted to escape. Somewhere nice and warm like the Maldives. Or Australia? Goodness knows you’ve earned a break and they’re talking snow here. Possibly a white Christmas for once.’

Going on holiday alone would be the worst thing to do. It would give her far too much time to think. To remember things that were better left in the past.

‘You know me,’ she reminded Julie. ‘I kind of like crazy.’

‘What about Italy, then?’ Julie was a good friend as well as her employer. ‘When did you last have Christmas with your family?’

A long time ago. But not quite long enough, it would seem, because she still wasn’t ready for a full-on Italian-style family gathering. Or perhaps it had just become a habit because locums were always in such demand over holiday periods.

‘Are you kidding?’ Emma tried to keep her tone light. ‘My cousin has just had twins. My mother will be crying in the corner because her only child is thirty-six and still single and maybe she’ll never get any grandchildren of her own. They’ll probably drag in every eligible male in the village and try and arrange a marriage on the spot. You have no idea the kind of pressure that will entail.’ She managed a laugh. ‘Give me medical chaos any time. Please, I need to be in Cheltenham. My family won’t mind. They know I always work over Christmas.’

‘Well…if you’re sure. It does have accommodation on offer as well. A modern apartment near the hospital. Let me see…a suburb called Montpellier.’

‘Sounds French. Trés chic.’ Emma drew in a deep breath. ‘It’s perfect, Julie. When do I need to be there?’

‘Early tomorrow afternoon by the latest. Someone called Miriam will give you an orientation tour and supply the keys to the apartment. I’ll text you the details.’

It was no more than a brisk walk to the compact basement apartment where Emma lived alone. It wouldn’t take her long to pack. She’d been with London Locums long enough to know exactly what she needed to take and to be ready to leave the city at a moment’s notice if necessary. It had been a huge lifestyle change to leave her secure position as a junior consultant in a paediatric ward, but it had been the perfect choice at the time. There was an adrenaline rush to be found, never knowing what kind of job would be around the next corner. She could be taking over a general practice in a remote area to give a sole GP a proper holiday, doing aero-medical retrievals from some exotic location with a seriously ill or injured person who needed to come home or plugging a gap in a hospital roster like this time. And an emergency department really was her favourite place to work—maybe because it was a bit like her lifestyle. You got to do all sorts of exciting, satisfying things but only for a brief time. Patients got moved on to other departments. She got to move on to other positions and that was the way she liked it.

If you never put down roots or formed deep attachments, there was no danger of having the pain of them getting ripped out, was there? Life was so much easier this way.

A busker, just outside the park gates, was—predictably—singing a Christmas carol. Emma increased her pace as she tried to escape the lyrics of ‘Mary’s Boy Child’ because it never failed to bring tears to her eyes every time. Just those four words—born on Christmas Day—could still potentially rip a hole in her heart.

It was five years ago now, though. She would have expected it to be getting easier year by year and it was…except for Christmas. Sometimes it felt as if the whole world was conspiring to remind her in agonising detail of how hard it had been to have coped as well as she had. Especially being here, because the hospital where it had happened—and where she’d worked at the time—was just on the other side of the park.

Thank goodness she could head out of town first thing tomorrow.

Emma couldn’t wait. She made a mental note to make sure she had some chains in the back of her SUV. Just in case. A town as big as Cheltenham was highly unlikely to get snowed in but it was surrounded by winding country roads and isolated villages. A white Christmas with all the extra chaos that could bring to an emergency department?

Bring it on…

‘She’s here, Max. With an apology for being a bit late but she said the traffic on the M40 was diabolical. There’d been a crash.’

‘No problem. At least she’s here now. Thanks, Miriam. Can you give her a really quick tour of the department to get her up to speed to start her first shift tomorrow morning and then bring her in here? I’ve got a couple of things I must finish but then I’ll be heading off to Upper Barnsley. I’ll need to be there when the children arrive.’

‘Of course. You’ll be wanting to give her the keys and any instructions for your apartment?’

‘I think it would be polite to actually show her the apartment myself. It’s only a few minutes’ walk away, after all. It’s not going to hold me up. Oh…’ Max lifted an eyebrow. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Emma…something. Sounded Italian but I can’t remember. She looks competent, though.’ Miriam’s mouth twitched. ‘I’m sure you’ll approve.’

Max cringed just a little at the inference he couldn’t miss. Yes, he appreciated good-looking women and there never seemed to be a shortage of contenders to fill the inevitably changing position as his out-of-work-hours companion but there was something in his senior nurse’s expression that made him think his reputation might not be something to be proud of. Well, it was irrelevant now, anyway. Even if he had any opportunities to meet someone new in the foreseeable future, he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of them. He had other, far more pressing, responsibilities that were due to land on his doorstep in—he swallowed hard as he glanced at his watch—only a hour or two from now.

He turned his attention back to the computer screen in front of him. There were a few last-minute adjustments to make to the rosters to ensure that this department ran as smoothly as possible while he couldn’t be here. He needed to give this Emma his personal mobile number as well so he could be on call to give her any advice if she needed it.

An Emma with an Italian-sounding surname was ringing a vague bell in the back of his mind as he pulled up a spreadsheet. It came with an image of a laughing young woman surrounded by children, holding a baby that had his hands tangled in her long ponytail. A quintessential ‘earth mother’ type, which, of course, had made her an absolute ‘no-go’ type for Max—no matter how gorgeous those generous curves and dark eyes and that smile had been.

Good grief…that had been ten years ago but the memory was astonishingly clear, now that he had dredged it up. They’d both been junior doctors on a paediatric ward at the same time. And her name was Emma…dammit…what had her surname been?

‘Moretti.’

Max’s gaze flicked up to the figure standing in the doorway of his office. He’d been totally lost in thought and the fact that the answer to his internal query was being answered in person had just thrown him completely.

‘I’m Emma Moretti,’ she said, coming further into the small space. ‘Miriam said to pop in and see you?’

Was it really the same woman? This Emma Moretti was nothing like the one Max had just been remembering. She was slim and smartly dressed and had short, spiky dark hair like a brunette pixie. She wasn’t smiling but her eyes were certainly dark enough. Almost as black as her hair. And she was staring at him with just the same astonished intensity that he knew he was subjecting her to.

‘Max? No way…’ Her lips were curving into a smile now and, suddenly, Max could see the woman he remembered. The life and soul of any party, especially if there were children involved. And that thought led straight to another party he couldn’t help but remember. The Christmas function for the staff of that paediatric ward. That sprig of mistletoe he’d held over Emma’s head. That kiss… The way they’d both laughed and blamed it on the prosecco because they couldn’t have been more wrong for each other.

Emma was still smiling. ‘I knew the HOD was a Dr Cunningham, but I never for a moment thought it might be you. I would have imagined you to be living in a place like New York by now. Or Sydney, maybe.’

A large, vibrant city that would be a perfect social playground for someone with a reputation like himself? That cringeworthy moment he’d had earlier came back to bite a little harder. Ten years on and he hadn’t changed much, had he?

Unlike Emma.

‘And I would never have imagined you working as a locum. I would have imagined you to be completely settled in one place by now. With a husband and half a dozen kids.’

He was genuinely curious about what had happened in her life but he knew he’d just stepped over a boundary of some kind. He saw the instant the shutters went up.

‘Nobody has half a dozen kids these days, Max. How irresponsible would that be, given global resources?’

Max cleared his throat. ‘Precisely why I haven’t contributed to the population statistics myself.’ He shuffled some papers on his desk to cover the slightly awkward atmosphere. ‘Did Miriam give you enough of a tour? Are you happy to start your first shift at seven a.m. tomorrow?’

‘I’m happy.’ Emma’s nod was brisk. ‘I’ve had a lot of experience working in unfamiliar surroundings and I can quickly get a feel for how helpful the staff are going to be. You’ve obviously got a great crowd here and I don’t anticipate any problems at all in covering for you. I assume you have a trauma team on call as well? With specialists from other departments?’

‘Yes. I can’t guarantee there’ll be a consultant from every department available on the bank holidays but there should be someone from orthopaedics, general surgery and neurology who’ll get here as fast as possible if the alert is activated. We only do that if we know there’s major trauma coming in. Otherwise, we assess and call in consults as needed. Same goes for medical or obstetric emergencies.’ Max closed down his computer and got to his feet. ‘I’ll be available by phone at any time. Don’t hesitate to call. I can probably come in if there’s a real crisis. I’ll be just outside of a village that’s halfway between Cheltenham and Cirencester, which is only twenty minutes away—unless this forecast for snow is accurate.’

‘I’m rather hoping for a white Christmas,’ Emma said. ‘Especially seeing as I’ve got accommodation that’s within easy walking distance.’

‘Speaking of which…let’s go.’ Max headed towards Emma to reach for his coat that was hanging behind the door. He caught a faint scent of something clean and crisp as he got closer. Lemons, maybe? Or mandarins…?

‘Sorry?’ Emma was blinking at him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To the apartment.’ Max held open the door of his office. ‘I thought I’d show you around, seeing as it’s mine.’

The HOD of the Royal’s emergency department was making his own apartment available for his locum?

And the HOD was Max Cunningham?

Emma was still getting her head around both of these startling pieces of information as she followed him out of the emergency department via the automatic doors that led to the ambulance bay.

It would probably be a swanky penthouse apartment, she decided. Very modern and luxurious and not at all to her taste but perfect for a brief stay. Unless…oh, help…could there be something really tacky like mirrors on the bedroom ceiling?

Everybody had known what Max Cunningham was like back in the day of their junior rotations. Not that that stopped women from joining the queue. And why not? Max was drop-dead gorgeous, totally charming and knew how to make any woman feel special. He’d had a catchphrase, hadn’t he?

Oh, yeah… Emma bit back a smile as they turned out from the hospital grounds and waited for a set of traffic lights to change so that they could cross the busy main road. She remembered it now.

We’re here for a good time, not a long time…

Playboys had never been remotely Emma’s type but she had understood the attraction. Felt it herself, in fact, even though she wouldn’t have touched him with a bargepole as far as a relationship went. The man had actually kissed her once, at that Christmas party and…and…good grief… How was it possible to remember a moment like that with such astonishing detail after so many years? She could feel her toes trying to curl themselves up inside her shoes so it was a relief to start walking swiftly across the road. She certainly wasn’t going to start wondering if the toe-curling was due to embarrassment or the intense desire that kiss had generated. There were decorations overhead, she noticed, trying to distract herself further by looking up. Long strings of icicle lights that would look very pretty at night.

‘Five minutes’ walk, that’s all,’ Max was saying. ‘And the place should be perfectly clean. My housekeeper went in a few days ago and gave it a thorough going-over and changed the linen and so on. I’ll make sure you have her number as well, in case you need anything else.’

‘That’s great. Thank you very much. I usually end up in a hotel or something when I’m doing a short locum like this.’

‘We did think of that, but a quick check told us that there was nothing available. For some reason, Cheltenham seems like a very popular destination for the festive season.’

‘No room at the inns, then?’ Emma caught Max’s sideways glance. ‘Quite appropriate, really.’

His smile hadn’t changed at all. Or the way the corners of his eyes crinkled to make his appreciation appear completely genuine. Ten years had given him a few grey hairs and deepened those lines a bit but, if anything, they had just made Max even more attractive.

‘Here we are…’ Max keyed a code into the front door of a very modern building and led the way to an elevator. He pushed a button that wasn’t the top floor.

‘Not the penthouse?’ Emma murmured. ‘You surprise me, Max.’

He shook his head. ‘Was I really that much of a plonker in those days?’

‘Not at all. From what I remember you were a brilliant doctor. You just had a reputation for playing as hard as you worked, I guess.’

‘Those days are over.’ He didn’t sound too happy about that, Emma thought, but he wasn’t about to tell her why. ‘The penthouse here is very nice, I believe,’ he added. ‘But it’s empty most of the time. The guy who owns it is something high up in a bank and has to travel a lot.’

Emma followed him out of the elevator. She watched as he unlocked the door but then her gaze dropped.

‘What’s that?’

‘What?’

‘All that water.’

The carpet outside the door was soaked. As Max lifted his foot, his shoe was dripping. ‘Oh, no…’ He pushed the door open and stepped in. The tiled entranceway to his apartment shimmered like a small lake. ‘Stay there,’ he warned Emma. ‘This doesn’t look good.’

But she followed him in, looking over his shoulder as he checked a bathroom to see whether taps had been left on. There was a bedroom that had water dripping from the bulb in the ceiling light.

‘It’s coming from upstairs,’ Max muttered. ‘A burst pipe, perhaps…’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been staying with my father for the last few days or I might have noticed this happening soon enough to prevent this much damage.’

So that was the family crisis? His father being ill? He certainly didn’t need this complication on top of other worries. Emma felt very sorry for Max but it was very clear that she wasn’t going to be able to stay here. It was the main living room that was the real disaster. Enough water had seeped into the ceiling to make the plasterwork too heavy. Large sections had fallen to cover the couches and a glass-topped coffee table.

To give him credit, Max was very calm as he took control of the situation. ‘I’ll have to call the building manager,’ he said. ‘Give me a minute.’

As soon as he’d made the call, he turned back to Emma. ‘You can’t stay here, obviously,’ he said. ‘We’ll find a hotel nearby—there’ll probably be somewhere we overlooked before. I’ll pay for it.’ He was focused on his phone again. ‘Let’s just see what’s available on one of those comparison sites.’

Emma had taken out her own phone. A minute or two of silence and then they both looked up.

‘Not looking good, is it?’ Emma said. ‘As soon as I put the dates in there’s no availability at all.’

‘There’ll be something.’ Max was obviously trying to sound reassuring. ‘We might have to look a bit further afield, that’s all.’ He hesitated, glancing at his watch. ‘That could take a bit of time but don’t worry, I’m not going to leave you in the lurch. You can come with me for the moment. As I said, the place I’m staying is only twenty minutes away so, even if we can’t find you a suitable hotel room tonight, it won’t be a difficult commute tomorrow morning unless the weather turns nasty.’

‘I’ve got chains,’ she told him. ‘But…this is your father’s house you’re talking about, yes?’ A hotel room would be preferable. Perhaps Emma should just stay in town and keep trying to find something.

‘He’ll be just as concerned as I am that my locum is well looked after,’ Max said. ‘It’s a big house and there’s more than enough room for visitors. It was probably built to cater for a Victorian couple who had twelve children.’ He gestured for Emma to lead the way out of the apartment. ‘They weren’t so worried about global resources in those days.’

He might be making a joke but a glance at his face suggested to Emma that the hypothetical camel’s back might have just been loaded with the last straw.

‘I should keep trying to find a hotel,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t want to intrude. Not if your father is so unwell.’

‘Unwell?’ Max’s eyebrows rose. ‘He’s as fit as a fiddle.’ He looked at his watch again and stifled a groan. ‘Come on, you’ll have to follow me to Upper Barnsley in your car. We don’t have that much time before the children arrive.’

Children?

But hadn’t Max said that he hadn’t personally contributed to the population statistics? Emma was curious but the look of fierce concentration on Max’s face was enough to stop her asking any more questions as they hurried back to the hospital car park. Besides, the mention of children had reminded her of that assumption he’d voiced—that she would have a husband and a tribe of children by now—and there was a sting in that assumption that needed to be dealt with. Back in those days, she had assumed exactly the same thing so it was no wonder he was surprised. She had been more than surprised herself, of course. Having her life derailed like that had been devastating but at least she was well past the toughest time of her life, when working only with children and babies as a specialist paediatrician had proved hard enough to have dimmed the joy and she’d been tempted to change the direction she had chosen for her career. She could cope with children.

As long as she didn’t get too close to them…

Life had a habit of upending plans sometimes and it appeared that it was happening again, Emma decided, as she followed Max out of town and into the pretty countryside of the Cotswolds with its narrow roads and tiny villages full of trees and stone-built cottages. Her most recent plans had already gone more than a little awry, with her accommodation proving uninhabitable. The person she was replacing was unexpectedly someone she had once been more than a little attracted to, even though she would never have gone there, and she was now being whisked away to some unknown but large house by this still very attractive man and there were children involved, which didn’t make any sense at all. Unless Max had acquired an instant family by marrying someone who already had children? Or this house with far too many bedrooms was being run as some kind of foster home or orphanage?

She hadn’t even started her new locum position and they still had several days before Christmas arrived but it seemed like the chaos had already begun. As a few fat flakes of snow drifted gently onto her windscreen, Emma found she was smiling wryly.

Almost grinning a few moments later, in fact.

She had needed a distraction and it would appear that the universe was providing one.

CHAPTER TWO

UPPER BARNSLEY WAS bigger than other villages they had driven through, with its high street full of shops, a village green and a market square with a tall Christmas tree as a centrepiece. Moments later, Emma was following Max’s vehicle down a long, tree-lined driveway to stop in front of a house that took her breath away. She was still blinking up at the huge, three-storeyed gabled mansion with imposing chimneys and ivy creeping up its stone walls as Max opened the heavy wooden front door and waited for her to go inside.

‘You grew up here?’ Somehow it didn’t fit with the image of the contemporary ‘man about town’ she’d met in that London paediatric ward a decade ago. She gazed from one side of the entranceway to the other. There was probably a library in here. And a drawing room like they had in those period dramas on television with dogs lying in front of an open fire big enough to roast an ox. ‘This is amazing.’

Max simply nodded. ‘It’s been in the family for more than a hundred years. Known locally as Cunningham Manor.’ He raised his voice. ‘Dad? You here?’

A woman who looked to be in her late fifties appeared from a doorway at the far end of the entrance foyer. ‘He’s in the west wing,’ she told Max. ‘Oh…who’s this?’ She was wiping her hands on her apron and beaming as she came towards Emma. ‘I’m Maggie—Dr Cunningham’s housekeeper. Dr Cunningham senior, that is,’ she added.

Max took pity on her. ‘The west wing is a private joke. Dad’s the GP for Upper Barnsley and the lower level of that side of the house used to be the stables, I believe. It was converted to be a clinic years before I was born.’ He turned to the housekeeper. ‘This is Emma Moretti,’ he told her. ‘She’s the locum who’s taking over from me at the hospital until we get the nanny situation sorted. She also happens to be an old friend of mine. We worked together in a paediatric ward a very long time ago.’

Emma wasn’t about to contradict him publicly but calling her a friend was stretching things a little. They had been colleagues and she’d totally respected his abilities as a doctor but she’d never trusted him enough to think of him as a friend. Or maybe she hadn’t trusted herself? If they’d got close, she might have given in to that major attraction she’d felt for Max and how embarrassing could that have been? It had only taken one kiss for him to laugh about how she was ‘so not his type’. She’d agreed, of course, and laughed along with him. How else would one save face at a time like that? Besides, he’d been right. He was ‘so not her type’ as well, but it had been a bit of a put-down to find out that the attraction hadn’t actually been mutual.

‘Oh…wonderful.’ Maggie was still smiling. ‘You’ll need all the expert help you can get with these babies.’

Babies? A chill ran down Emma’s spine. Max had said children, not babies.

Children were so much easier to be around than babies. Especially newborn babies. She could work with them, of course, but preferably in a clinical setting rather than, say, an accident scene. And never in a private home. Even in a medical situation, being present at a birth or close to a tiny baby made the scars on her own heart ache. She might have built barriers to protect herself enough to live with the pain of only ever having a few hours with her own precious baby but she had no desire to deliberately test how strong those protective walls might be.

‘I didn’t bring Emma here to stand in for the nanny,’ Max told Maggie. ‘She’s supposed to be using my apartment but there’s been a small catastrophe with an upstairs flood and she needs to stay here until we can sort that out.’

‘It’s okay.’ Emma found her voice. ‘I’m sure I can find somewhere in town. It sounds like you’re going to be very busy if…if you’re expecting…babies?’

What on earth was going on? she wondered. Was Max sharing custody for stepchildren of a failed marriage? Had he married someone who had already been pregnant with twins, perhaps? Or triplets? The thought of multiple newborn babies made Emma want to head straight out of the door and keep on going. She even looked in that direction, only to find a broad-shouldered older man coming in through the front door, with a small, scruffy white dog at his heels. It was a vision of what Max would look like in about thirty years’ time, she realised. Except that this man didn’t have the same charming smile. If anything, he was glowering at Emma.

‘What’s going on? Who’s this? A new nanny?’ He shut the door, turned and made an irritated sound. ‘Pirate, come here.’

But the small, scruffy dog had made a beeline for Emma, was sitting at her feet and staring up at her with black button eyes. She guessed that he was mostly a West Highland White terrier but it was easy to see where his name had come from because he had a black patch covering one eye and ear. He was very cute. And he was wagging his tail. It was impossible not to bend down and offer him her hand. The small black nose felt cold and damp as it touched her skin.

‘Look at that,’ Max said. ‘That doesn’t happen very often. Pirate likes you. And no,’ he told his father. ‘This is Emma, who’s going to be my locum at the Royal. I told you about that plan.’

‘I thought she was staying at your place.’

‘My place is wrecked. I’ll explain later. The kids are due to arrive any minute. Maggie, could I ask you to make up another bedroom for Emma for tonight, at least? It seems that there aren’t any hotel rooms to be easily found.’

‘No, really… I should go.’ Emma actually took a step towards the door. ‘If I can’t find a hotel room in Cheltenham, I could try Gloucester…?’

‘Nonsense.’ Maggie’s hand was on Emma’s elbow. ‘We’ve got ten bedrooms here and I got an extra one ready in case the children wanted their own rooms later but I’m sure they’ll want to be together at least for now. Come with me.’

So they were children now? Emma was becoming increasingly confused.

‘It’s snowing out there,’ Max’s father said, coming towards her. ‘You don’t want to be going anywhere if you don’t have to. You might get stuck until they come to clear the lanes. I’m James, by the way. James Cunningham. Max seems to have forgotten his manners.’

Max shrugged and offered Emma a crooked smile but there were frown lines on his forehead. And some kind of plea in those dark eyes? The tension in the air here was palpable and Emma suddenly felt trapped but she couldn’t run away if someone needed help, could she?

‘And you’re most welcome to stay,’ James continued. Yes, there was a hint of the same kind of smile that Emma remembered his son using to devastating effect. Even a short-lived twinkle in his eyes. ‘Pirate is a very good judge of character.’ He snapped his fingers at the dog, who instantly went back to his master. ‘I’m going to make sure the fire’s going properly in the drawing room. Central heating is one thing, but you need to see some flames to feel properly warm when it’s snowing.’

Maggie was pulling gently at Emma’s arm. ‘Come upstairs,’ she invited. ‘You’ll love this room. So much better than a hotel, I promise.’

Perhaps it was best if she stayed for one night, Emma thought. It might only be mid-afternoon but it was already looking a lot darker outside and what if she went hunting for a hotel room and couldn’t find one? She would hardly want to start her first shift in an unfamiliar emergency department having slept in her vehicle overnight. Besides, she had to admit she was curious. She wanted to see more of this impressive house. She also couldn’t deny that part of her wanted to know what was going on in Max Cunningham’s life. It almost felt like they had something in common here, in that their lives weren’t turning out how they might have anticipated—or wanted—when they’d last been in each other’s company.

The sweep of the wide staircase was dramatic enough to conjure up images of women making a grand entrance in exquisite ball gowns. The first part of the hallway it led to looked down over the entrance foyer. Emma could see Dr Cunningham senior disappearing through a door with his dog by his heels. She could also see Max, who was simply standing still as if he was taking a breath in order to size up an accident scene, perhaps. Or what looked like it might be a complicated resuscitation.

The way he cradled his forehead in his hand a heartbeat later, rubbing both his temples with his thumb and middle finger, added to the impression of a man out of his depth, and it was enough to touch Emma’s heart. She knew, better than most, how life had a habit of side-swiping you sometimes and it never hurt to offer kindness.

Sometimes, it could save a life.

‘Here you are.’ Maggie stopped at one of several doors further down the hallway. ‘This one’s got its own bathroom so it will be perfect for you, I think.’

Emma followed her into the room. She could actually feel her jaw dropping. A four-poster bed? A massive wardrobe and dressing table that looked like museum pieces, an ornate fireplace with leather armchairs positioned in front of it and a cushioned window seat set into the mullioned window. The floorboards were polished wood but there was a large rug with a Persian design.

‘I hope it doesn’t smell musty,’ Maggie said. ‘I’ve only had a day or two to change linen and try and air things out. Some of these rooms haven’t been used since Max and Andy left home and that’s a very long time ago, now.’

‘Who’s Andy?’ Emma was still gazing around the room. Her earliest years had been in a small Italian village. Her recent years had been in a cramped one-bedroom flat in central London. She’d only ever been in houses like this when she’d paid an entry fee and stood behind the braided red ropes.

‘Max’s younger brother.’ Maggie had been leading the way to an interior door that must lead to the en-suite bathroom but now she paused. ‘He hasn’t told you what’s going on, has he?’

Curiosity battled with an odd sense of…what was it? A desire to protect Max—or at least his privacy—perhaps?

‘It’s probably none of my business,’ she said quickly.

‘Nonsense.’ Maggie flapped her hand. ‘You’re part of it for the time being, anyway, so you may as well know. The children that are arriving here any minute are Andy’s children. They’re orphans now and Max is their legal guardian.’

Wow… No wonder Max was looking like he was about to face a daunting situation. Everybody had known that he was a diehard bachelor even a decade ago. And while he’d been great with the children on that paediatric ward, he’d confessed more than once that that was because he could hand them back to their parents. Or get a nurse to change a nappy or deal with any tears and tantrums. That he’d never want to have any of his own.

And he’d just lost his brother?

‘I’m so sorry,’ Emma said. ‘I really shouldn’t be intruding. Not when the Cunninghams have just lost such a close family member.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘Andy died just over a year ago. And his marriage had fallen apart a year or more before that. They did try and work things out, and that must have been when Alice was conceived, but then it turned nasty and lawyers got involved. Simone moved away, broke a court order and took the kids with her and broke Andy’s heart at the same time. He died in a car accident not long after that. He’d been drinking and drove straight into a tree.’

‘That’s tragic…’

‘Mmm.’ Maggie hesitated for a moment and Emma wondered if there was more to that accident than simply drink-driving but if the housekeeper had been about to voice her own opinion, she obviously changed her mind. ‘Even worse, Simone wouldn’t let the family have anything more to do with the children after Andy was gone. She was living up in Scotland and Dr Cunningham didn’t even hear about her death until after her funeral. Until someone in Social Services had tracked down legal documents that gave Max guardianship.’ Maggie was moving again. ‘Come and see your bathroom. There should be everything you might need.’

Emma took in the clawfoot iron bath with its brass tapware, separate shower and shelves piled with fluffy towels. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It is.’ Maggie smiled. ‘This was the master suite in the early days when the boys were little ones. Dr Cunningham senior couldn’t bear to stay in it after his wife died and then he decided he’d just stay in the Green Room. Oh…is that a car I can hear?’ She walked swiftly to the window and peered down. ‘It is. I’d better go and help. There was supposed to have been a nanny here already to be with the children but she got sick and that’s why you’re here. To cover Max at work so that he can stay home to look after them all.’

Unsure of what she should do, Emma followed the housekeeper. Her head was spinning slightly with the tales of tragedy this family had experienced. What had happened to Max’s mother? she wondered. And how old had Max and his brother been when she died? She was also trying to do a bit of maths in her head. If Andy had died over a year ago and his ex-wife had already been pregnant, then this baby Alice had to be at least several months old now. Not a newborn.

She could cope with that. For one night, it shouldn’t be any problem at all, even if this wasn’t exactly the kind of clinical situation that was part of her protective walls. As for Max—she had no idea how he was about to cope. He had years and years ahead of him as a guardian. Remembering the way he’d been cradling his head in his hands when he thought he was not being observed, Emma couldn’t believe that he’d magically changed his attitude to children in the last ten years and would be quite happy to be sharing his life with them from now on.

‘Where are they?’ Maggie opened the front door but there was no sign of a car. ‘Oh, no…they must have gone through to the clinic parking.’

‘There’s another car.’ Max was standing beside her.

James Cunningham had come into the entrance foyer to see what was going on but Emma hung back, near the staircase, wondering if she should, in fact, go back upstairs for a while. How terrifying would it be for small children to arrive and be faced with so many strangers? Even if they’d met these members of their extended family it had apparently been more than a year ago and they would still be traumatised by the loss of their mother.

Through the wide gap of the open front door, she could see a large people-carrier type van that had parked a little way away from the entrance to the house and someone was getting out of the driver’s seat. Max walked out into the snow that was still falling to greet the newcomer. But someone else was running towards the front door of the house from the opposite direction. A middle-aged woman who was looking very anxious.

‘Dr Cunningham? Is the clinic closed already?’

‘Surgery finished an hour ago, Jenny.’ But James was frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Terry. He’s got terrible chest pain and his spray isn’t helping. He wouldn’t let me call an ambulance. It was all I could do to persuade him to come and see you and he only did that because you’re right next door.’

Behind Jenny, Emma could see that children were being helped out of the van. A boy who might be about six or seven. A smaller girl. The driver was opening the back hatch which looked to be full of luggage and items like a pram and cot. Max was unclipping a baby seat. Emma’s mouth went a little dry. Maybe this was going to be harder to cope with than she’d thought.

James looked towards where his grandchildren were being ushered towards him. He turned his head to look in the other direction, presumably to the ‘west wing’ that housed his general practice clinic. His duty lay in both directions, with the professional one clearly more urgent than the personal.

And, suddenly, Emma knew exactly how she could help everyone here, including herself. Years of honing her skills to be able to work to the best of her ability in unfamiliar places made it automatic to take charge but, as a bonus, it felt as if her protective walls were suddenly strengthening themselves around her and keeping her in her safe space. She walked towards the anxious woman.

‘I’m Dr Moretti,’ she told her. ‘I can help you.’

Only a couple of minutes later, Emma was opening the door to the clinic with one of the keys on the ring James had given her.

‘There’s a twelve-lead ECG machine in the treatment room,’ he’d told her. ‘If it looks like an infarct, call an ambulance and then let me know.’

‘I can handle it,’ Emma had promised.

Jenny and her husband, Terry, followed her into what was clearly a waiting room.

‘How’s the pain level, Terry? On a scale of zero to ten, with zero being no pain at all and ten being the worst you could imagine?’

‘Seven,’ Terry told her. ‘It’s like a knife in my chest. It’s hard to breathe, even.’

‘Let’s get you lying down so I can have a good look at you.’ Emma walked ahead, opening one door and then another. There was a small kitchen, a storeroom, a consulting room and…yes…what looked like a treatment room, well set up for minor procedures or more extensive assessments. She recognised the machine for taking a twelve-lead ECG, spotted an oxygen cylinder in the corner of the room and was relieved to see a defibrillator on another trolley. If Terry was having a heart attack and in any danger of an imminent cardiac arrest she had the means to deal with it. She also knew that one of the keys on the ring she was holding was to open a drug cabinet that James had told her was well stocked.

On first impressions, Terry didn’t look like a man who was in the middle of having a heart attack. His colour was good, he wasn’t sweating and he seemed to be clutching the side of his chest rather than a more classic sign of pressing his hand to the centre. He’d also told her that he wasn’t feeling sick in any way but Emma wasn’t about to make assumptions. She helped her patient climb onto the bed and lifted the back so he wasn’t lying completely flat.

‘Let’s get that coat and jumper off and unbutton your shirt, Terry.’ Emma opened the drawer on the ECG trolley and took out electrodes. ‘So you’ve been getting angina for a while?’

‘Just a bit. And only when I’m doing too much.’

‘He’s taken up jogging,’ his wife told Emma. ‘I told him he’s going to kill himself but he’s determined to lose the weight.’

‘And you were jogging when the chest pain came on?’

‘No…’ Terry lifted his arm out of the way as Emma stuck the final electrodes on the left side of his chest. ‘I was getting the damned turkey out of the freezer in the barn.’

‘It was far too big to go in the freezer in the house.’ Jenny nodded. ‘And it takes days and days to thaw.’

‘It was like carrying a giant, slippery rock,’ Terry complained. ‘And then I started to drop it and almost tripped over something at the same time and it went flying.’ He gave a huff of something like laughter that turned into a groan. ‘So to speak… Anyway, it was when I bent down and picked the turkey up that the pain came on. By the time I got it into the laundry tub, I could hardly stand up.’

‘Does anything make it worse?’ Emma asked, still smiling at Terry’s attempt at humour. ‘Like taking a deep breath?’

Terry tried to breathe in and groaned. ‘Yep…that really hurts.’

‘And you used your angina spray?’

‘Didn’t do a thing.’

‘Okay.’ Emma was becoming more confident that she wasn’t dealing with a critical cardiac event. ‘Keep really still for me for a few seconds, Terry. I’m going to do the ECG.’

With the sheet of graph paper in her hand a short time later, Emma smiled at the anxious couple in front of her.

‘Good news,’ she told them. ‘This all looks absolutely normal. There’s no sign of your pain being due to angina and certainly no indication that you’re having a heart attack.’

‘Oh…’ Jenny started to cry. ‘I was so worried.’

‘What is it, then?’ Terry asked.

Emma handed Jenny the box of tissues. ‘I suspect you pulled a muscle between your ribs while you were wrestling with that frozen turkey,’ she told him. She put her hand on the left side of his chest. ‘Tell me if this hurts…’

Jenny stayed by the head of the bed, watched the thorough examination her husband was receiving and listened to the advice about cold and heat packs and using anti-inflammatory medication.

‘Are you sure it’s not a heart attack?’ she asked.

‘Quite sure.’ Emma smiled. ‘But you did the right thing in getting it checked out. I’m going to take your blood pressure while you’re here too, Terry.’

‘Imagine if it had been a heart attack.’ Jenny reached for another tissue. ‘Right before Christmas. I know it’s terrible at any time of year but there’s something about Christmas, isn’t there?’

‘Mmm…’ Emma stuck the earpieces of a stethoscope into place as a hint for Jenny to stop talking. She didn’t need a reminder of how much worse it was to have a tragedy at Christmas time. She placed the disc of the stethoscope over the artery in Terry’s elbow as she pumped up the blood pressure cuff.

Jenny hadn’t taken the hint. ‘It’s like the poor Cunninghams. Ruined Christmas forever for those poor boys. They used to call it “the Cunninghams’ Christmas Curse” in these parts.’

Emma knew she shouldn’t encourage gossip but it wasn’t as if she’d asked a question aloud. Her startled glance had been enough to prompt Jenny to continue.

‘Their poor mother,’ she said sadly. ‘Fought off the cancer for such a long time and all she wanted was one last Christmas with her little boys but they didn’t even get the decorations up.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And they’ve never been put up again, from what I heard. Not in that house…’

Emma let the pressure out of the cuff slowly. Concentrating on the figures as she heard a pulse begin and then disappear again didn’t stop part of her brain absorbing the information she’d just been given. What a sad house this must have been for Max—especially that first Christmas without his mother.

‘Your blood pressure is on the high end of normal,’ she told Terry. ‘Are you on any medication for that?’

‘Yes. Dr Cunningham looks after me well, don’t you worry about that. Can I get dressed again now?’

‘And then there was last year.’ Jenny handed her husband his jumper as he finished buttoning up his shirt. ‘Losing poor Andy like that. It shouldn’t have happened at all, but to have it happen in December. Another Christmas funeral…’ She clicked her tongue. ‘And now…those children… What sort of Christmas is this going to be for those poor wee mites?’

Terry’s head popped out of the jumper’s neck. ‘That’s enough, Jen,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sure Dr Moretti isn’t interested in hearing all this gossip.’

‘It’s not gossip,’ Jenny said defensively. ‘We care about each other in Upper Barnsley, that’s all. Especially our closest neighbours.’ She smiled at Emma. ‘Are you here to help Dr Cunningham, then? It’s about time he had another doctor to help him in this clinic. Young Max is brilliant but he’s always been one for an exciting life. He doesn’t want to leave that big emergency department at the hospital.’

‘I’m actually here to help at the hospital,’ Emma told them. ‘But, right now, I’m going to go and show Dr Cunningham your ECG, Terry, and let him know that you’re okay.’ She held the door open for the couple. ‘Have you got plenty of anti-inflammatories at home?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Jenny nodded. ‘And don’t go bothering Dr Cunningham with my Terry’s problems right now. I suspect he’s got enough of his own…’

‘You need to follow the directions on the tin for how many scoops. Level scoops, like this…’ Maggie scooped the formula and showed Max how to level it off with the back of a knife. ‘Put it into the bottle of warm water. Attach the nipple and ring and cap like this…and then shake it.’

Maybe baby Alice could smell the milk being prepared and she was sick of waiting. Or maybe she didn’t like the unfamiliar male arms that were holding her right now. Whatever the reason, her unhappy whimpers were steadily increasing into shrieks that were pulling the tense knots in Max’s gut tighter by the second.

‘Are you sure you can’t stay, Maggie?’

‘I’m sorry, Max, but it’s impossible. I’ve got my daughter, Ruth, arriving and she’s nearly eight months pregnant and on her own. She’ll be exhausted after that long drive up from Cornwall and I haven’t had proper time with her since that bastard of a boyfriend walked out on her a few weeks ago. We’ve got a lot of talking to do about how she’s going to cope.’ Maggie took the cap off the bottle and upended it. ‘Shake a few drops onto your wrist, like this. If it’s the right temperature it won’t feel either hot or cold. There…that’s perfect.’ She held the bottle out to Max. ‘Try that. She’s probably eating solids now as well and there’s plenty of baby food in with all that other shopping that’s in the pantry but she’ll be wanting her milk for comfort right now, I expect.’

He took the bottle and offered the teat to the baby. Alice turned her head away and arched into his arm as if she was trying to escape.

‘Take her into the drawing room with the others,’ Maggie suggested. ‘This is all new and strange for her too, and it might help if you’re sitting in a comfy chair with her brother and sister nearby.’

Max walked out of the kitchen and into an entranceway that looked like it had exploded into a collection point for a children’s charity over the last thirty minutes or so. A portable cot had a few stuffed toys and books in it. There were car seats and a pram and even a high chair, along with boxes of baby supplies like nappies and formula and suitcases that he’d been told were full of clothing. The social worker who had delivered the children and their belongings had been apologetic but in a hurry to get away before the snow started settling on the country roads and Maggie, who’d done far more than anything her part-time position with the Cunninghams had ever expected of her, was obviously worried about leaving the men to cope but also anxious to get back to her own family.

‘You go, Maggie,’ Max told her. ‘I’ve got this.’

The older woman gave him a searching look. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked quietly. ‘I don’t want to leave you in the lurch. Ruth would understand if…’

Max shook his head. ‘These children are my responsibility,’ he said. ‘Between us, Dad and I will figure it out.’ He joggled the baby in his arms and, for a merciful few seconds, the howling seemed to lessen.

‘You’ve got that lovely Emma to help, for tonight at least.’ Maggie was heading for the coat rack. ‘If you’re sure, then… I’ll come back as soon as I can in the morning if the roads are clear enough.’

As she opened the door, Max could see a car disappearing down the driveway. Emma had spent a good deal of time assessing that unexpected patient who had turned up but she hadn’t summoned an ambulance or come to find his father so he had assumed things were under control. Some things, anyway. Baby Alice was crying again as he went into the drawing room.

His father was sitting in his usual chair by the fire but Pirate had disappeared beneath the chair, which was highly unusual. On the sofa next to the chair were the two older children, Ben and Matilda. They were both sitting silently, side by side, holding hands. Six-year-old Ben was clutching a very small artificial Christmas tree in his other hand that was devoid of any decorations. Four-year-old Matilda had a toy rabbit with long legs and rather chewed-looking ears clamped under her arm. They both looked accusingly at their uncle when he came in carrying their miserable baby sister.

Max sat in the matching leather wing chair on the other side of the sofa, settled Alice into the crook of his elbow and tried to get her to accept her bottle again. Her renewed cries were so loud he didn’t hear the door opening. He didn’t notice that every other head in the room had turned to see who was coming in or that Pirate had wriggled forward enough to peer out from under the chair.

What he did become aware of was that fresh lemony scent he’d noticed when Emma had come into his office in what was beginning to feel like a previous lifetime. And when he looked up, it felt like the depth of understanding in Emma’s eyes told him that she knew exactly how far out of his depth he currently was. That, no matter how determined he was to do the right thing for his nieces and nephew, it felt like he was drowning. But there was something else in her eyes that looked as though she was tapping into something much deeper. Darker.

Fear…

But why would Emma Moretti, of all people, feel afraid when faced with a miserable, hungry infant? She’d been the first to offer cuddles or bottles to their small patients in that paediatric ward, the first in line to be present at a birth or do the newborn checks on those slippery, squiggly little bundles that Max had found quite alarming at the time. If anything, he would have expected her to scoop Alice out of his arms and rescue the situation like some sort of Christmas angel, albeit with dark eyes and hair and olive skin instead of peaches and cream and blue eyes and golden hair.

But she was just staring at him and…yes…he was sure he could see fear in those astonishingly dark eyes.

What on earth had happened, he wondered, to have changed her like this?

The curiosity was fleeting, however, because despite Alice’s cries still increasing in volume, he could hear the landline of the house ringing from the hallway. His father seemed oblivious, slumped in his chair as if he had no idea quite how to deal with what was going on around him. Emma had clearly heard the sound of the telephone and the way she raised her eyebrows was an offer to go and answer the call but Max acted without really thinking. He could handle a phone call far better than what he was trying to cope with right now.

He walked towards Emma and shoved Alice at her, knowing that she would instinctively hold out her arms to take the baby. Then he passed her the bottle of milk, turned away and walked out of the room.

CHAPTER THREE

EMMA WATCHED IN horror as Max walked out of the room and left her—literally—holding the baby.

And maybe Alice was significantly older and heavier than a newborn but, for a heartbeat, Emma simply froze because this baby wasn’t sick and she wasn’t standing here in the capacity of a doctor. This baby needed feeding and she had just been forced into the position of being a surrogate mother—something she wouldn’t have volunteered for in a million years.

Turning away from watching Max leave, Emma found herself looking at the two small children who were sitting on the couch and staring at her. They both looked scared. That something terrible was happening with their baby sister, perhaps?

‘It’s okay,’ Emma heard herself saying calmly. ‘I think she’s just hungry.’

She could do something about that, she realised, and that was the only thing she needed to think about right now. Anything else, including how this was making her feel, would simply have to wait but, as she moved to sit down, it seemed that the shock of having the baby shoved into her arms was receding enough to make it bearable. She would certainly not have volunteered to take the baby and feed it but, now that it was happening, Emma found that it hadn’t smashed through her walls the way she might have feared that it would. This was someone else’s baby, not her own. A healthy baby that just needed to be fed. Surely she could cope with this?

She chose to sit on the couch beside the other children, not wanting to take over the chair Max had been using. Or maybe she thought it might comfort the infant in her arms to be near her brother and sister. She settled Alice into the crook of her arm and offered her the nipple of the bottle, sliding it into her mouth that was opening for a new wail. Surprised eyes stared up at her and then, mercifully, that little mouth closed over the teat and Alice began sucking vigorously.

In the sudden silence that fell, Emma was aware that the older children were still watching. Max’s father had turned to peer at her from behind the wing of his chair and even the dog had wriggled forwards far enough to see what was happening beyond the safety of being beneath his master’s chair. She could hear the fire behind its screen, crackling softly in this new silence, and then she could hear Max coming back into the room. Or maybe she could feel the change in the atmosphere as he entered—that kind of electricity that charismatic people radiated.

‘That was the builder,’ he said. ‘They’ve fixed the leak in the apartment above mine but it’s going to be a big job to get things fixed and cleaned up. It certainly won’t be happening before Christmas.’

James Cunningham grunted. ‘Can’t say I’m surprised. It’s hard enough to get tradesmen in a hurry at the best of times.’

Max sat down in the other wing chair, his gaze fixed on Alice. ‘You always did make it look easy,’ he murmured. ‘You’re just a natural, aren’t you, Emma?’

Emma said nothing. She couldn’t say anything. Not with that damned lump that had just formed in her throat. Breathe, she told herself. You only need to breathe.

The silence returned and then Max sounded like he was making an effort to break it.

‘Is that your special Christmas tree, Ben?’

Emma glanced sideways to see Ben nod solemnly. ‘You’ve got to have a Christmas tree,’ he told his uncle. ‘It’s a rule.’

‘Oh?’

Emma could understand the note in Max’s voice—as if he was wondering what other ‘rules’ Ben might be holding as sacrosanct.

Ben nodded again. ‘That’s how Father Christmas knows where to leave the presents. It should go near the chimney.’

Emma lifted her gaze to look around the huge room they were in. She wondered what this little boy might think of those paintings in their ornate frames, the ornaments on sideboards and the baby grand piano in the corner. Was he used to this kind of house or was it making this an even more frightening experience for him?

But Ben was sounding worried rather than frightened when he spoke again.

‘Where’s your Christmas tree, Grandpa?’

This time, the silence in the room was filled with a tension that made a knot start to form in Emma’s stomach. There was level upon level of misery here that she could feel as if it was her own. Some of it was her own but she had learned long ago how to shut that away and it was actually quite empowering to find she could hold and feed baby Alice without falling apart in any visible manner. Looking down, she met the fixed gaze of those dark baby eyes on her own and could be confident that all was well in this tiny human’s life for the moment, at least, as she sucked down the rest of her milk. It wasn’t the case for anyone else in this room, was it?

Emma looked at the children beside her on the couch. The little boy was still staring at his grandfather, waiting for an answer to his question about the missing Christmas tree. The little girl seemed to sense Emma’s gaze and returned it with such a solemn one of her own that, if her arms weren’t full of baby Alice and her bottle, she would have instinctively wanted to gather this child to her as closely as she could to give her a big hug. James was stroking an imaginary beard as if it might help him find an answer and Max…

Well, Max was looking at her.

As if he knew that she knew why Christmas hadn’t been celebrated in this house for probably decades and why a simple child’s question was creating such tension. As if he had no idea how to defuse it and as if he was trusting her to help in the same way that she had managed to conquer the difficulty he had faced in getting the baby fed.

Just for a heartbeat, Emma could see something she was quite sure she’d never seen before in Max Cunningham’s eyes. Bewilderment, almost. The look of someone who’d lost something very important and had absolutely no idea where to start looking for it. There was something sad in that gaze as well and that made her realise he must know exactly how his nephew must be feeling right now and that could be what was making it so hard for him to find the right thing to say. A tragic history had repeated itself and a small boy had lost his mum just before Christmas.

The squeeze on Emma’s heart was so tight it was painful. Painful enough to set off alarm bells that suggested a potential breach in any protective walls that needed maintaining but she had to ignore that for the moment. She was an adult and she had had plenty of time to develop coping mechanisms she could tap into a bit later. Doing something to try and make these children look and sound a little less sad was far more urgent.

‘Sometimes,’ she told Ben, quietly, ‘things happen that can get in the way of remembering rules. I’m sure your Uncle Max or your Grandpa will know where to find a Christmas tree.’

James leaned forward to pick up a poker and prod the fire, making a grumbling sound that could have been disapproving but Max was nodding as if this was, indeed, the solution.

‘A real one,’ he said. ‘We can go and look in the woods tomorrow, Ben. You can choose a branch and I’ll cut it off. Or, if we can’t find one, we can drive into town and buy one.’

‘How old are you, Ben?’ Emma asked.

‘Six.’

‘That’s old enough to make decorations for the tree, then. Like silver stars. I can show you how to do that.’ She offered a smile. ‘My name’s Emma.’

The little girl was wriggling closer. ‘I’m four,’ she whispered, ‘and I like stars…’

‘You can help too, sweetheart,’ Emma promised. She just had to hope there would be a supply of cardboard and silver foil somewhere in the house.

‘That’s Matilda,’ Max said. ‘But she likes to be called Tilly.’ He was smiling at Emma.

And it was such a genuine smile… Nothing like the charm-loaded curl of his lips with that mischievous edge that had always won him so much attention from women. This time, that automatic hint of flirting that Emma had remembered so clearly was completely absent and it changed his face. It made him look a little older. Softer—as if he was perfectly capable of providing the care and commitment these children were going to need so badly even if he used to say it was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

Alice had finished her bottle and felt sleepy and relaxed. Emma shifted her to an upright position and began to rub her back. Seconds later, the loud burp broke both the new silence and quite a lot of the tension in the room.

‘I’m hungry,’ Ben said.

Emma caught the slightly panicked glance that was exchanged between the two Cunningham men.

‘Maggie’s left a pie in the oven,’ Max told his father. ‘And chips.’

‘I like chips.’ Ben slid off the couch. He stood there, waiting for one of the grown-ups to move as well.

But, for a long moment, nobody did and Emma could understand why. This was it, wasn’t it? The first step into a life that was never going to be the same again for either of these men and it was huge and daunting and they’d been thrown into the deep end. None of it was Emma’s responsibility, of course, but the people who were going to suffer if it turned into a disaster were only children and these children had suffered enough, hadn’t they?

It seemed that Max was thinking the same thing because they both got to their feet in the same moment. He stepped towards Emma and took the sleeping baby from her arms.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I can manage.’

‘I’m here,’ Emma reminded him gently. ‘I may as well help you manage for tonight, yes?’

There was always something about a man holding a baby that tugged at the heartstrings. But there was something else about this particular man holding a baby that actually brought a lump to Emma’s throat. This had to be his worst nightmare, inheriting a ready-made family including a baby, but he was stepping up to the challenge and determined to do his best and that was courageous and kind and…it tugged at her heart so hard she couldn’t look away from his eyes.

She hadn’t remembered them being quite such a dark blue.

Or quite so…intense.

It almost felt as if he was seeing her… really seeing her…for the first time ever.

Man…

Those eyes… So dark they looked bottomless. You could fall into eyes like that and get totally lost. And, just for a heartbeat, that was exactly what Max wanted to do. The rollercoaster of emotions he was currently riding was proving even more overwhelming than he’d feared it would be.

His heart had gone out to his nephew and nieces the moment he’d seen them but he was little more than a stranger to them and, oddly, that hurt. There was so much stuff that had come with the children and he wouldn’t have even known how to make up a bottle if Maggie hadn’t helped. He might have failed in feeding Alice if he hadn’t forced Emma to help so he could add a sense of failure into the mix. He was worried about how his father was coping, especially after that question about the Christmas tree. They hadn’t put a tree up in this house since his mother had died, leaving a huge pine tree undecorated and a shattered family that barely noticed the showers of dead needles that came weeks later.

On top of that, there were feelings of heartbreak for these children. Part of him just wanted to gather them all into his arms and somehow let them know that he was going to protect them for ever, but he could sense their shyness and knew he would make things worse if he tried to force closeness. He felt gratitude to Maggie for all her extra work and, currently, he was just so, so glad that Emma was here in the house. Trying to convince her that he was up to this task was giving him a lot more courage than he might have otherwise found in the face of such a daunting challenge.

There was also the way she’d been looking at him after Ben had asked about where the Christmas tree was. It had made him think that she knew the answer to that innocent question, which was not unlikely given that she’d spent time with Terry and Jenny. Jenny wasn’t a gossip by any means but she was one of the villagers who all knew the Cunninghams’ history and she was a woman who loved to chat. Max didn’t mind if Emma did know because there was also something in that look that gave him the impression that she understood how much it might hurt and, in turn, that was giving him the oddest feeling of connection. Something that was disconcerting because he’d never associated a feeling like that with any woman. It had to be just another side effect of this strange situation. It was also something that was irrelevant because the children were the only people that mattered right now.

‘What’s first?’ he asked. ‘Shall I feed the children?’

‘How ’bout you and your dad sort some of their things out? Find things like pyjamas and toothbrushes? You could put Alice in her pram for the moment while she’s asleep. Show me where the kitchen is and I’ll sort out the pie.’

‘And chips.’ The small voice came from right beside Max’s leg and he looked down to find Ben standing close by. ‘And sauce. Red sauce.’

‘Is that a rule?’ Max asked. ‘Red sauce for chips?’

Ben nodded. He was holding out his hand towards Matilda. ‘Come on, Tilly,’ he said. ‘It’s time for tea.’

‘It is,’ Emma said, as Matilda slid off the couch. ‘And after that it will be bath time and…what happens after bath time?’

‘Storytime,’ Ben said. ‘And…and then…’

His small mouth wobbled as it turned down at the corners. It was painfully obvious that the prospect of bedtime in this new, scary house was too much even for a very brave child who was doing his best to look after his younger sister himself. The squeeze in Max’s chest was so sharp it made the back of his eyes prickle. He bent down so that he could say something quietly, just for Ben.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ he whispered. ‘I promise.’

Ben’s eyes were a dark blue. Like his father’s had been. Like all the Cunningham men, for that matter. They were also far too serious for a six-year-old boy.

‘It’s a new rule,’ Max added gravely. ‘And I try very hard to never break rules.’

Having so much to do to start getting the children settled into what was going to be their new home was helpful for the next few hours. Having Emma there to answer the questions James and Max kept coming up with was also very helpful.

‘Should we put Alice’s cot in the same room as Tilly and Ben?’

‘It might be better to put it in your room to start with. That way, if she wakes up, she won’t wake up the others.’

‘But…what will I do with her if she does wake up?’

Emma’s smile was kind enough not to make Max feel inadequate in any way. ‘Give her a bottle of milk. Change her nappy. Cuddle her.’

Ben and Matilda ate enough of their dinner for Emma to be looking pleased when Max went to tell her that he had unpacked the suitcases to find pyjamas.

‘Shall we go up those big stairs?’ She made it sound like an adventure. ‘I know where there’s a bath that’s got feet.’

Ben shook his head. ‘A bath doesn’t have feet,’ he told Emma. ‘It can’t walk.’

‘No. This one just stands there but it really does have feet. Like a lion’s paws. Do you want to see?’

Max watched her go up the stairs with a child on each side of her, holding her hands. Ben still had the little Christmas tree in his other hand, he noticed. And Tilly was holding her rabbit by one foot so that its head, with those chewed ears, was bumping on every tread. James was coming down as they reached the halfway curve.

‘Have you got hot-water bottles?’ Emma asked him. ‘It would be good to put them in Ben’s and Tilly’s beds. And put some of their toys there too, so it’ll feel more like home.’

The men didn’t get the distribution of stuffed toys quite right but it was easy enough to fix as the children climbed into the twin beds that were side by side in one of the smallest bedrooms. It was James who agreed to read a bedtime story to his grandchildren while Pirate lay outside the bedroom door. Max was learning how to bath Alice and get her ready for bed. At six months old she was nothing like as fragile as a newborn, of course, but she still felt very small in Max’s hands and it was fiddly enough to get her into her nappy and her stretchy sleepsuit to make him break out in a bit of a sweat.

‘So you’ve put her cot in your room?’ Emma asked.

‘Well…the room I use when I’m staying, yes. It might be a good one for the nanny to use when she gets here.’

‘Have you plugged in the baby monitor?’

‘Yes. And, if I leave the door open, I should be able to hear if Ben or Tilly wakes up too. You don’t think they’ll sleepwalk or anything, do you? What would I do if they did?’

‘If they do get up, they’ll just be looking for comfort,’ Emma told him. ‘Cuddles. You could stay with them until they go back to sleep. Or let them share your bed.’

There was a hint of mischief in Emma’s eyes as she made that suggestion. As if she knew perfectly well that sharing a bed in order to comfort small children was a totally alien concept for Max. As if she was trying to lighten the atmosphere a little too, to defuse some of the tension of the evening. The idea that Emma might be at all concerned for his own wellbeing did make him feel rather a lot better, in fact.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked. ‘There’s plenty of pie and chips left.’

‘And red sauce?’

The smile he received from Emma felt like a reward for what seemed like a major achievement in caring for the children for the first time. Glancing at his watch, Max was astonished at how much time had gone by. ‘It’s late,’ he said. ‘No wonder I’m starving.’

‘Let’s see if we can get Alice settled properly. Your dad should be back from taking Pirate for a walk by then and we can all have something to eat.’

James came back with the news that, while the snow had settled in places, it seemed to have stopped and the roads were still clear enough to be safe for Emma to drive back into Cheltenham in the morning.

‘And they’re very good about getting the snow ploughs out on our road first,’ he told her as they ate dinner together at the old table in the huge kitchen. ‘One of the perks of being the only local doctor.’

‘Do you do nights as well?’ Emma asked.

It was Max who shook his head. ‘Theoretically, that’s covered by an afterhours service from town,’ he told her. ‘In reality, though, Dad often gets called.’

‘I don’t mind,’ James said. ‘I’ve known these families for a long time. They trust me. Thanks for taking care of Terry today, Emma. Jenny’s still overanxious about his angina.’

‘It was a pleasure.’ Emma sounded as though she meant it.

James stood up to take his plate to the sink. ‘Might turn in,’ he said. ‘It’s been a big day.’ He snapped his fingers and Pirate jumped out of his basket near the Aga. ‘Can you look after the fire, Max?’

‘Of course. Sleep well, Dad.’

The huff of sound was doubtful and the words were an under-the-breath mutter as James left the room. ‘Let’s hope we all get some sleep.’

Emma stacked the dishes into the dishwasher but Max wouldn’t let her do anything else in the kitchen.

‘Maggie will be back in the morning. Being used as a housekeeper or a nanny is not part of your locum contract, you know.’

Emma shrugged. ‘They say that variety is the spice of life. To tell you the truth, I’ve never been in a house like this before and it’s amazing.’ Which it was. Every room she had seen in this old house was beautiful but her favourite so far had to be the kitchen, with its old range and the dresser with the antique china and an ancient scrubbed table that reminded her of outside terraces in Italy because it made her think of generations of extended family gathering to eat together. The time had flown, as well. They’d been so busy with dinner and baths and getting everybody settled into bed that Emma hadn’t had time to worry about how it could potentially be messing with her head and, in fact, now that she did have the time to think about it, she was confident that she could deal with it.

‘The children really haven’t been much trouble, have they?’ she said aloud. ‘And the way Ben tries so hard to help look after Tilly is just gorgeous.’

‘Mmm…’

The tone in that sound gave Emma’s heart a squeeze as she pushed the door of the dishwasher closed. It was a note of trepidation. Fear, almost.

She caught his gaze. ‘It’s going to be okay, Max,’ she said softly. ‘You’ll work things out. I know it feels huge and scary at the moment but just take it a day at a time. An hour at a time, if you need to.’

‘Is that your strategy for when you find yourself in totally unfamiliar surroundings in your locum work?’

Emma smiled. ‘Sometimes I’m taking it a second at a time. Oh…did you want some dessert? Ice cream, like the kids had, maybe?’

Max made another huff of sound. ‘I think I need something a bit stronger than ice cream. Do you fancy a small whisky?’

Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t do whisky. A glass of wine would be nice, though. White, if you have any.’

‘There’s usually something in the fridge. Or there’s rather a large wine cellar downstairs and it’s cold enough at this time of year to be perfectly drinkable.’

The thought of being in a house that had a large wine cellar was as surreal as every other surprise this day had thrown at her. ‘Just a small glass,’ she warned. ‘I’ve got a very early start tomorrow. I’ll need to leave at least an hour to get into Cheltenham in case there’s more snow in the night. More, if I need to put the chains on my tyres. And my shift starts at seven a.m., yes?’

‘You’re onto it.’ Max was heading towards a large fridge. ‘You sound like you could cope with anything, in fact.’

‘It’s part of what I like about locum work. You never quite know what’s round the next corner. I’ve been out to remote islands off Scotland in a boat. I did a stint with an air rescue service in Canada once too, and our agency specialises in insurance company work when an injured or ill traveller needs to get brought back home. I went out to an oil rig in a helicopter once.’

‘Sounds exciting.’

‘I love it. But it can be daunting as well. That’s how I know that sometimes you need to focus on just the next step in front of you and block out the big picture.’

‘I think I’d rather be on the way out to an oil rig than wondering what I’m going to do with unhappy children in the middle of the night.’

Emma took the glass of wine Max had poured for her. Her smile was one of both appreciation and, hopefully, some reassurance. The softening of his features and that hint of a smile told her that it seemed to have helped.

‘Come in by the fire for a minute. I need to make that safe for the night and the whisky’s in there too.’

And maybe he needed a bit more reassurance? Emma could provide that. For the sake of Max and his father. And those beautiful children. She’d been perfectly genuine when she’d told Max that the children hadn’t been any trouble to look after and she was quite hopeful that she wasn’t going to be kept awake tonight by ghosts from the past. Even when she had been helping Max bathe and dress the baby she had been able to keep that door in her own heart firmly closed. These children were like patients. Helping them was just an unexpected—and temporary—twist in her professional life.

It was no great hardship to take a few minutes to sit and sip an excellent wine in front of the fireplace, either. Despite the size of this impressive room, the flames created a flickering light and warmth that made the area directly in front of it seem homely. Almost intimate.

‘So how long have you been working as a locum?’ Max asked when they had chosen to sit at either end of the big couch rather than use the wing chairs.

‘A bit over four years, now.’ She had been offered bereavement leave but Emma had found she needed to get back to the job she loved so much, even though she’d been conscious of how hard it was going to be to work amongst young children and babies for a while. She’d learned to cope faster than she’d expected, however. She’d built those walls and kept going but some of the joy had gone and, as the months wore on, she’d known that if she wanted to move forward with her life and reclaim that joy, she needed to make some big changes. Hearing about someone’s exciting career as a locum had happened at just the right time.

‘If I’d ever thought about it, I would have said you’d be a consultant paediatrician by now.’

Emma tilted her head but didn’t say anything. She could have agreed with him and said that was exactly what she’d been planning on being but, if she told him that, she’d have to tell him why it hadn’t happened and she didn’t want to go there. It was easier to focus on what else he’d just said that implied he’d never given her another thought after the time they’d worked together.

It was inevitable that that took her mind back to their kiss. The one she’d never forgotten…

Max broke the silence. ‘I guess none of us know what twists and turns life has in store for us. We just know that they’re going to happen—usually at what seems to be the worst possible time.’

‘Mmm.’ Emma could certainly agree with that. For a long moment, they both sipped their drinks and the silence was companionable. She knew she might be taking a risk that could destroy this pleasant ambience but Emma was curious. There was so much about Max that she’d never known. Would never have guessed.

‘How old were you when your mum died, Max?’ she asked gently.

His glance was swift. Intense. ‘So Jenny did tell you? Or was it Maggie?’

‘They both told me a little. Not much. Maggie told me about your brother. Jenny said something about your mother.’

‘Something about the “Curse of the Cunninghams”, perhaps?’

Embarrassed, Emma dropped her gaze. She’d hate Max to think she’d been gossiping about his family.

‘It’s okay,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I know people like to talk and it’s no wonder it’s all resurfacing now. Here it is, Christmas again, and tragedy number three strikes the Cunningham family.’

‘That should be it, then.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Bad things are supposed to come in threes.’ Emma bit her lip. The tragedies that had befallen this family were nothing to make light of but all she wanted to do was offer…something. Comfort wasn’t possible but perhaps some hope? ‘Christmas will be different this year.’ She offered a smile this time. ‘I’m sure the tree will just be the first of all the rules that Ben knows about.’

Max snorted. ‘Christmas rules are just part of the commercial hype that’s all this season is all about. Reasons to make you spend more and more money.’

‘You think?’

‘I don’t imagine this is the first Christmas you’ve worked so you know about the effects of the kind of stress it creates. People drink too much. Domestic violence goes through the roof. It’s marketed as a promise for peace and love for everyone who bothers to follow all those “rules” but anyone who stands back far enough can see it for what it is.’

There was a defensiveness in his tone that made Emma think he was protesting too much. Because he’d had to—to protect himself? Because it was so much harder if you let yourself sink into what was missing from a celebration of family? She, of all people, could understand that.

‘I don’t believe that,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not saying it’s not a particularly difficult time for a lot of people but, if you’re lucky, it’s an opportunity to hit pause for a day. To celebrate the things that are really important—like family and friends. And, yes, we do that by buying stuff and eating special food but that’s okay too, because it’s all part of what makes it special. And they’re not “rules”. They’re traditions and every family makes their own. I expect Ben is holding onto the ones he knows about as tightly as he can because he’s lost just about everything else.’

Emma had to stop talking then, so that she could swallow the lump in her throat. She could feel Max’s gaze resting on her.

‘So…why aren’t you with your family, then? You do have one, don’t you?’

Emma nodded. ‘In Italy. We have quite different traditions there. Like the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve—the Festa dei Sette Pesci. And there’s always a nativity scene in the house and someone gets chosen to put the baby Jesus in the crib on Christmas Eve.’ She let her breath out in a sigh. ‘I haven’t been back home for a few years, though.’

‘Why not?’

‘As a locum, it can be one of the busiest times of the year because so many people want time off to be with their families.’ Emma closed her eyes for a heartbeat, ignoring the faint alarm bell in her head. She had, albeit unintentionally, stepped into a private part of Max Cunningham’s life. It was only fair if he knew a little more about her, wasn’t it? ‘Plus, I had a pretty rough Christmas a few years back and I needed some time out. Especially from my family, who would have insisted on talking about it endlessly.’

‘What happened?’

‘Um…well, it started a bit before Christmas, I guess, when the guy I thought I was going to marry walked out on me. But then…someone special died…’

‘At Christmas time?’

‘On Christmas Day.’ Emma gulped in some air. ‘I knew it was coming but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier at the time, you know?’

‘Oh, yeah…’ Max’s tone was heartfelt. ‘I know.’ It was his turn to take a deeper breath. ‘I didn’t answer your question before. I was eleven when my mum died. My brother Andy was only eight. Not much older than Ben.’

‘Oh, Max… I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard for you all.’

‘I think we were too shocked to think about Christmas that year. It was the next one that was the hardest. Andy wanted it to be like it had been, but it was too hard on Dad. I found him crying and that shocked me so much. I had no idea what to do.’

‘Of course you didn’t. You were a child.’

‘I’m not proud of what I did do.’

Emma watched the way Max’s face creased into lines of regret. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’

‘I told Andy that Father Christmas wasn’t real. That it had been Mum who’d put all the decorations up and all those presents under the tree and in our stockings and that, now she wasn’t here, it couldn’t happen any more because it would make Dad too sad.’

Oh… Emma could just imagine the serious conversation between two small boys. A fragmented family trying to find a way to be together without it causing too much pain for anyone. It was heartbreaking.

‘So it didn’t happen that year. Or the next. And then we just got used to it. We’d give each other a gift but we never put up a Christmas tree again or did any of the other decorations that Mum used to love—like winding long ropes of artificial leafy stuff like ivy and holly with its red berries between the bannisters on the staircase and hanging little bunches of golden bells on every door so that they jingled whenever they were opened and closed. Andy started doing it all again once he had children of his own, mind you.’ Max drained his glass. ‘Me, I just got more cynical about it all but then, it only really matters for the kids, doesn’t it?’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Emma said slowly. ‘But it’s certainly a very special time of the year for children. Exciting…and magical, until you know the truth about Father Christmas.’

Max grimaced. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to burst the bubble for Ben or Tilly. They’ve got more than enough of real life to get their heads around at the moment.’

‘But…’ Again, Emma bit her lip. This really wasn’t any of her business.

‘But, what?’

‘It’s just that…well…putting up a Christmas tree is only a part of it. And it’s only a decoration if you don’t really believe…’

‘In Father Christmas?’

Emma shook her head. ‘No. In family. In celebrating the bond. Or, in your case this year, perhaps it’s about creating a bond. The new one that’s going to be the foundation for Ben and Tilly and Alice to feel like they belong.’

Max was staring at her. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘You can. You and your dad. All you have to do is love these children and I’m sure you do already.’

‘Yes, but…we don’t know how to do Christmas. It’s been more than twenty years since we even had a piece of tinsel in the house. Dad wouldn’t want it.’

‘Are you sure? It’s been a long time, Max. Sometimes it takes a gentle push to get people past something that’s holding them back. This new family of yours is a gift. It could turn out to be the best thing that could have happened.’

‘The breaking of the curse?’

‘If you like. The start of something new, anyway. Something very special.’

Emma’s tone had softened as she thought about these two bachelor men of different generations sharing their lives with three small children. About the amount of love that would be available within the thick stone walls of this ancient house. She was smiling at Max as she finished speaking. He was holding her gaze with that kind of intensity she had felt before—when it had seemed like he was really seeing her for the first time.

‘You’re right,’ he said softly. ‘This could be the most important Christmas these kids will ever have. It has to be special.’ He still hadn’t broken the eye contact and Emma was starting to feel an odd tingle spreading through her body.

‘You have to help me, Emma. Please…’ The plea in Max’s tone was so heartfelt. ‘I don’t know how to do this by myself. I… I need you…’

The tingle had just reached Emma’s toes.

‘We all need you,’ Max added, as if summoning every power of persuasion he could find. ‘Me and Dad. Ben and Tilly and Alice. Probably Pirate too. Just to be here when you’re not at the hospital. Just to be…well…just to be you… And…and you did promise to show Ben and Tilly how to make stars and we didn’t get time to do that tonight, did we?’

Emma nodded. ‘I did say I’d show them how to make stars.’

But to stay here in this house?

To spend Christmas with a family?

It was terrifying and compelling at the same time. Emma knew she should run a mile but there was something in her way.

Maybe it was a small boy with solemn eyes. A little girl with a bunny that had chewed ears or a baby that had been watching her as if she was the most important person on earth as she’d sucked her bottle. Perhaps it was a man of her father’s generation who loved his little dog but had lost the joy of this season so long ago. Or…maybe it was this man who was looking lost but was so determined to do his best for the entire little family that had just turned up on his doorstep. A man who wanted her to be here. Who needed her…

Christmas… With children. And a baby. How could she possibly cope with saying yes?

But Max needed her. Perhaps everybody needed her because she was outside the tragedy that had brought them together so maybe she could see what needed to happen more clearly. How could she possibly say no?

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