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The Firefighter’s Baby

Page 11

by Alison Roberts

‘Can you remember that far back, Jase?’

‘You were going out with Britney,’ Cliff declared. ‘I remember her. Red hair and legs up to her⁠—’

‘That was March. We broke up at Easter when we had an argument about chocolate bunnies.’

‘Okay, what about Melissa? You know, the one who looked like Pamela Anderson.’

‘She was after Britney,’ Jason interrupted swiftly. ‘I think.’

‘No… I’m sure she was the one that came to that barbecue we had on the beach in February. Yellow bikini?’

Laura hadn’t forgotten that yellow bikini – or the assets it had supported. She glanced up from fastening the snaps on the stretch suit, intending to direct a ‘you deserve everything that’s coming’ glance, but to her astonishment, the tips of Jason’s ears were bright pink. Good grief – the man was embarrassed!

He should be ashamed of himself if he couldn’t even remember the order or names of the string of women in his life. Maybe this was the first occasion he’d ever had to consider the repercussions of such an active social life. Or maybe he was disturbed by the wider picture he was currently having to confront. In any case, Laura liked the fact that he was embarrassed. She picked up the baby again and her lips curved into a smile against the soft wisps of blonde hair.

‘Daddy’s blushing,’ she whispered. ‘How about that?’

‘Daddy’ was still fielding a list of potential conquests that might have had confusing names.

‘What about Charlotte?’

‘Sounds a bit like Shelley.’

Despite the spotlight being so firmly on Jason, even Bruce, who was stifling frequent yawns, was not about to leave his fellow firefighter in the lurch and go home for some well-deserved rest. Stick shook his head sorrowfully.

‘This should be a lesson to us all. Anyone could just scribble in our names on some bloody birth certificate.’

‘Speak for yourself, mate. I’m happily married.’

‘DNA,’ Cliff said with relief. ‘You could get a test, Jase, and prove it’s not yours.’

‘That could take weeks! What the hell am I supposed to do with it in the meantime?’

‘Maybe the mother’s only gone shopping or something. She could be back any minute.’

‘Yeah, right. Like she’s come all the way from England for a spot of shopping and she leaves the baby on a doorstep in the middle of the night so she doesn’t have to bother finding a babysitter?’

Laura sat down at the table and Mrs McKendry silently handed her the bottle of formula. Tentatively, she poked the teat into the baby’s mouth and to her delight it was accepted enthusiastically.

‘Well, that’s a blessing,’ Mrs McKendry said. ‘At least she’s used to a bottle.’

Laura could feel the rhythmic tug of the sucking movements. The baby’s wide-eyed gaze fastened onto hers as though she was receiving the nourishment via some kind of visual connection. Laura found herself smiling.

‘Oh… she’s gorgeous!’

‘Aye.’ Jean McKendry’s expression softened noticeably. Then she pushed her spectacles more firmly onto the bridge of her nose and leaned a little closer to peer at the baby’s face.

‘It was Sharon,’ Jason announced.

‘What was?’

‘The woman who’s set me up. It has to be.’ Jason nodded to confirm his own statement. ‘A girl from England that I met when I had that summer holiday in the Coromandel.’

‘Sure it wasn’t Shelley?’

Jason frowned in concentration. ‘She had a sister and I remember that their names were alike enough to be confusing. It was a bit of a joke and they didn’t mind when I got it wrong.’ Jason nodded again, more slowly this time. ‘That must be where this has come from. Sharon’s sister has had a baby and they’ve decided to name me as the father.’

‘Maybe they want to emigrate or something,’ Cliff suggested.