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She wondered if he couldn’t stop thinking about his sister. Was he simply too upset to sleep? She wished she could help.
‘I don’t have any brothers or sisters,’ she said tentatively.
Zac frowned.
‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, wincing at her third apology in as many minutes. ‘I just thought you might want to talk, but I shouldn’t have—’
‘No, no, it’s OK.’ He sighed again, and lay staring into space, apparently thinking...
Chloe waited, not sure what else to say.
‘Liv was eight years younger than me,’ he said quietly. ‘When our parents died, she was only ten, so I felt more like her father at times.’ His mouth was a grim downward curve. ‘She was my responsibility.’
Chloe stared at him now as she tried to take this in. Was the poor man blaming himself for his sister’s accident? Did he feel completely responsible? ‘But you must have been very young, too,’ she said.
‘I was eighteen. An adult.’
Only just, by the skin of your teeth. ‘How awful for you to lose both your parents so young.’
‘Yeah,’ he agreed with another sigh.
Chloe didn’t like to ask, but her imagination was running wild. ‘How did it happen, Zac? Was there an accident?’
He shrugged. ‘We’ll never know for sure. My parents were sailing somewhere in Indonesia when their boat just disappeared. My father was a geologist, you see, and my mother was a marine biologist and they were mad keen on science and exploration, always on the lookout for a new discovery. I suppose you’d call them nutty professors. Eccentrics.’
So they’d just disappeared...? Poor Zac. How terrible to have his parents simply vanish, to never know if they’d been taken by pirates, or capsized in a tropical storm, or drowned when their boat struck a coral reef...
‘They—they couldn’t be still alive, living on some jungle-clad island, could they?’
Zac’s mouth tilted in a wryly crooked smile. ‘I’ve played with that fantasy, too. But it’s been seventeen years...’
Chloe couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been for him—a mere eighteen years old and forced to carry on living without answers, just with terrible possibilities.
‘Right from the start I was worried about Liv,’ he said next. ‘I couldn’t bear to see her disappear into a foster home, so I applied to be her guardian. I dropped out of uni and got myself a job, so we could live together and I could look after her.’
‘Goodness,’ Chloe said softly, hoping she didn’t sound as surprised as she felt.
Zac’s lips curled unhappily. ‘It was possibly the stupidest decision I ever made.’
‘Don’t say that. I think it was incredibly brave of you.’
She was stunned to realise that Zac had sacrificed his own goals to try to keep what was left of his family intact. All she’d ever known about his private life was the revolving door of lookalike leggy blonde girlfriends. He’d never seemed to really care about any of them beyond their sex appeal and she’d assumed the ‘care factor’ gene was missing from his DNA.
But it was clear to her now that he’d cared very deeply about Liv.
‘I couldn’t keep her on track,’ Zac said, so softly Chloe almost missed it. ‘Liv never really looked on me as a parent. She wouldn’t accept me in a fathering role, so I had very little influence, I’m afraid. I think she was mad at our parents for disappearing the way they did and she saw me as an inadequate substitute. Before she was out of her teens she was into drinking and trying drugs. And then she was like a nomad, never wanting to settle. She didn’t want to study and she would never stay in one job for long enough to get any real skills. She was like a butterfly, always searching for a brighter flower.’
‘Might she have inherited that urge from your parents?’
‘Quite possibly, I guess.’
He stared unhappily up at the cabin’s ceiling and Chloe wished she could offer him wise words of consolation.
She did her best. ‘Honestly, I don’t think you should blame yourself for this accident, Zac.’
But he simply shook his head and closed his eyes.
* * *
It was ages before Chloe drifted off to sleep and when she woke a soft grey light filled the cabin and flight attendants were bringing around hot towels to freshen their hands and faces, as well as glasses of orange juice.
‘Morning, sleepyhead.’
Zac’s seat was already back in the upright position and he looked as if he’d been to the bathroom and washed and shaved.
Chloe yawned and hoped her hair wasn’t too messy. In a minute she would follow his example and freshen up. ‘What time is it?’
‘Seven forty-five. That’s Greenwich Mean Time, of course. If we were still at home it would be five forty-five in the evening.’
So...her parents had almost completed their first day in the hotel. Chloe hoped they were still enjoying themselves.
If she’d been in Brisbane, she would be putting the final touches to the office’s decorations and making last minute checks about the drinks and ice.
‘I hope you’re not worrying about your parents.’
‘No, I’m not.’ She knew they were in good hands and she’d left the hotel desk, the hired nurse and the chauffeur with all the phone numbers and information they could possibly need. ‘I was thinking about the office Christmas party tonight, actually.’
‘Really, Chloe?’ Zac was frowning at her now, although his eyes glinted with puzzled amusement.
‘I was looking forward to the party,’ she admitted, no longer caring if this revealed her inadequate social life.
‘You were looking forward to watching half the office staff get plastered and then staying behind to clean up their mess?’
She opened her mouth to protest.
Zac’s smile was gently teasing. ‘You’re going to see London at Christmas. I promise you that’s a thousand times better than the office do.’
‘I suppose it would be. When should we get our first glimpse of England?’
‘Oh, in about an hour.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c9b1cdc0-893d-5519-8bf0-0ef2957d8dc4)
IT WAS RAINING when they touched down at Heathrow, but somehow that couldn’t dim Chloe’s excitement. As business class passengers with only carry-on baggage, she and Zac didn’t have to hang around in long queues and soon they were outside, suddenly very grateful for their warm overcoats and scarves.
While they waited for a taxi she made a quick phone call to her parents.
‘We’re about to go down to the dining room,’ her mum told her excitedly. ‘We’ve already checked out the menu and we’re having lamb cutlets and then rhubarb crumble. Give our love to Zac.’
They were having the time of their lives and, within moments, Chloe was climbing into a proper shiny black London taxi and her excitement mounted as they whizzed along busy rain-slick streets filled with other taxis and cars and bright red double-decker London buses. Ahead, on a pedestrian crossing, people huddled beneath umbrellas glistening with rain.
Zac asked the taxi driver to stop at their hotel to leave their luggage and Chloe caught a brief impression of huge glass doors, massive urns filled with greenery and enormous gold-framed mirrors in a white marbled foyer.
‘Now, we’d better head straight to the Metropolitan Police,’ Zac said when he returned.
‘Yes.’ Chloe dug out her phone and checked the arrangements she’d made for Zac to meet with Sergeant Davies. She gave their driver the address and then they were off again.
Three blocks later, they had stopped at traffic lights when she saw the trio of soldiers. The tall, broad-shouldered men were simply standing and chatting as they waited to cross a road, but all it took was the sight of their camouflage uniforms and berets to bring back memories of Sam.
It could still happen like that, even though she’d had three and a half years to recover. The smallest trigger could bring the threat of desperate black grief.
Not now...I can’t think about him now...
But now, on the far side of the world with her handsome boss, this painful memory was a timely reminder of the heartache that came with falling in love. Chloe knew she had to be super-careful...and she was grateful she’d trained herself to think of Zac as nothing but her boss...glad that she’d become an expert at keeping a tight lid on any deeper feelings...
At the police station, Sergeant Davies was very solicitous as he ushered them into his office. He told them that Liv’s death had been clearly accidental and there was no reason to refer it to the coroner.
‘The young man who was driving your sister to the hospital is definitely in the clear,’ he added. ‘He’s a Good Samaritan neighbour. He was injured, but he’s going to be OK. A badly broken leg, I believe.’
Zac sat stiffly, his face as grim as granite, as he received this news.
‘We’ll be laying serious charges against the driver of the other car,’ the sergeant then told them.
‘Driving under the influence?’ Zac asked.
This was answered by a circumspect nod of assent.
Zac sighed and closed his eyes.
* * *
Outside, Chloe wanted to suggest that they found somewhere for a coffee. She was sure Zac could do with caffeine fortification, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised that he was determined to push on with his unhappy mission. At work he always preferred to confront the unpleasant tasks first. It was one of the things she’d always admired about him.
Within moments of hitting the pavement, he hailed another taxi and they were heading for the cold reality of the Royal London Hospital.
Once there, Zac insisted on seeing his sister, but as Chloe watched him disappear down a corridor, accompanied by a dour-looking doctor in a lab coat, she was worried that it might be a mistake. Her fears were more or less confirmed when Zac returned, white-faced and gaunt, looking about ten years older.
She had no idea what to say. There was no coffee machine in sight, so she got him a drink of water in a paper cup, which he took without thanking her and drank in sips, staring at the floor, his eyes betraying his shock.
Eventually, Chloe couldn’t bear it. She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug.
He sent her a sideways glance so full of emotion she felt her sympathetic heart swell to bursting. He offered her a nod, as if to say thanks, but he didn’t speak. She was quite sure he couldn’t speak.
For some time they sat together, with their overcoats bundled on the bench beside them, before one of the hospital staff approached them, a youngish woman with bright red hair. ‘Mr Corrigan?’
Zac lifted his gaze slowly. ‘Yes?’
The woman’s eyes lit up with the predictable enthusiasm of just about any female who met Zac. ‘I’m Ruby Jones,’ she said, holding onto her bright smile despite his grimness. ‘I’m the social worker looking after your case.’
‘Right. I see.’ Zac was on his feet now. ‘I guess you want to speak to me about the...the child?’
‘Yes, certainly.’ Ruby Jones offered him another sparkling smile, which Chloe thought was totally inappropriate. ‘Am I right in imagining that you’d like to meet your niece?’
‘Meet her?’ Zac looked startled.
‘Yes, she’s just on the next floor in the maternity ward.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ He turned to Chloe. ‘You’ll come, too, won’t you?’
‘Yes, if you like.’
Ruby, the social worker, looked apologetic. ‘I’m afraid—in these situations, we usually only allow close family members into—’
‘Chloe is family,’ Zac intervened, sounding more like his usual authoritarian self.
Chloe stared at the floor, praying that she didn’t blush, but it was a shock to hear Zac describe her as family. She knew it was an expedient lie, but for a crazy moment her imagination went a little wild.
‘I’m sorry.’ Ruby sounded as flustered as Chloe felt. ‘I thought you mentioned a PA.’
Zac gave an impatient flick of his head. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t count this child’s close family on two fingers.’ He placed a commanding hand at Chloe’s elbow. ‘Come on.’
Chloe avoided making eye contact with Zac as the social worker led them to the lift, which they rode in silence to the next floor.
‘This way,’ Ruby said as they stepped out and she led them down a hallway smelling of antiseptic, past doorways that revealed glimpses of young women and bassinets. From all around were sounds of new babies crying and, somewhere in the distance, a floor polisher whined.
Zac looked gloomy, as if he was hating every minute.
‘Have you ever been in a maternity ward before?’ Chloe asked him out of the side of her mouth.
‘No, of course not. Have you?’
‘Once. Just to visit a friend,’ she added when she saw his startled glance.
Ahead of them, the social worker had stopped at a glass door and was talking to a nurse. She turned to them. ‘If you wait here at this door, we’ll wheel the baby over.’
Zac nodded unhappily.
Chloe said, ‘Thank you.’
As the two women disappeared, Zac let out a heavy sigh. His jaw jutted with dismal determination as he sank his hands deep into his trouser pockets. Chloe was tempted to reach out, to touch him again, to give his elbow an encouraging squeeze, but almost immediately the door opened and a little trolley was wheeled through.
She could see the bump of a tiny baby beneath a pink blanket, and a hint of dark hair. Beside her, she heard her boss gasp.
‘Oh, my God,’ he whispered.
The trolley was wheeled closer.
‘So here she is.’ The nurse was middle-aged and hearty and she gave Zac an encouraging smile. ‘She’s a proper little cutie, this one.’
