Matilda Next Door - Kelly Hunter Page 0,23

know I could have loved.

You’re a good man, Henry. I know you’ll do your best by our daughter and your best will be enough.

Yours,

Amanda A. Murphy

When he could see without the blur again, when he could stand, he’d taken the printouts to the kitchen table and laid out the situation for his grandparents. There’d been coffee, and plenty of it. Bacon and eggs pushed aside and gone cold, and so much silence between carefully constructed questions that he’d abandoned his chair and taken to pacing the room. He tried to get hold of Matilda, but his attempts were going to message bank.

‘So where’s the baby now?’ his grandfather asked finally.

‘With Tilly.’

His grandfather blinked.

‘What? What does that blink mean?’ he demanded. ‘Do you think she can’t cope with a crying baby for one night?’ A baby who would probably be missing her mother, and he really didn’t want to think about that. ‘Does she need help? Should I call a nanny service?’ For all his authority in his everyday life, he felt utterly out of his depth when it came to this. ‘She sounded stressed on the phone. It’s been crying a lot.’ It. ‘The baby.’ His baby. What was her name again? ‘Rowan.’

His grandfather pressed two fingers to the space between his eyebrows and gently massaged the area. ‘Tilly’s a capable, sensible girl. She’ll cope.’

But Tilly hadn’t been coping. Not with London. Not with being an intrepid solo explorer.

‘We need a plan.’ His grandfather’s words grounded him and he was grateful. A plan, yes. A workflow chart would help set the direction. He had a daughter. A daughter called Rowan and Tilly was currently taking care of her and it was a start. A pivot point.

‘She could come here,’ his grandfather offered calmly, but he wasn’t looking at Henry, he was watching his wife of over sixty years. They’d done it before, taken an unwanted child in—taken him in—but that was well over twenty years ago and it wasn’t an option. Not when this time yesterday his thoughts had been firmly fixed on how to best care for them.

He opened his mouth to say as much, but his grandfather spoke first.

‘She could come here, no question, but you’d have to stay too.’ His grandfather eyed him steadily. ‘There’s room. We could help you find your feet as a father, take some of the load. Not all, but some. Even if you only wanted to stay here for a little while. That much we can do. Right, Beth?’

‘What baby are we talking about?’

‘Henry’s.’

‘I can’t.’ He tried to clarify his thoughts without offending. His grandfather already stretched thin, and his grandmother … ‘Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I—’ What? Had other plans? ‘—I need to think on it.’

‘Why does Tilly have her?’ his grandmother asked suddenly. ‘Is it Tilly’s girl?’

‘No, Beth.’ His grandfather covered Beth’s hand with his own. ‘Tilly’s just looking after her for now. It’s Henry’s child.’

‘Get Tilly to bring her back,’ his grandmother said next. ‘She’s only next door.’

But Tilly wasn’t next door. Henry passed a hand over his face. ‘Do they have baby couriers? I’m sure they do.’ The baby wouldn’t know the difference. The grieving, crying baby would be handed off to yet another pair of unfamiliar hands, but at least those hands would know what they were doing. ‘Couriers can deliver anything these days.’ He was sure he could find a specialised service that could accommodate his request. ‘I need Tilly’s help in the short term, obviously. But it doesn’t have to derail her holiday completely.’

His grandmother pursed her lips, but Henry ignored her in favour of getting more words out. ‘I need more information. Amanda—the baby’s mother—was a colleague and a good person, but there was no—’ Thought of an ongoing relationship, he wanted to say. ‘It was one night. We parted ways amicably. The probability of me being the father is actually—’

‘Henry,’ his grandfather interjected. ‘Quit now.’

His grandmother rose. ‘I’ll ring the Moores.’

‘Why?’

He remembered that look his grandfather was now giving him. It meant he wasn’t picking up on something that was obvious to everyone but him. And, okay, his people skills weren’t stellar, but he’d improved on his utterly self-absorbed teenage years.

Or so he’d thought.

But he still remembered the way things were done around here, particularly when it involved his grandmother. She and subtle coercion were old friends. Assuming she was even comprehending the current conversation. ‘Just so we’re clear—I have no intention of asking Tilly to cut her trip short