SITTIFORD was pretty enough, but it wasnât somewhere youâd want to stay for long. At least it wasnât if you harboured any kind of ambition beyond the cultivation of the most perfect petunia.
Lorna Drummond reached for her handbag as her taxi pulled into a lay-by within the hospital car park. So why had her sister chosen to come back to Sittiford to have her baby when practically the only thing theyâd ever agreed on was the need to leave?
It didnât make any sense. Not unless Vikki had experienced some kind of epiphany. She looked up and caught the driver watching her in his rearview mirror.
He swivelled round in his seat. âYouâre the sister of that girl in the accident, arenât you? The one who died?â
âThatâs right.â Lorna reached for her purse, hiding her face with her blonde hair. âHow much do I owe you?â
â£7.40, love.â He reached out a tattooed hand to take the ten-pound note she offered, then, âI was sorry to hear about your sister and that.â
âThank you.â Lorna convulsively reached for the door handle, desperate for escape.
âThe baby is doing all right, is she?â
âI havenât seen her yet, but I think so. Thank you. Please keep the change.â She uncurled herself from the car and shut the door firmly, standing back to let the taxi drive away.
Lorna took a deep breath and looked up at the high walls of Sittiford Hospital. Gone was the dour Victorian building she remembered, and in its place was curved brickwork and commissioned sculptures.
And up there, apparently, was her sisterâs baby. Vikkiâs baby. It was unbelievable. She felt guilty thinking it now⦠but Vikki with a baby didnât make any sense either. Her life was all about parties, new places, exciting peopleâ¦
Had been about all those things, Lorna corrected silently. Vikki was dead. However many times she said that over to herself, she couldnât quite accept it.
Ever since that late-night phone call sheâd felt like a non-swimmer in one of those wave pools. Wave after wave crashing against her. Consequence after consequence. And each one coming so fast that it was difficult to know what she should be reacting to first.
Lorna walked across the sweeping drive towards the entrance to the Rainbow Wing. The doors opened automatically as she approached, and, obedient to the sign, she paused long enough to cleanse her hands with the jellylike hand-wash.
The heels of her shoes clipped loudly on the hard surface of the floor, and the sterile smell caught at the back of her throat. Vikki must have come back for a reason other than that she was pregnant. Sheâd hated this town. Hadnât been able to get away quick enoughâ¦
Was the reason a man?
Somewhere out there was the father of her sisterâs baby. Was he here? In Sittiford? And, if so, why hadnât he come forward? Vikki had been irresponsible, and generally feckless in the choices sheâd made, but she must have known who the father was.
Surely sheâd told someone? Even if the police hadnât been able to find them yet. Lorna came to an abrupt stop at the reception desk and waited while an involved conversation was translated by an elderly womanâs son.
It was the strangest feeling to know the babyâs father could be anywhere. The man sitting in the corner reading a newspaper. The one sheâd just passed in the car park, perhaps? Anywhere. He could be absolutely anywhere.
Was he married? With other children? Was that why heâd not come forward yet? And, if he was married, did that mean heâd never come forward?
âCan I help you?â
Her head spun round. âIâm here to see Baby Drummond. M-My sisterââ
âAh, yes. Theyâre expecting you in Neonatal.â The receptionistâs hand was reaching for her receiver before Lorna had time to consider what she was going to say. âI have Ms Drummond in reception now. Iâm sending her up.â
The receptionistâs eyes were suspiciously glossy as she looked at her, and it made Lornaâs control falter. Too much sympathy was difficult to cope with. âYou need the third floor. Thereâs a lift toââ
âIâll walk. Thank you.â Anything to escape that caressing kindness. Lorna started towards a likely pair of double doors. âThrough here?â
âYes. Third floor.â
Lorna pulled the door open and started up the staircase. At the large black number three she stopped to read the sign that stated Neonatal was to the left. She pushed through the fire door and walked onto a utilitarian landing.