The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011(146)

“Thank you.” Holly looked uncomfortable. A tiny blush of colour stained her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Miss Christmas, we’ll look after you.” With a pointed look at Connor, Thompson slid a plate of dry toast onto the table in front of Holly.

Connor snapped open the pages of the daily newspaper loudly enough to make her flinch. Fine, if they wanted to be buddies, so be it. He had one agenda and one agenda only. A strong and healthy child. This time there would be no mistakes.

Holly resolutely munched her way through the dry toast and tea, pleasantly surprised that it seemed to want to stay down. She took her empty dishes to the kitchen bench with a grateful smile. “That was just the ticket, thank you.”

“Let me know when you’re up to eating something else and I’ll make sure it’s ready for you. My late wife was quite the treat when she was expecting. Went from one extreme to the other.”

If she wasn’t mistaken there was a little more than an answering smile on Thompson’s face. Compassion now lit his severe features, instead of the frigidly aloof demeanour she’d been subjected to since she’d arrived. A tiny spark of warmth kindled in the pit of her stomach. For what it was worth, she had discovered an ally in hostile territory.

“When you two have finished playing happy families, we need to get on our way.” Connor’s voice intruded into the atmosphere of the kitchen with the chill factor of a southerly blast of wind direct from Scott Base.

“I’ll freshen up and be back down in a few minutes. We have plenty of time,” Holly answered defensively. She would show him he didn’t call quite all the shots.

Connor had barely said a word during the entire visit to the obstetrician, who’d confirmed Carmen’s diagnosis and concurred with her recommendations. They’d set up an appointment schedule, at first monthly, then later fortnightly, for Holly’s checkups, but the details had swirled past her like wisps of fog on a winter morning. She couldn’t afford to be too interested in what was happening within her body. She couldn’t afford to care. She’d take no active part in the procedure for as long as she could help it.

Holly twisted her handbag strap between restless fingers as they approached the helipad where the Agusta waited to fly her back to the island while Connor returned to his office. He was acting like her gaoler, escorting her to the chopper as if he expected her to run away.

She barely acknowledged him as he handed her the headset, then with a curt nod walked back to the building. She caught a tiny glimmer of his silhouette behind the glass, backlit by the door to the elevator, and then the elevator doors slid shut and he was gone. She knew she shouldn’t feel so suddenly bereft, it was exactly how she’d insisted it be. Yet for some strange reason tears pricked at her eyes.

The rotors were putting up more vibration than normal, she thought as she gripped her handbag tightly in her lap. Realisation dawned. It wasn’t the chopper blades. It was her bag that was vibrating. Her pager. A cold shiver racked her body. There was only one reason that pager would be buzzing. She shoved shaking fingers deep into her bag, her breath catching in her throat as they finally closed around the small, oblong box. She identified the number on the small screen. Andrea’s hospital.

The whine of the rotors began to change in pitch. It was now or never.

“Dave! Stop!”

“Are you all right back there, Miss Christmas?”

“No, I need to make an urgent call. Can you wait a few minutes?”

“I’ll call Mr. Knight back.”

“Don’t bother him just yet. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

She ducked and raced from the chopper the instant Dave came around to open the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call Mr. Knight?” he yelled at her retreating back.

Clear of the helipad, Holly waved in response and headed straight for the elevator, punching the call button as if her life depended on it. Her heart pounded as the doors opened down in the lobby less than a minute later.

“Miss Christmas, can I help you?” Stan, one of the day security guards rose from behind his console at the side of the foyer.

“Stan, I need to use a phone. It’s urgent. Do you mind?”

“Not at all, miss. Do you know the number?”

“Off by heart.” She gave him a small tight smile and took the handset off the cradle, pressing in the numbers in swift succession.

Two minutes later, Holly replaced the receiver. A knot tightened in her chest. The doctor had come to the phone immediately. He’d been waiting for her call, in itself a bad sign. He’d imparted the news Holly had dreaded most since Christmas. Andrea was slipping away.