The Firefighter's Baby. Alison Roberts

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      ‘Bacon and eggs?’ Jason suggested hopefully. They all looked at Mrs McKendry but any prospect of a cooked breakfast evaporated instantly on reading her face.

      ‘I’ll make some toast,’ someone on Red Watch offered. ‘Have you guys cleaned the truck?’

      ‘We’re not allowed to move,’ Stick responded gloomily. ‘Not until one of us owns up to fathering this kid.’

      ‘Don’t worry.’ Red Watch members were backing away now. ‘We’ll do it.’

      The new crew for the ambulance day shift was equally co-operative. Helpful, even.

      ‘We could go out and find some formula or something at the supermarket.’

      The pager messages signalling a priority-one callout to a chest pain put an end to that scheme. Within another few minutes the hooter sounded to alert the fire crew.

      ‘Alarm sounding at a warehouse on the corner of George and Matton streets,’ the loudspeaker announced. ‘Smoke seen to be coming from the rear of the building.’

      Green Watch members could see the departing vehicles through the dining-room’s window. They listened to the fading sirens with almost defeated expressions.

      ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere,’ Bruce declared finally. ‘Look, Mrs M. If one of us had any idea that we were related to this baby we would have said so by now.’

      Raised eyebrows and pursed lips suggested that this was not necessarily an accurate assumption.

      ‘Half of us are married. We’ve got families of our own.’

      ‘Precisely. A good reason not to confess, wouldn’t you say?’

      Laura was jiggling an increasingly unhappy infant now. No one knew how long this baby had been outside in the box. It might have been hours since its last feed. Her reluctance to cast the first stone was wearing thinner by the minute. If this carried on any longer she was going to open her mouth and point out the obvious. Why hadn’t anyone else noticed yet? She shifted the baby’s weight slightly and became aware that the patch of blanket under her arm was distinctly damp.

      ‘Stick, could you get that other blanket out of the box?’ Laura asked. ‘She’s leaking a bit and getting cold won’t make her any happier.’

      ‘Hope you’ve got gloves on.’ Jason blinked at the look he received from Laura. ‘Hey! What have I done?’

      He found out soon enough. As Stick pulled the folded fleece from the box his eyes widened.

      ‘There’s stuff in here,’ he exclaimed. ‘A bottle and a tin of baby food. There’s nappies and—What the hell is this?’

      The piece of paper said it all. Officially stamped by the authority vested in the registrar of births, deaths and marriages, it gave all the information Mrs McKendry had been waiting for. She peered at the certificate and then transferred a steely gaze to one of the men staring anxiously back.

      ‘Jason Halliday. What have you got to say for yourself now?’

      ‘Huh?’

      The piece of paper was passed along the table and everyone had scanned it by the time Bruce handed it to Jason.

      ‘Here you go…Dad.’

      Jason’s colour had faded to give his bewilderment a decidedly pale background. He stared at the birth certificate, with his name handwritten on the empty line for ‘Father’s Name’, for a seemingly interminable length of time. It became too long for his audience.

      ‘Megan’s a nice name,’ Cliff said hesitantly.

      ‘It’s her one-month birthday today,’ Bruce added.

      ‘She was born in England,’ Stick said kindly. ‘You can’t really be blamed for having missed the big event, Jase.’

      Laura said nothing. She reached into the box and extracted a disposable nappy, some wipes and a clean stretchsuit. She could still see Jason when she moved towards one of the couches to find room to put the baby down. She could see growing consternation replacing shocked disbelief.

      ‘So.’ Mrs McKendry looked up from where she was reading the instructions on the tin of formula. ‘I take it you were no’ informed about this baby’s existence, Jason?’

      ‘No. Someone’s made a mistake.’ Jason rested his forehead on the palms of both hands. ‘A really big mistake.’

      Bruce reached for the certificate again. ‘The mother’s name is Shelley. Shelley Bates.’

      ‘I don’t know any Shelleys,’ Jason said miserably. ‘Never have.’

      ‘It says here that her occupation is a model.’

      Laura wasn’t the only one to see how well that fitted.

      ‘You’ve been out with plenty of models, Jase.’

      ‘I don’t sleep with them all,’ Jason said defensively. ‘In fact, I haven’t had a good s—’ He stopped abruptly, glanced up at Mrs McKendry who was still standing at the other end of the table, groaned and buried his face in his hands again. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he muttered.

      Laura disagreed. She was very interested to hear that Jason didn’t have sex with every female that gave him the opportunity. She stuck down the tabs to hold the fresh nappy secure. She would also very much like to know how long it had been since he’d had a good…whatever crude noun he’d been tempted to use to describe the experience. It couldn’t have been more than ten months ago, that was for sure.

      ‘I guess we’re off the hook.’ Bruce yawned. ‘We could go home now, eh, Mrs Mack?’

      ‘No!’ Jason’s face appeared again. ‘I don’t know anyone called Shelley and I haven’t been in England for six years. This has to be a mistake.’

      ‘Why would someone make a mistake like that?’

      ‘Maybe it didn’t happen in England,’ Cliff said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe Shelley whoever she is was in New Zealand on holiday.’

      ‘A holiday with Halliday.’ Stick chuckled. His smile faded rapidly as he realised his quip was not appreciated.

      ‘I don’t care where Shelley was. Or who she was with. It wasn’t me.’

      ‘The bairn’s four weeks old.’ Mrs McKendry had moved to the kitchen bench and was spooning formula into the bottle. ‘That means she was conceived about nine to ten months ago.’

      ‘December,’ Stick said helpfully. ‘No…more like late January.’

      ‘Let’s say New Year, give or take a week or two.’

      ‘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 СКАЧАТЬ