Single Dads Collection. Lynne Marshall

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      ‘Make her slow down. She’s feeding too fast—tip the bottle up a bit more so she doesn’t get so much air. And wind her in between.’

      In between what? And wind her? How? He’d never winded a baby in his life, and he was damned if he knew where to start.

      With that, or with any of it.

      He felt faintly hysterical, but that was probably lack of sleep and shock. He stifled the urge to laugh, but then his eyes prickled and he felt the panic rise again.

      What on earth had he done?

      The old Chinese proverb rang hollow in his ears. If you save a life, it belongs to you.

      He stared down at her, this tiny girl who apparently was his, her transparent fingers wrapped around his little finger with incredible strength, and the panic receded a little, replaced by wonder.

      She was amazing. Beautiful. Scary as hell, but astonishing.

      And his.

      Officially registered this morning as his daughter, in the presence of the registrar of births, marriages and deaths just round the corner from the hospital.

      He’d registered her mother’s death at the same time, armed with more forms and certificates from the hospital, and then he’d gone back there and asked to see Carmen’s body, so frail, so young, but finally at peace. And he’d told her about the baby, and promised her he’d do for the baby what he’d failed to do for her—to keep her safe. So now, in every way that mattered, she was his.

      ‘Get out of that, Kavenagh,’ he murmured, but strangely he didn’t want to. He couldn’t imagine walking away from her. Just the thought of abandoning her to fate made him feel so fiercely protective it scared him.

      Together with everything else today.

      God, he was knackered. Maybe if he just propped her up on his chest and leant back…

      ‘Harry?’

      He opened his eyes a crack, blinking at the light, and Sue’s face came into focus. ‘Why don’t you go and have a lie-down? There’s a room here for parents—nothing flashy, just a few beds and a separate area with a TV and little kitchen, but you could sleep for a while.’

      Sleep. Oh, yes. Please. He had to get some sleep. It had been weeks since he’d slept properly, with the constant shelling and rocket fire going on all night, but this had tired him more than any of that.

      He nodded, realising that the baby was back in her crib under the light and that everything was being taken care of.

      ‘Will she be all right?’ he asked, as if his presence actually made a blind bit of difference, but the nurse just smiled and nodded.

      ‘Sure. I’ll look after her for you, I’m on till nine, and I’ll hand her over to the night staff before I go. Come on, I’ll show you the parents’ room.’

      A bed. Crisp white sheets, a slightly crackly pillow and almost instant oblivion…

      ‘You’ll be OK.’

      He stared down at Sue, wishing he could believe her. She’d spent the last few days telling him he could cope, showing him not just how to change nappies and hold feeding bottles, but bath and dress and simply cuddle his tiny daughter, and he’d begun to believe that maybe—just maybe—he’d manage. Till now.

      She was so small, his little doll, but she was tough, like her mother—fierce and determined, and for something so tiny she had a blood-curling scream. He’d become almost confident, in the safe environment of the special care baby unit, surrounded by the bleeps and clicks of the equipment, the hurried footsteps, the laughter and the tears. But now…

      ‘We’re always here if you have a problem. You can ring at any time. You will cope, Harry,’ Sue said again, as if by repeating it she could make it true, and stretching up on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek and went back inside, leaving him on the outside of the doors, stranded.

      What was he supposed to do now? Where could he go? His flat? It was nothing more than a crash pad, really, and it didn’t feel like his any longer, but stupidly until now he hadn’t even thought about where he’d take the baby. Just not there. It didn’t seem right. But where?

      He looked down at his tiny girl in the shockingly expensive baby carrier he’d bought that morning, and his heart squeezed. She was staring up at him intently, her almost black eyes fixed on his face, and he found himself suddenly calmer.

      He knew what to do, and it was more than time he did it. He should have done it years ago.

      ‘Come on, my little Kizzy,’ he murmured softly. ‘We’re going home.’

       CHAPTER ONE

      SOMEONE was moving in.

      It had been weeks since the last tenants had left, but there was a car on the drive and the lights were on.

      Emily craned her neck and tried to catch a glimpse of the people, but she couldn’t see through the trees. Not clearly enough, anyway. The branches kept drifting softly in the light breeze and blocking her view, and every time she shifted, so did the leaves.

      And she was turning into a curtain twitcher, for heaven’s sake!

      She snapped the curtain shut and turned her back on the window, tucking up Freddie and smiling down at him. Gorgeous. He was just gorgeous, and she wanted to scoop him up and snuggle him.

      Except he’d wake in a foul mood and the sweet little cherub would turn into a howling, raging tyrant. The terrible twos were well named, and he wasn’t even there yet, not for five months!

      She grinned and tiptoed out, blowing him a kiss and pulling the door to, just a little, before checking on his big sister. Beth was lying on her back, one foot stuck out the side, her tousled dark hair wisping across her face.

      Emily eased the strand away from her eyes and feathered a kiss over her brow, then left her to sleep. There was a film on television starting in a few minutes that she’d been meaning to watch. If she could get the washing-up stacked in the dishwasher, she might even get to see it.

      Or not.

      She hadn’t even stepped off the last stair before she saw a shadow fall across the front door and a hand lift to tap lightly on the glass.

      Her new neighbours?

      She sighed inwardly and reached for the latch. She’d have to be polite. It wasn’t in her to be anything else, but just for tonight it would have been nice to curl up in front of the television and be utterly self-indulgent. She’d even bought a tub of Belgian chocolate ice cream…

      ‘Em?’

      ‘Harry?’

      Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp, and then her eyes dropped, dragging away from his to focus on…

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