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‘Be gentle with him, won't you? Just like you are with Frosty.' I pause, a lump in my throat as I watch the two of them. I don't need to ask if she likes him.

‘Ah,' Emily says, standing behind me. ‘He's lovely, isn't he?'

‘He's my pet.' Poppy beams. ‘He's the best pet in the whole wild world.'

‘What do you think, Murray?' I ask as he steps up behind my sister and places his hands on her waist.

‘That is so not a man's dog. I'm not sure it's even a dog. It's a sausage!' he exclaims.

‘It's a dog, silly daddy,' says Poppy, putting him straight.

‘It looks like it's come straight out of the frying pan.'

‘And into the fire so to speak,' Emily adds. ‘I hope he's going to survive all the attention Poppy's going to give him.'

‘Don't expect me to walk it,' Murray says lightly

‘I wanna show Lewis,' Poppy says.

‘Is he in?' Emily asks.

‘I think so.' I noticed that his pick-up was outside when I drove up to the farm this morning, but it turned out he was out with the dogs, so I missed him. He must be back by now, though.

‘Let's go then,' I say. ‘Poppy, we'll have to put Sherbet on the lead. We don't want him to run away.'

She insists on attaching the lead, sticking her tongue out as she struggles with the clip, before we pop across to the annexe, where I knock on Lewis's door, sending the collies on the other side into a flurry of barking. Lewis opens the door, yawning and rubbing the back of his neck. He gives me a heart-stopping smile and a kiss on the lips before dismissing Mick and Miley to
the kitchen and turning to Poppy. ‘What a sh-amazing dog. What's his name?'

‘Sherbet,' she says, wrapping the lead around her waist. ‘Sh-amazing Sherbet. Do you want to come for a walk with us?'

‘Okay, but we won't go too far – we don't want to wear him out on his first day.'

‘Are Mick and Miley coming too?'

‘I think it would be wise to leave them behind,' Lewis says, and we walk together around the field alongside the drive. I slip my arm through his and follow behind Poppy and Sherbet, whose front legs seem to trot along, while his back legs skip.

‘You and Emily didn't think this through, did you?' Lewis says. ‘You went with your hearts not your heads.'

‘Sherbet was in the kennels when we took Frosty in that day. I couldn't bear the idea of leaving him there any longer. What's the problem?'

‘As soon as it rains, he'll disappear in a puddle. I've never seen a dog with such ridiculous legs. Mind you, he is cute.'

‘Poppy's fallen for him.'

‘I reckon he's fallen for her too.' He holds my gaze as he continues, ‘Love at first sight – that doesn't happen very often,' and I know he's talking about us. I'm consumed by a rush of guilt for talking about the future of our relationship with my sister, not with him.

‘I bet Poppy will refuse to go to big school now,' I say.

‘Yeah, she'll want to stay at home with Sherbet. Ugh, what a silly name.' Lewis wrinkles his nose.

‘She won't change it. Murray's already tried to persuade her to call it something macho like Rocky or Arnie.'

‘That's so wrong,' Lewis says. ‘The way he minces along, he looks like a girl.'

‘What, Murray?' I say, teasing.

‘No, the dog.' Lewis glances towards me. ‘You're winding me up.'

‘Maybe a little.' I let go of his arm and run after Poppy. Lewis chases behind me and overtakes, reaching my niece just before I do.

‘Shall we put your new pet through his paces, Pops?' he asks, squatting so he's at her level. She frowns, and sticks her thumb in her mouth while still holding the lead. ‘Let's pretend he's at dog big school and find out what he knows.'

‘How?' she murmurs.

‘Ask him to sit, like you do with Mick and Miley.'

‘Sit!' she says, gazing at the dog; he looks up, his brown eyes showing a crescent of white beneath them. ‘Sit,' she repeats, at which Sherbet plonks his bottom straight down. ‘Good boy,' she says excitedly.

‘He knows that command,' Lewis says. ‘How about “down”?'

‘Down,' Poppy says, holding out her hand.

Sherbet throws himself down and rolls over, exposing his naked belly.

‘He's a star, isn't he?' I observe, feeling a little
inadequate on Frosty's behalf. Why can't my dog do that? ‘I wonder what other tricks he can do.'

He can bark to order and offer his paw.

‘He should join Mensa,' Lewis says. ‘He's almost as smart as Mick and Miley.'

‘Do I detect the voice of a competitive dad?' I say, amused, until almost immediately I realise what I've said. Inwardly, I cringe. How can I deny him the chance of being a proper father when he's clearly made to be one? I only have to see him with Poppy to realise that he's a natural. Knowing that I can never provide him with a child is acutely painful – in fact, right now it's killing me.

Apparently unaware of my inner turmoil, Lewis smiles and changes the subject. ‘How's Rosemary?'

‘Gran's okay. At least, she was when I left her this afternoon. It's all right. James did a shift in the shop after school – it's his mum's birthday soon and he's keen to have the money.'

‘It's a help, but it isn't really the answer, is it?'

‘I know . . .'

‘I understand your loyalty, but you are wrong about what's best for her.'

‘Have you been talking to Emily?' I say suspiciously.

‘The subject has come up, but that's irrelevant. Your grandmother needs care in a professional setting. It's like you asking me to deliver a baby. I'd have an idea of what I'm doing, but it wouldn't be the same as having a qualified midwife present.'

Inside, my stomach is churning, but I let my expression go blank as he continues, ‘You can't be with
her full time. It isn't practical. You can't afford to give up your job—'

‘I will if I have to,' I interrupt.

‘Trust me, if you were stuck indoors twenty-four/seven, having to watch over someone all the time in case they leave the gas on or put the cat through a hot wash, you'd crack up sooner or later. You know she's going to get worse. She's gone downhill since I first met her.'

‘What you say makes sense, but—'

‘All I'm saying – borrowing one of Rosemary's phrases to summarise – is don't let your heart rule your head.' He looks ahead to where Poppy is trying to drag Sherbet away from a tuft of grass where he's having a good sniff.

‘Let's take Sherbet back to the house,' Lewis says when we catch up with my niece and the dog. ‘I expect he'll want his dinner. You did buy him some food, didn't you, Zara?'

‘Actually, we haven't got that far yet.'

‘It's all right,' Lewis says quickly, as Poppy's face starts to crumple at the thought of her pet being half starved. ‘I have plenty of dog food and dog biscuits and chews.'

That's my man, I think. Lewis always saves the day.

Later, we feed all four dogs, separately, of course. Although Frosty and Miley tolerate each other now, there's no point in taking a risk. After that, Emily invites me and Lewis to join her, Murray and the girls for tea before we return to the annexe together.

‘Are you staying over tonight?' Lewis asks as he turns the lights on.

‘I won't,' I say reluctantly. ‘I'm going to the hospital for a delivery first thing tomorrow morning.'

‘Why? I thought you did home deliveries.'

‘I do attend hospital births sometimes. It's nice to be able to be there, especially when you've met the mum-to-be on several occasions throughout the pregnancy, or she's a friend. You get pretty close.'

‘I see.' He smiles wryly.

‘It's Tessa,' I explain. ‘That part's common knowledge, that her baby's being delivered, but I can't go into detail.'

‘I hope it goes well,' Lewis says.

‘By this time tomorrow, they'll be a proper family.'

‘There are many different kinds of families . . .' I look up at him, but he's looking over my shoulder as he speaks. ‘Couples like us with dogs instead of kids, for example.'

The wistful tone of his voice chokes me. I step up close to him and spread my palm across his chest, rumpling the material across the hard, slab-like muscle of his pectorals, keeping my eyes averted to hide my distress. I want him so much, yet how can I let him sacrifice his future happiness for me? It isn't right, but he's being so sweet and loving that I can't bring myself to talk about the decision that is crystallising from the confusion in my mind. It's breaking my heart.

Lewis grasps my wrist and leans in for a kiss. ‘Hey, let's make the most of the next hour or so.'

‘Actually, I think I'd better be going.'

‘Are you sure?' He sounds disappointed. ‘Are you okay? You've gone very quiet.'

‘I have a lot on my mind.' I know it isn't fair, but I'm not ready to tell him. I'm not strong enough.

‘Tessa's baby – it's all right, I know you can't tell me, but there's obviously something very wrong. You go and get some sleep. I'll be fine here with a beer and a couple of old episodes of
Top Gear.
' He accompanies me and Frosty to my car where we kiss goodbye.

‘I'll see you tomorrow night,' he calls, waving as I drive past him.

‘I'll be in touch,' I call back guiltily.

It's lucky I return home when I do, because I find Gran wandering about in the kitchen, dressed in her nightie and carrying the watering can from the garden. The hob is immaculate and the breadbin is firmly shut, just as I left them. Norris is prowling up and down on the kitchen table, mewling for his dinner.

‘What are you doing with that?' I ask her as Frosty greets her by licking her bony knees.

‘I don't think your granddad watered the begonias so I thought I'd do it and now I can't find them.'

‘That's because we don't have any begonias,' I point out gently, ‘and, if we had, they'd be outside in the tubs.' I'm not sure I'd recognise a begonia anyway – I'm not good at flowers.

‘Granddad grows them every year. He'll be very upset if he finds out I haven't looked after them. He's very ill, you know.' My grandmother touches her chest. ‘It's his heart.'

I am puzzled.

‘Granddad isn't ill. He's. . . .'I can't bring myself to say it, which is a mistake because Gran misinterprets the situation and her eyes light up.

‘You mean, he's getting better?'

‘No, I'm so sorry, he's dead.' My heart tears in two as I watch how her expression changes, flicking through distress, recognition and a sudden lack of interest.

‘Of course, he's dead. What did you think I meant?'

‘You said he was ill,' I say gently.

‘He was. Before he died, he was very unwell. Dr Mackie said so.' Gran hesitates. ‘Where have you been, you dirty stop-out?'

‘I've been out with Emily today to choose a pet for Poppy. We've got her a sausage dog. You'll love him when you see him.'

‘What time is it?'

‘Eight thirty. Have you had anything to eat today?'

‘I had some bubble and squeak with an egg for tea,' she says, but I don't believe her. I think she's covering for herself. If she can't remember to eat, how on earth can she manage the shop? ‘James came round after school – he gave me a hand with the reckoning up.'

‘With the till, you mean?'

‘Yes,' she sighs. ‘Are you being awkward? All these questions are making my head hurt.'

‘Never mind, I expect you're tired. Let me have the watering can. I'll feed the cat and make us cheese on toast.' I ate at Emily's so I don't need food, but I'm hungry and sad and I could do with some comfort slathered with tomato ketchup.

That night, I dream – thanks to the slabs of molten cheddar on toast, I suspect – of dogs and Gran, of babies and Lewis, but the next morning I, wake, focused on being present to support Tessa and Jack when they welcome their son into the world.

I am there when Tessa is given an epidural in preparation for the C-section. I stand at one side of her, holding her hand, while Jack holds the other.

‘That's it,' I tell her. ‘Keep very still.'

‘All done,' the anaesthetist says eventually. ‘You can lie down on your side now.'

Tessa groans as she changes position. ‘That feels so weird.'

Jack moves aside and stands with his arms crossed, staring at the floor.

‘You'll be able to go to theatre soon,' I say. ‘You'll be awake throughout the procedure and, as soon as the baby's delivered, you can have skin-to-skin contact, depending on his condition.'

The corners of Tessa's mouth turn down and she begins to shiver. She's petrified. I stroke her shoulder, looking for Jack.

‘Even the healthiest babies can have a slow start,' I go on. ‘Sometimes they take a while to take their first breath. We know your baby has a hole in his heart, so everyone's prepared and knows exactly what to do when he arrives. We know he could be absolutely fine, or he might need to be stabilised and admitted straight to the neonatal intensive care unit. Whatever happens, I'll keep you up to date so you know what's going on, and I'll make sure you can hold him if it's at all possible.'
I hear the sound of doors swinging closed. ‘Jack?'

‘He's scared,' Tessa says.

‘Wait there. I'll go after him.'

‘I don't think I have a choice, do I?' she says ruefully. ‘I'm not going anywhere.'

‘Not now,' I smile, in spite of the tension. Where is Jack off to, without saying anything, when his baby will be born within the next hour? I push the doors aside and turn right up the corridor, hoping he's heading that way. Partway down, I catch sight of him, stopping and slamming his forearms against the wall, burying his head and clenching his fists, and I don't know whether to be sorry for him or furious.