Читать книгу The One Winter Collection - Rebecca Winters - Страница 35

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘IT SHOULD HAVE been ours.’ Julie stood in the midst of the devastation that was all that was left of Amina’s house, she glanced across at their intact home and she felt ill.

‘Fire doesn’t make sense,’ Rob told her, staring grimly round the ruin.

‘No. And I understand that it was your design that saved it. But Amina’s house was...a home.’

‘Our place will be a home again. If we rent it out to them, Amina will make it one. I suspect she’s been making homes in all sorts of places for a long time.’

‘I know. Home’s where the heart is,’ Julie said bleakly. ‘They all say it. If you only knew how much I hate that saying.’

‘We’re not here for self-pity, Jules,’ Rob said, hauling her up with a start. He sounded angry, and maybe justifiably. This was no time to wallow. ‘If it rains, then there’ll be little chance of finding anything. Let’s get to it.’ He handed her a pair of leather gloves and a shovel. ‘Watch your feet for anything hot. Sift in front of you before you put your feet down. Don’t go near anywhere that looks unstable.’

There wasn’t much that looked unstable. The house had collapsed in on itself. The roof was corrugated iron, but Rob must have been here before, because it had been hauled off site.

The bedroom. They could see the outline of the bay window.

‘You focus on either side of where the bed would have been,’ Rob told her. ‘I’m doing a general search.’

What a way to spend Christmas afternoon. Overdressed, hot, struggling to breathe with the wafts of smoke still in the air, her hair in spikes, covered by a towel, squatting, sifting through layer upon layer of warm ash...

She found the first tin almost immediately. It had melted—of course it had—but it had held enough of its shape to recognise it for what it was.

Who knew what was inside? There was no time now to try and open it. She set it aside and moved to the other side of where the bed would have been and kept on searching.

And was stopped in her tracks by a whoop.

She looked up and Rob was standing at the rear of the house, where the laundry would have been. He’d been shovelling.

‘Jules, come and see.’

She rose stiffly and made her way gingerly across the ruin.

It was a safe. Unmistakably it was a safe and it must be fireproof, judging by the fact that it looked intact, even its paintwork almost unscathed.

‘It must have been set in the floor,’ Rob said. ‘Look, it’s still in some sort of frame. But I can get it out.’

‘Do you think Amina knew it was there?’

‘Who knows? But we’ll take it next door. How goes the tin hunt?’

‘One down.’

‘Then let’s find the other.’ He grabbed her and gave her a hard unexpected hug. ‘See, good things can happen. I just hope there’s something inside that safe other than insurance papers.’

‘Insurance papers would be good.’

‘You and I both know that’s not important. And we have five minutes to go before sputnik takes off. Tin, Jules, fetch.’

And, amazingly, they did fetch—two minutes later their search produced a tin box even more melted than the first. Three prizes. Rob brought the barrow from their yard, then they heaved the safe into it and carted it back. ‘I feel like a pup with two tails,’ Rob said.

Julie grinned and thought: fun.

That had been fun. She’d just had fun with Rob. How long since...?

She caught herself, a shaft of guilt hitting her blindside as it always did when she started forgetting. She had no right...

They parked their barrow on the veranda and went to check on Amina. She was fast asleep, as was Danny, curled up beside her. Luka was by their bedside, calmly watchful. The big dog looked up at them as if to say: What’s important enough to wake them up?

Nothing was. But the foils had to come off.

‘I can take them off myself,’ Julie said, but dubiously, because in truth they were now overdue to come off and, by the time she took off every last one, the fine foils would be well overdone. What happened if you cooked your hair for too long? Did it fall out? She had no idea, and she had no intention of finding out.

‘I’ll take them out,’ Rob said and looked ruefully down at himself. ‘Your beautician, though, ma’am, is filthy.’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, your client is filthy too. Can you imagine me popping into a high-class Sydney salon like this?’

‘You’d set a new trend,’ Rob told her, touching her foils with a grin. ‘Smoked Sputnik. It’d take off like a bush fire.’

‘Of course it would,’ she lied. She’d reached the bathroom now and looked at the mirror. ‘Ugh.’

‘Let’s get these things off then,’ he said. ‘Sit.’

So she sat on the little white bathroom stool, which promptly turned grey with soot. Rob stood behind her and she watched in the mirror as he slid each foil from her hair.

He worked swiftly, dextrously, intently. He was always like this on a job, she remembered. When he was focused on something he blocked out the world.

When he made love to her, the world might well not exist.

He was standing so close. He smelled of fire, of smoke, of burned eucalyptus. His fingers were in her hair, doing mundane things, removing foils, but it didn’t feel mundane. It felt...it felt...

Too soon, the last of the foils was gone, heaped into the trash. Her hair was still spiky, looking very red. Actually, she wouldn’t mind if it was green, she thought, as long as she could find an excuse to keep Rob here with her. To stretch out this moment.

‘I can...’ Her voice wobbled and she fought to steady it. ‘I can go from here. I’ll shower it off.’

‘You need a full scalp massage to even the colour,’ Rob told her, but his voice wasn’t steady either. It was, however, stern. ‘I’m Amina’s underling. She’s given us orders. The least we can do is obey.’

‘I can do it by myself.’

‘But you don’t have to,’ he said, and he bent and touched her forehead with his mouth. It was a feather touch, hardly a kiss, just a fleeting sensation, but it sent shivers through her whole body. ‘For now, just give in and forget about facing things alone.’

* * *

So she gave in. Of course she did. She sat perfectly still while Rob massaged her scalp with his gorgeous, sensuous fingers and her every nerve ending reacted to him.

He was filthy, covered with smoke and ash. If you met this man on a dark night you’d scream and run, she thought, catching his reflection in the mirror in the split second she allowed herself to glance at him. For she couldn’t watch. Feeling him was bad enough...or good enough...

Good was maybe too small a word. Her entire body was reacting to his touch. Any more and she’d turn and take him. She wanted...

‘Conditioner,’ Rob said, only the faintest tremor cutting through the prosaic word. ‘Amina said conditioner.’

‘It’s in the shower.’

‘Then I suggest,’ he said, bending down so his lips were right against her ear, ‘that we adjourn to the shower.’

‘Rob...’

‘Mmm?’

‘N...nothing.’

‘No objections?’

‘We...we might lock the door first.’

‘What an excellent idea,’ he said approvingly. ‘I have a practical wife. I always knew I had a practical wife. I’d just forgotten...’

And seemingly in one swift movement the door was locked and she was swept into his arms. He pushed the shower screen back with his elbow and deposited her inside.

It was a large shower. A gorgeous shower. They’d built it...well, they’d built it when they were in love.

It was wide enough for Rob to step inside with her and tug the glass screen closed after them.

‘Clothes,’ he said. ‘Stat?’

‘Stat?’

‘That’s what they say in hospitals in emergencies. Oxygen here, nurse, stat.’

‘So we need clothes?’

‘We don’t need clothes. If this was a hospital and I was a doctor, that’s what I’d be saying. Nurse, my wife needs her clothes removed. Stat.’

‘Rob...’

‘Yes?’

She looked at him and she thought she needed to say she wasn’t his wife. She should say she didn’t have the courage to take this further. She was too selfish, too armoured, too closed.

But he was inches away from her. He smelled of bush fire. His face was grimy and blackened. As was she.

The only part of her that wasn’t grimy or blackened was her hair. Crimson droplets were dripping onto the white shower base, mixing with the ash.

How much colour had Amina put in? How had she trusted a woman she didn’t know to colour her hair?

Rob was standing before her, holding her.

She trusted this man with all her heart, and that was the problem. She felt herself falling...

Where was her armour?

She’d find it tomorrow, she told herself. This was an extraordinary situation. This was a time out, pretend, a disaster-induced remarriage that would dissolve as soon as the rest of the world peered in. But for this moment she was stranded in this time, in this place...

In this shower.

And Rob was tugging her shirt up over her head and she was lifting her arms to help him. And then, as the shirt was tossed over the screen, as he turned his attention to her bra, she started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Her hands were shaking.

He took her hands in his and held. Tight. Hard. Cupping her hands, completely enfolding them.

‘There’s no need for shaking, Jules. I’d never hurt you.’

‘I might...hurt you.’

‘I’m a big boy now,’ he told her. ‘I can take it.’

‘Rob, I need to say...this is for now. I don’t think...I still can’t think...’

‘Of course you can’t.’ He held her still. ‘But for now, for this moment, let’s take things as they come. Let our bodies remember why we fell in love. Let’s start at the beginning and let things happen.’

And then he kissed her, and that kiss made her forget every other thing. Everything but Rob.

Water was streaming over them. Somehow they managed to stop, pull back, give themselves time to haul their clothes off and toss them out, a sodden, stained puddle to be dealt with later.

Everything could be dealt with later, Julie thought hazily as she turned back to her beautiful naked Rob. For now there was only Rob. There was only this moment.

Water was running in rivulets down his beautiful face, onto his chest, lower. He was wet and glistening and wonderful. His hands were on the small of her back, drawing her into him, and the feel of wet hands on wet skin was indescribably erotic.

For now there was no pain. There was no yesterday. There was only this man, this body. There was only this desire and the only moment that mattered was now.

* * *

‘You think we should have a nap now, too?’ Rob asked.

Somehow they were out of the shower, sated, satisfied, dazed.

Maybe she should make that almost satisfied, Julie thought. Rob was drying her. She was facing the mirror, watching him behind her. The feel of the towel was indescribably delicious.

He pressed her down onto the bathroom stool and started drying her hair. Gently. Wonderfully.

If she could die now, she’d float to heaven. She was floating already.

‘If we go anywhere near the bed I can’t be held responsible for what happens,’ she managed and Rob chuckled. Oh, she remembered that chuckle. She’d forgotten how much she’d missed it.

How much else had she forgotten?

Had she wanted to forget...all of it?

‘Maybe you’re right. But maybe it’s worth not being responsible,’ Rob growled. ‘But I want to see your hair dry first.’

Her hair. She’d had colour foils put in. Every woman in her right senses regarded the removing of colour foils with trepidation, hoping the colour would work. For some reason Julie had forgotten all about it.

‘It looks good wet,’ Rob said, stooping and kissing her behind her ear. ‘Let’s see it dry.’

She tried to look at it in the mirror. Yeah, well, that was a mistake. Rob was right behind her and he was naked. How was a woman to look at her hair when her hairdresser was...Rob?

‘I...I can do it,’ she tried but he was already hauling the hairdryer from the cabinet. This place was a time warp. Everything had simply been left. It had been stupid, but coming back here four years ago had been impossible. She’d simply abandoned everything...which meant she had a hairdryer.

And, stupid or not, that had its advantages, she decided, as Rob switched on the dryer and directed warm air at her hair. As did the solar panels he’d installed on the roof and the massive bank of power batteries under the house.

They had electricity, and every cent they’d paid for such a massive backup was worth it just for this moment. For the power of one hairdryer.

She couldn’t move. Her body seemed more alive than she could remember. Every nerve was tingling, every sense was on fire but she couldn’t move. She was paralysed by the touch of his hands, by the warmth of the dryer, by the way he lifted each curl and twisted and played with it as he dried it.

By the way he watched her in the mirror as he dried.

By the way he just...was.

He was lighting her body.

He was also lighting her hair. Good grief, her hair...

It was almost dry now, and the colours were impossible to ignore. They were part of the same magical fantasy that was this moment, but these colours weren’t going to go away with the opening of the bathroom door.

What had happened?

She’d bought auburn highlights, but what Amina had done... She must have mixed them in uneven strengths, done something, woven magic...because what had happened was magic.

Her mousey-blonde hair was no longer remotely mouse. It was a shiny mass of gold and chestnut and auburn. It was like the glowing embers of a fire, flickering flames on a muted background.

Rob was lifting her curls, watching the light play on them as he made sure every strand was dry. Her hair felt as if it was their centre. Nothing else mattered.

If only nothing else mattered. If only they could move on from this moment, forgetting everything.

But she didn’t want to forget. The thought slammed home and she saw Rob’s eyes in the mirror and knew the thought had slammed into him almost simultaneously. They always had known what each other was thinking.

One mind. One body.

‘Jules, we could try again,’ he said softly, almost as if talking to himself. ‘We’ve done four years of hell. Does it have to continue?’

‘I don’t see how it can’t.’

‘We don’t have to forget. Going forward together isn’t a betrayal. Does it hurt, every time you look at me, because of what we had?’

‘No. Yes!’

‘I’ve seen a shrink. There I was, lying on a couch, telling all.’ He smiled down at her and lifted a curl, then letting it drop. ‘Actually, it was a chair. But the idea’s the same. I’m shrunk.’

‘And what did he...she...tell you?’

‘She didn’t tell me anything. She led me round and round in circles until I figured it out. But finally I did. Four people weren’t killed that day, though they can be if we let them.’

‘You can live...without them?’

‘There’s no choice, Jules,’ he said, his voice suddenly rough. ‘Look at us. It’s Christmas, our fourth Christmas without them, yet it’s all about two little boys who are no longer here. Out there is a little boy who’s alive and who needs us to make him happy. We can help Amina be happy, at least for the day. We can do all sorts of things, make all sorts of people happy if we forget we’re the walking dead.’

‘I’m not...’

‘No. You’re not the walking dead. Look at your hair. This is fun hair, fantastic hair, the hair of a woman who wants to move forward. And look at your body. It’s a woman’s body, Jules, your body, and it gives you pleasure. It still can give you pleasure. Maybe it could even give you another child.’

‘No!’

‘Are you so closed?’

‘Are you? You said you’ve been seeing other women?’

‘I said I’ve been trying,’ he said, and once again his fingers started drifting in her curls. ‘The problem is they’re not you.’

‘You can’t still love me.’

‘I’ve never stopped.’

‘But there’s nothing left to love.’ She was sounding desperate, negative, harsh. She’d built up so much armour and he’d penetrated it. It was cracking and she was fighting desperately to retain it. If it shattered...how could she risk such hurt again? She felt as if she was on the edge of an abyss, about to fall.

‘Jump,’ Rob said softly. ‘I’ll catch you.’

But she had to keep trying. She had to make him see. ‘Rob, there are so many women out there. Undamaged. Women who could give you a family again.’

‘Are you offering me up for public auction? I’m not available,’ he said, more harshly still. ‘Julie, remember the first time we came here? Deciding to camp? Me nobly giving you our only single air bed, then the rain at two in the morning and you refusing to move because you were warm and dry and floating?’

‘I did move in the end.’

‘Only because I tipped you off into six inches of water.’

‘That wasn’t exactly chivalrous.’

‘Exactly. The thing is, Jules, that with you I’ve never felt the need to be chivalrous. What happens between us just...happens.’

‘You did rescue the kitten...sort of.’

‘That’s what comes of playing the hero. You end up laughing.’

‘I didn’t laugh at you.’

‘No,’ he said and he stooped and took her hands in his. ‘You laugh with me. Every time I laugh, I know you’re laughing too. And every time I’m gutted it’s the same. That’s what’s tearing me apart the most. I’ve known, these last four years, that you haven’t been laughing. Nor have you been gutted because I would have felt it. You’ve just been frozen. But I want you, Jules. I want my lovely, laughing Julie back again. We’ve lost so much. Do we have to lose everything?’

He was so close. His hands enfolded hers. It would be so easy to fall...

But it was easier to make love to him than what he was asking her now. She remembered that closeness. That feeling that she was part of him. That even when he drove her crazy she understood why, and she sort of got that she might be driving him crazy too.

They’d fought. Of course they’d fought. Understanding someone didn’t mean you had to share a point of view and often they hadn’t.

She’d loved fighting with him and often she hadn’t actually minded losing. A triumphant Rob made her laugh.

But to start again...

Could she?

She so wanted to, but...but...

She was like the meat she had taken out from the freezer, she thought tangentially. On the surface she was defrosting but at her core there was still a deep knot of frozen.

If she could get out of here, get away from Rob, then that core would stay protected. Her outer layers could freeze again as well.

Was that what she wanted?

‘Jules, try,’ Rob said, drawing her into his arms and holding her. ‘You can’t waste all that hair on legal contracts. Waste it on me.’

‘What do you think I’m doing now?’

‘But long-term? After the fire.’

‘I don’t know.’ The panic was suddenly back, all around her—the panic that had overwhelmed her the first time she’d walked into the twins’ empty bedroom, the panic that threatened to bring her down if she got close to anyone. The abyss was so close...

‘I won’t push you,’ Rob said.

‘So making love isn’t pushing?’

‘That wasn’t me,’ he said, almost sternly. ‘It was both of us. You know you want me as much as I want you.’

‘I want your body.’

‘You want all of me. You want the part that wants to be part of you again. The part that wants to love you and demands you love me back.’

‘Rob...I can’t!’ How could she stop this overwhelming feeling of terror? She wanted this man so much, but...but...

She had to make one last Herculean effort. One last try to stay...frozen.

‘It’s...time to get dressed,’ she managed, and he nodded and lifted his fingers through her curls one last time.

‘I guess,’ he said ruefully, achingly reluctant. ‘But let’s try. Let the world in, my Julie. Let Amina see what her magic produced.’

‘Only it’s not magic,’ she whispered. ‘We can’t cast a happy-ever-after spell.’

‘We could try.’

‘We could destroy each other.’

‘More than we already have?’ He sighed. ‘But it’s okay. Whatever you decide has to be okay. I will not push.’ He kissed her once again, on the nape of her neck, and it was all she could do not to turn and take him into her arms and hold him and hold him and hold him. She didn’t. The panic was too raw. The abyss too close.

But he was twisting a towel around his hips. It nearly killed her to see his nakedness disappear. If the world wasn’t waiting...

Someone was banging on the front door. Luka started barking.

The world was indeed waiting. It was time to dress. It was time to move on.

* * *

Rob reached the front door first. He’d hauled jeans on and left it at that. Amina and Danny must be still asleep, or waking slowly, because only Luka was there, barking hysterically.

The knocking started again as he reached the hall, but for some reason his steps slowed.

He didn’t want the world to enter?

Maybe there was a truck outside, emergency personnel offering to take them down the mountain, evacuate them to safety. The authorities would want everyone off the mountain. This place was self-sufficient but most homes were dependent on essential services. That first truck had been the precursor to many. The army could even have been called in, with instructions to enforce evacuation.

He didn’t want to go.

Well, that was dumb. For a start, Amina desperately needed evacuation. It wasn’t safe for an eight months pregnant woman to be here, with no guaranteed way out if she went into labour. With the ferocity of the burn and the amount of bushland right up to the edges of the roads, normal traffic would be impossible for weeks. So many burned trees, all threatening to fall... They needed to get out as soon as it was safe to go.

And yet...and yet...

And yet he didn’t want to leave.

Maybe he could send Amina and Danny away and keep Julie here.

As his prisoner? That was another dumb thought. He couldn’t keep her against her will, nor would he want to, but, even so, the thought was there. The last twenty-four hours had revealed his wife again. He knew she was still hurting. He knew that breaking down her armour required a miracle, and he also knew that once they were off the mountain, then that miracle couldn’t happen. She’d retreat again into her world of finance and pain.

‘She has to deal with it in her own time.’ The words of his shrink had been firm. ‘Rob, you’ve been wounded just as much as she has, but you’re working through it. For now it’s as much as you can do to heal yourself. You need to let Julie go.’

But what if they could heal together? These last hours had shown him Julie was still there—the Julie he’d loved, the Julie he’d married.

But he couldn’t lock her up. That wasn’t the way of healing and he knew it.

What was? Holding her close? She’d let him do that. They’d made love, they’d remembered how their bodies had reacted to each other, yet it had achieved...nothing.

Could he keep trying? Dare he? These last years he’d achieved a measure of peace and acceptance. Would taking Julie to him open the floodgates again? Would watching her pain drive him back to the abyss? Only he knew how hard it had been to pull himself back to a point where he felt more or less at peace.

He knew what his shrink would say. Move away and stay away. Leave the past in the past.

Only the past was in their shared bedroom, with hair that glistened under his hands, with eyes that smiled at him with...hope? If he could find the strength... If, somehow, he could drag her to the other side of the nightmare...

Enough of the introspection. The knocking continued and he’d reached the door. He tugged it open, Luka launched himself straight out—and into the arms of a guy standing on the doorstep.

The man was shorter than Rob, and leaner. He looked in his forties, dark-skinned and filthy. He looked...haggard. His eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. He was leaning against the door jamb, breathing heavily, but as Luka launched himself forward he grabbed him and held him as if he was drowning.

He met Rob’s eyes over Luka’s great head, and his look was anguished.

‘Amina?’ It was scarcely a croak.

‘Safe,’ Rob said quickly. ‘And Danny. They’re both here. They’re safe. You’re Henry?’ He had to be. No one but Amina’s husband could say her name with the same mix of love and terror.

‘Yes. I am. I went...next door. Oh, God, it’s...’

‘We got them here before the house went up,’ Rob said, speaking quickly, cutting through Henry’s obvious terror. ‘They’re tired but well. They’re asleep now but they’ve been as worried about you as you seem to be about them. They’re safe.’

The man’s knees sagged. Rob grabbed the dog and hauled him back, then took Henry’s elbows under his hands, holding him up. He looked beyond exhaustion.

‘They’re safe,’ he said again. ‘I promise. Happy Christmas, Henry. I know your house is burned and I’m sorry, but things can be replaced. People can’t. Everything else can wait. For now, come in and see your wife.’

And Henry burst into tears.

* * *

After that things seemed to happen in a blur.

There was a whimper behind him. Rob turned and Amina was there, staring in incredulity. And then somehow she was in Rob’s place, holding her husband, holding and holding. Weeping.

And then Danny, flying down the hall. ‘Papa...’ He was between them, a wriggling, excited bundle of joy. ‘My Papa’s come,’ he yelled to anyone who’d listen and then he was between them, sandwiched, muffled but still yelling. ‘Papa, our house burned and burned and Luka was lost and I was scared but Rob found me and then we hid in a little cave and we’ve been here for lots and lots and Santa came and we had turkey but we didn’t have chocolates. Mama had them for us but they’ve been burned as well, but Mama says we can get some more. Papa, come and see my presents.’

Rob backed away and then Julie was beside him, in her gorgeous crimson robe with her gorgeous crimson hair, and she was sniffing. He took her hand and held and it felt...right.

They finally found themselves in the kitchen, watching Henry eat leftover Christmas lunch like he hadn’t eaten for a week—but he still wasn’t concentrating on the food. He kept looking from Amina to Danny and back again, like he couldn’t get enough of them. Like he was seeing ghosts...

His plane last night, a later one than Rob’s, had been diverted—landing in Melbourne instead of Sydney because of the smoke. He’d spent the night trying to get any information he could, going crazy because he couldn’t contact anyone.

This morning he’d flown into Sydney at dawn, hired a car, hit the road blocks, left the car, dodged the road blocks and walked.

It didn’t take any more than seeing his smoke-stained face and his bloodshot eyes to tell them how fraught that walk had been. And how terror had stayed with him every inch of the way.

But he was home. He had his family back again. Julie watched them with hungry eyes, and Rob watched Julie and thought that going back was a dream. A fantasy. He couldn’t live with that empty hunger for ever.

‘We’ve plenty of water. Go and take a bath,’ he told Henry, and Danny brightened.

‘Luka and I will help,’ he announced and they disappeared towards the bathroom, with the sounds of splashing and laughter ensuing. Happy ever after...

‘I’ll go get dressed,’ Julie said, sounding subdued, and Amina touched her hair.

‘Beautiful.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘Don’t waste it,’ Amina said sternly with a meaningful glance at Rob, and Julie flinched a little but managed a smile.

‘I promise I won’t wear a hat for months.’

Which wasn’t what Amina had meant and they all knew it but it was enough for Julie to escape.

Which left Amina with Rob.

‘You love her still,’ she said, almost as if she was talking of something mundane, chatting about the weather, and Rob had to rerun the words in his mind for a bit before he could find an answer.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘But our grief threatened to destroy us. It’s still destroying us.’

‘You want...to try again?’

‘I don’t think we can.’

‘It takes courage,’ she whispered. ‘So much courage. But you...you have courage to spare. You saved my son.’

‘It takes more than courage to wake up to grief every morning of your life.’

‘It’s better than walking away,’ she said softly. ‘Walking away is the thing you do when all else fails. Walking away is the end.’

‘Amina...’

‘I shall cook dinner,’ she announced, moving on. ‘Food is good. Food is excellent. When all else fails, eat. I need to inspect this frozen-in-time kitchen of yours.’

‘You need to rest.’

‘I have rested,’ she said. ‘I have my husband back. My family is together and that’s all that matters. We need to move on.’

* * *

Christmas dinner was a sort of Middle Eastern goulash made with leftover turkey, couscous, dried herbs, packet stock and raisins. It should have tasted weird—half the ingredients were well over their use-by dates—but it tasted delicious. The house had a formal dining room but no one was interested in using it. They squashed round the kitchen table meant for four, with Luka taking up most of the room underneath, and it felt right.

Home, Rob thought as he glanced at his dinner companions. That was what this felt like. Outside, the world was a bleak mess but here was food, security, togetherness.

Henry couldn’t stop looking at Amina and Danny. From one to the other. It was like he was seeing a dream.

That was what looking at Julie felt like too, Rob thought. A dream. Something that could never be.

But still... Henry had made a quick, bleak foray across to the ruins of his house and came back grimly determined.

‘We can build again,’ he’d said. ‘We’ve coped with worse than this.’

Building again... Could he and Julie? A building needed foundations, though, Rob thought, and their foundations hardly existed any more. At least, that was what Julie thought. She thought their foundations were a bed of pain, of nightmares. Could he ever break through to foundations that had been laid long before the twins were born?

Did he have the strength to try?

‘You have our safe,’ Henry said as the meal came to an end and anxiety was in his voice again. ‘You said you managed to haul it out.’

‘I did,’ Rob told him. ‘I’m not sure whether the contents have withstood the fire.’

‘It’s built to withstand an inferno. And the contents...it’s not chocolate.’

‘I’d like some chocolate,’ Danny said wistfully, but there was ice cream. Honestly, wrapped containers might cope with a nuclear blast, Rob thought as they sliced through the layers of plastic to ice cream that looked almost perfect.

But Amina didn’t want any. She was looking exhausted again. Julie was watching her with concern, and Rob picked up on it.

‘You want to go back to bed?’ he asked her. ‘All of you. Henry’s had a nightmare twenty-four hours and you’ve made us a feast of a Christmas dinner. You’ve earned some sleep.’

‘I’m fine,’ Amina said, wincing a little. ‘I just have a backache. I need a cushion, that’s all.’

In moments she had about four and they moved into the living room, settled in the comfortable lounge suite...wondering where to go from here.

He’d quite like to carry Julie back to the bedroom, Rob thought. It was Christmas night. He could think of gifts he’d like to give and receive...

But Danny had slept this afternoon, and he was wide awake now. He was zooming back and forth across the floor with his new fire truck. In Danny’s eyes, Christmas was still happening. There was no way he was going calmly to bed, and that meant the adults had to stay up.

Henry was exhausted. He’d slumped into his chair, his face still grey with exhaustion and stress.

Amina also looked stressed. The effort of making dinner had been too much for her. She had no energy left.

Rob sank to the floor and started playing with Danny, forming a makeshift road for his fire engine, pretending the TV remote was a police car, conducting races, making the little boy laugh. Doing what he’d done before...

* * *

It nearly killed her. He was doing what she’d seen him do so many times, what she’d loved seeing him do.

Now he was playing with a child who wasn’t his.

He was getting over it?

Get over it. How many times had those words been said to her? ‘It’ll take time but you will get over it. You will be able to start again.’

She knew she never would, but Rob just might. It had been a mistake, coming back here, she thought. Connecting with Rob again. Reminding themselves of what they’d once had.

It had hurt him, she thought. It had made him hope...

She should cut that hope off right now. There was no chance she could move on. The thought of having another child, of watching Rob romp with another baby... It hurt.

Happy Christmas, she thought bitterly. This was worse than the nothing Christmases she’d had for the last few years. Watching Rob play with a child who wasn’t his.

She glanced up and saw Amina was watching her and, to her surprise, she saw her pain reflected in the other woman’s eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Amina...?’

‘It’s only the backache,’ she said, but somehow Julie knew it wasn’t. ‘Henry, the safe... Could you check? I need to know.’

‘I’ll do it in the morning,’ Henry said uneasily but Amina shook her head.

‘I need to see now. The television...does it work?’

‘We have enough power,’ Rob told her. ‘But there won’t be reception.’

‘We don’t need reception. I just need to see...’

‘Amina, it’ll hurt,’ Henry said.

‘Yes, but I still need to see,’ she said stubbornly. ‘Henry, do this for me, please. I need to see that they’re still there.’

* * *

Which explained why, ten minutes later, Rob and Henry were out on the veranda, staring at a fire-stained safe. The paint had peeled and charred, but essentially it looked okay.

‘Do you want to open it in privacy?’ Rob asked, but Henry shook his head.

‘We have nothing of value. This holds our passports, our insurance—our house contents are insured, how fortunate is that?’

‘Wise.’

‘The last house we lost was insured too,’ Henry said. ‘But not for acts of war.’

‘Henry...’

‘No matter. This is better. But Amina wants her memories. Do you permit?’

He wasn’t sure what was going on but, two minutes later, Henry had worked the still operational combination lock and was hauling out the contents.

Papers, documents...and a couple of USB sticks.

‘I worried,’ Henry said. ‘They’re plastic but they seem okay. It would break Amina’s heart to lose these. Can we check them on your television?’

‘Of course. Julie and I can go to bed if you want privacy.’

‘If it’s okay with you,’ Henry said diffidently, ‘it’s better to share. I mean...Amina needs to...well, her history seems more real to her if she can share. Right now she’s hurting. It would help...if you could watch. I know it’ll be dull for you, other people’s memories, but it might help. The way Amina’s looking... Losing our house. Worrying about me. The baby... It’s taken its toll.’

‘Of course we can watch.’ It was Julie in the doorway behind them. ‘Anything that can help has to be okay by us.’

* * *

The television worked. The USB worked. Ten minutes later they were in Sri Lanka.

In Amina and Henry’s past lives.

The files contained photographs—many, many photographs. Most were amateur snaps, taken at family celebrations, taken at home, a big, assorted group of people whose smiles and laughter reached out across distance and time.

And, as Julie watched her, the stress around Amina’s eyes faded. She was introducing people as if they were here.

‘This is my mother, Aisha, and my older sister Hannah. These two are my brothers. Haija is an architect like you, Rob. He designs offices, wonderful buildings. The last office he designed had a waterfall, three storeys high. It wasn’t built, but, oh, if it had been... And here are my nieces and nephews. And Olivia...’ She was weeping a little but smiling through tears as the photograph of a teenage girl appeared on the screen, laughing, mocking the camera, mischief apparent even from such a time and distance. ‘My little sister Olivia. Oh, she is trouble. She’ll be trouble still. Danny, you remember how I told you Olivia loves trains?’ she demanded of her son. ‘Olivia had a train set, a whole city. She started when she was a tiny child, wanting and wanting trains. “What are you interested in those for?” my father asked. “Trains are for boys.” But Olivia wanted and wanted and finally he bought her a tiny train and a track, and then another. And then our father helped her build such a city. He built a platform she could raise to the roof on chains whenever my mother wanted the space for visitors. Look, here’s a picture.’

And there they were—trains, recorded on video, tiny locomotives chugging through an Alpine village, with snow-covered trees and tiny figures, railway stations, tunnels, mountains, little plastic figures, a businessman in a bowler hat endlessly missing his train...

Danny was entranced but he’d obviously seen it before. ‘Olivia’s trains,’ he said in satisfaction and he was right by the television, pointing to each train. ‘This green one is her favourite. Mama’s Papa gave it to her for her eighth birthday. Mama says when I am eight she’ll try and find a train just like that for me. Isn’t it lucky I’m not eight yet? If Mama had already found my train, it would have been burned.’

‘Do you...still see them?’ Rob asked cautiously.

Amina smiled sadly and shook her head. ‘Our house was bombed. Accidentally, they said, but that’s when Henry and I decided to come here. It’s better here. No bombs.’

‘Bush fires, though,’ Rob said, trying for a smile and, amazingly, Amina smiled back at him, even as she put her hand to her obviously aching back.

‘We can cope with what we have to cope with,’ she said simply. She looked back at the television to where her sister was laughing at her father. Two little steam engines lay crashed on their side on the model track, obviously victims of a fake disaster. ‘You get up and keep going,’ she said simply. ‘What choice is there?’

You can close down, Julie thought. You can roll into a tight ball of controlled pain, unbending only to work. That was what she’d done for four long years.

‘Would you like to see our boys?’ Rob asked and her eyes flew wide. What was he saying? Shock held her immobile and it was as if his voice was coming from the television, not from him. But, ‘I’d like to show you our sons,’ he was saying. ‘They’re not here either, but they’re still in our hearts. It’d be great to share.’

No. No! She wanted to scream it but she couldn’t.

‘Would you like us to see them, Julie?’ Amina asked shyly, tentatively, as if she guessed Julie’s pain. As she must. She’d lost so much herself.

‘We lost our boys in a car accident four years ago,’ Rob told Henry. ‘But it still feels like they’re here.’

‘But it hurts Julie?’ Amina said. ‘To talk about them? To see them? Is it better not?’

Yes, Julie thought. Much better. But then she looked at Rob, and with a shock she realised that his face said it wasn’t better at all.

His expression told her that he longed to talk about them. He longed to show these strangers pictures of his sons, as they’d shown him pictures of their family.

‘It’s up to Jules, though,’ Rob said. ‘Julie, do you know where the disc is of their birthday?’

She did, but she didn’t want to say. She never spoke of the boys. She never looked at their photographs. They were locked inside her, kept, hers. They were dead.

‘Maybe not,’ Amina said, still gently. ‘If Julie doesn’t want to share, that’s her right.’

Share...share her boys... She wanted to say no. She wanted to scream it because the thought almost blindsided her. To talk about them...to say their names out loud...to act as if they still had a place in her life...

To see her boys on the screen...

‘Jules?’ Rob said gently and he crossed the room and stooped and touched her chin with his finger. ‘Up to you, love. Share or not? No pressure.’

But it was pressure, she thought desperately, and it was as if the pressure had been building for years. The containment she’d held herself in was no longer holding.

To share her boys... To share her pain...

Rob’s gaze was on her, calmly watchful. Waiting for the yay or nay.

No pressure.

Share... Share with this man.

A photo session, she thought. That was all he was asking. To see his kids as they’d been when they’d turned two. How hard was that?

‘Don’t do it if it hurts,’ Amina whispered and Julie knew that it would hurt. But suddenly she knew that it’d hurt much more not to.

They were her boys. Hers and Rob’s. And Rob was asking her to share memories, to sit in this room and look at photographs of their kids and let them come to life again, if only on the screen. To introduce them, to talk of them as Amina had talked of her family.

‘I...I’ll get it,’ she said and Rob ran a finger the length of her cheek. His eyes said he did understand what he was asking, and yet he was still asking.

His gaze said he knew her hurt; he shared it. He shared...

She rose and she staggered a little, but Rob was beside her, giving her a swift, hard hug. ‘I love that video,’ he said but she knew he hadn’t seen it for four years. It had been hidden, held here in limbo. Maybe it was time...

She couldn’t think past that. She gave Rob a tight hug in return and went to fetch the disc.

* * *

And there they were. Her boys. It had been the most glorious birthday party, held here on the back lawn. All the family had been here—her parents, Rob’s parents, their siblings, Rob’s brother’s kids, Rob’s parents’ dog, a muddle of family and chaos on the back lawn.

A brand-new paddling pool. Two little boys, gloriously happy, covered in the remains of birthday cake and ice cream, squealing with delight. Rob swinging them in circles, a twin under each arm.

Julie trying to reach Aiden across the pool, slipping and sprawling in the water. Julie lying in the pool in her jeans and T-shirt, the twins jumping on her, thinking she’d meant it, squealing with joy. Rob’s laughter in the background. Julie laughing up at the camera, hugging her boys, then yelling at Rob’s dad because the dog was using the distraction to investigate the picnic table.

The camera swivelled to the dog and the remains of the cake—and laughter and a dog zooming off into the bushes with half a cake in his mouth.

Family...

She’d thought she couldn’t bear it. She’d thought she could never look at photographs again, but, instead of crying, instead of withering in pain, she found she was smiling. Laughing, even. When the dog took off with the cake they were all laughing.

‘Luka wouldn’t do that,’ Danny decreed. ‘Bad dog.’

‘They look...like a wonderful family,’ Amina said and Rob nodded.

‘They are.’

They were. She’d never let them close. She’d seen her remaining family perfunctorily for the last four years, when she had to, and she’d never let anyone talk of the boys.

‘Aiden and Christopher were...great.’

She said their names now out loud and it was like turning a key in a rusty lock. She hadn’t said their names to anyone else since...

‘They’re the best kids,’ Rob said, smiling. He was gripping her hand, she realised, and she hadn’t even noticed when he’d taken it. ‘They were here for such a short time, but the way they changed our lives... You know, in the far reaches of my head, they’re still with me. When I get together with my parents and we talk about them, they’re real. They’re alive. I understand why you need your family tonight, Amina. For the same reason I need mine.’

Julie listened, and Rob’s words left her stunned. His words left her in a limbo she didn’t understand. Like an invitation to jump a crevice...but how could she?

The recording had come to an end. The last frame was of the twins sitting in their pool, beaming out at all of them. She wanted to reach out and touch them. She felt as if her skin was bursting. That she could look at her boys and laugh... That she could hold Rob’s hand and remember how it had felt to be a family...

‘Thank you for showing us,’ Henry said, gravely now, and Julie thought that he knew. This man knew how much it hurt. He’d lost too, him and Amina, but now he was tugging his wife to her feet, holding her...moving on.

‘We need to sleep,’ he said. ‘All of us. But thank you for giving us such a wonderful, magical Christmas. Thank you for saving my family, and thank you for sharing yours.’

* * *

They left.

Rob flicked the television off and the picture of their boys faded to nothing.

Without a word, Rob went out to the veranda. He stood at the rail and stared into the night and, after a moment’s hesitation, Julie followed. The smouldering bushland gave no chance of starlight but, astonishingly, a few of the solar lights they’d installed along the garden paths still glowed. The light was faint but it was enough to show a couple of wallabies drinking deeply from the water basins Rob had left.

‘How many did you put out?’ Julie said inconsequentially. There were so many emotions coursing through her she had no hope of processing them.

‘As many containers as I could find. I suspect our veranda was a refuge. There are droppings all over the south side. All sorts of droppings.’

‘So we saved more than Amina and Danny and Luka.’

‘I think we did. It’s been one hell of a Christmas.’ He hesitated. ‘So...past Christmases...Julie, each Christmas, each birthday and so many times in between, I’ve tried to ring. You know how often, but I’ve always been sent straight through to voicemail. I finally accepted that you wanted no contact, but it hasn’t stopped me thinking of you. I’ve thought of you and the boys every day. But at Christmas...for me it’s been a day to get through the best way I can. But, Julie, how has it been for you? I rang your parents. The year after...they said you were with them but you didn’t want to talk to me. The year after that they were away and I couldn’t contact you.’

How to tell him what she’d been doing? The first year she’d been in hospital and Christmas had been a blur of pain and disbelief. The next her parents had persuaded her to spend with them.

Doug and Isabelle were lovely ex-hippy types, loving their garden, their books, their lives. They’d always been astonished by their only daughter’s decision to go into law and finance, but they’d decreed anything she did was okay by them. Doug was a builder, Isabelle taught disadvantaged kids and they accepted everyone. They’d loved Rob and their grandsons but, after the car crash, they’d accepted Julie’s decision that she didn’t want to talk of them, ever.

But it had left a great hole. They were so careful to avoid it, and she was so conscious of their avoidance. That first Christmas with them had been appalling.

The next year she’d given them an Arctic cruise as a Christmas gift. They’d looked at her with sadness but with understanding and ever since then they’d travelled at Christmas.

And what had Julie been doing?

‘I work at Christmas,’ she said. ‘I’m international. The finance sector hardly closes down.’

‘You go into work?’

‘I’m not that sad,’ she snapped, though she remembered thinking if the entire building hadn’t been closed and shut down over Christmas Day she might have. ‘I have Christmas dinner with my brother. But I do take contracts home. It takes the pressure off the rest of the staff, knowing someone’s willing to take responsibility for the urgent stuff. How about you?’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘How about you?’ she repeated and she made no attempt to block her anger. Yeah, Christmas was a nightmare. But he had no right to make her remember how much of a nightmare it normally was, so she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. ‘While I’ve been neck-deep in legal negotiations, what have you been doing?’

‘To keep Santa at bay?’

‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

‘I’ve skied.’

It was so out of left field that she blinked. ‘What?’

‘Skied,’ he repeated.

‘Where?’

‘Aspen.’

She couldn’t have been more astounded if he’d said he’d been to Mars. ‘You hate the cold.’

‘I hated the cold. I’m not that Rob any more.’

She thought about that for a moment while the stillness of the night intensified. The smell of the smoke was all-consuming but...it was okay. It was a mist around them, enveloping them in a weird kind of intimacy.

Rob in the snow at Christmas.

Without her.

Rob in a life without her.

It was odd, she thought numbly. She’d been in a sort of limbo since the accident, a weird, desolate space where time seemed to stand still. There was no future and no past, simply the piles of legal contracts she had in front of her. When she’d had her family, her work had been important. When she hadn’t, her work was everything.

But, meanwhile, Rob had been doing...other stuff. Skiing in Aspen.

‘Are you any good?’ she asked inconsequentially and she heard him smile.

‘At first, ludicrous. A couple of guys from work asked me to go with them. I spent my first time on the nursery slopes, watching three-year-olds zoom around me. But I’ve improved. I pretty much threw my heart and soul into it.’

‘Even on Christmas Day?’

‘On Christmas Day I pretty much have the slopes to myself. I ski my butt off, to the point where I sleep.’

‘Without nightmares?’

‘There are always nightmares, Jules,’ he said gently. ‘Always. But you learn to live around them.’

‘But this Christmas—you didn’t go to Aspen?’

‘My clients finished the house to die for in the Adelaide Hills. They were having a Christmas Eve party. My sister asked me to join her tribe for Christmas today. I’d decided...well, I’d decided it was time to stay home. Time to move on.’

Without me? She didn’t say it. It was mean and unfair. She’d decided on this desolate existence. Rob was free to move on as best he could.

But...but...

He was right here, in front of her. Rob. Her beloved Rob, who she’d turned away from. She could have helped...

Or she could have destroyed him.

He reached out and touched her cheek, a feather touch, and the sensation sent shivers through her body. Her Rob.

‘Hell, Julie, how do we move on from this?’ His voice was grave. Compassionate. Loving?

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t think how to escape this fog.’

There was a moment’s hesitation and then his voice changed. ‘Escape,’ he said bitterly. ‘Is that what you want? Do you think Amina was escaping by coming here?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, I do,’ he said roughly, almost angrily. ‘She wasn’t escaping. She was regrouping. Figuring out how badly she and her family had been wounded, and how to survive. And look at her. After all she’s been through, back she goes, to her memories, to talking about the ones she loves. You know why I wasn’t going to Aspen this Christmas? Because I’ve finally figured it out. I’ve finally figured that’s what I want, Jules. I want to be able to talk about Aiden and Christopher without hurting. Call it a Christmas list if you want, my Santa wish, but that wish has been with me for four years. Every day I wake up and I want the same thing. I want people to talk of Christopher and Aiden like Amina does of her family. I want to admit that Christopher bugged me when he whined for sweets. I want to remember that Aiden never wanted me to go the bathroom by myself. I want to be able to say that you sometimes took all the bedcovers...’

‘I did not!’

‘And the one time I got really pissed off and pinned them to my side of the bed you ripped them. You did, too.’

‘Rob!’

‘Don’t sound so outraged.’ But then he gave a rueful smile and shrugged. ‘Actually, that’s okay. Outrage is good. Anything’s good apart from silence. Or fog. We’ve been living with silence for years. Does it have to go on for ever?’

‘I’m...safe where I am.’

‘Because no one talks about Aiden or Christopher? Or me. Do they talk about me, Julie, or am I as dead to you as the boys are?’

‘If they did talk...it hurts.’

But he was still angry. Relentless. The gentle, compassionate Rob was gone. ‘Do you remember the first time we climbed this mountain?’ he demanded, and he grabbed her hand and hauled her round so she was facing out to where the smoke-shrouded mountain lay beyond the darkened bush. ‘Mount Bundoon. You were so unfit. It was mean of me to make you walk, but you wanted to come.’

‘I only did it because I was besotted with you.’

‘And I only made you come because I wanted you to see. Because I knew it was worth it. Because I knew you’d think it was worth it.’ His hand was still holding hers, firm and strong. ‘So you struggled up the track and I helped you...’

‘You pushed. You bullied!’

‘So I did and you got blisters on blisters and we hadn’t taken enough water and we were idiots.’

‘And then we reached the top,’ she said, remembering.

‘Yeah,’ he said in satisfaction and hauled her against him. ‘We reached the top and we looked out over the gorge and it’s the most beautiful place in the whole world. Only gained through blisters.’

‘Rob...’

‘And what do you remember now?’ he demanded, rough again. ‘Blisters?’

‘No.’

‘So? Does my saying Aiden’s name, Christopher’s name, my name—does it hurt so much you can’t reach the top? Because you know what I reckon, Jules? I reckon that saying Aiden’s name and Christopher’s, and talking of them to each other, that’s the top. That’s what we ought to aim for. If we could start loving the boys again...together...could we do that, Jules? Not just now? Not just for Christmas? For ever?’

And she wanted to. With every nerve in her body she wanted to.

‘Do you know what I’ve done every Christmas?’ he asked, gently now, holding her, but there was something implacable about his voice, something that said he was about to say something that would hurt. ‘And every birthday. And so many times in between...I’ve taken that damned recording out and watched it. And you know what? I love it. I love that I have it. I love that my kids—and my Julie—can still make me smile.’

‘You...you have it?’ She was stammering. ‘But tonight...I had to find the disc.’

‘That’s because tonight had to be your choice. I have a copy. Jules, I’ve made my choice. I’m living on, with my kids, with my memories and I’ve figured that’s the way to survive. But you have to do your own figuring. Whether you want to continue blocking the past out for ever. Whether you want to let the memories back in. Or maybe...maybe whether you dare to move forward. With me or without. Julie, I still want you. You’re still my wife. I still love you, but the rest...it’s up to you.’

The night grew even more still. It was as if the world was holding its breath.

He was so close and he was holding her and he wanted her. All she had to do was sink into him and let him love her.

All she had to do was love in return.

But what did she have to give? It’d be all one way, she thought, her head spinning. Rob could say he loved her, he could say he still wanted her but it wasn’t the Julie of now that he wanted. It was the Julie of years ago. The Julie she’d seen on replay. Today’s Julie was like a husk, the shed skin of someone she had once been.

Rob deserved better.

She loved this man; she knew she did. But he deserved the old Julie and, confused or not, dizzy or not, she knew at some deep, basic level that she didn’t have the energy to be that woman.

‘Jules, you can,’ he said urgently, as if he knew what she was thinking—how did he do that? How did he still have the skill?

How could she still know him when so much of her had died?

She wanted him, she ached for him, but it terrified her. Could she pretend to be the old Julie? she wondered. Could she fake being someone she used to be?

‘Try for us,’ Rob demanded, and his hands held her. He tugged her to him, and she felt...like someone was hauling the floor from under her feet.

Rob would catch her. Rob would always catch her.

She had to learn to catch herself.

‘Maybe I should see the same shrink,’ she managed. ‘The one who’s made you brave enough to start again.’

‘The shrink didn’t make me brave. That’s all me.’

‘I don’t want...’

‘That’s just it. You have to want. You have to want more than to hide.’

‘You can’t make me,’ she said, almost resentfully, and he nodded.

‘I know I can’t. But the alternative? Do you want to walk away? Once the road is reopened, once Christmas is over, do you want to go back to the life you’ve been existing in? Not living, existing. Is that what you want?’

‘It’s what I have to want.’

‘It’s not,’ he said, really angry now. ‘You can change. Ask Danny. His Christmas list was written months ago. Amina said he wanted a bike but he got a wombat instead and you know what? Now he thinks that’s what he wanted all along.’

‘You think I can be happy with second best? Life without our boys?’

‘I think you can be happy. I think dying with them is a bloody waste.’

‘There’s no need...’

‘To swear? No, I suppose not. There’s no need to do anything. There’s no need to even try. Okay, Jules, I’ll back off.’

‘Rob, I’m...’

‘Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I couldn’t bear it.’

But there was nothing to say but sorry so she said nothing at all. She stood and looked down at her feet. She listened to the soft scuffles of the wallabies out in the garden. She thought...she thought...

‘Please?’

And the outside world broke in. The one word was a harsh plea, reverberating through the stillness and it came from neither of them. She turned and so did Rob.

Henry was in the open doorway, his hands held out in entreaty.

‘Please,’ he said again. ‘Can either of you...do either of you know...?’

‘What?’ Rob said. ‘Henry, what’s wrong?’

‘It’s Amina,’ Henry stammered. ‘She says the baby’s coming.’