Emily woke in the smothering darkness, feeling as if her own stomach weighed a ton. It was three in the morning. The only sounds in the flat were her husbands hoarse breathing and the tick of an ancient hallway clock.
She tried to roll over, but the old sofa groaned treacherously. Richard, exiled to the wall side of the bed, grunted in irritation.
Em, honestlyhow much longer are you going to fidget about? Ive got to be up in four hours. Have some mercy.
Emily frozeafraid to even sigh. That had become his favourite phrase in the past six months. Richard seemed to have forgotten that carrying twins was hardly a hobby, but a demanding feat. Hed become oddly stingy. Every penny scrutinised, every receipt examined; hed sigh heavily whenever Emily dared ask for any fruit that wasnt British and in season.
Did you see the prices? hed hiss, peering over receipts. Eat the apples, Em, theyre local. Peaches are a luxury. Im working my socks off while you laze at home.
Emily carefully slithered out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, one hand on her aching back. Her legs were so swollen her slippers barely fit. She sat at the dark window and gazed out at the empty street. She was anxiousnervous about both the impending babies and the thought of bringing them home to this house of endless complaints.
Morning saw Richard stomping around getting ready for work, furiously tossing clothes and slamming wardrobe doors.
Did you iron my shirt? he snapped, not glancing at her.
Its on the chair, Rich, she answered.
You couldve fixed this buttonits barely hanging on. Never mind. Im off. Got a meeting with the Managing Director, dont ring me, the boss is mad about phones.
And off he went, no kiss, not even a backwards glance. The door banged and Emily heard the distinctive click of the top lockher enemy, that stiff thing which took two hands and a heap of determination to coax open from inside.
Later that day, Emily decided to tidy the hallway and retrieve a box of baby clothes left over from her niece. She fetched a wobbly stool.
I wont climb, just a bit from the edge, she convinced herself.
Up she climbed, reaching. The next moment, her vision swamthe room spun with a wave of dizziness. Her foot slipped on the smooth wood. Crash. Down she went.
Emily landed heavily on the carpet, hip smarting. She yelped, and then a bolt of pain shot through her stomach.
No, no not now, she whispered, trying to prop herself up.
A tidal wave of new sensations wracked her body. She knew: it was time. Her phone sat tauntingly on the bedside table, a metre away. She crawled for it, leaving a damp trail. Every movement was agony.
Finally, she grabbed it. Fingers trembling, multicoloured lights danced in her vision. Under R in her contacts were two Richards.
Richard.
Just below him: Richard Barnes (Managing Director). Shed saved his number a month back, needing a signature for her maternity leave forms while her beloved was off the grid.
She clicked Richard. Ring, ringno answer.
She tried again.
The person you are calling is temporarily unavailable.
Panic engulfed her. Alone, locked in, shed never manage the difficult lock from the floor. An ambulance would just have to sit outside, knocked out by good British security.
Almost fainting, Emily opened her messenger. Her eyes blurred as she typed, convinced she was texting her husband.
I need hospital. Locked in. Its started, I fell, I cant get up. Please, come quickly, Im begging!
Send. Phone slipped from her hand. Darkness.
Richard Barnes, at that very moment, was knee-deep in a boardroom dramapunctuality and precision his personal religion. Employees feared him in the way people fear rotten eggs in a quiche.
His phone buzzed on the boardroom table, and he scowled. Number was familiarEmily, the wife of his supply manager, Richard Evans. Decent woman, always polite, an efficient sort who turned up for signatures.
Barnes read the message and his normally iron face flickered.
This meetings over, he barked, standing abruptly.
But Mr Barnes, we havent muttered the finance officer.
Out. NOW.
He stormed from the room, dialled Evans. No answer.
That rat, Barnes spat.
He rang his security chief.
Track Evans phonenow. Get the car to the front. Ill drive.
Two minutes later, a location pinged. Evans wasnt anywhere near a work sitehis phone was glowing somewhere near a spa hotel called The Willow Retreat.
Barnes clenched his jaw so hard you could see the muscles working.
He roared through the gridlocked London traffic, overtaking lorries like James Bond missing his tea. It was only fifteen minutes to Emilys address, but time felt frozen. Five years ago, hed lost his own wife to a heart attack he remembered that precise, helpless fear when helps just out of reach.
He thundered up three flights, rattled the door. Locked fast. A faint voice called from inside.
No time for the fire brigade. He braced, slammed into the door shoulder-first. The lock groaned. One more assault and it snapped.
Emily was curled, shivering on the hallway floor.
Emily! he called.
She opened her eyes, blinking blearily at him. Mr Barnes? Wheres Richard?
Im here for him. Hang on.
He scooped her up like an armoured knight and legged it for his Land Rover.
He sped through the city as if the devil himself was in the backseat, glancing back at Emily who panted desperately.
Hold on, nearly there, he assured her over the roar of the engine.
Doctors met them at the clinic door with a trolleyBarnes had phoned ahead.
Are you her husband? a nurse shouted.
Im her father! he barkedonly partly lying. You take responsibility for her and the twins.
He was left in the corridor, pacing so hard he nearly wore down the tiles. Three hours later, the doctor emerged, peeling off a mask.
You may relax. Two baby boys. It was close, but you brought her just in time. Theyre small, but breathing fine. Shes weak, but shell do.
Barnes pressed his forehead to the glass.
Thank you.
He whipped out his phone. This time, Evans miraculously answeredhis speech was slurred, nightclub whoops and cackling audible behind him.
Hello, boss? You rang? Im on-site, bit crackly for reception
Barnes voice was quietdeadly.
On site, are you? Is it concrete youre delivering to the Willow Retreat these days?
Silence.
I…uh…
Youre fired, Evans. No reference. If youre not out of this city by sunrise, youll regret it. And youd better pray your wife forgives you. If I were her, Id have thrown a kettle at you.
Emily only regained consciousness the next day in a private room, faint sunlight peeping in. Water and apple juice waited on her table.
Barnes entered; suit, but no tie, looking thoroughly run ragged.
How are you feeling?
Mr Barnes… Im so embarrassed, I mixed up my contacts
He gave her a weary smile and sat.
Consider yourself lucky you did. Now listen, Emily, we need to talk properly.
He explained it allher husbands hotel jolly, the sacking. His tone was matt-black serious.
Hell start calling soon, grovelling. The flats his, I suppose?
His parents’, Emily whispered, blinking back tears. Ive got nobody. Except maybe an aunt in Devon, but shes ancient.
Barnes was silent, tapping his knees thoughtfully.
Right. My place is enormous, two floors and no life but me. Theres a wing for guests. Move in with the babies until youre on your feet. I could use some help managing things, and I dont like strangers. Consider it a job.
I with two newborns? Ill hardly be much of a housekeeper
Youll manage. Ill get you help. This isnt charity, Emily. I just like a house to be lived in.
Discharge day was peaceful. Richard tried to get into the building, but security kept him out. He lurked under the windows, tipsy, hollering nonsense.
Emily watched him from the ward window, feeling…nothing. Just a grey flatness.
Barnes came for her himself, secured the twins car seats, loaded up her things.
Come on then, he said. Lets go home.
Life in Barnes house was astonishingly calm. The sprawling home came alivebaby lotion, laundry, gentle chaos.
Mr Barnes, who everyone thought so fearsome, turned out not so bad after all. Evenings saw him clumsily cuddling whichever twin looked the most alarmed.
All right, lads? hed rumble. Growing, are we?
The boys, Ollie and Harry, gazed back at him, stone serious.
The ex-husband proved as energetic as a sloth: learning Barnes had blacklisted him across all local firms, he scuttled off to his mums. The money he sent barely covered nappies, but Emily no longer cared. For the first time in years, she felt safe.
Two years passed.
Emily was setting the table in the garden arbour. It was a scorching July Sunday. Barnes was barbecuing like a man born to the spatula.
The twins raced across the lawn, chasing some massive insect.
Dad, look! A bug! cried Harry, jabbing the air.
Emily froze mid-plate. Barnes, too, froze. Harry had called him Dadfor the first time. Before, it had always simply been Richard.
Barnes wiped his hands, scooped Harry up, tossed him into the blue sky.
A bug, you say? Thats a bumblebee, old chap. Very useful.
Then he looked at Emily. There was no steel in his gaze, just warmth.
Emily, he said, coming to the table. Sit down.
She perched on the bench.
Im not a romantic, you know that. Never was. And fancy speeches elude me. But the boystheyre right. Theyre not strangers to me. And neither are you.
He fished a little cardboard box from his pocket.
Look, the four of us have been a family in everything but paperwork for two years. Lets make it official. Let me adopt the boys. Theyll have my name. No one will dare say a word against them, ever. What do you say?
Emily gazed at him, tears streaming down her facetears this time not of exhaustion or defeat, but sheer relief, the kind that comes from finally finding a rock to lean on.
Yes, Richard, she managed, smiling through her tears.
Well, thats settled then. And Ive told younot Mr Barnes!
That night, with the boys tucked up and the glasses of tea steadily getting cold, they sat quietly on the verandah. Somewhere, in some run-down bedsit, her ex was probably complaining about life to his mate, cider in hand. And here, in a house which at last felt like home, two snub-nosed little lads slept content, knowing at last they had a real father.
Sometimes, all it takes is one mistyped digit in your contacts to change your whole life. The real trick is not making a mistake with the people who matter most.
