‘Sorry,’ a strong Scottish accent, which Beckett assumed belonged to Bill, replied. ‘That’s not how we do things here. I’ll be downright offended if you give me that car seat back. When you’re finished with it, pass it on to someone else.’
As Beckett moved into the corridor, he saw Mary standing a couple of metres away, a bright orange car seat with the baby strapped in on the floor beside her. The people from the meeting room were lining the corridor like a send-off committee.
As he reached her, she whispered, ‘I can’t pass it on. I don’t know anyone else.’
Beckett’s chest tightened. ‘You know me.’
‘Any chance you might need a car seat in a year or so?’
He shrugged. ‘Might be useful the next time someone tries to give birth in my taxi.’
She gave him a mock-offended nudge with her elbow, ducking her head to hide a smile, and Beckett felt a strange glow inside his chest that he realised was happiness.
‘Come on. Let’s get you to the hospital,’ he said as yet another message pinged on his phone. He didn’t need to check the sender. He was in so much trouble with Tanya, dropping Mary off at the hospital couldn’t make it any worse.
‘Oh, no. I’m going home.’
‘What?’ Beckett looked at the midwife, expecting her to challenge this. While he knew that sometimes new mums stayed only a few hours in hospital, and others opted for home births, this was surely different. Mary had given birth in a church emergency apartment. She didn’t have a nappy with her. She had a scarily tiny baby to take care of, and no one to look after her. She’d been so distressed, she’d thrown herself at Beckett. Literally, at his chest, and clung onto him for dear life. What if Simon had picked her up instead, or Razza? The prospect of how they’d have handled it made Beckett’s fists clench.
‘It’s Mary’s choice,’ the midwife said with a shrug, clearly itching to get home herself. ‘She’ll have a visit from the community team tomorrow, and then the follow-up appointments will be at home too, given that she doesn’t have a car.’
‘You don’t have a car?’ Beckett was gobsmacked. Mary lived in the absolute middle of nowhere. There were several inches of snow on the ground.
‘Well, if I did I wouldn’t have called a taxi, would I?’
Not for the first time that evening, he felt the urge to shout very loudly at whoever should have been helping her. Parents. A best friend. The baby’s father. What the hell were they playing at?
‘Mary’s family will be coming straight over now this one’s made an early appearance. To be honest, she’ll be far better taken care of by them than on a busy ward.’
Mary caught his eye, and he saw the flash of desperation.
She didn’t have any family to take care of her.
But for now, she did have him. Tanya would have to wait.
The storm had blown over, but Beckett wanted all his concentration on the snow-covered roads, so he let Mary doze undisturbed in the car, despite his concerns. Once back at the cottage, he left her bag in the porch before gently nudging her awake and helping her inside, the car seat in the crook of his free arm.
He stood in the living room as she unstrapped the baby and slowly lowered herself onto the sofa, eyes drifting closed. She looked so fragile, yet Beckett was in awe of the strength she’d displayed earlier.
He shuffled, reduced to his standard social awkwardness now the urgency was over, and Mary’s eyes sprang open.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said after a moment of confusion at why this man was still in her living room. ‘How much do I owe you?’
Beckett jerked his head back, startled. That hadn’t even entered his mind.
‘Nothing! I’m not charging you for this. I’d refund you for the other journey if it wasn’t locked on the system.’
‘What then? You look like you’ve been sent to the headmaster’s office for a crime you didn’t commit.’
Beckett cleared his throat, shuffled a bit more, then accepted that neither of them had the time or energy to faff about.
‘Your family aren’t coming, are they?’
Mary dropped her eyes to the carpet, cheeks reddening. ‘My parents are living in Chicago. For various reasons, I haven’t actually told them about this yet. And my brother… he’s very busy promoting his latest book, How To Be Perfect Like Me, or something like that. His idea of help would be to send me his latest podcast.’
‘What do you need?’
This seemed like a relatively straightforward question to Beckett, but after an initial stunned silence, Mary crumpled. Tears began streaming down her face at an alarming rate as she clutched her baby, rocking back and forth and gasping for air.
