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Helen stood up and carried the bag out to the Sulo bin, the tears still flowing freely down her cheeks. But she didn't feel sad. She went back inside and straight into the bathroom, shedding her clothes. She stood under the shower for a long time, until there were no more tears, no more sobs rising in her chest. She felt calm. And strangely unburdened. Maybe she would have a happy birthday after all.

She padded back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel and opened the doors to the wardrobe. There were David's clothes, all still hanging there, undisturbed since the day he'd died. Helen reached out and touched the sleeve of a shirt. She really needed to do something about all of this. She should give Steven a call, see if he wanted anything of his brother's. Helen sighed deeply, closing the door on that side of the wardrobe. Soon. One thing at a time.

Charlie arrived at the hospital first, only to be told he wasn't allowed in to see Gemma because he wasn't immediate family. When a message was relayed to Gemma that he was there but
they couldn't let him in, she fumed, ‘Excuse me, doesn't my partner count as immediate family?'

‘What did you tell them?' Charlie said when he finally made it to her bedside. ‘They were falling over themselves to apologise.'

‘I just said you were my partner,' she grinned. ‘So you'd better make out like one and come and give me a hug.'

He didn't have to be told twice. ‘I'm so proud of you, Gem,' he said, hugging her warmly. ‘You did it, you actually did it.'

Gemma smiled up at him as he drew back. ‘So what do you think of her?'

Charlie shifted his gaze to the baby and a look came over his face that Gemma found quite disarming. ‘Wow,' he breathed. ‘She's so perfect . . . so tiny, but so perfect.'

And she was so perfect, Gemma could hardly believe how lucky she was. That for once in her life she had got something so right.

‘Do you know, I've never held a newborn baby before?' she said to Charlie.

‘Neither have I,' he said.

‘Do you want to have a go?'

‘I don't know,' he said warily.

‘She won't break,' Gemma assured him, passing the baby into his arms.

‘Wow,' was all Charlie could manage, looking down at her in quiet awe.

‘I can't believe I thought I could ever give her up.' Gemma leaned her head on Charlie's shoulder, gazing at her daughter. ‘I've only had her for a couple of hours and if anyone touched a hair on her head I think I could quite possibly kill them.'

‘She looks just like you, Dad,' said a nurse as she breezed past the bed to open back the curtains.

‘Oh, no, I'm not –'

But Gemma nudged him. ‘That's what I reckon,' she chirped.

The nurse smiled, leaving them alone again.

‘I don't know what she was on about,' said Charlie. ‘She looks just like you.'

‘She does? You're not just saying that?'

‘No, she really does.'

Gemma looked down at her baby girl. ‘I'm not being vain or
anything, Charlie, I was just so scared she'd be the image of her father. I didn't want to be constantly reminded.'

Phoebe arrived soon after, teary and breathless, and it took her approximately fifteen seconds to burst into heaving sobs as she held her newborn niece. Gemma knew this was more than just a particularly emotional response to the birth of her sister's baby, but now was not the time to explore those murky waters. Though if Cam came anywhere near her, Gemma would personally give him a vasectomy, with a rusty knife.

She was beginning to wonder what was taking Helen so long when her mother burst through the door of the hospital ward like a southerly gust, her dad trailing in her wake.

‘Oh my God, where is she? Let me see her, where's my new granddaughter?'

Gemma blinked, her eyes adjusting to the vision splendid that was her mother. How had she got dressed and fully made up this early in the morning?

‘Do I know you, young man?' Trish asked Charlie as she swooped on him and confiscated the baby.

‘This is Charlie, Mum,' Gemma explained. ‘My best friend from work.'

‘Well, if he's such a best friend, why haven't we been introduced to Charlie sooner?' Trish declared. ‘It's nice to meet you, Charlie, and you have to come to dinner, soon. Oh, Gemma, look at that hair,' she cried. ‘Gary, look at that hair, just like Gemma when she was born. Do you remember?'

Gary was leaning over Gemma to give her a kiss. ‘Of course I remember. Prettiest baby I'd ever laid eyes on. Until her sister came along,' he added, winking at Phoebe. ‘Then it was a tie,' he said warmly, taking hold of Gemma's hand.

She smiled at him, cocking her head towards the baby. ‘Not bad, eh?'

‘Not bad at all.'

‘So does she have a name yet?' said Trish, before wincing a little. ‘Now, I've been preparing myself, Gemma. I promised myself I wouldn't say a word if I didn't like it.'

Phoebe snorted. ‘So she's going to know now, Mum, if you don't say anything.'

‘Her name's Lola,' Gemma announced.

Trish's mouth dropped open, and for once she was speechless, although Gemma noticed her eyes had developed a glossy sheen.

‘Well, isn't that nice, love?' said Gary. ‘Naming her after your mum.'

‘Yes, it's lovely,' Trish said huskily, clearing her throat. ‘Your nanna would be so thrilled, darling,' she added, squeezing Gemma's hand. ‘When did you decide that?'

‘I've always planned to call my daughter after Nan.'

‘I didn't know you'd always planned to have a daughter.'

‘I didn't really,' Gemma smiled. ‘I'm just lucky, I guess.'

Phoebe sniffed, pulling a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet.

‘Does she have a second name?' asked Trish. ‘Or is that not the go these days?'

‘I didn't have anything picked out,' Gemma admitted, ‘until she was born. Now it has to be Helen.'

Trish smiled. ‘That's a lovely gesture too, dear, but I'm afraid they don't go together.'

‘What?' Gemma and Phoebe looked at each other blankly.

‘I bet you haven't said it out loud yet,' said Trish. ‘Lola Helen. See, it doesn't sound right, does it? Too many l's. You're going to have to rethink that, darling. Helen will understand. It's simply uncoordinated.'

‘Mum, it's not an outfit,' said Gemma, ‘it's her name.'

‘Then it's all the more important,' Trish insisted. ‘It's not as though she can change it next season.'

Gemma shook her head. ‘Mum, that's going to be her name and that's all there is to it. Helen delivered her, and, I almost forgot, it's Helen's birthday today as well. What kind of amazing coincidence is that?'

‘Thank God she was there, is all I can say,' Gary broke in. ‘I hate to think what would have happened if she wasn't.'

‘So do I,' said Gemma. ‘Lola was in such a hurry, did you know my body actually went into shock –'

‘Well, I'm sorry, dear,' said Trish with a forced laugh, shaking her head, ‘but if you're looking for sympathy because you had a
quick labour, you'd better tell someone who didn't go through eighteen hours like I did with Ben, and then you were not so much better at fifteen –'

‘How do you manage it, Mum?' said Gemma, shaking her head, feigning admiration. ‘I gave birth barely a few hours ago and we're already talking about
your
labours.'

‘All right, all right,' said Trish blithely, gazing down at the baby in her arms. ‘She'll do the same thing to you, Lola, just you wait. It's what mothers do.'

Gemma was a mother now. The enormity of it hit her like a tonne of nappies. Her life was never going to be the same. Though the way she was feeling right now, she could only imagine it would be nothing short of sublime.

‘How are you feeling, Gemstone?' asked Gary. ‘Fantastic,' said Gemma. ‘I feel like I'm on a high. I don't even feel tired.'

‘Well, you should get all the rest you can while you're in the hospital,' said Trish. ‘It'll be a different story once you get home.'

‘But I'm planning to go home tomorrow.'

‘You can't do that!' Trish exclaimed.

‘Well, actually, I can, Mum.'

‘No, the window coverings aren't up yet, but I am going to ring the man the minute we leave here and tell him to rush it, and then we have to move the furniture into the living room, and the cot's being delivered tomorrow.'

‘Mum, I told you, Helen gave me a cot –'

‘I know that – I sent it away to have it refurbished,' said Trish. ‘Now you simply can't come home tomorrow. You have to give me three days at least, darling.'

Just then the door swung open and Noah barrelled in, his arms wrapped around a big bunch of pink flowers. Helen was following behind, and she was nearly bowled over in the rush as Gemma's parents and Phoebe all came at her at once.

‘How can we ever thank you?'

‘Happy Birthday!'

‘Thank God you were there.'

‘You're amazing, Helen.'

They all took a turn at hugging her, something Helen was
not altogether used to. Only Charlie stood back; she smiled at him across Gary's shoulder, and he winked at her.

‘Don't mob her, let the poor woman through,' Gemma called from the bed.

Gary released her and Helen went over to the bedside, smiling broadly. ‘How are you feeling?' Her eyes drifted to the baby. Trish had promptly planted her in Gemma's arms when Helen had appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh, Gem, she's so beautiful,' said Helen, leaning down. Then suddenly Gemma's arm hooked around her neck pulling her close.

‘I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you, Helen. What would I have done without you?' she sobbed.

Helen extricated herself so she could look at Gemma's face. ‘It's okay, Gemma, you would have done the same –'

‘No, because I'm not a good person like you,' she wailed.

‘Gemma, it's all right,' Helen said kindly, squeezing her hand. ‘In fact, it was an incredible experience. I'll never forget it as long as I live.'

Gemma sighed tremulously.

‘Can I hold her?' Helen asked.

‘Of course.' Gemma passed the baby into Helen's arms. ‘I'm naming her Lola.'

‘After my mother,' Trish chimed in.

‘Lola Helen,' Gemma finished.

Helen blinked. ‘You don't have to do that, Gem.'

‘I want to. Lola will be thrilled to have your name when she's old enough to know you delivered her. And you share birthdays. It's perfect.'

‘Thank you,' said Helen. ‘I'm really touched.' And she was.

‘Hey, everyone, do you think you could give us a minute?' said Gemma. ‘I need to talk to Helen about something.'

‘Of course, of course, I'm dying for a coffee anyway,' declared Trish. ‘I don't suppose they'll have decent coffee here . . . though you never know, it is the inner city. Jo – Noah, would you like to come with me and Uncle Gary and we'll find the cafeteria?'

He considered her sceptically. ‘My name's not Jo-Noah.'

Phoebe held her hand out to him. ‘Of course it isn't, silly old Aunty Trish.'

‘Did you have to throw in “old”?' asked Trish as they filed out of the room.

‘Yes, Mum, I did.'

Charlie was smiling widely as he approached the bed. ‘I think I'll get going, Gem, leave you to your family.'

‘No, Charlie,' Gemma protested. ‘Don't let them frighten you away.'

‘They didn't,' he said. ‘It's just that I have to get to work.'

Gemma pulled a face.

‘I'll come back later.'

‘Promise?'

‘Promise.' He leaned down and kissed her warmly on the cheek. ‘Congratulations, Gem. You're a star.'

‘See you, Helen,' he said with a wave as he walked out the door.

‘He's such a lovely guy,' said Helen.

‘I know,' said Gemma wistfully.

Helen was watching her with a raised eyebrow, but Gemma had other things on her mind.

‘First of all, I'll never be able to repay you for what you did last night, Helen, but I'd love you to be Lola's godmother.'

Helen considered her. ‘I thought you didn't believe in God?'

‘I don't, and I'm not having a christening,' Gemma said sheepishly. ‘But I still want you to be godmother, you know, de facto or in spirit, or whatever.'

Helen smiled down at Lola. ‘I'd be honoured.'

‘Thank you.' Gemma took a breath. ‘And I wanted to say sorry for everything I said last night, you know, before . . .'

‘It's okay.'

‘No, don't do that, Helen,' Gemma said solemnly.

Helen looked at her. ‘Do what?'

‘Don't brush it off like that. I've been bloody awful to you lately, sniping about you, whinging . . .'

‘Gemma, you were about to have a baby,' said Helen. ‘Your hormones have been all over the place. I didn't take it personally.'

‘Don't make excuses for me. I got it into my head that you were going to steal my job out from under me, that I wouldn't have a job to go back to after the baby . . .'

Helen frowned. ‘Why on earth would you think that?'

She sighed. ‘Because I'm a bitch, obviously. A crazy one, from hell.'

‘Gemma –'

‘No, Helen, let me get this out. I've been a bitch, I really have, and I'm not proud of myself.' She paused. ‘At times like this you have to do a bit of soul-searching, and the thing is, I've made a lot of mistakes in the past, and some really bad choices, and . . . look, I've just done a lot of stupid, reckless things. But I've got to get my act together. I can't make excuses any more, I'm a mother now. I can't afford to screw this up.'

‘You won't,' Helen said. ‘You're going to be a wonderful mother, Gemma.'