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‘No, it's okay, take a minute to wake yourself up,' said Helen, swaying Lola in her arms.

‘How long will you be?' Gemma asked.

‘Not long, the usual.'

She nodded faintly.

Helen was watching her. ‘You probably won't be finished feeding her by the time I get back.'

Gemma couldn't answer, for fear she was going to cry again.

‘You can come with me if you want, for the drive.'

A knock sounded at the door.

‘I'll get it,' said Helen, ducking out again.

Gemma realised she felt overwhelmed by the idea of being alone in the house with Lola, even for twenty minutes. She had an inordinate fear that something would go wrong and she wouldn't know what to do. She knew she had to get over it. She knew she had to learn to cope on her own. But did she have to do it so soon?

There was a light tap on her bedroom door.

‘It's okay, Helen, I'm decent.'

But it was Charlie who stepped through the doorway, cradling Lola in his arms. He smiled widely at Gemma and she promptly burst into tears.

He went over to the bed and sat beside her. ‘Hey, what's the matter, Gem?'

‘I'm just so happy to see you,' she sobbed.

‘You have a funny way of showing it,' he said, grinning at her.

She sniffed. ‘Oh, this is just the baby blues, apparently. I have no control over it, I'm just sad all the time, even when I'm happy. I am happy to see you, really, Charlie.'

‘Me too.' He put his arm around her and Gemma leaned her head on his shoulder, gazing down at Lola.

‘Can you stay for a while?'

‘Sure, I'm not going anywhere, Gem.'

Gemma was lying back in the bath feeling completely relaxed, and finally at peace. The blues had begun to disperse yesterday; she had actually physically felt it.

She looked down at herself. Her breasts were enormous now that her milk had come in, and she still had a soft little pot belly. But Gemma had never been so proud of her body; it had
produced a human life, and now it was sustaining that life. She didn't feel hopeless any more; she felt necessary, important,
essential
even. She was a little in awe of herself. The gloom had lifted and life and all its possibilities stretched before her.

Gemma finally dragged herself out of the bath, and when she was dried and dressed, she opened the door as Helen was just tip-toeing away. She turned around.

‘Hi! You look like a new woman,' Helen remarked.

‘I feel so much better,' Gemma sighed with relief. ‘How was dinner?'

Tony had arrived that afternoon to meet Gemma and the baby, eventually suggesting they go for a meal somewhere along Darling Street. Gemma didn't feel up to it, so Helen, Noah and Tony had gone off together, once Charlie had assured Helen he was happy to stay with Gemma. He'd been hanging around most of the weekend; Gemma had a feeling that had a lot to do with the lift in her spirits.

‘It was lovely, thanks,' Helen said. ‘Hey, have you seen this?' she said, stepping into Gemma's room. Charlie was curled up on the bed, with Lola sleeping peacefully in the protective arc of his arms. ‘Isn't that gorgeous?'

‘He sure is,' Gemma said dreamily.

Helen bid her goodnight, and Gemma crept softly into the room and around the side of her bed. She carefully picked up Lola and placed her in the newborn crib she was keeping in here for now – Gemma couldn't cope with being too far away from her just yet. Lola squirmed a little and then went quiet again. Gemma turned and sat in the space where Lola had been, gazing down at Charlie. He looked very boyish when he was sleeping. She reached out and stroked the hair from his forehead. He was such a good friend, such a good man, and he was wonderful with Lola. She sat watching him, and the longer she watched him, the more she felt as though she'd never really seen him before.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle nudge. He blinked a couple of times and then squinted up at her, staring at her from that surreal place between asleep and awake. Gemma had a sudden, overwhelming urge . . . What the hell.
She leaned over and kissed him soundly on the lips, lingering long enough so he couldn't mistake her intention. She drew back to look at him and he opened his eyes slowly again, focusing on her. He didn't say anything for a while. Finally he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

‘Gemma?' he said huskily.

‘Yes, Charlie?'

‘Did you just kiss me?'

‘I might have.'

‘Because I was just waking up, and I wasn't sure if I was dreaming, or if you really kissed me.'

‘Do you dream about me often, Charlie?'

‘Don't confuse the issue.'

‘Okay, what were you saying?'

‘That kiss,' he said, ‘it seemed to me that it wasn't the kind of kiss you give a friend.'

‘No, I wouldn't have called it a friendly kiss either.'

He sighed deeply. ‘I don't know if that's such a good idea, Gem.'

‘Well I think it's a wonderful idea,' she said. ‘I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner.'

‘I did,' he said, ‘but that was a long time ago.'

‘I know you did. But then you've always been smarter than me, Charlie.'

‘But that's the thing, Gem, I don't know how smart this is right now. You've got some crazy hormone action going on and you could snap out of it in a few weeks, and then what? We end up ruining a beautiful friendship.'

‘Charlie, I don't feel crazy right now,' said Gemma. ‘I feel sane and lucid and like I'm seeing things clearly for the first time.'

‘Gem –'

‘I don't want to ruin a beautiful friendship either; I just want to take it to another level.'

He looked into her eyes, touching her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘Let's just leave things as they are, Gem. It's safer that way.'

His voice sounded different. Was his voice different?

‘I don't want to be safe.'

‘I thought that's exactly what you wanted,' he reminded her. ‘You said you didn't want to take any more risks.'

She'd never noticed his voice had such a sexy timbre. It was making her a little goosebumpy.

‘Yeah, with losers, not with someone like you, Charlie. I can't believe I've never thought of this before. How often have I said I'll never find someone as good and as decent as you? And you've been right in front of me the whole time.'

‘Yeah, exactly,' he said. ‘Doesn't that tell you something?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Never mind.' He sighed heavily and dropped his head, rubbing it vigorously so when he lifted it to look at her again, his hair was more ruffled than ever. ‘Listen, you just got home from the hospital with a brand-new baby. I don't think you should be rushing into anything.'

‘But –'

‘Gem,' he said, ‘like I told you before, I'm not going anywhere. Okay?'

Okay. So he wanted to take it slow, that's all he was saying. That meant he was definitely considering it. Gemma could live with that.

Helen had managed to work every day of the past week; with all hands on deck, Noah had been looked after and entertained the entire time. Charlie had even offered to pick him up from preschool on Thursday and Friday so she didn't have to rush home on those days either. Charlie had become a regular fixture around the place. He'd taken some long-standing leave to explore his options in film production, and Gemma had effectively hijacked him to help out with the baby. He didn't seem to mind.

So the presentation was as ready as it was ever going to be. They had even had time for Julie to run through a full dress
rehearsal on Friday afternoon, in front of Helen and the rest of the team. Myles had been in a meeting, but he was satisfied from Helen's feedback that they were ready to go.

Helen and Myles hadn't had a lot to do with each other all week, which was just as well; Helen needed to maintain focus, and that was becoming increasingly difficult when Myles was around. She found herself getting flustered, behaving quite out of character, dropping things and forgetting what she was about to say. And any time she caught his eye, he looked at her in a way that was more than a little disconcerting. She found it easier just to avoid him.

Now, after a quiet weekend catching up with Noah, and the housework, and the washing, Helen had to admit to a little excitement over the prospect of sitting in on the pitch. She had not even sat in on a client meeting before, let alone one she had been so closely involved in.

‘Wow,' Gemma said from her throne in the back room, when Helen walked out, dressed ready for work. ‘What's the occasion?'

Helen had decided to wear her mother's outfit again, the one she'd worn to the interview. She hadn't ventured into it since, only the jacket a few times, worried that the full ensemble was a bit much for everyday office wear. But she thought it might be okay for today.

‘Oh, it's just the pitch for that campaign I've been helping out on,' Helen explained, still a little reluctant to tell Gemma too much. She shouldn't have worried though; Gemma's mind was somewhere else altogether these days. Even now she was gazing down at Lola in her arms, barely giving Helen half her attention. She stirred, looking up.

‘Well, you look great, go knock 'em dead,' she said.

‘Will you be okay on your own?' Helen asked. Jim had already been to collect Noah, which had given her extra time to get ready.

‘Your brother's still in there asleep, don't forget,' said Gemma.

Helen wasn't yet used to the fact that Tony was living with them: he'd only moved in over the weekend. And he would be keeping actors' hours, not expected at the theatre till late morning and most likely not home until after dinner. After the
play actually started they wouldn't see much of him at all, so despite his initial protests, he was hardly going to get in the way.

‘Besides,' Gemma was saying, ‘Charlie will be here soon enough. We're going to hit the shops today.'

‘You take it easy,' Helen warned. ‘It's still only early days.'

‘Don't worry, Charlie fusses over me like an old woman. He won't let me do anything, let alone overdo anything.'

They hadn't spoken about the Charlie factor, mostly because he was generally always in earshot. ‘Is there something going on between you two?' asked Helen.

‘I don't know,' said Gemma. ‘Kind of, I'd like there to be, but I'm running into some opposition.'

‘So you've actually broached the idea with him?'

‘You could put it that way.'

Helen was confused.

‘I kissed him,' Gemma said.

‘That's pretty direct,' Helen nodded. ‘Did he kiss you back?'

‘Not exactly, he was half-asleep at the time.'

Helen frowned. ‘Was he aware that you'd kissed him?'

‘Oh, sure. But he reckons it's not a good time to start something. He thinks it's just my crazy baby hormones, and that when the air clears, I'll dump him. He's so wary, and I don't want to be, but he makes me a little wary as well.' She paused. ‘How did you know David was the one?'

‘Pardon?' said Helen, flinching slightly.

‘How did you know David was right for you?'

Helen shrugged and perched on the end of the day bed. She noticed one of Lola's tiny feet had poked out of her bunny rug. She reached over and covered it again.

‘I don't know if I'm the best person to give advice on anyone's love life,' Helen said wryly.

‘Why, you and David were happy, weren't you?'

‘Of course,' said Helen. ‘I just haven't had a lot of experience, that's all.'

Gemma lifted an eyebrow. ‘Was there anyone before David?'

‘Oh, sure. Years back. No one particularly earth-shattering though.'

‘So, how did you know David was right for you?' Gemma repeated.

‘I don't know, really. He was persistent; I gave in.'

‘You gave in?'

‘I guess I eventually believed that he really did want to be with me. And I accepted it.'

‘So I just need to persist then?' said Gemma. ‘Till Charlie is convinced that I'm serious.' She smiled down at Lola. ‘That it's not just baby hormones.'

Helen watched them for a long moment before she roused herself. ‘I'd better head off. Listen, the pitch is not till later this afternoon – I'm not sure what time I'll be home.'

‘No problem,' said Gemma. ‘Charlie and I will be here for Noah.'

During the drive into work, Helen couldn't get the conversation with Gemma out of her head. David had been persistent, certainly. But there hadn't been much in the way of romance; the omnipresence of a dementia-riddled mother had put a dampener on that. Or maybe she and David just weren't romantic types. Once upon a time Helen thought she might have been. She'd had crushes on boys at school, a few flings when she was training to be a nurse; she'd had her passionate moments. But where had it all gone? Helen feared she had turned into someone she'd never intended to become, and she wouldn't have become, had the circumstances of her life been different. What if her mother had been well. What if she'd gone overseas to join Tony after all? But that was just pointless speculation. Everyone had to operate within the circumstances life threw at them. She was no different.

When Helen arrived at Bailey's she went directly to her workstation. Myles would be out of the office all morning, but she had a tonne of filing and correspondence to deal with after having been otherwise occupied for much of last week. It would be good to have a focus, fill in the time, take her mind off the butterflies that had curiously fluttered into her stomach. However, she couldn't resist firing off a quick email
to Julie to make sure everything was set and to check if she needed anything. For the next few hours Helen became absorbed in her work. It was not the most exciting stuff, but she quite enjoyed the routine tasks – more the completing of them than the doing of them. It was very satisfying to have an empty in-tray, a clear desk, and every email answered or actioned appropriately.

It had just occurred to Helen that she hadn't heard back from Julie when Myles came around the corner. He smiled broadly as soon as he saw her.

‘Hey, look at you,' he remarked. ‘That was the dress you wore to the interview, wasn't it?'

Helen nodded, reaching for the jacket hanging over the back of her chair. She'd found it a bit warm for this time of the year, but she slipped it on now, aware that Myles was watching her. And she'd begun to feel self-conscious around him now.

‘I'm remembering why I gave you the job,' he murmured.

She flicked her hair out from under the jacket. ‘Keep it up and I'll go home and change.'

‘No no, don't do that. I'm very glad you went to the trouble to dress up, though they're not the same shoes, I hope?'

That made Helen smile, despite herself.

‘Come into my office, would you, Helen?' he said. ‘We need to talk.'

That sounded vaguely ominous. Helen grabbed a notebook and followed him. She stood on the other side of his desk, a little apprehensively, while he calmly unpacked his briefcase and closed it again, placing it on the floor beside him. He looked across at her. ‘Sit, make yourself comfortable.'

‘What's going on, Myles?'

He sat down, waiting for her to do the same. She lowered herself onto the edge of the chair behind her, looking expectantly at him across the desk.

‘Julie has taken ill,' he announced.

‘Oh no –'

‘It's not serious,' he assured her quickly. ‘But she's in no state to deliver the pitch. She thinks she might have eaten a bad prawn at a barbecue yesterday.'

‘Oh, that's awful,' said Helen, grimacing. ‘What are we going to do? Should we postpone?'

‘Oh no, that's not necessary.' Myles leaned forward in his chair and replaced his glasses as he began to shuffle the papers in front of him. ‘You can handle it.'

Helen didn't quite catch that. ‘I'm sorry?'

‘You can handle the pitch.'

Her stomach did a sickening flip. ‘No, I can't.'

‘Yes, you can.'

‘No, I can't.'

‘Can too.'

‘Can
not
.'

Myles looked at her over the top of his glasses. ‘We could play this all day but it won't get us anywhere, Helen.'

‘Exactly,' she agreed. ‘I can't do it, and that's the end of it.'

‘You know, I don't place a lot of stock in what you have to say in that regard.'

‘What?'

‘Helen,' said Myles, removing his glasses again to look at her directly. ‘You've been saying “I can't do it” for months now, about almost every opportunity or challenge that's put in front of you. And yet time and time again you prove yourself wrong. It appears you're a very poor judge of your own abilities, and therefore not really capable of making this decision. So I'm going to have to make it for you. I have complete faith that you can deliver the pitch, and, unlike you, I haven't been wrong yet.'

Helen was staring at him, gobsmacked. ‘Myles,' she said, her voice quivering, ‘you have to believe me . . . I really can't do this.'

He gave a sigh like a bemused teacher hearing that the dog had eaten her homework again. ‘Helen, listen to the facts. You have been involved in this campaign from the very beginning. You've worked more closely with the team than I have –'

‘Someone else in the team can do it!' she exclaimed suddenly. ‘There, that's it. That's the answer.'

But Myles was shaking his head. ‘No one else feels confident.'

‘Well neither do I!'

‘But we've already established that you don't know what you're talking about.'

She frowned at him.

‘At least in this respect,' he was quick to add. ‘I've been down discussing it with the team and we looked at all the options. Everyone agreed that you were the obvious choice.'

‘But I'm not, Myles,' she implored. ‘I hate getting up in front of people –'

‘There's nothing to it. You know what they say: you just have to imagine your audience naked.'

Helen groaned. ‘I assure you, that's not going to help. You don't understand, I was never any good at public speaking at school.'

‘How long ago was that?'

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, thanks.'

‘Sorry, sorry,' he said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘I didn't mean . . . oh, never mind.' He sat back in his chair, gazing steadily at her. ‘I wish you'd believe in yourself more, Helen.'

She looked at him to see if he was teasing her, but the sincerity in his eyes was quite disarming.

‘Six months ago,' Myles went on, ‘would you have dreamed that you'd be handling a job like this? Not only handling it, but excelling at it?' He paused, weighing his words carefully. ‘Twelve months ago,' he said quietly, ‘could you ever have imagined that you'd find the strength to go on, let alone achieve everything you have?'

Helen felt a sudden pang in her heart. Twelve months ago she'd had no idea what was ahead of her, how much her life was about to change.

‘You can do this, Helen,' Myles was saying. ‘I know you can, but you won't know it until you give it a go.'

She went to speak but only a strangled croak came out. She cleared her throat. ‘What if I screw up, Myles? And I don't mean fluffing a line, I mean hugely, disastrously, catastrophically screwing up.'

He appeared to be contemplating that seriously. ‘Well, you know, I'm pretty sure that whatever happens, the world will keep revolving, and the sun will in fact rise tomorrow.'

She rolled her eyes. ‘I'm serious, Myles.'

‘So am I. What's the worst that could happen? Couldn't be any worse than anything you've been through already.'

‘But –'

‘Enough, Helen,' said Myles, getting to his feet. ‘I'm the MD and I choose you. The buck stops with me if it doesn't work out. Are we agreed?'

She sighed heavily. ‘I don't seem to have a choice.'

‘So we are agreed,' he said cheerfully. ‘Now, how about lunch?'

‘I couldn't, I'll be sick.'

‘You'll be sick come three o'clock if you haven't eaten anything,' he warned, getting up and going round to her side of the desk. ‘Come on, take your mind off it for a while.'

‘I doubt that,' she grumbled, allowing him to lead her from the room. ‘I might find out where Julie got her bad prawn.'

Myles looked at her. ‘But you're a vegetarian, you don't eat them.'

‘I could make an exception just this once.'