A Mommy for Christmas Read Online Free PDF

seen enough small children in her mother’s care to be well aware, but somehow Freya’s personality had taken her by surprise. She was so stubborn , such a determined little thing, and very much her daddy’s girl.
    But, then, that wouldn’t be surprising, would it, if she didn’t have a mother in her life?
    â€˜And the mum?’ her mother asked, as if reading her mind, and Kate shrugged thoughtfully.
    â€˜I don’t know if there is one.’
    She tutted softly, her face pleating in a sad frown. ‘Poor little mites.’
    â€˜Mmm.’
    She thought of the dishes in the sink, the chaos in the sitting room, the garden that still, even in December, had garden furniture and toys lying out in it, and she thought of the dark shadows round his eyes and the weary grey pallor of his skin, as if all the sun had gone out of his life.
    And then she thought of the way she’d greeted him on his first morning, less than a week ago, and felt a wash of guilt.
    â€˜Don’t beat yourself up,’ her mother advised, reading her mind again. ‘You didn’t know, and if he chose not to tell you…’
    â€˜But he still hasn’t, so I still don’t really know. She might just have been out shopping. They might be bone idle and useless at housework.’
    But she knew that wasn’t the answer.
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    Fortunately, because he had the rest of the weekend off, James was able to get the bedroom sorted out so his mother could come and stay when he was next on call.
    Well, sorted was perhaps a little generous, he thought, staring gloomily at it late on Sunday night. He’d given it a quick coat of paint over the top of the existing wallpaper just to freshen it up, but apart from that he hadn’t had time to do more than wipe down the woodwork with a damp cloth, vacuum the elderly carpet and make the bed.
    Oh, well, he thought tiredly, at least the bed was a comfortable one. They’d had it in London, bought it so their friends and relations could come to stay at a time when things had been looking good.
    He switched off the light, walked out and closed the door.
    He’d done all he could for now. It needed some serious attention in the future, but it would do for the short term and get over the problem of unsettling the children.
    He dropped them off with the childminder on Monday morning, and walked into the ward to discover that Stephen Symes had started to feel pins and needles in his right hand and was feeling dizzy.
    It could have been anything—maybe a few tiny clots from the femoral artery repair he’d had to do—but he had a hideous sinking feeling that it was more metastases, this time in his brain.
    Well, at least it would be quick, he thought heavily as they did the ward round and checked their post-ops who’d been in over the weekend. They were all doing well, and while he was waiting for Mr Symes to come back from the scanner, he discharged two of the patients and filled out the paperwork. By the time he’d finished, Mr Symes was back, so he went to talk to him.
    â€˜Is there any news?’ he asked James instantly, and he shook his head.
    â€˜Not that I know. They’ll contact us later. You got missed in the ward round so I thought I’d come and check up on you—how’s the tummy?’ he asked.
    â€˜A bit tender, but much better than it was. I’ve stopped feeling sick and things are starting to go through me again, so I suppose I should look on the bright side, but it’s a bit hard with everything else caving in all around me.’
    â€˜I’m sure. I’m glad it’s made you more comfortable, though. That’s good. Mind if I have a look?’
    He shook his head, so James turned back the bedclothes and examined the wound. Neat, clean, healing well, and looking on the bright side, as he’d said, his bowel symptoms were relieved for now. Not so the liver. The yellowish tinge to his skin was a