‘She’d gone over prepared to take on the whippet,’ Richard whispered into the silence. ‘Trust our Ginny to bring back three. Her heart’s bigger than the Titanic. Only it’s different. It’s unsinkable.’

He subsided. Fergus glanced at him, concerned, and gestured Tony to adjust the oxygen flow. Tony gave an almost imperceptible shrug, which told him a hundred per cent oxygen was already running.

Richard’s time was fast running out. Maybe a week, Fergus thought. Maybe less. He looked back at Ginny and saw the wash of pain cross her face. He knew that his diagnosis had found concurrence.

‘Is there anything you need?’ he asked softly, but he was asking the question more of Tony than of Richard. Richard had slumped into sleep. Soon his sleep would be more than that.

‘Things are fine,’ Ginny whispered, tugging Madison up onto her knee and burying her face in her hair. ‘Your daddy’s sick but he’s not hurting, is he, love? He’s gone to sleep now. Soon he’ll sleep all the time.’

‘My daddy and mummy are going to be together,’ Madison whispered, so softly that Fergus had to stoop to hear her. ‘But Ginny and the puppies will look after me.’

What…? Fergus stared down at Ginny as if she’d taken leave of her senses. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked, and she gave him a rueful smile.

‘What I ought to have been saying two weeks ago. The heart expands to fit all comers.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I went to Oscar’s to get a dog,’ she said. ‘One dog. Only two other dogs put their heads on my knee and I thought, OK, I can fit three dogs into my life.’

‘In your hospital apartment?’

‘Things might have to change.’

‘How?’

‘I think I might make a cup of tea,’ Tony announced into an atmosphere that was suddenly charged. ‘Does anyone else want a cup of tea?’

‘I’d love one,’ Ginny told him, and gave him a grateful smile.

‘You want to come with me?’ Tony asked Madison. ‘There’s cookies with smiley faces in the biscuit barrel.’

‘You’ve been making cookies?’ Fergus was so astounded that he almost barked the question, and Madison flinched at the unexpected noise. He winced. ‘Sorry,’ he told the little girl. ‘I didn’t know your… I didn’t know Ginny knew how to make cookies.’

‘I don’t,’ Ginny agreed. ‘One of the neighbours brought over a bunch of baking. But I might learn.’

‘You might learn.’ He stood, feeling winded, while Tony gathered Madison up and carried her into the house. Richard had seemingly drifted into a deep, untroubled sleep. There was suddenly only Fergus and Ginny.

And the future?

Ginny was silent. Fergus hesitated, then sat on the step beside Ginny and stared out over the yard. The dogs had slumped into a pile of canine contentment in the shade of a cotoneaster. Ginny looked as if she was watching them.

Maybe she was, but who knew what she was seeing?

They remained silent for a couple of minutes. Ginny didn’t seem inclined to talk and Fergus was struggling to find the right words. He didn’t know the right words.

‘Ginny…’ he said softly at last, and she nodded.

‘Mmm?’

‘Last night was fantastic.’

‘It was, wasn’t it?’ she agreed, and there was a note of smugness in her voice that had him taken aback.

‘You agree?’

‘Mind-blowing sex,’ she said in satisfaction. ‘If I’d known that was what I’d needed to jolt me out of my misery, I’d have had it years ago. Mind, it’s a bit hard to find. Mind-blowing sex, that is.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said faintly.

‘You don’t know how hard it is to find? You haven’t been looking?’

‘Ginny…’

Her smile faded. ‘It was fantastic,’ she said softly. ‘And not just the sex. Thank you, Fergus.’

‘You’re thanking me?’

‘I surely am.’

‘For what?’

‘For jolting me.’

‘I thought…what we had…it was more a joining than a jolting,’ he said, cautious again.

She thought about that, considering it from all sides. ‘You mean, joining in more than a sexual way?’

‘I haven’t always been celibate in the six years since my wife left,’ he told her. ‘But last night was different.’

‘Mind-blowing.’ The smugness was back.

He smiled, but persevered. ‘Ginny, you and I could have something special. We do have something special. I feel it.’

‘As in?’ she whispered.

He hesitated but it may as well be said. It was how he was feeling. ‘There’s no need for us to be alone,’ he said. ‘Just because we’ve been wounded in the past.’

‘No,’ she whispered. She stared out at the dogs, but the dogs were doing nothing, going nowhere. ‘I figured that last night. I’d always thought…well, you know I’m a carrier for cystic fibrosis.’

‘That doesn’t mean you’ll have children with cystic fibrosis.’

‘No,’ she agreed. Her tone was blank, almost businesslike. ‘That would only happen if my partner is also a carrier. But even if my partner was free, I still have a fifty per cent chance of passing on carrier status to a child.’

‘So?’

‘So this damnable disease would live on through me. I’ve always sworn that will never happen.’

That was fine as far as it went, he thought. He nodded. ‘There’s life without children.’

‘There is,’ she said, and her voice softened. ‘You’d know that all too well.’

‘We could make it happen.’ He couldn’t stop the urgency entering his voice. He’d seen a glimpse of an escape-a sliver of something that might be a way of life he could embrace. A beautiful woman, smart and funny, a professional colleague with a life of her own. Someone who’d make him smile, who’d lie in his arms at night and take the emptiness away.

‘I’m keeping the dogs,’ she said, and his vision took a back step.

‘That’s crazy.’

‘What’s crazy about giving dogs a home?’

‘We’d never be able to keep them.’

‘We?’

‘If you and I…’

‘Fergus…’

‘I’m just thinking, Ginny,’ he said. ‘I… Last night… You and I… For the first time since my wife left I thought that I might have met someone I could make a future with.’ He lifted her hand, linking her fingers through his. ‘Ginny, it was, as you said, mind-blowing. It made me think that maybe we could make something for ourselves. Be selfish. Just…put away the pain and create a partnership that would edge out the darkness.’

‘Forget the darkness?’ she whispered. ‘How can we forget?’

‘Block it out.’

‘You can’t do that,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve been running for years and it doesn’t work. That’s what I figured last night. I lay there after you left and I stared at the darkness and I thought the way I’ve been trying to block out the pain is by pretending to be someone I’m not. And I can’t do that. I’ve been trying but it doesn’t work. I’m just me. Ginny. And I need people. You made me see that last night.’

‘You need me?’ he asked, not understanding, and she shook her head.

‘Not just you. Though you’re definitely in there if you want to be in.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

She smiled but her smile was troubled. ‘Don’t thank me, Fergus, because I don’t think you want what I’m offering.’

‘What are you offering?’

‘I’m keeping the dogs,’ she whispered.

He stared out at the canine pack. ‘Why?’

‘They’ll be great when I’ve trained them.’

‘You can’t keep them in your Sydney apartment.’

‘No.’ Flat. Definite. Resolute.

‘You’re not seriously thinking about staying here.’

‘No.’ Her chin jutted a little and he thought he could see a trace of fear. She might be determined but this determination was very new and very…scary. ‘I’m not thinking about staying here. I’ve decided to stay here.’

‘After Richard…’ He hesitated and glanced toward the bed.

‘After Richard dies,’ she said, and her voice steadied. ‘I talked it through with Richard this morning and I have his blessing.’

‘To do what?

‘To make this house a home again,’ she said. ‘If I can. To give Madison a place to live.’

‘You’ll stay at Cradle Lake with Madison?’ He forgot to whisper. If he sounded astounded, he couldn’t help it. This was a woman whom he’d thought was running from commitment as fiercely as he was.

‘I thought I hated it,’ she whispered. ‘Cradle Lake was claustrophobic. I knew everyone and everyone knew me. You know how many times I’ve had to cook since people found out Richard was back?’

‘I don’t-’

‘I haven’t had to,’ she continued, ignoring his interruption. ‘I’ve been away for almost fifteen years yet I’m still one of them. I have a community.’

He flinched.

A community.

‘I have that where I work,’ he said. ‘It’s not so rare. People care. It’s why I’m here. To get away from it.’

‘Yeah, but you’ve only been running for months. I’ve been running for fifteen years,’ she whispered. ‘I thought last night…I can stop.’

‘Do you have any idea what you’re saying?’

‘I have,’ she said, and again her chin jutted forward. He could see fear behind her eyes, he thought, and he knew she wasn’t as determined as she made out. ‘I’m jumping into the human race again. I thought…after I lost Richard that that’d be the end. It’s not. It can’t be and for some reason last night made me see that I don’t want it to be. I don’t want to hand Madison over to adoptive parents. Madison’s my last link with my family and I want to teach her to use a canoe on the lake.’

‘I could be your family,’ he said, suddenly urgent, and she gazed down at their linked hands and her smile became almost wistful.

‘You felt it, too, then. Last night.’

‘I surely did.’

‘More than mind-blowing sex.’

‘Ginny, we fit together.’

‘You and your wife,’ she said cautiously. ‘Did you fit?’

‘It’s different. We were professional, and our sole mutual interest was our work.’

‘So you and me…what would our sole mutual interest be?’

‘Ourselves,’ he said, but it sounded lame even to him.