WHEN RAFFERTY GOT TO the hospital, he found Abra already there.
Gemma, his niece, looked red-eyed and tearful. No doubt she was quailing at the prospect of being responsible for a new baby. Although it was a long time since he had been sixteen, it was a feeling Rafferty could empathise with; he was quailing at the possibility himself and it was a long time since he was a teenager.
He kissed them both, but Abra determinedly averted her lips, presented her cheek for a peck and immediately drew back, so Rafferty knew he was still in the dog-house.
He wondered whether Abra had been discussing him with Gemma because although they’d been chatting readily enough when he walked through the door to the small ward, their conversation had quickly faded after his arrival.
He tried his uncle’s duty
