It was exactly five weeks off, and Romy knew she’d only get busier and busier until then. And of course she needed something brilliant for Neill. Darling Neill, who held things together for her. Ten year old Natasha already invented wildly unlikely fairy tales. Eight year old Sarah read way above her age. And little Daniel was Neill’s, and all the more precious for being so. Neill Farrell had been one of the helpers on the Community Clean-Up truck six years earlier. He’d seen the petite divorcee struggling with some heavy old steel piping she was dragging to the front gate for the free collection. And he’d simply taken over. Hauled out the pipes as though they weighed nothing. Returned at the end of the afternoon to offer any other help she needed. Stayed to dinner. Slipped into her bed and into her heart. He was unfazed by her two young children, had her pregnant with Daniel only weeks later, and married her soon after. She’d not cooked a meal since the day he moved in. Nor mowed a lawn or changed a light bulb or hung a load of washing.
