Chapter Twelve
After the birth of his niece’s baby, Rafferty had realised in these modern times, hospitals discharged their new mothers as soon as possible after the birth, so he was there, later that morning, to take them both home. After wrestling his way through the hospital’s discharge procedures, he finally had them both settled into the car.
‘All right, sweetheart?’
Abra wriggled. ‘Apart from these stitches.’
‘Soon get you home.’ But Rafferty was surprised that his usual – as his Ma termed it boy-racer – style of driving, had vanished. He was carrying precious cargo, his beautiful new daughter, Neeve, and his driving was transported into something that even his ultra-cautious sergeant would admire, and he gave a quiet chuckle, and muttered, ‘New Dad Syndrome.’
‘What did you say?
