Читать книгу: «Instant Mother»
Six-year-old Jessica held up her face for a kiss, then scolded Stefan that he hadn’t done the same About the Author Title Page PROLOGUE CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN Copyright
Six-year-old Jessica held up her face for a kiss, then scolded Stefan that he hadn’t done the same
He glanced at Alexa, and obediently walked back to kiss her goodbye. A small kiss, a perfunctory kiss, on the cheek. And Alexa wanted more.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Yes.”
More? Yes, she wanted more. Wanted real warmth, real happiness—a real marriage. She’d tried burying it, ignoring it, tried to justify it. Anything but admit the truth.
She was in love with Stefan Blake. And had been for a very long time. Not attraction, sexual awareness, but love.
And he didn’t love her.
Emma Richmond was born in north Kent, England, during the war when, she says, “farms were the norm and motorways nonexistent. My childhood was one of warmth and adventure. Amiable and disorganized, I’m married with three daughters, all of whom have fled the nest—probably out of exasperation! The dog stayed, reluctantly. I’m an avid reader, a compulsive writer and a besotted new granny. I love life and my world of dreams, and all I need to make things complete is a housekeeper—like, yesterday!”
Instant Mother
Emma Richmond
PROLOGUE
DESPITE the bitter April wind that made all other pedestrians huddle into coats and scarves, Alexa swung along with her languid, easy stride. Coat unbuttoned, jean-clad legs looking impossibly long, groceries clutched to her chest, she seemed not to have a care in the world.
Unaware of the amused glances she was receiving, her lovely amber eyes full of impish humour, generous mouth pursed in a wry smile, she strode along the square towards her restaurant, and no one seeing her would have guessed at her inner trepidation. She had a wedding party to cater for that evening and she’d never cooked on such a large scale before. Sixty guests, and although they would all be eating the same food it was still a bit daunting.
Unconsciously shaking her head, sending the profusion of long chestnut curls flying, she told herself not to be a fool. She could do it; of course she could. Whatever else she might lack, it certainly wasn’t confidence.
‘Hello, Alexa,’ a dry voice murmured from beside her.
She halted, her eyes widening in pleased surprise. She knew that voice. Quickly turning her head, she stared at the tall bear of a man who was standing outside the newsagent’s. He looked as sexy as ever, long, dark raincoat flowing open in the wind, green eyes full of amusement, and she gave a delighted laugh.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’
‘I might ask the same of you.’ His beautiful eyes steady, relaxed, indolent, he asked softly, ‘Following me, Miss Gifford?’
‘No!’ she laughed. ‘Why would I be following you?’
‘I have no idea. So what are you doing here?’
With a funny little grimace, she murmured irrepressibly, ‘Cooking?’ Indicating the restaurant ahead of them, she added, ‘I own it.’
‘Oh, dear.’
With a gurgle of laughter, she shook her head at him. ‘You live here now?’
‘From time to time.’
Smile widening, she insisted softly, ‘I didn’t know. Truly.’
‘Now why don’t I believe you, I wonder?’
‘I don’t know. It’s the truth.’
He gave an amused smile. ‘I don’t think truth and Miss Gifford should ever be used in the same sentence, do you?’
‘Yes! I never tell lies!’
‘Just bend the truth a bit?’
‘Avoid explanations,’ she corrected. ‘And you don’t have to see me, speak to me. You can stay out of my way!’
‘Oh, I will,’ he promised softly. ‘Being in your way is—dangerous.’
Her grin widening, eyes alight with mischief, she murmured, ‘Just because there have been one or two accidents whenever we’ve met...’
‘One or two? You nearly got me killed in Romania...’
‘I didn’t start the landslip!’
‘Flooded my apartment...’
‘It was a burst pipe!’
‘Wrecked my car with me in it...’
‘I dented your bumper! Don’t exaggerate, Stefan.’
‘And now you’ve followed me to Canterbury.’
‘I haven’t followed you!’ And she hadn’t. It was pure coincidence.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Three months. Come in for a meal some time.’
‘And get poisoned? No, thank you.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’m a very good cook.’
He gave a lazy smile, shook his head at her. Glancing at his watch, he said, ‘I have to go. I’m flying back to the States this morning.’ Then, a hint of devilry in his amazing eyes, he dipped his head and kissed her warmly on the mouth. ‘Be good,’ he said softly, before turning and walking away.
Mouth tingling, she watched him, then gave an infectious chuckle. His dark hair was still too long, she saw, still brushed back and curling up over his collar. People turned to watch him as he passed, because he commanded attention.
‘Hey!’ she suddenly yelled. Hurrying to catch him up, she asked breathlessly, ‘Will I see you again?’
He halted, turned his head, and smiled. ‘Possibly. ’
Allowing him to walk on, eyes still full of warm amusement, she hefted her purchases into a more comfortable position. ‘Possibly’ meant—yes?
Unaware of the pedestrians forced to flow round her, she watched until he was out of sight. A man who made women feel just a little bit special. Not because of what he said, or did, just because he was. And it was, what? Almost a year since she’d last seen him? A lot could happen in a year. And had.
Retreating the few paces to her restaurant, she nudged open the door and edged inside.
‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself.’
Turning, she smiled at Linda, her pretty, dark-haired assistant, and handed over the shopping. ‘Am I?’
‘Mmm. So, who was he?’
‘He?’ she queried. ‘Who?’
‘The hunk you were just talking to.’
‘Oh, Stefan.’ With that odd little smile in her eyes, she murmured softly, ‘He thinks I’m trying to kill him.’
‘And are you?’ Linda asked wryly.
‘No,’ she laughed.
‘So tell.’
‘Nothing to tell,’ she denied as she led the way into the kitchen. ‘We met in an orphanage in Romania. They’d advertised for people to help renovate the old building, take out supplies. And he was absolutely useless at anything practical,’ she remembered with a grin. ‘He was eventually allowed to wield a paintbrush.’
She’d flirted with him outrageously—because he was the sort of man every woman would want to flirt with. He’d been good company, generous and kind, and yet, thinking about it now, she realised that she knew very little about him. Everyone else had shared backgrounds, family, but not Stefan. He hadn’t talked about himself at all. A man of mystery. Yet, of them all, he was the one who remained most firmly in her mind.
Still smiling, a rather reminiscent smile, she began unpacking the shopping.
‘And now he’s here. Tsk, tsk,’ Linda reproved, ‘David won’t like it.’
‘David needn’t know,’ she denied vigorously. ‘Even if there was anything to know, which there isn’t.’
‘Then why are you smiling like that?’ Linda persevered. ‘If you were really in love with David—’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she interrupted impatiently, ‘being in love doesn’t mean you don’t notice other attractive men. It doesn’t mean I want him or anything. I just—like him.’
‘David still wouldn’t like it,’ Linda persisted. ‘Especially the kiss.’
‘A kiss between friends,’ Alexa insisted. ‘It was nothing more. Meant nothing more.’ Puzzled by Linda’s persistence, she examined her face, until Linda flushed and turned away.
‘Sorry, none of my business.’
‘No,’ Alexa agreed quietly. ‘And I don’t expect we’ll meet again.’ But she hoped they would. Hoped it very much.
Her wish was granted. Six weeks later, he came in for a meal.
With a delighted laugh, she went to greet him.
‘Don’t poison me,’ he warned.
‘I won’t,’ she promised solemnly.
‘I have a niece to spoil. I fly over every six weeks.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said softly. ‘It’s good to see you again.’
‘Mmm,’ he agreed, that delightful smile in his eyes.
She seated him, gave him extra attention—and was aware of Linda’s disapproving glances. She didn’t care. It was good to see him again. He was a friend, and friends deserved special treatment.
‘No tummy ache?’ she teased when he’d finished eating.
He shook his head.
‘Then come again.’
He did.
Every six weeks, regular as clockwork, he would come along for a meal. Just one night—the first night of his stay in England. He would go to his hotel straight from the airport, register, dump his bags, and then come along to see her. But in September, everything changed.
She was busy that day, and so it wasn’t until late in the evening that she had a chance to talk to him. Collecting the jug of coffee, she walked over to his table where he was staring rather broodingly into his empty cup.
‘Need topping up?’ she asked quietly.
As though awakening from a dream, he looked up, stared round him as though surprised to find himself alone. ‘Sorry, Alexa, I didn’t realise it was so late.’
‘That’s all right. Day off tomorrow.’
He smiled rather absently.
‘More coffee?’
‘Only if you join me.’
Collecting another cup, she joined him.
‘Problems?’
‘Mmm. Need a husband, Alexa?’
Surprised, she just stared at him. ‘A husband? No. I’m already in... I mean, I have...’
‘A lover?’ he queried with a lopsided smile. ‘Yes. David, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ A little frown in her eyes, she asked gently, ‘What’s wrong?’ When he didn’t immediately answer, she reached out, put her hand over his. ‘Tell me.’
He gave a deep sigh, looked up. ‘I told you about my sister and brother-in-law being killed in a plane crash earlier this year?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed gently.
‘And about Jessica? My niece?’
‘Yes, that she was living with her grandparents, and that you’d applied for eventual custody.’
‘Yes. There was a court hearing today, and, although they will grant guardianship, they won’t, at the moment, grant custody.’
‘Because they want you to be married?’ she asked understandingly.
‘Mmm. They don’t like single gentlemen looking after little girls. Understandable, I suppose.’
‘And so she’s to stay with her grandparents?’
‘Yes, but they’re elderly, and although they love her, as she loves them, as a long-term solution it just won’t work.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ When he didn’t answer, just stared down into his coffee, she watched him for a few moments in silence. Such a strong face. A good face—and long, dark lashes that a girl would kill for. ‘Don’t you know any other women?’ she asked with a sympathetic, if disbelieving smile.
‘Not in England. And I can hardly ask any women of my acquaintance in the States to come all the way over here, give up their lives, for the sake of my niece, can I?’
‘Perhaps not.’ In an attempt to lighten his mood, she teased, ‘And what on earth makes you think that I might make you a good wife?’
He looked up, held her eyes with his. ‘Because you’re fun, and gentle—and you don’t bore me.’
‘Didn’t,’ she corrected. ‘I might have changed.’
‘And have you?’
She smiled, shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m still erratic, scatty...’
‘Warm, friendly,’ he put in. ‘We lived in pretty close proximity in Romania without coming to blows.’
‘True,’ she agreed with a smile as she remembered the spartan accommodation, the shared meals. ‘Have you been back?’
He shook his head. ‘You?’
‘I drove over at Christmas to take some bits and pieces.’ Searching his face, she asked kindly. ‘What will you do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Summoning up another smile, he murmured, ‘I’d better go. You’ll want to close up.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Stay if it helps.’
‘Thanks, but... It’s odd,’ he murmured, ‘you find yourself examining every woman you meet with a view to—motherliness.’ A rather wry smile in his green eyes, he got to his feet.
‘Will you stay over here now?’
‘Can’t My contract in the States doesn’t end until February. I’m trying to get out of it, but...’ With a little shrug, he added, ‘I’ll see you in six weeks.’
But six weeks later she was in hospital with head injuries from a car crash and the restaurant was temporarily closed.
Six weeks after that, it was closed permanently. David had gone, her livelihood had gone, and Alexa was waiting in Stefan’s hotel for him to arrive.
A hat covering her shorn head, too thin, nervous, she watched him check in and then slowly walked to join him as he waited for the lift.
‘Do you still need a wife?’ she asked quietly.
CHAPTER ONE
‘OH COME on, come on...’ Fighting the key into the lock, shoving the door wide, Alexa dropped the lead and lunged for the ringing phone.
‘Mike?’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘Mike?’ a deep voice enquired suspiciously. ‘No, it is not Mike. It’s Stefan! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past two hours! Have you got her?’
‘Got her?’ she queried blankly. ‘Got who?’
‘Jessica!’
‘Jessica?’
‘Stop bloody repeating it! Have you got her?’ he demanded urgently.
‘No, of course I haven’t got her. Why would I have...?’
‘No?’ he yelled. ‘Why the hell not? Alexa,’ he continued furiously, ‘if you’ve—’
‘Wait, wait, wait,’ she interrupted hastily. ‘I...’
‘I don’t have time to wait! Didn’t Mrs Bailey ring you?’
‘Mrs Bailey?’
‘Yes! Jessica’s grandmother!’
‘No, no one’s rung me,’ she denied worriedly.
‘Oh, God. Right listen, this is very important. How far are you from the school?’
‘The primary school?’
‘Of course the primary school! Sorry,’ he apologised raggedly. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m frightened sick. How far, Alexa?’
‘Ten minutes,’ she said quietly.
‘Then go—now.’
‘But...’
‘Don’t argue! Just go and pick her up! Please. Just go,’ he repeated with the aggravated menace of a man at the end of his tether. ‘I’ll ring in half an hour to make sure you’ve got her. Go.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed weakly. Replacing the phone, she stared at Mr Jones, who stared back at her, head on one side. ‘I won’t be long,’ she told him stupidly. Unclipping his lead, she tossed it onto the chair, and went to the school. Ran to the school because his urgency had communicated itself to her.
But why on earth did Jessica need picking up from school? She had met Jessica, of course she had met her, but she didn’t know her. Didn’t know what she liked... And none of this was supposed to happen until next month!
Married to a man she barely knew, living in a minuscule cottage because the brother of an acquaintance had wanted it sat on—or in—for a few weeks, was due back any day now, and she still hadn’t found herself alternative accommodation. Which meant that she was likely to be homeless before the week was out—or not, if Stefan was coming back. And it was no good now saying that she hadn’t known what she was doing. No good blaming anyone but herself. She should have stayed in the hotel where Stefan had put her but she hadn’t wanted to stay in the hotel. She’d needed something to do, not to sit around waiting, getting more and more miserable. And it was such a stupid thing to have done, to marry a man she knew nothing about. But she’d been angry, disbelieving, hurt—homeless, because David, who had also been her landlord, had walked out on her whilst she was in the hospital. That had been bad enough, but he’d also cancelled her lease on the restaurant and the flat above it. And she didn’t know why.
Stefan had been a lifeline. An unthought-out, panicked lifeline. And maybe if he hadn’t had to rush off to the States immediately after the court hearing to grant him custody...if he had given her time to think... But she’d been ill then, weak—and now she wasn’t, and the full import of what she had done was beginning to hit home. If she’d stayed in the hotel, where there were other people, instead of weakly allowing herself to be persuaded into cottage-sitting because she had thought it would give her time to sort herself out... As she would have done, she assured herself, if the plan had been adhered to... And anyone with a tendency towards impulsive behaviour should be forcibly gagged and bound until the impulse had passed!
She had a dog because she’d been unable to say no when someone had asked if she would have him whilst they went on holiday. And didn’t come back. She worked in a charity shop when people didn’t turn up for their shift. Did an old lady’s shopping... Now she was to be responsible for a little girl whose uncle was on the other side of the Atlantic. Was he intending to stay on the other side of the Atlantic? Or was he coming back early? And, if he was, where on earth were they all supposed to live?
A painful stitch in her side, amber eyes squinting against the freezing wind, woolly hat tugged down over her ears, she dashed into the school.
Breathless, heart racing, she skidded to a stop in the reception area, grabbed the janitor. Chest heaving, she had to wait a minute or two to catch her breath before she could speak. ‘Little girl,’ she gasped out. ‘Jessica. Have to pick her up.’
Shrugging off her hand, he stated crossly, ‘And about bloody time!’
‘Sorry?’
‘Poor little mite’s been here ages!’
‘Oh.’
‘And Miss Henderson was not best pleased!’
‘Miss Henderson?’
‘The headmistress!’
‘Oh.’
Hands on knees, still trying to get her breath, she tried a conciliatory smile. ‘Sorry. Got held up.’ Well, she could hardly say she hadn’t known anything about it, could she?
‘All right, then,’ he murmured more reasonably. ‘Miss Henderson had to leave. She didn’t like doing it, but she had no choice. Said I’d look after her, didn’t I? What’s your name?’
‘What?’
‘What’s your name?’ he repeated crossly.
‘Alexa Giff... Blake,’ she hastily substituted. ‘Alexa Blake.’
‘And your telephone number?’
Bewildered, she slowly gave it. He nodded, muttered grumpily, ‘Have to be sure it’s the right person picking her up, don’t I? Gent said to ask.’
‘Gent?’
‘Her uncle!’
‘Oh, right, yes. Sorry.’
‘Can’t be too careful nowadays.’
‘No.’
‘It’s this way.’ Propping his broom against the wall, he led the way across the wooden block floor and pushed open a door on the far side. ‘In here.’
With a muttered ‘thanks’, she peered inside.
Hot, face red from her exertions, she stared at the little girl sitting rather primly on a chair, warmly wrapped against the cold. Navy hooded coat, thick knitted gloves. Grey eyes regarded her solemnly. Eyes too old for her little face.
Alexa walked across and squatted in front of her, smiled. ‘Hello, Jessica. Sorry I’m late. Did you think no one was coming?’
‘I’m Corrie,’ she announced with a rather worried air.
‘Oh, right, Corrie, yes.’ She gave the hopeful smile of one who wasn’t sure whether she was coming or going. ‘I sometimes pretend to be Jasper,’ she added stupidly. Jasper? Oh, boy!
Getting to her feet, she held out her hand. ‘Ready?’
Jessica nodded, slipped her hand into Alexa’s.
‘Thanks for your help,’ she told the janitor. ‘And sorry to be so late.’
He nodded. ‘Still don’t seem right...’ he muttered. ‘Leaving a little girl like that as though she’s a parcel. I was just about to ring the police.’
‘Yes, well, all’s well that ends well,’ she murmured hastily, and, grasping Jessica’s hand a little more tightly, hurried out. She could feel the tension in her small body, the tight grip of her little gloved hand.
‘Right. Well, your uncle is ringing as soon as we get home. And until he can get here,’ she continued brightly, ‘you’re going to stay with me.’
As they turned the corner into the main road the wind hit them with the force of a truck, and they both staggered. With a little shiver, she released Jessica’s hand and quickly buttoned her coat to the neck. ‘Shall we hurry? There’s a nice fire at home, and Mr Jones—he’s my dog...’
But there was nowhere for her to sleep except in with Alexa, probably nothing for a small child to eat in the house... House? It was a shed! A small, cramped cottage sandwiched between two old Victorian houses. A meagre slice of cheese between two large slices of bread. One tiny bedroom, one tiny lounge, a minuscule bathroom and a kitchen no self-respecting cook would be seen dead in.
Glancing down at the solemn little girl, she shook her hand. ‘What would you like for tea, Jessica?’
‘I’m Corrie,’ she announced again.
‘Oh, right, what would you like for tea, Corrie? We could have...umm...’ Mentally reviewing her cupboards in the possible hope that something appetising might be there that she knew very well wasn’t, she asked hopefully, ‘Shepherd’s pie?’ She’d bought mince and vegetables yesterday, but she hadn’t felt very hungry yesterday. ‘And I think there’s a tin of rice pudding... Would that be all right, do you think?’ She glanced down at the little girl, and she nodded.
‘Right. Good.’ With another shiver as the bitter wind found its way past her collar and against her neck, she huddled more warmly into her coat. The coldest January for thirty years, the weatherman had said. Before the accident that had robbed her of confidence, the head injuries that had robbed her of her lovely red-brown hair, she would have taken all this in her stride. And probably would again, she encouraged herself. She was getting better, she knew she was. Once her hair grew again, once she put back the weight she’d lost... Which you won’t if you don’t eat, Alexa. No. She hadn’t been beautiful, or stunning, but she had been attractive. Now she looked like a little ghost. Face too thin, making her eyes look too big, always cold. She’d had a lovely smile, but now it was sad, rather wistful. And nobody knew she was there. She’d deliberately moved out of Canterbury to the nearby village of Trenton, where no one knew her, cut herself off from her friends. And it wouldn’t do, she thought sadly. It really wouldn’t do. If only she could stop thinking about David... Wondering why he had done what he had. Wondering where he was now.
The phone was ringing when they got in and she dropped Jessica’s hand and rushed across to answer it. ‘Hello?’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘You got her?’
‘Yes. She’s fine. Would you like to speak to her? Jessica? It’s your uncle.’ Holding out the phone, she waited, watched, as the little girl took it, put it to her ear.
A slow smile spread across her face. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, to whatever was being asked. ‘No. Yes. Bye.’ She gave the phone back to Alexa.
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I should be with you about midnight.’
‘You’re coming back?’
‘Of course I’m coming back! Did you see the headmistress? What did she say?’
‘Nothing. I mean, she wasn’t there.’
‘She just left her?’ he demanded angrily.
‘Yes, the janitor said—’
‘Alexa, I don’t want to know what the janitor said. Look, I have to go, my flight’s being called. I’ll see you tonight.’
Replacing the receiver, she told Jessica, ‘He’s just running for his plane, and then he will be on his way.’
‘Yes.’ But her eyes were on Mr Jones, who thumped his tail in welcome as Jessica walked cautiously across to him.
And Alexa’s mind was on Stefan. Who was coming home.
‘He looks a bit fierce, I know...’ she murmured rather absently. In fact, Mr Jones looked like a small and rather scruffy wolfhound. ‘But he won’t hurt you,’ she reassured her. ‘He likes to be scratched behind his ears.’ After waiting a moment to be sure they would be all right together, she walked through to the kitchen.
Removing her coat, she tossed it towards the bedroom—and then went to hang it up properly. You have a quest. No sluttish behaviour, please, Alexa.
Eyes still showing her worry and abstraction, she returned to the lounge to see Jessica sitting on the floor, her arm round the dog. Finding a smile, she went to remove the little girl’s outdoor clothes. Hanging them with her own, she returned to sit in the chair. ‘Now, what shall I tell you? This is Mr Jones, and he likes to go for a walk twice a day. We can take him out after we’ve had our tea. Would you like that?’ No answer, just a solemn little face with eyes too old for her years. ‘Right,’ she persevered, ‘there’s the television...’ Picking up the remote control, she showed Jessica how to turn it on and off. ‘Then you can have it on any time you want, can’t you?’
Holding out her hand, which Jessica obediently took, she added brightly, ‘Now I’ll show you round, so that you know where everything is, and then we’ll have something to eat.’
She fed the dog, made the shepherd’s pie, and when they’d eaten she racked her brains for something to occupy the little girl for the rest of the evening. ‘What do you usually do? Watch television? Draw? I don’t have any toys or anything...’
‘Draw.’
‘Right.’ Chewing her lip as she tried to remember if she had any paper, she finally went and got her writing pad, found a pen and handed them to the little girl.
A little smile flickered and was gone as she lay down beside Mr Jones and began to draw.
Watching her, Alexa wondered if she was normally this quiet and good, or whether she was just shy. No surprise there. Dumped on a stranger... ‘How old are you, Jessica?’
‘I’m Charlie,’ she announced, without looking up from her drawing.
‘Oh, right,’ Alexa agreed with a little grin. ‘Charlie. And how old is Charlie?’
‘Six.’
‘And do you like school?’
‘Yes.’
Smothering another smile, she continued to watch her. ‘We have to take Mr Jones out in a minute. Shall you mind going out in the dark?’
Her drawing was abandoned with a haste that was almost alarming, and Alexa was even more worried when Jessica carefully put the pen and notepad tidily on the chair. She then stared at Alexa with tense expectancy.
‘There’s a good girl,’ she praised inadequately. ‘You’re very tidy, aren’t you?’
She didn’t answer, merely waited.
They took Mr Jones out, and when they came back Jessica continued with her drawing whilst Alexa rang the charity shop to explain that she wouldn’t be able to help out for a while. By eight o’clock, Jessica was yawning.
‘Would you like to go to bed, darling?’
She nodded.
Walking with her into the bedroom, Alexa asked gently, ‘Do you need help undressing and washing? ’
She shook her head.
‘All right, don’t forget to clean your teeth—use my toothbrush for now; I don’t suppose it will matter. I’ll go and find you a tee shirt to wear for bed. I expect your uncle will bring your things when he comes.’ She would obviously stay here tonight, but tomorrow... Tomorrow they would have to find somewhere else.
When Jessica came back in just her vest, carrying her clothes, Alexa smiled at her, handed her the tee shirt. ‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’
She looked surprised, then shyly shook her head. Glancing at Mr Jones, who had accompanied them, then back to Alexa, she waited.
‘Would you like Mr Jones to stay with you?’
She nodded.
‘OK, but he mustn’t sleep on the bed, only on the floor beside the bed. All right?’
She nodded again.
‘Shall I leave the door open?’
She nodded.
Holding back the covers, she helped her in, covered her up, and kissed her goodnight. There was tension in the small body. Tension and worry. Well, that made two of them, didn’t it?
Forcing her own worries to the back of her mind, she perched on the edge of the bed and gently stroked Jessica’s soft blonde hair. ‘When you wake up,’ she continued gently, ‘your uncle will be here. And if you need anything, or if you feel frightened in a strange place, just call me. I’ll be just out there. All right?’
She nodded.
‘Goodnight, then, dar...er, Charlie.’ She smiled.
She watched television whilst she waited for Stefan to arrive, and didn’t take in any of it. She began to feel more and more nervous, which was stupid. He wasn’t a stranger, for goodness’ sake, just someone she didn’t know very well. She didn’t know his likes, his dislikes... All she did know with any certainty was that they had nothing in common. He was a scientist. She was a cook. Or had been. She couldn’t be one now. Not professionally at any rate. The accident had robbed her of the two vital senses necessary for being one. The senses of taste and smell. Not that Stefan knew that. Not that it mattered, she supposed. But then, he didn’t know very much about her at all. He knew about David, of course... Well, no, he didn’t even really know about that. He thought David had been her lover, and he hadn’t. They’d had a relationship, but they hadn’t been lovers. Always cautious in her dealing with men, she had wanted to wait until she was sure. With a grim smile, she wondered why being right should hurt so damned much.
Feeling restless, nervous, she heard a car and stopped to listen. Heard it stop. A few minutes later there was the gentle closing of a car door, and footsteps across the icy pavement.
She turned off the television, took a deep breath—and went to open the door. To her husband.
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