Читать книгу Kids Included - Caroline Anderson - Страница 8

‘MOLLY?’

She jerked up into a sitting position, her lids flying open, and met Jack’s laughing eyes with an inward groan.

‘Hi,’ she mumbled through stiff lips. She tried to smile, and felt the skin shatter all over her face. Her hands flew up and covered the hideous mask, and with a moan of anguish she flopped back against the sun lounger and glared at him. ‘I thought you were at the farmyard?’ she wailed, cracking furiously.

He grinned, quite unabashed at having caught her in such disarray. Damn.

‘Seems I wasn’t needed there.’

You’re not needed here, she nearly retorted, scrambling to her feet and clutching the sides of her dressing gown together. The only good thing about it was that he couldn’t see the flaming colour in her cheeks under the crumbling face pack.

‘Give me a minute,’ she muttered, and felt a chunk of the vile green mud flake and fall off. She fled for the sanctuary of her bathroom, trailed by a masculine chuckle that did nothing for her temper—or her equilibrium.

Ruthlessly she crumbled the face pack and scrubbed it off with warm water, slapped on some moisturiser that made her go all shiny as well as pink, and dragged on her shorts and T-shirt. Hmm. She looked about sixteen—which, come to think of it, had to be an improvement on thirty-one.

She shoved her feet into sandals, wriggling into them as she walked, and found him sprawled on her sun lounger, face tipped up to the sun, eyes shut, utterly at ease.

‘Coffee?’ she snapped, and he opened one eye and squinted at her in the sunlight.

‘If you’re sure it’s no trouble.’

‘It’s no trouble,’ she said ungraciously, and flounced back into the cabin. Fancy catching her like that! She’d looked a total fright! He might have warned her he was coming! She banged around in the little open-plan kitchen area, smacking mugs down on the worktop, popping the seal on the instant coffee and tapping her foot while the kettle slowly came to the boil.

‘You’re mad with me.’

Her head jerked up and she glared at him over the kettle. ‘Why should I be mad with you?’

He smiled understandingly. ‘Because I caught you looking like a refugee from a frog pond?’

She stifled the smile. ‘You have such a way with words.’

He laughed, propping his arms on the half-wall that surrounded the kitchen area and leaning over towards her with that engaging grin of his. ‘Am I supposed to say you looked ravishing?’

‘And add lying to your sins?’

‘Maybe it’s not a lie.’

‘And maybe you’re a frog. That would explain a lot.’

He smiled. ‘You could always kiss me and see if I turn into a prince.’

Her heart unaccountably thumped. ‘In your dreams,’ she shot back, refusing to smile.

‘Grouch.’

‘You’d better believe it. I’m not my sunny best when I’m caught like that.’

He straightened up, his mouth twitching. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling you you’d look wonderful covered in mud from head to foot?’

She arched a brow. ‘Hardly. I’d only think you had a kink about women mud-wrestlers—either that or you really are a frog.’

His eyes sparkled with humour and he let the smile out, drawing her attention to the firm fullness of his lips and the hard angle of his beautifully-sculpted jaw. Perhaps she ought to kiss him and find out—?

‘Penny for them.’

She laughed then. ‘No way. Black or white?’

‘Black—strong, no sugar.’

How had she known that? She handed him the mug over the little wall, and scooping up her own she went out into the little sun-trap patio at the back of the cabin. Like his, it looked out over the lake and was open to anyone who chose to walk past it—the last place she should have sat with her face pack on.

She’d thought she was safe, though, because there hadn’t seemed to be anyone about. It was just her luck that he’d come looking for her and found her like that! She sat on one of the chairs at the picnic table, tucking her legs up under the chair and chasing a little pine-needle round the table top.

He sat down on her right, looking out over the lake, his legs stretched out under the table and crossed at the ankle. She hitched hers a little tighter under her, out of reach. No way was she playing footsie with him with the cabin just behind them and not a child in sight to protect her from his abundant charms!

‘Gorgeous morning.’ He stretched his arms over his head, locking his fingers behind his neck and yawning hugely. His T-shirt drew taut over the muscles on his chest, and she had to drag her eyes away before she disgraced herself.

She stared at the lake, counting ducks until her heart-rate was back under control.

‘So, how come you weren’t needed?’ she asked to fill the silence—and when she could trust herself to speak.

‘They had enough helpers, and Nicky seemed quite happy. She’d got to know one of them yesterday doing finger painting, apparently.’

‘So you thought you’d come and persecute me?’ she asked with a smile to take away the offence. Actually, she was quite pleased he had, despite the face pack. He was fun, and it seemed like years since she’d had fun—even if she didn’t intend to play footsie.

‘Something like that,’ he replied with a smile, and his eyes were warm and kind and crinkly at the corners, as if he did it often. It made her go all gooey inside—which was ridiculous, considering he couldn’t possibly be really interested in her. He was just passing the time. Idle flirting. Most men did it, like breathing, without even noticing.

He drank his coffee, then peered into the bottom of the mug and set it down with transparent and very obvious regret.

‘More?’ she offered automatically.

The smile was lazy and sexy and satisfied. ‘I will if you will.’

For a moment she wondered what he was talking about, but then collected her scattered wits. ‘I’m fine—I usually only have one.’

He sat up, the smile fading, searching her face. ‘I’ll go if you want to get back to your vegetative state.’

She laughed and stood up, scooping up his mug. ‘No, I’ve vegged enough. Black again?’

‘Please.’

She made the coffee and took it out, setting it down in front of him. ‘There was some research done a while ago that linked strong black coffee with sterility, but I guess if you’ve got four children that rather blows their research away,’ she said with a grin.

Something changed in his eyes, and he gave a short, humourless grunt of laughter. ‘We may never know,’ he said quietly. ‘They’re not my kids.’

‘Not—?’ Molly swallowed and dragged in a lungful of air. There she went again, she thought, jumping in with both feet.

‘Not yours?’ she finished, still on autopilot, wondering all sorts of things. Like, if not his, then whose? Was he their uncle? Godfather? Guardian? Friend? Stepfather, maybe. They called him Jack. And where were their real parents? Was his ex-wife their mother? And where had the parents been a year ago at that dreadful party—?

‘Their parents are dead,’ he told her, answering at least one of the questions.

A wave of regret washed over her, drowning the frenzied thoughts for the moment. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured automatically. ‘How awful for them. How? What happened?’

He sighed. ‘Nick was my partner—we worked together,’ he told her, his voice expressionless. ‘He was shot working under cover. His wife was just pregnant with Nicky at the time, and he didn’t know. Then while she was pregnant she found out she had cancer.’

‘Oh, no.’ Molly put her hand over her mouth, stemming the questions, letting Jack talk. After a moment he went on.

‘They couldn’t treat it because of the baby. She died when Nicky was five months old.’

‘And you took the children on,’ she added softly, aching for them all.

‘Yes. I’m Tom’s godfather anyway. I married Jan just before Nicky was born.’

Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that. ‘You didn’t waste any time,’ she said without thinking, and his face hardened.

‘There wasn’t a lot of time to waste,’ he said harshly, and scraped back his chair. ‘I’d better go and pick Nicky up. Thanks for the coffee.’

And he went, leaving the full mug slopping gently on the plastic table. She mopped it up mechanically, throwing the coffee down the sink, and wondered how she’d grown so tactless in her old age. Fancy accusing him of marrying the children’s mother in undue haste, without knowing anything except the barest outline—and she only knew that because she’d blundered onto the subject by talking about sterility!

‘What a fool,’ she muttered, and wondered if he’d ever speak to her again. Probably not. He’d probably ignore her, and she’d deserve it. Damn.

And then she forgot her own problems and remembered the children, Seb and Amy and Tom, who must have grieved bitterly for their parents, and little Nicky, who had never seen her father and wouldn’t remember her mother, and the ache that had been growing for the last few minutes welled up and spilled over.

What had it been like for Jack, losing his friend and then his—well, wife, really, she supposed. Had he loved her for years? And the children—how had they coped?

She sniffed and scrubbed away the tears. Poor little things. Fancy growing up without a mother. Who would cuddle them when they were hurt and frightened, and tell them—especially Amy and Nicky—all the things girls needed to know and boys needed to understand?

Jack, of course, being mother and father to them.

And what kind of a man was Jack to take them all on? He must be a complete fool, or an angel. Either that or he had loved their mother—perhaps was Nicky’s father, even—and he was doing it out of guilt.

Whatever, he was doing it, and the vast majority of men would have run a mile before they’d take on such a responsibility.

Her estimation of him went up another notch, and she wondered yet again if she’d damaged their tentative friendship beyond repair. She hoped not, because if ever a man needed help it was this one, and, for some crazy reason she just couldn’t fathom, she wanted to be the person to give it…

Jack waited by the entrance to the go-kart rink, looking out for Molly. She’d said she was karting this afternoon, and he owed her an apology for storming off like that. He’d just had so much of it from Jan’s mother, and initially from the children, too. He hadn’t wanted to deal with it again, but even so he should have expected her reaction and stayed to explain the reasons to her.

Instead he’d flounced off like a toddler with a tantrum, and probably left her upset and confused.

Damn.

There she was, dressed in jeans and trainers and a T-shirt, walking tentatively towards him. He went to meet her.

‘I’m sorry—’

‘I’m sorry—’

He gave a rueful laugh, and she smiled, cautious and uneasy. ‘I never should have said it. Why you married her is none of my business.’

‘I should have explained—I know all the things going through your head; I’ve heard them all. Let’s just say for now it was for the kids. I’ll tell you more later—if you’ll listen?’

The strain left her face. ‘Of course I’ll listen,’ she said, and he felt as if a weight had been taken off his chest.

‘Good. Right, let’s see if frogs can drive karts.’

‘Meaning you, or me?’

He grinned. ‘Either. Both.’

‘Speak for yourself.’

‘Ribbet-ribbet.’

He saw the laughter bubble up inside her, transforming her worried expression. ‘Idiot,’ she said, and he grinned again, absurdly pleased with himself for making her smile and bringing the light back into those gorgeous blue-green eyes.

He was disgustingly good at karting. She struggled to control the feisty little machine, but Jack didn’t seem to have any such problem. He whipped past her time and time again, his focus absolute, his concentration mind-boggling.

When they stopped, he unravelled himself from the little rollerskate of a kart and stretched, grinning from ear to ear. ‘That was brilliant. I haven’t done that for ages.’

‘I haven’t done it ever,’ she said drily, ‘and it shows.’

He chuckled. ‘You did fine.’

‘You didn’t even see me. You were going too fast to notice.’

‘Oh, I noticed.’ His mouth quirked and he searched her eyes. ‘We need to fetch the kids. I’d better go; I have to be in three places at once.’

‘Why don’t I get the boys? Then you can pick up the girls—the theatre workshop’s quite near the kindergarten, and the trail-bikes are right over on the other side. It would make sense.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘You sure? That would be great.’

He did have the most gorgeous eyes, she mused. ‘Absolutely sure. I’ll meet you back at the cabins in a bit.’

He waved her off at the bike park, and she headed across the site, following the wiggly paths amongst the cabins until she reached the trail-bikes.

The boys were just coming out, looking grubby and cheerful, and she waved to them.

‘Where’s Jack?’ Tom asked, peering round.

‘Picking up the girls. You’re both coming back with me and we’re meeting up at the cabin. Have a good time?’

‘Brilliant!’ Philip said. He could hardly keep his feet on the ground he was so high, and Tom was the same. They went ahead, chattering all the way back to the cabin while she struggled to keep them in sight, and threw their bikes down and rushed round the back to find the others. She propped the bikes up, locked them and followed more slowly.

Jack was there with the girls, sprawled behind his cabin on a sun lounger, Nicky draped over his chest fast asleep while the boys blasted Seb with a loud and chaotic resumé of their trail-biking exploits.

She sat on the grass beside Jack and tipped her head towards Nicky. ‘She looks bushed,’ she said quietly.

‘Busy day. She’s only two and a half; it’s all a bit much. I might take tomorrow morning off and do something quiet with her.’

Molly grinned. ‘You’re just looking for a way out—too much activity for your old bones.’

He gave her a wry grin. ‘You’d better believe it. I’m supposed to be doing a paintball game with Seb tomorrow—all that crashing about in the woods getting scratched to bits and dolloped with paint—I can hardly wait.’

‘You’ll love it.’

He snorted, then looked down, his fingers playing idly with the baby’s blonde locks. ‘Maybe, but she’s tired. I don’t think she can cope with another busy day.’

‘I’ll have her if you like,’ she offered, before her brain took over.

‘You’re mad.’

She smiled, covering up her regret at yet another impulse. ‘Probably. I like little children. We can feed the ducks and read a book and make biscuits, and she can have a nap if she needs it.’

He looked thoughtful—because he didn’t trust her? Because she’d sounded forced and over-jolly? She must be nuts. If anyone needed a day off she did—and then she looked at the dark shadows under Jack’s eyes, and the lines of fatigue in his cheeks, and her soft heart melted all over again.

‘I am a trained nursery nurse,’ she reminded him gently, ‘and I’ve brought up two children alone for the past five years. I can cope.’

He pursed his lips, then nodded, swallowing. ‘If you really don’t mind. I can’t be everywhere at once and I feel I ought to spend some time with Seb doing man stuff, you know?’

She smiled softly. ‘Yes, I know. I have a friend I bribe occasionally to do “man stuff” with Philip. You go and have fun with Seb. It’s just too easy to forget how important these little things are.’

He nodded. ‘Tell me about it. I spend my life juggling—and most of the time I drop all the balls.’

‘I’m sure you don’t. The kids all look well and happy.’

‘I try.’ He looked down at Nicky again, then at Molly. ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea, but she looks too comfy to move.’

‘I’ll get you one.’

‘Bless you.’ The smile crinkled his eyes, just a little, an almost imperceptible softening of his features. It made him devastatingly attractive—at least to Molly. She stood up hastily, brushed off her jeans and went into the kitchen. It was the same layout as hers, so finding things was easy, which was just as well because that tiny smile had utterly scrambled her brains…

They met just after nine, when the five younger children were safely tucked up in bed and Seb was slouched in front of the television. Jack appeared at the patio doors at the back of her cabin, and together they strolled down to the lakeside.

It was a beautiful evening, the sun’s last rays dying over the water and touching the trees with gold. Ducks and geese glided silently over the surface of the lake, rippling the still water and scattering the sunlight.

It was peaceful and beautiful, and they sat down together on the edge of the water and just absorbed the stillness for a while.

It was amazingly quiet. There was the occasional sound of laughter, a child crying in the distance, and here and there the odd call of a bird or scuttle of a vole.

Beside her Molly could feel Jack thinking—could almost hear the cogs turn. Maybe he didn’t know where to start. Maybe he needed help.

‘Tell me about Jan,’ she prompted gently.

Jack’s sigh was soft and full of regret. ‘Jan? She was stocky and feisty and loud, and Nick adored her. It was mutual—she thought the sun rose and set on him. They fell in love at sixteen, married at twenty, had Seb at twenty-three. His parents hated her—she was a little off the wall for their taste, and they never really trusted her. When Jan found out she was dying, they said they’d have the children. She couldn’t bear the idea, but she had no choice. Her own parents were dead; she couldn’t see another way.’

‘Until you suggested one.’

He looked down at his hands. ‘Nick had asked me, years ago, if I’d have their kids if anything happened to them. I was married then, they’d only had only Seb and Amy, and I said yes. Nick had it put in his will, but Jan thought everything had changed so much I wouldn’t have them—not all four. As I saw it, they needed me even more. I suggested we got married, and I adopted the children. It was what Nick would have wanted, and it gave Jan the security she needed to die in peace.’

‘And the children?’

‘Amy and Tom were OK, and Nicky was too tiny to know what was going on.’

‘And Seb?’

He sighed. ‘Seb thought it was awful. He couldn’t understand why they couldn’t go to his grandparents and he could look after them all there. He was twelve, too young to cope, too old to be told what to do without questioning it. And he didn’t like the thought of me touching his mother.’

‘And did you?’

He shot her a searching look. ‘Hardly. She was my best friend’s wife, a real one-man woman. She was dying of cancer. Of course I didn’t touch her. I didn’t want to. That wasn’t what it was about.’

Molly felt relief for a moment, but there was another question she and her foolish mouth just had to ask. ‘Did you love her?’

‘Yes. As a friend, as a wonderful mother to my godson, as an incredible and beautiful human being—yes, I loved her. As a woman—no. Not in that way. I never once looked at her and envied Nick anything but his relationship with her. That I would have given my eye teeth for, but Jan herself? No. She wasn’t my type. Does that answer your question?’

Her smile was wry. ‘I think so. And Nick’s parents—did they take it lying down?’

Jack laughed humourlessly. ‘You are joking. They went up the wall. They wanted the children, said they could cope. Now, they won’t even have them all at once for the weekend because they’re too much!’

‘And are they too much for you?’ she probed softly.

He chuckled and threw a little stone into the lake, watching the ripples spread. ‘Only most of the time. Sometimes—usually when they’re asleep—I can almost cope.’

She could hear the love and despair in his voice, and wanted to hug him. Instead she slid her hand over the mossy turf and threaded her fingers through his, squeezing silently.

‘I think you’re amazing taking them on,’ she said quietly. ‘Most men would have handed them over to their grandparents with a heartfelt sigh and legged it.’

‘Nick would have had mine,’ he said, and something in his voice said it all.

She wanted to cry for him. ‘He must have been a good friend.’

‘He was the best.’

His voice sounded raw and hurt, and his fingers tightened on hers. She returned the pressure, offering wordless comfort, and after a moment the pressure eased and he sighed. ‘It’s crazy, I still miss him.’

‘I’m sure you do.’ Her mind rambled on, dealing with the nitty-gritty, imagining life in his household—imagining a week-day morning in term-time, with everybody’s homework lost on the kitchen table, three lunches to get, Nicky to wash and dress, buses to catch—hideous. ‘It’s a good job you were already writing,’ she added. ‘You couldn’t have looked after the children if you’d been at work.’

‘I was at work. I gave up. Luckily my writing was just taking off and I was able to pull out of the force and just about manage to live on my earnings.’

She shifted a little, turning towards him. ‘But the children must be provided for—you don’t have to pay everything for them, do you?’

He shook his head. ‘No. There is a fund I can call on, but I’m trying not to. They’ll need it when they’re older. It’s their inheritance.’

He slipped his fingers out of hers and stood up, holding his hand out again to draw her to her feet. ‘Walk?’ he suggested, and she cast an anxious glance back at her cabin, where her children were sleeping.

The sun had set now, and the village was settling into darkness. She didn’t like leaving them, but she sensed Jack needed this time out from his brood. She nodded. ‘All right—but just a little way—not out of sight.’

‘OK.’

They strolled along the water’s edge, not talking, not quite touching, sharing a companionable silence. Every now and then one of them scuffed a little stone, and it would roll into the water and send a ripple out across the surface.

‘It’s so peaceful,’ Jack murmured.

‘Mmm.’ She looked across the lake to the village centre, a hub of activity even this late at night, and at the edge, beside the water, she could see a restaurant. Lights from it twinkled in the lake, and she could see the faint flickering glow of candles on the tables.

‘It looks very romantic,’ she said, and could have kicked herself for the wistful tone in her voice.

She needn’t have worried. Jack was looking at it just as wistfully. ‘It would be nice to have a meal there without the kids,’ he murmured. ‘How about it? Shall we share a babysitter, order the kids pizza and go and paint the town red?’

The thought was wonderful. ‘Sounds good,’ she replied, gazing across the water. ‘Do you suppose they do babysitters?’

‘I think so. We can ask tomorrow. What’s on your agenda?’

She laughed. ‘I have no idea. Babysitting Nicky while you’re doing man stuff with Seb, otherwise I don’t know. The kids are sailing again, I think, and I might have a totally lazy day or maybe go swimming.’

‘Sounds good. The paintball game is first thing—if you’re sure about Nicky?’

‘If she’ll come to me.’

‘She will. She’s used to it, bless her—and then, if we can, we’ll go out tomorrow night and try and remember how we misspent our youth!’

Molly laughed. ‘Speak for yourself. My youth was exemplary.’

‘High time you started living a little, then,’ he murmured, and his voice slithered down her spine like melted chocolate, leaving a shiver in its wake.

And Molly suddenly had the feeling that a quiet dinner a` deux in the candlelit restaurant by the lake might be a very foolish move indeed…