Читать книгу Instant Mother - Emma Richmond, Emma Richmond - Страница 7

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.