Читать книгу From Paris With Love Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 25
ОглавлениеTHE BABY WOKE at half past three, and the wails coming through the baby listener seemed incredibly loud.
Dylan surfaced from some weird dream, switched off the baby listener and staggered out into Tyler’s nursery.
According to what Emmy had told him—and what he’d read last night—screaming meant the baby was dirty, hungry, tired or wanted a cuddle. He picked the baby up and sniffed him. Nothing like yesterday’s appalling whiff, so Tyler didn’t need a nappy change. It was the middle of the night, so he could be tired—but then again, he wouldn’t have woken if he was tired. So was he hungry, or did he just want a cuddle?
He probably wanted his mum. Though, Tyler was way too little to understand that Ally couldn’t be there for him anymore. Not like Dylan’s mother, who hadn’t been there because she hadn’t wanted to; Tyler had been very much loved by both his parents. And it was wrong, wrong, wrong that they’d died so young.
The baby nuzzled him.
Hadn’t Emmy said that was a sign of hunger?
‘OK, Ty, food it is,’ he whispered. He took the baby down to the kitchen, managed to switch on the kettle and get the milk out of the fridge, and walked up and down with the baby, stroking his back to sooth him and jiggling him.
Dear God, why had nobody told him that babies were so loud? If Tyler carried on much longer, Emmy was bound to wake. And that wasn’t fair because this was his shift, not hers, and he should be able to deal with this.
It seemed to take forever to heat the milk, and Tyler’s wails grew louder and louder. Eventually Dylan managed it and tested the milk against his wrist. It wasn’t as warm as yesterday, but hopefully it would be warm enough to keep the baby happy.
He sat in the dark while the baby guzzled his milk.
‘Better now?’ he asked softly. Not that he was going to get an answer.
Then he remembered about the burping thing. The last thing he wanted was for the baby to wake again, crying because his tummy hurt. Dylan felt like a zombie as it was. He held Tyler on his shoulder and rubbed the baby’s back, then nearly dropped the baby when he heard a loud burp and felt an immediate gush of liquid over his bare shoulder. What? Why hadn’t Emmy warned him about this? It hadn’t happened last time. Had he done something wrong?
The baby began to cry again. Oh, hell—the burped-up milk had probably soaked his clothes, too, and he’d be cold. He needed a change of clothes; Dylan couldn’t possibly put him back into his cot in this state.
Luckily the overhead light in the nursery was on a dimmer switch. Dylan kept it as low as possible, and hunted for clean clothes. Tyler seemed to have grown four extra arms and six extra legs, all of which were invisible, but eventually Dylan managed to get him out of the Babygro.
The nappy felt heavy; clearly that needed changing, too, before Dylan put clean clothes on the baby. But when he settled Tyler on the changing unit and opened the nappy, the baby promptly peed over him. Dylan jumped back in shock, then dashed forward in horror. This was his first night in charge and he was making a total mess of it. The baby could’ve rolled over and fallen off the changing station and been badly hurt.
His heart was hammering. Please, no. He’d already lost Pete and Ally; he couldn’t bear the idea of anything happening to Tyler. Even though the baby had disrupted his life, even though it panicked him that he didn’t know what he was doing, he was beginning to feel other emotions than just resentment towards Tyler.
He tried to make light of it, even though he was in a cold sweat. ‘Help me out here, Ty,’ he muttered. ‘I’m new at all this.’
But finally the baby had a clean nappy and clean clothes. Dylan put him in the cot and made sure the covers were tucked in properly; within seconds Tyler had fallen back to sleep in his usual position with his arms up over his head, looking like a little frog.
Dylan went back to his room feeling almost hung-over. It was way too late to have a shower; the noise from the water tank would wake Emmy. So he simply sponged off the worst of the milk at the sink in his en-suite, and fell into bed. How did parents of newborns cope with even less sleep than this? he wondered as he sank back into sleep. How had Pete not been a total zombie?
The next morning, his alarm shrilled at the usual time. Normally Dylan woke before his alarm, whereas today he felt groggy from lack of sleep. He staggered out of bed and showered; he didn’t feel much better afterwards, though at least he didn’t smell of burped-up milk anymore.
He went to the nursery to look in on Tyler. The baby was asleep in his cot, looking angelic. ‘It’s all right for some,’ Dylan said wryly. ‘I could do with a nap. So have an extra one for me.’
He dragged himself downstairs. Was it his imagination, or could he smell coffee?
Emmy was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a mug of coffee. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him. ‘Rough night?’ she asked.
‘Apart from Ty throwing up half the milk over me and then peeing over me...’
She burst out laughing and he glared at her. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘You could’ve warned me he’d do that.’
She spread her hands. ‘To be fair, he hasn’t actually done that to me. But Ally told me he once did it to Pete.’
‘Just don’t tell me it’s a male bonding thing,’ he grumbled.
‘And I thought you were supposed to be a morning person.’ She laughed, and poured him a mug of coffee. ‘Here. This might help.’
‘Thanks. I think.’ He took a sip. ‘I was useless last night. I nearly let him fall off the changing station.’
She flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I’m sure you didn’t.’
‘I jumped back from him when he peed on me.’
‘Which is a natural reaction, and you would’ve been there to stop him if he’d started to roll.’
It still made him go cold, how close it had been. ‘Can he roll over?’
‘Yes.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Stop panicking, Dylan. You know what to expect now. You won’t let him fall.’
How could she have so much confidence in him, when he had absolutely none in himself? And what had happened to her, anyway? The Emmy Jacobs he knew would’ve sniped about him not being good enough. This Emmy was surprisingly supportive. Which made him feel even more adrift. He was used to being in charge and knowing exactly what he was doing. Right now, he was winging it, and he hated feeling so useless.
He covered up his feelings by saying, ‘I could do with some toast. Do we have bread?’
‘Not much. But it’s my turn for the supermarket run today, so I’ll get some.’
‘Right.’
‘Any food allergies, or anything you hate eating?’
‘No to the first, offal to the second.’
She smiled. ‘That makes two of us. I’ll pick up dinner while I’m out.’
He thought about it. Really, this was much like sharing a student house. Except it wasn’t with his friends, it was with a near stranger. And he had the added responsibility of a baby. ‘We need to sort out a kitty.’
‘Sure. We can do that later.’
‘And we need a rota for doing the shopping. Or maybe we could get the shopping delivered.’ He frowned. ‘Do you have a car?’
‘Yes. And I know how to fit Ty’s baby seat in it.’ She paused. ‘What about you?’
‘Yes to having a car. I don’t have a clue about a baby seat.’
‘We only have one baby seat between us. I think we’re going to need one for your car as well as mine.’
He frowned. ‘So I need to take another afternoon off?’
She shrugged. ‘Or we could go at the weekend.’
Her weekend on, his weekend off—and he was going to have to spend it doing baby stuff instead of catching up with work. Great. Yet more disruption. And then the guilt surged through him again. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault that he needed to be looked after—or that Dylan had agreed to do it. ‘OK. We’ll go at the weekend,’ he said.
* * *
Saturday morning saw them in the nursery department of a department store in the city.
‘Your baby’s gorgeous,’ the assistant said, cooing over Tyler.
Dylan was about to correct her when Emmy said, ‘Yes, we think so.’ She shot him a look, daring him to contradict her.
He thought about it. Strictly speaking, Tyler was their baby. Just not a baby they’d actually made together.
Then he wished he hadn’t thought about making babies with Emmy. How soft her skin would be against his. How she smelled of some spicy, floral scent he couldn’t quite place. How it made him want to touch her, taste her...
Oh, hell. He really couldn’t have the hots for Emmy. He hadn’t even looked at another woman since he’d split up with Nadine. Abstinence: that had to be what was wrong with him. That, or the fact that he’d done the night shift, the previous night, and Tyler had woken three times, so lack of sleep had fried his brain.
He shut up and let Emmy do the talking.
And then Emmy spied a cot toy, something that apparently beamed pictures of stars and a moon on the ceiling and played a soft tinkling lullaby.
‘Can we get this as well? I think he’d love it.’
‘You mean, you love it.’ Emmy seemed to like simple, childlike things. And Dylan hadn’t quite worked out yet whether he found that more endearing or annoying. He certainly didn’t loathe her as much as he once had. She was good with the baby, too.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘OK, then, let’s ask him.’ She picked up the cot toy, crouched down beside the pram, switched it on and let Tyler see the lights and hear the lullaby.
Tyler’s eyes went wide, then he laughed and held his hands out towards it.
Emmy looked up at him and smiled. ‘I think that’s a yes.’
Again a surge of attraction hit him. Was he crazy? This was Emmy Jacobs, who sparred with him and sniped at him and was his co-guardian. She was the last person he wanted to get involved with. But at the same time he had to acknowledge that there was something about her that really got under his skin. Something that made him want to know more about her. Get closer.
And that in itself was weird. He didn’t do close. Never had. He didn’t trust anyone to let them near enough—even, if he was honest with himself, Nadine.
The rest of the weekend turned out to be Dylan’s first weekend of being a dad. Although it was officially Emmy’s weekend on duty, he somehow ended up going to the park with her to take Tyler out for some fresh air. He noticed that she talked to Tyler all the time, even though there was no way a baby could possibly understand everything she said. She pointed out flowers and named the colours for him; she pointed out dogs and birds and squirrels.
She was clearly taking her duties as godmother and guardian really seriously, and Dylan was beginning to wonder just why he’d ever disliked her so much. Then again, this new Emmy didn’t have a smart-aleck mouth. She didn’t snipe, and she wasn’t cynical and hard-bitten like the Emmy Jacobs he was used to.
Which one was the real Emmy? he wondered. Was she letting her guard down and letting him see the real her? Or was this just some kind of mirage and Spiky Emmy would return to drive him crazy?
They stopped at the café in the park, and Emmy asked for a jug of hot water to heat Tyler’s milk. While she found them a table, he bought the coffees. He’d seen her looking longingly at the cinnamon pastries, so he bought her one of those as well.
‘That’s really kind of you,’ she said when he brought the tray over to their table.
But her eyes were full of anguish. What was going on here? ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
She sighed. ‘I struggle with my weight. And no, that isn’t your cue to tell me that I’m fine as I am. My job’s pretty sedentary, so I only manage to keep my weight under control because I go to an exercise class three times a week. But things have changed, now, and I’m not going to have time for classes anymore. I haven’t been since the week before Ally and Pete went to Venice.’
‘You miss your classes?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ll manage.’
‘That’s not what I asked. You miss them?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘It’s ridiculously soon. But yes, I miss them. I spend too much time sitting at my desk—I really lose track of time when I’m working—and the classes used to help me get the knots out and stretch my muscles.’
‘When are they?’
‘Mornings. Straight after the school run.’ She shrugged. ‘So when Ty’s at school, in four years’ time or so, I can go back to them.’
‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘we can change our rota. I’ll go in to the office a bit later, on the mornings when you have a class—though obviously that means I’ll be back later on those days to make up the time.’
‘You’d do that for me?’ She looked startled, almost shocked; and then she gave him a heart-stopping smile. It was his turn to be shocked then, by how much her smile affected him. How it made him feel as if the room had just lit up. ‘Thank you, Dylan. What about you—do you do anything you’ve had to give up and miss already?’
‘The gym,’ he admitted. ‘It’s my thinking time. And I kind of like the endorphin hit at the end.’
‘Let me know when your sessions are, and we’ll switch the rota round.’ She looked at the pastry, then at him, and gave him another smile. ‘Thank you, Dylan. That’s so nice.’
‘Pleasure,’ he responded automatically. And he stifled the thought that actually, it was a pleasure, seeing her made happy by such a little thing.
He’d surprised himself, offering to change the rota so she could do her weekly classes. And she’d surprised him by immediately offering to do the same for him. Why had he ever thought her selfish, when she so obviously believed in fairness? Had he just read her wrong in the past, and it had snowballed to the point where it was easier to dislike her than to wonder if he’d got it wrong? Not wanting to think about his burgeoning feelings, he said, ‘I’ve been talking to Pete’s parents about the funeral. They’d like it to be in the same church where Pete and Ally got married.’
She nodded. ‘Ally’s parents said the same.’
‘Good. It makes it easier that they agree.’ He paused. ‘But Pete’s parents also said they want the wake at the house rather than in a hall somewhere.’
‘So we’ll have to cater it, you mean?’
He nodded.
She blew out a breath. ‘Then I vote we get the local deli to do as much of it as possible, so all we have to do is lay stuff out on serving platters on the dining room table. And I’ll rope my mum in to help. Between us we can manage the drinks.’
There was no point in asking his mother to help. Dylan couldn’t remember whether she was in India or Bali, but he knew she was on retreat somewhere, and he also knew from experience that she wouldn’t allow anything to interrupt that. Even if her only child really needed her help. He’d learned that one at a pretty early age. ‘Right,’ he said shortly.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Is everything OK, Dylan?’
‘Yes.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Just this whole thing...I still can’t quite get my head around it. I still keep thinking Pete’s going to walk through the door and ask us if we missed him.’
‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘Ally’s the first person really close to me I’ve lost. I guess it’s a normal reaction, but I wonder when I’m going to stop missing her.’
‘You don’t stop missing her. You just get better at dealing with it.’
She said nothing, just looked at him. Those wide grey eyes were full of empathy rather than pity, so he found himself unexpectedly telling her the rest. ‘My grandmother. She died last year. It’s little things that catch you—a bit of music that reminds me of her, or walking past someone who’s wearing the same perfume. Or seeing something in the shop that I know she’d love, and suddenly remembering that she’s not going to be here for her birthday or Christmas so there’s no point in buying it.’
She reached over and squeezed his hand. Just long enough to let him know that she understood and sympathised, but not long enough to be cloying. Weird. He hadn’t expected to actually start liking Emmy.
He gave her the smallest, smallest smile. ‘I’ll talk to the vicar and sort that side of it out. The funeral directors just want a decision on the casket. Can I ask you to sort the food and drink?’
‘Sure. Does anything else need doing?’
‘I’m doing a eulogy for Pete. Do you want to do one for Ally?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could stand up there and do it. I would...’ She paused, clearly swallowing back a sob. ‘Well, I don’t want to let her down by crying through it. She deserves more than that.’
He’d done enough presentations in his time to be able to get through it. ‘I’ll do it for you, if you like. Just tell me what you want to say and I’ll read it out.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’
‘I could do a wall, though,’ she said. ‘I could scan in some of the photographs from when they were small, as well as the digital ones I’ve got from more recent years. We could talk to their parents and get their favourite memories as well.’
‘That’s a good idea. I’ll talk to Pete’s again while you talk to Ally’s?’
‘That works for me.’
‘I think they’d like to stay at the house, that night,’ Dylan said. ‘I was thinking, it wouldn’t be fair for either couple to stay in Pete and Ally’s room.’
‘You’re right,’ she agreed. ‘It’s my night on call, so I can use a sleeping bag in Tyler’s room.’
‘And I’ll take the sofa,’ he said.
Funny how their minds were in tune on this one.
Would they be in tune in other ways, too? The thought crept insidiously into his head and lodged there, and even though he tried to block it out he couldn’t help being aware of just how attractive Emmy actually was.
She leaned down to touch the sleeping baby’s cheek. ‘You’ll definitely know your mum and dad, Ty. Dylan and I, we have photographs and memories, all sorts of things we can share with you when you’re older. Your mum did a “This Is Your Life” book for me when I was thirty, and I can do something like that for you of her.’
‘I’ll chip in with stuff about your dad,’ he said, touching Tyler’s other cheek.
They shared a glance and Dylan wondered—did it have to take the death of our best friends for us to get along? It was odd how easily they’d fallen into teamwork—since they’d moved into the house, he hadn’t sniped once and neither had she—and he was shocked to realise that he actually liked her. A lot. Emmy was funny, clever, good company. How had he never noticed that before?
* * *
Emmy just about managed to get through the funeral, though she couldn’t help bawling her eyes out during ‘Abide With Me’. The bit about where was Death’s sting always got to her. ‘Amazing Grace’ put a lump in her throat as well, and when the church echoed to Eva Cassidy singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ there wasn’t a dry eye anywhere.
Though she was glad that everyone was wearing bright colours rather than black, to celebrate Ally and Pete’s life and the precious memories. It was important to share the good stuff as well as mourn them. To give them a decent send-off.
Tyler was an angel.
And Dylan was amazing.
He was sitting in the front row, next to her; when he stood up to do the eulogies from the pulpit, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Even though the tears were spilling down her cheeks as he spoke the words she’d written about her best friend.
She hugged him when he returned to his seat. ‘You did a fantastic job,’ she whispered. ‘Just perfect.’
* * *
Dylan returned the hug, even though bits of him worried that he quite liked the feel of Emmy in his arms. He dismissed it simply as grief coming out. He wasn’t attracted to Emmy Jacobs.
Ha—who was he trying to kid? Of course he was.
But he couldn’t act on that attraction, for Tyler’s sake. Getting involved with Emmy would make everything way too complicated. It would be better to keep his distance, the way he always did.
Friends neither he nor Emmy had seen since university days had come to the funeral. Back at the house, everyone was talking about the room divider Emmy had made with the photographs, sharing memories and the house echoed with as much laughter as tears.
The food was working out, too. Emmy was bustling around, sorting out the drinks and topping up the empty plates. Her mum had helped out and done way, way more than his own mother would’ve done if she’d been there. Between the three of them, they’d managed to handle this.
Finally everyone went and the clearing up started.
‘You look really tired,’ Emmy said gently to Ally’s and Pete’s parents. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? Dylan and I can sort all this out.’
‘We can’t leave you to do all this, love,’ Ally’s dad said.
‘Yes, you can. It’s been a really tough day for us all, and I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for you. You need some rest. I’ll bring you up a cup of tea in a minute.’
‘Thank you, love,’ Pete’s mum said.
Again, Dylan found himself marvelling. Pete and Ally’s parents clearly knew Emmy well and liked her. He was beginning to think that he was the one who was totally out of step. She’d been brilliant today. He made a mental note to cut her more slack in future.
Emmy’s mum stayed to help, then kissed Emmy goodbye and, to Dylan’s surprise, gave him a hug. ‘Take care of yourself and call me if you need me, OK? That goes for both of you. Any time.’
He found himself envying Emmy’s closeness to her mum. If only his own mother had been like that, maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe he would’ve known how to really love someone and not made such a mess of his marriage. Though he appreciated the way Emmy’s mother had included him. How would Emmy have got on with his family? He had a feeling that Emmy would’ve liked his gran, and his gran would’ve liked Emmy.
And this was dangerous territory. He couldn’t let himself think about this.
Emmy put Tyler to bed while he finished moving all the furniture back. Then she took a tray up to Pete and Ally’s parents with tea and sandwiches.
When she came back down, Dylan noticed that she looked upset.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘They’re not coming down again today. I think it’s exhausted all of them.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s so wrong, having to bury your child. It isn’t the natural order of things. I really feel for them. Today they all seemed to age ten years in a matter of seconds. Did you see Ally’s dad walking into church? He had to hold on to the side of the pew until he composed himself. It’s not that long ago he was walking down that aisle with Ally on his arm in that gorgeous fishtail dress, and you and Pete were waiting at the altar.’
‘Yeah, I remember,’ Dylan said softly. ‘And you’re right. Burying a parent must be hard, but it’s more the natural order. Burying your child must be the worst feeling in the world.’
‘And there’s nothing we can do to make it better.’ Her voice cracked and she looked anguished.
‘I know, but I think we did Pete and Ally proud,’ he said. ‘Everyone was here celebrating them.’
She nodded. ‘You’re right. I think it’s what they would’ve wanted.’
He wandered over to look at the photos on the divider, and saw the one of Emmy and Ally together as students.
‘Your hair looks absolutely terrible. Whatever made you dye it blue?’
She came to join him and shrugged. ‘I was a design student. We all did that sort of thing back then.’
‘It looks nice now. Obviously it’s not your natural colour but it suits you. It brings out your eyes.’ He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face.
‘Careful, Dylan. Anyone might think we were on the way to being friends, with you paying me compliments like that.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe we are.’
She dragged in a breath. ‘I wish it hadn’t taken Ally and Pete to die before we started to see—well, what they saw in us.’
‘Me, too.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘We can’t change the past. But, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I misjudged you. You’re not the needy, flaky mess I thought you were.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry I misjudged you, too. You’re still a bit judgemental, and you open your mouth before you think about what’s going to come out of it. You might have the social skills of a rhino, but you do have a heart.’
Did he? Sometimes he wasn’t so sure. He’d built so many walls around it that it was lost.
She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Now I’m being wet. Ignore me.’
‘It’s OK. I’m not that far off crying, myself,’ he admitted. He looked at her. ‘Do you want a glass of wine?
She nodded.
‘Me, too. Come on.’
He poured them each a glass of wine and then put some soft piano music on before curling up on the opposite end of the sofa to her. Her toes touched his ankle, but it didn’t make him want to pull away. Weirdly, he felt more comfortable with her now, on one of the saddest days of his life, than he ever had before.
‘I like this. What is it?’ she asked.
‘Einaudi. You work to classical music, don’t you?’
‘Vivaldi—not “the Four Seasons”, because that’s been overplayed to the point where I find it almost impossible to listen to it, but I like his cello concerti. They’re calming and regular, good to work to.’
‘I was looking at your website,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’
She looked surprised, but inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘Thank you.’
‘But you could really do with a proper stock management program. I’ve written one and tested it for you. Let me know your admin password, and I’ll install it for you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’ve written me a program?’
‘It’s only a simple one.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘It’s pretty intuitive, so it won’t take you five minutes to get to grips with it.’
‘You’ve actually written me a program.’ Tears glittered in her eyes.
He shrugged, feeling awkward. ‘It’s no big deal, Emmy. It wasn’t that time-consuming.’
‘But you still made the time to do it. Which is amazing, especially as we’ve both got all these new responsibilities and we’re adjusting to all the changes in our lives.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘Thank you, Dylan.’
‘It was entirely selfish of me,’ he said. ‘If it makes your life easier, then our rota will run more smoothly.’
She gave him a look that told him she didn’t believe a word of it. That she knew he’d done it partly because he’d wanted to do something nice for her, even though there was no way he’d ever admit that out loud. ‘Even so. Thank you.’ She bit her lip. ‘I just wish it hadn’t taken—well, this, to get us in any kind of accord.’
‘Me, too. But we’ve cracked the first week and a half. We’re both there for Tyler. We’ll make this work,’ he said. And he meant every single word.
