Читать книгу Single Dads Collection - Lynne Marshall - Страница 19

FREDDIE was fine.

After three hours in A and E of being poked and prodded and X-rayed, they sent her home with him, armed with a head injuries card listing all the things she should keep an eye out for.

He was in fine form. He’d had a good time in A and E, he’d got a sticker on his hand and he’d had lots of cuddles and new toys to play with—life, as far as Freddie was concerned, was great.

Not so for his mother.

She was exhausted, she needed the breast pump fast, Harry’s garden was in chaos and all she could think about was going to sleep. She turned into the drive, cut the engine and sat there, eyes shut, wondering if she could find the energy to deal with the day.

It was all Harry’s fault, she thought unreasonably. Him and Dan, between them, had kept her awake half the night, and Kizzy had kept her awake the other half. She couldn’t do it any more.

‘Em? How is he?’

‘He’s fine. Harry, I can’t do it any more,’ she whispered. ‘Feeding her, being up in the night—I just can’t do it. I’m so tired. I’ve got so much work to do for Nick, and I know we spent the weekend in your garden, but I really ought to be getting on with Nick’s stuff today, but I can’t because your garden is utterly destroyed and the kids need me and Kizzy needs me and I just can’t do it all—’

‘Shh,’ he murmured, drawing her into his arms and rocking her gently. ‘You go to bed. Dan and I will look after the kids and sort out the garden. You have a sleep, and we’ll worry about the rest later—OK?’

‘But you don’t know what to do—’

‘Rubbish. We’re not stupid. I’m sure we can read your plan well enough to do the basic groundwork.’

‘And watch the children?’

‘And watch the children. Stop worrying. And I’m sorry we kept you awake.’

‘I need to see Buttercup,’ she told him, and he frowned.

‘I’ve been thinking—we ought to try her back on the formula,’ he said. ‘This can’t be helping.’

‘I still need Buttercup.’

He gave her a fleeting smile. ‘OK. Come on, let’s get you both in and sort you out. Want a cup of tea?’

‘Want tea!’ Freddie chimed in. ‘And biscuit.’

‘He needs breakfast, he must be starving.’

‘So do you. Come on.’

And he led her inside, sent her into the study with Buttercup and tapped on the door a few minutes later. ‘Room service,’ he murmured, and she opened the door a crack and stuck her head round it.

‘Tea and toast,’ he said, and handed them to her one at a time so she could take them from behind the door. Breastfeeding was one thing. Being connected to the pump was quite another, and she felt ridiculously shy and self-conscious.

She thanked him and shut the door, sat down again at her desk and while Buttercup did her job, Emily looked through Nick’s file and studied the brief for her next contract.

It was mercifully simple, but it needed to be stunning and she didn’t have it in her to be stunning at the moment. She rested her head on the desk, closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Just a few minutes,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Then I’ll do it…’

She’d been ages. He couldn’t believe how long she’d been in there, and he could hear the pump still running.

‘Em?’

He tapped on the door and opened it a crack, then said her name again, but there was no reply, so he stuck his head round the door and saw her slumped forward on her arms, fast asleep.

‘Em?’ he murmured, stroking her shoulder gently, and she woke with a start and sat up, her arms flying up to cover her breasts, cheeks burning.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Um…’

‘I’ll go,’ he said, sensing her discomfort at his presence, and he went out and shut the door, resting his head back against it with a sigh.

It was crazy. She was worn out, and helping him with Kizzy wasn’t doing her any good at all.

Behind his back he heard the door opening, and he straightened and turned, to find her there with all the pump’s paraphernalia in her hands. ‘Oh,’ she said, and he held out his hands and she put the stuff into them, her cheeks still flushed.

That could have been with sleep, of course, but maybe it was just because she was shy. And he’d pushed her into something she wasn’t comfortable with.

She touched his hand. ‘Harry, don’t look like that, it was my idea to feed her.’

‘Well, it’s time it stopped. I’ll get her back on formula—mix them, perhaps. And the decorators will be done tomorrow, and the carpets come on Wednesday, and the furniture’s due then as well. And we’ll move out, and you won’t have us underfoot or keeping you awake all night any more, and you’ll be able to get on with your life. Now, go to bed and get some sleep.’

And he turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, leaving her there with a lost and mournful expression on her face.

‘Fine,’ she said softly, and, turning round, she went upstairs to bed.

Kizzy was having none of it.

The best-laid plans and all that, he thought wearily, and went back to the fridge for the real McCoy.

He was exhausted. He’d spent the day in the garden with Dan, lifting the slabs on the patio and breaking up the concrete path that led to it, and in the middle of that he had been keeping an eye on the children, getting them food and drinks, watching Freddie like a hawk for signs of head injury and feeding Kizzy in between.

Only she had other ideas, the little madam, and if he hadn’t loved her so much he would have throttled her.

‘Problems?’ Dan said, dropping down beside him on the grass in the shade and watching him try again.

‘She likes Emily milk. Only Emily milk.’

Dan frowned. ‘So what’s going to happen when you go back to work? Are you leaving her here with Em?’

‘I can’t.’

‘So you’ll take her away with you?’

He let his breath out on a sharp sigh and shot Dan a troubled glance. ‘I can’t do that, either.’

‘Rock and a hard place come to mind,’ Dan said mildly, lying back on the grass. ‘So what, then? You need to do something. I mean, she’s not a puppy. You can’t just stick her in kennels every time you race off to the other side of the world.’

He felt sick.

For the rest of the day, all he’d been able to hear had been Dan’s voice, those words echoing in his head.

She’s not a puppy. You can’t just stick her in kennels.

So what the hell was he supposed to do?

Especially now she was so inextricably linked to Emily.

He’d begun to realise that every time he got some formula into her, it upset her little tummy. Clearly her system couldn’t tolerate cows’ milk.

The next day he went to the doctor’s surgery and saw the health visitor and explained the situation, leaving Emily’s name out of it.

‘Oh, this must be Emily’s little one,’ she said with a smile. ‘She’s been on the phone, asking for advice.’

He felt silly. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘So what did you say?’

‘Try all the things you’ve been trying,’ she told him. ‘Only if she’s got a problem with cows’ milk, then you’ve got to try soya milk or carry on as you are. Personally I think breast milk is best, obviously, because it’s designed for human babies, and in cases of lactose intolerance like Kizzy’s, your choices are strictly limited.’

‘Tell me about it,’ he muttered, and she smiled and patted his hand.

‘It doesn’t last for ever. This is only a short phase of her life. Once she’s weaned it all gets much easier.’

Really? With him on the other side of the world? He didn’t think so.

She’s not a puppy. You can’t just stick her in kennels.

He thanked her and left, bought some soya milk and tried that. It was better, but she still didn’t like it, and when he tried her back on Emily’s milk exclusively, she settled straight away.

And his decorators were finished, the carpet fitters were in and the furniture was stacked up on the drive, waiting. He didn’t have the time or the energy for any more experiments, and Kizzy was beginning to distrust the bottle.

He found Dan in the swing seat under the old apple tree, reading a book. ‘Dan, they’ve finished in the sitting room. Could you give me a hand to get the suite in?’

He grinned. ‘As an alternative to lying here, doing nothing? It’ll be a pleasure.’

‘Don’t be sarcastic. You need the exercise.’

‘Exercise?’ he grumbled. ‘I’ve been doing nothing but exercise since I got here,’ he pointed out.

‘I’ll bring you a beer under the tree when we’ve finished,’ he promised, and Dan chuckled.

‘You must think I’m really cheap.’

‘I know you’re really cheap,’ he replied, and headed for the drive of his house, Dan trailing behind and grumbling. They found Emily in there with the children, Beth picking up the little bits of carpet that the fitter had missed, Freddie making piles of tufts in the middle, and Emily vacuuming up the rest.

She finished the last bit and turned off the machine. ‘You’d better give me Kizzy,’ she said, and he took the sling off and handed her over reluctantly.

Strange, how odd it felt without her on his front. He’d got so used to the sling he didn’t even think about it now, but obviously he couldn’t carry her and move furniture any more than he’d been able to do the gardening with her on his front.

And he missed her.

‘Right, let’s get this suite in,’ he said, and didn’t let himself think about how he’d feel when he’d gone back to work and left her behind.

You can’t just stick her in kennels.

It looked good.

They’d worked all day, following the fitters round, cleaning up each room in turn and unpacking the furniture, and now it was done. Beth and Freddie had been wonderful, but the novelty was definitely wearing off, and the fridge was low on milk.

And Kizzy was starting to grizzle.

So Emily went to pump, and Harry took the last bottle of milk and went to feed the baby, and she sat in her study linked up to Buttercup and thought, How stupid. What a pointless exercise, when she could just be giving it to Kizzy direct.

It wasn’t as fresh, there was an infection risk, there was infinitely more work—crazy.

But necessary, for her peace of mind, for Kizzy’s independence from her and for the future.

Whatever that might hold.

Emily realised that she had no idea. Dan had told her that Harry was still undecided about what he was going to do, and she had to have answers. She had to know what the future held, she couldn’t go on like this indefinitely.

She’d have to tackle him—but how?

And that night he’d be sleeping in his house again.

It felt so odd, not being at Emily’s.

It smelt strange—that new-carpet smell, a brand-new bed, the sheets stiff and creased from the packets, the down duvet not yet quite fluffed up.

Not that he really needed it. It was still hot at night, and he lay with the windows wide open and stared through the uncurtained window at the house next door.

Emily.

She was all he could think about.

The landing light was on, the trees filtering the light, but he could still see it.

Kizzy was asleep in the room next door. She’d been unsettled, but that might be because it smelt different. But finally she’d gone to sleep, her tiny mouth working rhythmically, and he’d been able to get his head down.

But just like his daughter, sleep eluded him for a while. Not that he wasn’t tired. He was. He was exhausted. Days in the garden, today spent heaving furniture around—all on top of weeks of broken sleep, starting after a hectic fortnight dodging mortars and sniper fire—it was no wonder he was shattered.

But it wasn’t enough to stop his mind working.

He went down to the kitchen—a soft ivory, in the end—and made himself a cup of tea. He didn’t have anything else apart from coffee in the empty kitchen, and he really didn’t need that. And he sat in his sitting room overlooking the now orderly but barren garden, pale in the moonlight, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to do about Kizzy.

‘So have you decided what you’re going to do?’

He didn’t pretend not to understand. He was sitting in the garden with Emily, more than a week after he’d moved back to his house, less than two weeks of his month’s grace left, and he still hadn’t made a decision about where he went from there.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I can’t see the way forward. I need a nanny, I suppose, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving her with a stranger. I just don’t know what else I can do, though. I can hardly drag her with me if I get sent to a war zone or a hurricane or an earthquake.’

‘You didn’t really think this through, did you?’

He looked at her. ‘Think what through?’

‘Bringing up a baby.’

He frowned, remembering the rain-lashed night when Carmen had been mugged, the night he’d landed and been greeted by horizontal rain and the news that his wife was on life support.

‘Of course I didn’t think it through,’ he said savagely. ‘I didn’t have time. I’d adjusted to the idea that I was going to be a father, but that was all. Not the implications. Not this. But she was my wife—for better, for worse and all that crap. What was I supposed to do, Emily? Tell them to throw the switch? Let the baby die, just because she was going to be a bit of an inconvenience?’

Em blanched and shook her head. ‘No, of course not.’

‘No. And you’re right, at the time I just didn’t think it through. So now we have to deal with it. Correction. I have to deal with it.’

‘Except it seems to be involving me.’

‘Yes. I’m sorry. Well, I’ve tried. She’ll take soya milk. Perhaps we should just give her that from now on, cut you out of the equation.’

‘That doesn’t help you.’

‘It gives me more choices.’

‘Of child care?’ She shook her head. ‘Maybe you should look at your job,’ she offered softly, and he stared at her in astonishment.

‘My job? I can’t change my job.’

‘Why not?’

He was shocked. ‘Because it’s me. It’s what I am.’

‘No, Harry, it’s what you do.’

He thought about it for a second. Barely. ‘Isn’t that the same thing? Aren’t you a garden designer?’

‘No. I’m a mother, and I’m me, and I design gardens for people to earn a living. And I’m lucky that I enjoy it. But it isn’t me. It’s not what I am.’

He stared at her for a long, puzzled moment, then reached for his tea, retreating behind it while he thought over her words. Do something else? He couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Nothing. The noise, the drama, the terror and pain, the injustice—bringing all that into people’s homes and showing them what was going on in the world was how he spent his life.

It was what he was.

‘I have to do it,’ he said urgently. ‘I have to show people what’s happening out there.’

‘No. Someone has to, Harry—but it doesn’t have to be you.’

‘Yes—yes, it does, Em. It does have to be me. It is me.’

‘In which case perhaps you’d better think about whether you’re the right person to be bringing Kizzy up, because if you go back to work and leave her with a succession of unsupervised nannies, then you’re no better than your parents, and frankly, you’d all be better off if you gave the baby up for adoption,’ she said quietly, and, picking up her tea, she went back inside without another word.

He stared after her, stunned.

Adoption? Adoption?

He looked down at the baby on his lap, her head lolling in sleep, and felt a wave of emotion so powerful it nearly unravelled him.

But maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t the ideal parent for this beautiful little girl. He’d never meant to be her father, not in this way. He’d meant to pay her way, secure her future, make sure Carmen had everything she needed for a good life. A safe life.

And she’d died, as a result of his interference.

Hot tears scalded his eyes, and he scrubbed them away angrily. No. He wouldn’t wallow in self-pity. This wasn’t about him, it was about Carmen, and her daughter, little Carmen Grace—the tiny Mini-Dot who’d stolen his heart.

And he owed it to her to do this right.

If he could only know what that was—but he was beginning to wonder if Emily hadn’t already told him…

‘Seen Harry?’

Emily shook her head. ‘Not for ages. Um—I might have upset him.’

Dan tipped his head on one side and studied her thoughtfully, and she swivelled her chair round from the drawing board and recapped their conversation.

‘You told him to put her up for adoption? Ouch. I thought I’d been harsh.’

‘What did you do?’

‘Oh, it was days ago. I told him she wasn’t a puppy and he couldn’t just stick her in kennels every time went off after a news story.’

‘Ow. What did he say?’

‘Not a lot. He was talking about nannies.’

‘Mmm. He was talking about them today, as well, but I don’t think he’s considered things like time off and shift patterns. He’ll need a fleet of them. I don’t suppose he’s even thought about it.’

‘No, he’s good at that. Fancy a coffee?’

‘No. I’ve just had one. Now, go away and amuse yourself. I’ve got work to do.’

‘Actually, I was looking for Harry for a reason. I was thinking I might go up to London for a few days. I was wondering about his flat—thought if it was empty, I might scab it off him as a base.’

She felt a rush of relief, followed by guilt, because she still didn’t know what he was doing over here from New York and yet all she wanted was time alone with Harry—time in which to change his mind, to convince him that there was more to life than running away from it. And she’d got less than two weeks left.

‘I don’t think there’s anyone in the flat at the moment. You’ll have to ask him. Phone his mobile, he’s usually got it with him. Is Beth OK?’

‘She’s fine. She’s colouring in the kitchen while I read the paper.’

‘Send her in to me if you go out.’

‘Will do.’

She heard the door close, and looked down at the drawing in front of her.

Rubbish. It was rubbish, the planting totally wrong. And she couldn’t for the life of her work out what was right.

Seemed to be a lot of that going on at the moment, one way or another, she thought, and pushed back her chair. She could hear Freddie stirring from his sleep, the thump of his cot as he turned over and sat up, followed by a little wail. She went up to his room and was greeted by outstretched arms and a watery smile, and she lifted him out and cuddled him close and wondered what on earth she’d do without him.

‘Want to go for a walk?’ she asked, and he nodded.

‘Beach,’ he said.

‘Maybe. Let’s find Beth and ring Georgie. If they’re busy we can go the other way and feed the ducks—’

‘Want beach! Want Harry!’ he said, his voice rising, and she soothed him and changed his nappy and took him downstairs past the reinstated stair gate.

‘Beach!’ he told Beth cheerfully. ‘San’ castle. Mummy, down!’

She put him down and he ran to the door, beaming up at her. ‘Harry,’ he demanded, but she wasn’t at all sure Harry would want to come.

‘We’ll see. I think he’s gone for a walk.’

‘With Kizzy?’ Beth asked.

‘Probably.’

They went without him, taking the buggy in case Freddie’s legs got tired, and met him on the cliff top. He was sitting with Kizzy in his arms, staring out to sea, and as Beth and Freddie ran over to him, he lifted his head and looked across at her, and for a fleeting moment his face was bleak.

Then a shutter seemed to come down, and he smiled at the children. ‘Hi, kids,’ he said, and his voice sounded rusty and unused. ‘Going to the beach?’

‘The buckets and spades are a bit of a give-away,’ Emily said with a laugh, but it cracked in the middle and he shot her a glance.

‘Come with us,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve brought your shorts—you left them drying in the bathroom. And I brought bottles and stuff for Kizzy. I had a feeling you might be here.’

‘Did you come looking for me, Emily?’

His voice was a little hard, and she looked away. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I know it’s difficult.’

‘You have no idea,’ he murmured, and got to his feet, tucking Kizzy back in the sling. ‘Come on, then, kids. Let’s go and build sandcastles.’

They buried him again.

Buried him and jumped on him, while Em sat with Kizzy and laughed and told them to be gentle, and then Georgie came down with Harry and Dickon and Maya, and they ended up back at the Barrons’ house, having juice and biscuits and playing in the swimming pool.

And Kizzy ran out of milk.

‘Sorry, guys, time to go, we have to feed the baby,’ he said, and helped Em dry the children and walk them reluctantly home.

‘I wanted to stay,’ Beth said mournfully. ‘I like Dickon. He’s my friend. Freddie’s a baby.’

She wasn’t much more than a baby herself, he thought, smiling indulgently and hugging her slim shoulders as they walked along.

‘There’ll be other days. Maybe you can see them again tomorrow or the next day.’

‘Tomorrow,’ she said decisively, and ran to her mother. ‘Can we see them tomorrow?’

‘We’ll see,’ she said, and Beth pouted.

‘That means no,’ she explained to Harry. ‘But I want to see them.’

‘Well, we can’t always have what we want,’ he said, his heart aching, because this little family outing was getting to him, reaching parts of him that had been dormant all his life, and the process, like letting blood back into a limb that had gone to sleep, was a mass of alien sensations. And not all of them were pleasant.

She was sitting in the study, wrestling with the plans for Nick’s contract, when she heard the back door open and shut.

‘Em?’

She stood up, stretching out the kinks, and went into the kitchen to see Harry there with Kizzy in his arms, his face troubled.

‘What’s up?’ she asked.

He swallowed, looked down at Kizzy and pressed his lips together. ‘I’ve had a phone call from my boss. There’s been an earthquake.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘She wants me to go.’

‘But you’ve got another twelve days!’

‘I know. But she wants me now. It’s not for long, just three or four days, but…’He shrugged, and she felt a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

‘Are you going?’

‘I have to.’

‘And Kizzy?’

He frowned. ‘I wanted to ask you if you’d look after her. I wouldn’t have asked, but she hasn’t given me any notice. And I know I haven’t sorted out any child care, but I’ll do it the minute I get back.’

She ignored that. She was too busy thinking about him going to an earthquake zone. Not that he hadn’t done it before, but that somehow had been more remote. Now, after these weeks, it all seemed much closer to home.

‘So, will you? Look after her?’

‘This time,’ she said, trying to inject some muscle into her voice, but it didn’t sound convincing. ‘When do you go?’

‘In the morning. Early.’

Just like that, her dream was turning to dust. She felt her eyes fill, and turned away.

‘Is Dan here?’

‘Yes, he’s watching a movie.’

‘Tell him goodbye from me. I’ll bring her round in the morning, just before I go.’

She nodded, and he turned and went out, all the spirit drained from him.

Why? Why go, she wanted to ask him, but she couldn’t. She knew why he was going—because he’d convinced himself it was who he was. Even though he clearly didn’t even want to go this time.

She snorted, shut the door and stuck her head round the sitting-room door. ‘I’m off to bed.’

‘Was that Harry?’

She nodded, but couldn’t say any more. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, and went upstairs.

She took a shower, so the sound of running water would drown out her sobs, and then she went to bed. Not that she slept, and at four-thirty, when she heard Harry’s front door open and shut, she tiptoed into Beth’s room and watched him walking down the road, Kizzy in the sling on his front.

She pulled on her clothes and ran lightly downstairs, slipped out of the door and followed him.

She knew where he was going, and she followed him to the cliff top and sat beside him on the wet grass and tucked her arm in his, her head on his shoulder as he fed Kizzy and watched the sun come up.

Finally he took a deep breath, let it out on a sigh and stood up, helping her to her feet. They walked back in silence, and when they reached her house, he turned and looked down at her without a word.

And still without a word, she took his hand and led him, not down her drive but down his, and in through the door, and up to the bedroom he’d used as a child.

He put Kizzy down, still sleeping, in her cot, and came back to her, his expression guarded, but a muscle jumped in his jaw.

‘Are you sure, Em?’ he murmured.

She nodded, blinking away the tears. ‘Yes.’

And with a ragged sigh, he drew her into his arms.