Читать книгу Single Dads Collection - Lynne Marshall - Страница 20

‘HERE—my house keys. Get Dan to take the cot over later. I meant to do it when I got back from my walk, but I got a little sidetracked.’

His mouth twisted into a sad, fleeting smile, and he drew her back into his arms, his voice muffled by her hair. ‘I’m sorry. I hate dumping her on you. I know it isn’t fair, but it won’t happen again. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I’ve decided you’re right. I’ll sort all the details out when I get back, but I’m going to put her up for adoption.’

She lifted her head, unable to stifle a little cry, and took in the bleak, empty look in his eyes. ‘Oh, Harry,’ she said, but there was nothing she could add. There was nothing to say and, anyway, her throat wouldn’t work properly, so she just lifted her hands and cradled his face and kissed him.

‘Take care,’ she pleaded.

He nodded. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

He kissed her again, urgently, hungrily, and then broke the kiss abruptly, turned on his heel and strode to his car, driving off without a backward glance. She lifted her hand to her lips, her fingers replacing his lips, holding in the anguish.

‘Oh, dear God, take care of him,’ she whispered, and picking up Kizzy in her little carrier, she went round the side of her house and in through the kitchen door.

Dan was sitting there, Freddie in his high chair having juice and toast, Beth kneeling on a chair arranging her toast soldiers into neat rows and talking to them, and as she walked in with Kizzy Dan took one look at her, stood up and ushered her straight into the hall.

‘He’s gone,’ she said tonelessly. ‘His boss rang last night. There’s been an earthquake somewhere.’

‘Indonesia. I know. It was on the news. I wondered if they’d call him in.’

She nodded. ‘He was there earlier this year, and they want him there again. He knows it well, apparently. It makes sense, but…’

Dan searched her face, then dragged her into his arms and hugged her. ‘So what about Kizzy? Are you looking after her until he’s back?’

‘Yes, but…’ She felt the sob beginning to rise and swallowed it down. ‘He said I was right. He’s going to put her up for adoption. Oh, Dan, what on earth have I done?’

She looked up at him, expecting condemnation, but this was Dan. He just shrugged. ‘Helped him organise his priorities?’

‘And Kizzy? What about Kizzy?’ She swallowed again and stared down at the sleeping baby in her carrier, then answered her own question. ‘I guess she’ll end up somewhere with a couple who are desperate for a baby. And they’ll love her to bits—’

She broke off, and Dan sighed and rubbed her arms comfortingly. ‘She’ll be fine, Em.’

‘But she might not be. What if they split up? What if she ends up in the middle of a divorce?’

‘She’ll be brought up by a single parent. It hasn’t done Beth and Freddie any harm.’

She frowned. ‘But—what if she doesn’t have the infrastructure I’ve got? The family and friends, giving support?’

He gave a bemused laugh and shook his head. ‘You’re making a hell of a lot of assumptions here. They might be fantastic parents.’

But she wouldn’t see her again. Ever.

She shook her head and turned away. ‘I’m going to put her down in the study and get some breakfast. Thank you for looking after the kids.’

‘Any time. But next time you might let me know you’re going.’

‘There won’t be a next time,’ she said firmly, and went into the study, put the baby down and then caught sight of the television through the sitting-room doorway. They were showing scenes of the earthquake, and she sat down, hands knotted together, and watched it.

It was dreadful. Scene after scene of devastation. She felt gutted for them, but more than ever afraid for Harry. What if there was another one? There often was.

She was aware of Dan coming up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder, watching it with her. ‘I’ve made you fresh tea,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

‘Come on, he’s not there yet. He won’t be there for hours.’

He was right. He’d said it was a twelve-hour flight, and then he had to get in and out of the airports. It would be tomorrow morning before he appeared on TV. She turned off the television, went through to the kitchen and gave the kids a hug. Freddie gave her one of his special sticky kisses, and Beth snuggled up beside her while she ate her breakfast, mechanically spooning in the cereal without even tasting it.

And he hadn’t even left the country yet!

Nick phoned at eleven, when she’d just put Freddie down for a nap and she was working on his plan, Beth at her side colouring.

‘Hi,’ he said, sounding exhausted and yet euphoric. ‘Just had to let you know—Georgie’s had a little girl—three point seven kilos, or eight-three in old money, and they’re both doing really well.’ He hesitated. ‘We’ve called her Lucie, after my sister.’

‘Oh, Nick, that’s lovely!’ she said, her eyes filling. ‘When’s she coming home?’

‘This afternoon. She’s absolutely fine, and I’m around and so are my mother and her father, so I’m going to pick her up around three.’

She felt herself welling up. ‘Give her my love, and tell her I’ll come and see her tomorrow some time, the minute I can get away.’

‘You running out on me again?’ Dan said, lolling in the doorway behind her. ‘It’s a good job I haven’t gone to London yet.’

She smiled at him as she cradled the phone. ‘Georgie and Nick have had a little girl. I’m not going far. I thought I’d drop in and see her in the morning. If you don’t mind looking after the kids?’

He smiled. ‘Of course I don’t mind. We could walk down and they could play with the others for a few minutes, and then maybe we could go on the beach.’

Except she’d be tortured by images of Harry—Harry buried up to the neck in sand, Harry running into the sea, Harry skimming pebbles with the children, showing off, Harry—just Harry, everywhere she looked.

‘Sounds lovely,’ she said, just for Beth. ‘That would be nice, wouldn’t it?’

‘Can I hold the baby?’

‘Not tomorrow, probably. She’ll be too tiny.’

‘Kizzy’s tiny,’ she pointed out truthfully. ‘And I hold her.’

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

‘You mean no.’

‘No, I mean I’ll see what Georgie has to say about it. It’s her baby, after all, and Dickon and Harry will want to hold her. That’s a lot of holding for a tiny baby. Right, how about a drink and a biscuit to celebrate?’

Harry wasn’t on the ten-o’clock news, but he was on the satellite news at midnight.

He must have scarcely landed, and he was flying by helicopter to the epicenter of the earthquake, jammed in amongst aid workers.

‘This is the only way to get here,’ he was saying, shouting over the noise of the aircraft, ‘because the roads are rubble. They’ve only just cleared them after the last quake, and now the people of this devastated region are facing destruction and ruin yet again. Down below us everything is flattened, as far as the eye can see. Trees are down, rivers have altered course yet again and every village is showing more signs of destruction. I’m going back to the small community I stayed in last time, to see just how much damage has been done, but early reports aren’t good. This is Harry Kavenagh, reporting to you from somewhere over Indonesia.’

The report went to cover other areas, showing more pictures of the damage, but Emily had seen enough. She’d seen him, in his element, back where he belonged.

Being him.

Her eyes pricked with tears, and she blinked hard and turned off the television with an angry stab at the remote.

Dan flicked her a glance, opened his mouth and shut it again. ‘Tea?’ he said eventually, and she nodded.

‘Thanks.’

But she couldn’t drink it. She just felt sick, because she’d lost him, and they were on opposite sides of the world.

‘I’m going to feed Kizzy and get to bed,’ she said, and went to the fridge. One last bottle after this. She contemplated Buttercup, but frankly she was too tired. She’d do it later, when she’d fed Kizzy.

But she didn’t. She was exhausted, struggling to stay awake long enough to feed and change her, and then when she fell into bed she slept so soundly she didn’t wake for hours.

Kizzy was starting to cry, and Dan and her children were still asleep, so she crept downstairs, got the bottle out of the fridge and put it in the microwave to heat. She flicked on the television, and there Harry was again, on the early breakfast news, describing the damage sustained by the little town.

She heard the microwave ping and, still watching the screen through the open doors, she went into the kitchen and took out the bottle, but as she turned back, her watch caught on the door and the bottle spun out of her hand and shattered on the floor.

She stared at it blankly. How could it shatter? They were unbreakable—unless it had already been cracked? She didn’t know. All she knew was that the fridge was empty and Kizzy was crying in earnest now.

Forgetting the television, she turned to the steriliser and realised, to her dismay, that she hadn’t put Buttercup’s bits and pieces in there. They were lying in the sink, rinsed but not nearly sterile enough to use.

And Kizzy was crying, and her nipples were prickling, and the utter futility of it struck her like a brick.

What on earth was she doing? Why on earth express the milk, decant it from the pump into a bottle, then give it to Kizzy?

Especially if she was going to lose her so very, very soon.

With a sigh of gentle resignation, she went back into the sitting room, picked the baby up and sat down with her.

‘Look, Kizzy,’ she said softly, lifting her nightshirt out of the way. ‘Daddy’s on the telly.’

And while she watched him, hanging on his every word, his tiny daughter snuggled into her, latched on and fed, contented at last.

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Dan, I had no choice. I broke the last bottle and the things weren’t sterilized.’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean that. I meant you’re crazy trying the pump in the first place when you should have been doing this all along.’

‘I was trying to keep some distance,’ she explained, and he laughed softly.

‘You? I don’t think so. I think you’re doing what you should have been doing all along—and I think you think so, too.’

She looked down at Kizzy, so dear to her, and swallowed. ‘Except when she goes to her new home, it’s just going to be even harder for her.’

‘Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it.’

‘What?’

‘You’ll just have to adopt her yourself.’

She stared at him, aghast, and then turned back to Kizzy, blinking away the sudden tears.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, her throat clogged. ‘I can’t do that. I’ve already got Beth and Freddie.’

‘So what’s one more? And you can’t tell me you don’t love her. I’ve seen you with her. Look at you—made for each other. How can you let her go?’

She couldn’t—and it was going to tear her apart. She looked up at Dan in anguish. ‘What part of no don’t you understand? I can’t do it. I can’t afford another child. Especially not this one.’

‘Because she isn’t really Harry’s?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Because she is, in every way that matters. And—’

She broke off, and Dan finished the sentence for her. ‘And because you love him?’

She looked away. ‘I’m so silly. I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to let myself get so involved.’

‘So why go to him in the night?’ he murmured.

‘We watched the sun come up,’ she said, remembering. ‘And because it was in the east, I realised that he’d see it hours before me, and if I go and watch it come up, it’ll be over him, getting low in the sky, but he’ll still be able to see it.’ She looked at Dan and smiled sadly. ‘I couldn’t let him go again. Not without knowing. I could lose him, Dan. He might be killed. Maybe not this time, but the next, or the next. Maybe when he’s reporting on a war. They get shot, taken hostage, murdered, blown up—it happens regularly. And there could be another earthquake where he is now. It’s terribly dangerous, everything he does. And I thought, if he dies, and I’ve never found out what it would be like with him, never held him, never shared that…’

She broke off, not knowing how to say it, but she didn’t need to. Dan was beside her, holding her, offering her a tissue and giving her a gentle hug. ‘I understand. I would feel the same. And I guess he did, too.’

‘It was sort of goodbye,’ she said unevenly. ‘And maybe—perhaps there was a part of me that hoped it might bring him back to me. Bring him to his senses. Make him realise all the things here waiting for him at home.’

‘Maybe this tour will. Maybe it’s just what he needs—to go from this to that.’

She shook her head. ‘It’ll just remind him of what it’s like to be free, to have nothing more significant to think of than picking up his passport on the way out of the door.’

She looked down at Kizzy. ‘Dan, I can’t adopt her. I have to let her go. If I don’t, I’ll never be able to let go of Harry and move on.’

She was sleeping now, her little rosebud lips still white with milk, and carefully, so as not to wake her, Emily lifted her against her shoulder and walked with her until she brought up her wind, then carried her upstairs and changed her and put her down.

Then she went into Freddie’s room and stared down at him, her baby, flat out on his back, arms and legs outstretched, sprawled the full length of his cot. He was outgrowing it, she realised. He’d need a bed soon. Maybe Beth’s. She was getting big for her little bed, but it would be perfect for Freddie.

And then who would have the cot?

No! She mustn’t let herself think about it. It was madness. Anyway, he probably wouldn’t want her to have Kizzy, because it would mean he would never be able to let her go, either. He’d always be thinking about her, and if he ever came back, he’d want to see her, and they’d never be able to move on, any of them.

And she wasn’t foolish enough to imagine that one short hour in his arms would make any difference to him, no matter how wonderful it was. For her, at least.

For him, it had probably been simply a matter of propinquity. She’d been there, he’d felt a need to hold someone close.

Freddie stirred, his eyes flickered open and he smiled. ‘Mummy,’ he said, holding out his arms, and she lifted him from his cot and cradled him tight and inhaled the warm baby smell of him.

She’d been happy before Harry had come back into her life—happy with Beth and Freddie and holding the fort for her parents, happy working for Nick and Georgie and doing other contracts locally.

Worried about money, yes, but happy, for all that. Contented. At peace.

Not so now. Now she was in turmoil, and she couldn’t imagine it feeling any better for a long, long while.

If ever.

Georgie’s baby was gorgeous.

Georgie was in the family room, ensconced on the sofa with the baby in her arms, and Harry and Dickon were playing with Maya on the floor.

‘Oh, she’s beautiful,’ Emily breathed, her eyes filling as she set Kizzy’s carrier down and hugged Georgie gently.

‘She’s really pretty,’ Beth sighed, standing up on tiptoe and leaning over to get a better look.

‘You think? I reckon she’s got her father’s nose.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with her father’s nose,’ Nick said, following them into the room with a grin he couldn’t hide and an indulgent look about his eyes.

Emily reckoned if he could have crowed, he’d be doing it, and she laughed at him softly. ‘I don’t need to ask how the proud father’s feeling this morning.’

He chuckled and sat down on the end of the sofa, scooping up Freddie and holding him so he could have a look. ‘How about I take this lot out into the garden for a few minutes, give you two time to chat?’

Georgie smiled gratefully at him, and Nick ushered the children out through the French doors and into the garden, still within sight but out of earshot. Emily turned to her and took her friend’s hand. ‘So how are you? Really?’

‘Really? Sore, a little bit battered and absolutely ecstatic. It’s just wonderful. So different. Last year when we suddenly ended up with Harry and Dickon and Maya as a newborn baby, it was such a sad time. It shouldn’t have been, Lucie dying was all wrong, and it was a time of massive adjustment for all of us. But this—this is just how it ought to be, another baby coming into the family, and oddly it doesn’t feel all that different. I love the other three so much I can’t imagine I’ll love this one any more, but there is a difference. Carrying her, giving birth to her—it just makes it so much easier to love her. You know, I grew to love Maya, just as you’ve grown to love Kizzy, but I loved baby Lucie before she was born. Does that make sense?’

‘Absolutely.’ Emily nodded, thinking of Kizzy and how quickly she’d fallen under her spell, despite her best attempts to stay detached.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any progress with you and Harry, is there? I’d so love to see you two settled. You belong together—you always have.’

‘I don’t think so.’ She gave a strangled little laugh. ‘Actually, I’ve got something to tell you. You know Harry’s gone? He’s in Indonesia, reporting on an earthquake.’

‘Really? Oh, Emily, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry—I haven’t noticed anything but the baby since I went into labour.’

‘No, well, I wouldn’t expect you to. But anyway, just before he went, he told me…’ She broke off, took a breath and went on, ‘He said he was thinking of putting Kizzy up for adoption.’

Georgie’s expression was horrified. ‘Oh, Em, no! Oh, poor little thing! How can he?’

She shrugged. ‘Says he can’t be a full-time father and carry on with his job. And I don’t know what to do. Dan says I should adopt her myself, but—I’ll never be free of him if I do that. And it’s so much worse this time.’

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall forward so her hair shielded her face, but Georgie just reached out an arm and drew her down, holding her while she cried.

‘I miss him,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s so silly. But I’ve been really stupid and let myself fall for him all over again, and now he’s on the other side of the world and I just have this really bad feeling—’

‘Hush. You’ve had that really bad feeling every time you’ve seen him reporting from some hellhole or other. You need to get him out of your system—sleep with him. Maybe it’ll reveal some truly awful habits.’

Emily straightened up and sniffed, rummaging for a tissue. ‘Nice theory. Unfortunately he doesn’t seem to have any truly awful habits, so it didn’t work.’

Georgie’s jaw dropped. ‘Oh, my, you’ve done it. After all this time.’

She nodded. ‘Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, but I just couldn’t let him go without knowing—just in case. And now…’

‘Oh, Em. I’m so sorry.’

She sniffed again and tried for a smile. ‘No, I’m sorry. I should be here celebrating the baby with you, and all I can do is pour out my troubles. I’m a dreadful friend.’

‘Rubbish. You’re wonderful. Want to hold her?’

‘I’d love to,’ she said, and took the baby into her arms. ‘Gosh, she feels heavier than Kizzy!’

‘She probably is. She’s a real porker, and Kizzy was very tiny.’

She nodded. ‘She was. She’s catching up now, though. Actually, there’s something else I should tell you—something else I’ve done which is incredibly stupid and just makes letting her go even harder. I’ve started breastfeeding her.’ She swallowed and forced herself to meet Georgie’s eyes, waiting for the revulsion, but there was only sympathy and compassion.

‘Oh, Em,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, how can you let her go? Now, after that?’

‘Wet nurses always did.’

‘They were usually poor women doing it for money or members of the same family. But you’ve done it for love.’

She looked down at little Lucie, and sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, I have, but I shouldn’t have done. It was silly, but it turns out that formula upsets her, so I don’t know what would have happened if I hadn’t been around.’ She brushed her finger over Lucie’s tiny palm, and it was immediately enclosed in a tight grasp. ‘Oh, she’s beautiful. Really strong. I’m so happy for you. I think you’ve been fantastic, both of you, taking on the kids, and I’m so glad you’ve got your own baby now. It just ties all of you together.’

She sighed and handed her back. ‘I have to go. I’ve got work to do, and—’

‘Television news to watch?’ Georgie said astutely, and she gave a sad little laugh.

‘Maybe. You get some rest. She’ll be crawling before you know where you are. Enjoy her while she’s tiny, it’s over so very fast.’

‘I will. And ring me—any time you want to talk. Or come over. You know you’re always welcome.’

Emily hadn’t lied.

She did have lots to do, not least bringing order to Harry’s garden. If she could get it into some sort of shape before he came back, then it would be one less thing for them to have to deal with.

She was convinced they had no future. Sleeping with him had been rash and stupid—and she wouldn’t have changed it for the world, but it hadn’t been her cleverest move. And she was more than ever certain that when he came back, he’d put the house on the market, give Kizzy up for adoption and that would be the last she’d see of him. If the garden was done, he’d be gone all the sooner and she could get back to normal.

She scrubbed the silly, foolish tears from her eyes and marshalled the children. ‘Who fancies a picnic in the garden?’ she said brightly. They chorused, ‘Yes!’ at the tops of their voices.

‘Right, in the kitchen, everybody. Let’s make it now. Uncle Dan?’

Uncle Dan unfolded himself from his chair, grabbed Beth and tickled her in passing and presented himself in the kitchen. ‘Give me a job,’ he said, and she handed him a pile of bread and the butter.

‘Just a scrape,’ she reminded him. ‘We’re having sandwiches.’ And she busied herself pulling out food from the fridge and the cupboards, and refused to allow herself to think about Harry or what he might be doing…

It was horrendous.

The heat, the flies, the stench of bodies trapped beneath the buildings. Harry scrambled over the rubble in his path and walked down a street he’d known for years—a street now unrecognisable. The buildings had crumbled, the shops and houses falling in on each other, and everywhere there were desperate people digging.

He paused beside a house and spoke to a young man who was digging in the rubble with his bare hands. They were running with blood, but he didn’t seem to notice.

‘My wife and child,’ he told Harry, and the dust on his face was streaked with tears. ‘Just a baby. Help me.’

Harry’s knowledge of the language was patchy, but the man’s simple plea was universal. He questioned him a little more, then turned back to the cameraman.

‘This is Ismael. His wife Rom is inside, with their two-week old baby son. He’s desperate, because he can hear them crying, but there aren’t enough rescue workers to help him find them, and time’s running out. They won’t have any food or water, and the baby’s cries are so weak now he can hardly hear him. He’s found a hole, and he’s trying to clear it to see if he can get inside. I’m going to help him.’

He turned back to the man, tapped him on the shoulder and took the rock from his hands, lobbing it behind him. Together they shifted a large slab of what had once been wall out of the way, and crouched down, peering in through the hole. Ismael called his wife, and they heard a whimper from deep inside the building.

Fresh tears spilled over the man’s cheeks, and he set about the rubble with renewed energy. Finally they shifted the last big lump of concrete out of the way, and the man lay down and squirmed in, calling as he went. He had a torch, and he was shining it around, then there was a shout from inside and Harry lay flat and stared after him.

There, in the mass of rubble and wood and twisted metal that had been their house, he saw a hand, reaching out, and he saw the man take it, clasping it as if his life depended on it.

Or hers.

He turned back to the camera. ‘He’s reached her. Tim, get help. I’m going in.’

‘You can’t, Harry!’ the cameraman said, but Harry ignored him. He had no choice. There was enough room in there for two of them, and if they shifted that pile of rubble, there was a good chance they could get her out, or get medical aid to her. He shrugged off his jacket, emptied his pockets and crawled inside.

‘Ismael,’ he said, touching the man’s leg, and he turned his head. ‘Let me help. We can get her out.’

He could hear the shouts outside, the chorus going up, ‘Survivors!’

But at that moment, as they were so close to success, he felt the ground gather itself.

No. Not again. Not another one, he thought, and as the shaking started, he heard the woman scream.