Читать книгу His Miracle Bride - Marion Lennox, Marion Lennox - Страница 5

SHE’D psyched herself for farm terrors—but not for this.

Shanni steered her car onto the verge, but she didn’t drive in the gate. No way.

Shanni wasn’t a farm girl—in fact her best friend had burst out laughing when she’d divulged her destination. But Jules had grown up on a farm, so she’d talked Shanni through what she might face.

‘Cows will ignore you as long as you don’t interfere with their calves. Calves are curious but harmless, and most modern farms employ test tubes instead of bulls. Check if a cow has a dangly bit, and if it does don’t go near it. Horses…Big doesn’t mean scary. Say boo to a horse and it’ll take itself off. Most farm dogs are all bluster. Look them in the eye and shout “sit.” Oh, and watch for cow pats. They’re murder on stilettos.’

So she’d left her stilettos at Jules’s chic Sydney bedsit. She’d rehearsed her ‘sit’ command and she was ready for anything.

Anything but this.

There were kids sitting on the gate. Multiple kids. One, two, three, four.

They were watching her. Well, why wouldn’t they? Shanni’s car might well be the only car along here in a week. The meandering gravel track followed a creek that came straight from the snow melt. Distant mountains were capped with snow, even though spring was well under way. Undulating paddocks were dotted with vast red gums. The beauty of New South Wales’s high country was world renowned.

But…

The cows looked safely enclosed in paddocks. She couldn’t see a horse or a dog. What she saw was far more terrifying. Girl, boy, boy, girl, she decided, running down their ranks. Matching grubby jeans, T-shirts, sensible boots.

Siblings? Maybe, though there was a redhead, a blonde and two brunettes.

Forget the hair. They were sitting on the gate of the farm where she’d agreed to work.

She’d stuck her Aunty Ruby’s letter on the dashboard so she could read the directions. Ignoring the kids—who were clearly waiting for her to do something—she reread it now, holding it like she was handling a scorpion.

Aunty Ruby’s letter read like she talked—so fast she hardly paused for breath.

Pierce won’t let me help him. He was always the sweetest boy. I’m sure you thought so, too, and he’s had such a bad time. And now this. His wife died six months ago. His wife! He didn’t even tell me he was getting married, that’s how much he doesn’t want to bother me, and now she’s dead. And the boys are worrying about him. They say he’s falling behind in his work. He’s cutting corners, the boys say, and there’s a huge contract he’s risking losing. Mind, I think losing a wife makes any other loss irrelevant, but the boys won’t talk about that. No one will. They treat me as if I’m ancient, not to be bothered.

Anyway dear, I know Michael broke your heart—at least your mother said he did though how you can love a man with a ponytail…but worse, you’ve lost your sweet little London gallery. If you were thinking about coming home…Could you bear to help with a baby for a few weeks until Pierce gets this contract sorted? He’s been looking for a housekeeper but the boys say he’s having trouble. I could go…but of course they won’t let me.

Ruby’s frustration sounded through the letter. Beloved Ruby, who’d spent her life helping others, was being held at arm’s length by her foster sons, but she could no sooner resist sticking in her oar than she could breathe.

If she couldn’t help, then she was sure that Shanni could.

And Shanni just might.

Housekeeper to a sort-of-cousin and his motherless baby? On a farm on the other side of the world from her life in London? In the normal scheme of things, she’d laugh at the suggestion.

But this was Pierce MacLachlan…

Pierce was one of Ruby’s many foster kids. At any family celebration, there’d always been three or four of Ruby’s waifs.

There were three things affecting Shanni’s decision to help him.

Number one was sympathy. She did remember Pierce. Twenty years ago, Pierce had been fifteen to her almost ten. She’d met him at her Uncle Eric’s wedding and she’d been shocked. Ruby had just taken him in—‘for the fourth time,’ she’d told Shanni’s mother. He’d looked far too skinny, far too tall for his clothes, far too…desolate.

And now he’d lost his wife. That was awful.

Shanni was a soft touch.

And, okay, admit it. Twenty years ago she’d thought Pierce had the makings of…gorgeous. Her hormones had just been waking up. Pierce was a tall, dark and mysterious fifteen-year-old, all angular bones and shadows. In truth he’d probably just been excruciatingly shy and malnourished, but he’d run rings round the rest of her rowdy cousins. So added to sympathy was…lust?

Yeah, right. She was a big girl now. Pierce was probably a five-feet-two midget with a pot belly. And she was supposed to be broken hearted.

But then there was number three, and that was the biggie. She didn’t have enough money to stay in London. She’d lost her gallery and her lover. Ruby said Pierce had a farm. She could just pop in and see what the set-up was, and if it wasn’t suitable then she could retreat to her parents’ spare room and lick her wounds.

Only, the option of her parents’ spare room was no longer available.

So she was here. Facing four kids.

Four kids? She was scared enough of one baby.

She couldn’t stay, she thought, staring again at the four kids. But where to go? Where?

She hadn’t done her homework before she’d headed home. She’d received Ruby’s letter and suddenly she’d just come. To find that her parents were overseas—well, she’d known that—but to her horror they’d sublet their house. Hadn’t they known their daughter was intending to need it? They might have guessed she’d flee to Australia without asking questions, to be met by strangers having a barbecue in their back yard.

She sniffed, but she didn’t cry. When had she ever?

She should have cried when she’d found Mike in bed with one of his stupid models—but even then…

She’d come home mid-afternoon with the beginnings of the flu and had walked in and found them. Just like in the sitcoms, they hadn’t seen her. Well, they’d hardly been looking.

She’d retreated to the laundry and filled a bucket. Then, while her whole body had shaken with suppressed rage—as well as the first symptoms of a truly horrid dose of influenza—she’d decided water alone wasn’t enough. She’d stalked into the kitchen and hauled out the ice. Even then they hadn’t heard her, though her hands were shaking so much she’d dropped two ice trays. It had taken five minutes before enough ice melted to bring the bucket of water to almost freezing, but it had definitely been worth the wait. Throwing it had been a definite high point.

Though, in retrospect, maybe tears would have been better. For, although she’d been ruthless with the ice bucket, she hadn’t moved fast enough with the shared credit card. By the time she’d emerged from influenza and betrayal, Mike had revenged himself the only way a low-life creep with the morals of a sewer rat knew how.

It had been enough to tip her over the edge financially. Her tiny mortgaged-to-the-hilt art gallery had ceased to be.

But she was still irrationally pleased that Mike hadn’t seen her cry. If I can cope with Mike without tears, I can cope with this, she told herself, staring out at the kids on the gate while her stomach plummeted as far as it could go and then found a few depths she hadn’t known existed.

The kids were puzzled that she wasn’t turning in. The oldest kid—a pre-adolescent girl with short, copper-red hair that looked like it had been hacked with hedge clippers—had jumped off the gate in preparation for opening it.

Surely she’d got it wrong.

She wound down the window—just a tad—admitting nothing.

‘Is this Two Creek Farm?’ she called.

‘Yes,’ the oldest boy called. ‘Are you Shanni?’

‘Yes.’ Her voice was so faint it was barely a squeak.

‘Finally.’ The girl with the bad haircut hauled the gate wide while the three kids still sitting on the top rail swayed and clung. ‘Dad says we can’t go inside until you get here. What are you doing, parking over there?’

‘Your dad’s expecting me?’

‘You rang. Didn’t you?’

‘Um…Yes.’

The girl looked right, looked left, looked right again—had there ever been another car up here?—and crossed the road to talk. ‘Dad said, “Thank God, Ruby’s come up trumps. We’ve got a babysitter.”’

‘I see.’ She swallowed and looked again at the kids on the gate. ‘I guess…your dad’s name is Pierce?’

‘He’s Pierce MacLachlan.’ The girl poked her hand in the open car window. She was all arms and legs and a mouthful of braces. ‘I’m Wendy MacLachlan. I’m eleven.’

‘I see,’ Shanni said faintly, while her hand was firmly shaken.

‘The others are Bryce and Donald and Abby,’ Wendy told her. ‘Bryce is nine. Donald’s seven. Abby’s four. There’s Bessy as well, but she’s only eight months old so she doesn’t talk yet, and she’s away with Dad. She’s actually Elizabeth, but she’s too cute to be an Elizabeth.’

Bessy. The baby. One true thing.

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘He had to take Bessy to the doctor. We think she’s got chicken pox. She hasn’t got any spots yet, but she’s grizzling so much she must be sick. Dad didn’t get any sleep last night. When you rang he looked like he might cry.’

‘Oh,’ Shanni said. Even more faintly. She looked over to where the other three children were swinging on the opened gate. ‘Have you all had chicken pox?’

‘Oh yes,’ Wendy said blithely. ‘I had it first and then Donald and Abby and Bryce got it all together. Dad said he was going round the twist, but I helped.’

‘I’m sure you did.’

‘We didn’t want Bessy to catch it, but she did anyway. Dad’s buggered.’ She blinked. ‘Whoops, I’m not supposed to say that. Dad says. But when you rang and said you were coming Dad said, “Thank God, I’m so buggered I’ll pay half my kingdom for decent help.” And then he looked at all of us and said he’d pay all his kingdom.’

A lesser woman would turn around right now, Shanni thought. A lesser woman would say whoops, sorry, there’s been a dreadful mistake, and go find a nice homeless shelter rather than face this.

‘We shouldn’t be here by ourselves,’ Wendy admitted, her voice faltering just a little. ‘But the station wagon’s got a flat tyre, and when Dad pulled out the spare it was flat, too. Mum must have had a flat tyre and not told Dad…She swallowed. ‘Before…. before she died. Anyway, Dad’s car’s only a two-seater, and he really needed to take Bessy to the doctor and we won’t all fit. So I said we’d be fine, only he worries about Abby cos she keeps doing stuff like getting her toe stuck in the sink. So I promised we’d sit on the gate and not move until you came. Abby promised faithfully not to fall off.’

‘Ruby,’ Shanni said to herself under her breath. Dear, dotty Aunty Ruby…

How could she cope with this? What she wanted was breathing space. Time to get her head clear, paint a little, take time to think about where she wanted to go from here. A bit of wandering on a farm, taking in the sights, maybe with a cute little baby in a pram. Winning the gratitude of a boy she’d once felt sorry for.

And solitude, solitude and more solitude.

There was a shriek from the other side of the road. The boys had swung the gate hard and, despite her promise, Abby had fallen backwards. The four-year-old was hanging by the knees, her blonde pigtails brushing the dirt. Her hands were dragging on the ground, trying to find purchase, while the gate swung wildly to and fro.

‘Help,’ she yelled. ‘Wendy, heeeelp.’

Wendy sighed. She looked to the right, looked to the left, looked to the right again and stomped back across the road. The kid’s boots look too tight, Shanni thought. Her feet looked like they hurt.

Wendy yanked Abby backwards into her skinny arms, staggering under her weight. The gate sung wildly again with its load of two little boys.

‘Are you coming in?’ Wendy called across the road, still staggering. Abby was far too heavy for her.

Shanni met her look head on.

It was a strange look for a child. She doesn’t think I’m coming in, Shanni thought. It was a look of a child who’d needed to grow up before her time. Despite herself, her heart lurched.

Oh, help. Stop it, she told herself. Stop it.

You’re such a soft touch, her friends told her, and she knew they were right. Before she’d left London she’d had to find homes for the three cats she’d taken in against her better judgement, plus twenty cacti her elderly neighbour had persuaded her to water when she’d gone away for the weekend—only the weekend had turned out to be a decision to join her son in the Riviera for ever.

A lesser woman would have ditched the cacti. She hated cacti.

She’d boxed them up and taken them halfway across London to a batty cactus lover she’d found on the internet.

Even Mike…He hadn’t had anywhere to stay, and he’d been such a promising artist. Had she mistaken sympathy for love?

So don’t you dare feel sorry for this family, she told herself. Leave. Now.

But Wendy was watching her, her small face closed. She wasn’t expecting help. And then she stopped looking at Shanni—decision made.

‘It doesn’t matter what Dad said,’ she told her little sister. ‘I’ll take you inside.’ She hugged her little sister in a gesture that was pure protection, turning her back on Shanni. ‘You’ve scraped your fingers. We’ll find a plaster.’

Oh, heck.

‘What did you say your names were?’ Shanni called.

‘Bryce,’ the oldest boy called. ‘Bryce and Wendy and Donald and Abby. And Bessy at the doctor.’

‘Okay, Bryce,’ Shanni said wearily. ‘Where do I park?’

‘Definitely chicken pox,’ the doctor told Pierce in a tone of deep disapproval. ‘That makes the whole family. The older children should have been immunized. We do standard immunization at twelve months. Bessy will be paying the price of your failure to get that done.’

If he was less tired he’d slug him, Pierce thought wearily, but slugging would involve energy, and energy was something that was in short supply.

‘Here’s a prescription,’ the doctor said, still cool. ‘Twice a day, just like the older children. Can I rely on you to give it?’

‘Yes,’ Pierce snapped. Maybe he did have enough energy. But Bessy was clinging to his neck. It was pretty difficult to slug when holding a whimpering baby.

‘The child welfare officer says you seem to be struggling,’ the doctor said. He peered at Pierce as if he wasn’t too sure. ‘I can call them in, if you want. I told you that when their mother died.’

‘I don’t want. And I have help coming.’

‘Excellent. I hope it’s somebody competent. These children have suffered enough.’ The doctor closed Bessy’s patient file with a snap. Consultation over. ‘Let me know if you change your mind. I can get Welfare in tomorrow.’

The house was a tip.

Shanni walked into the kitchen and nearly walked out again.

It was a vast farmhouse kitchen, one wall almost taken up by a huge green Aga. The cupboards and benches were made of a deep, rich wood, and the floor was planked with something that looked like oak. An enormous wooden table dominated the room—a table big enough to…

To hold every eating utensil in the house, Shanni thought incredulously. When had they ever washed up?

‘It’s…it’s a bit messy,’ Wendy said, following Shanni in. She hadn’t put Abby down. She was still staggering under her weight. ‘Bessy was really sick yesterday.’

The two little boys were bringing up the rear. They at least looked like brothers—curly black hair, matching freckles, matching expressions of distrust.

The kitchen was cold. It was a glorious spring day but the place felt damp.

‘We ran out of wood last night,’ Wendy admitted, as she touched the cold stove. ‘Dad ran out of time to chop it. But Dad said just as well, cos he wouldn’t have gone to the doctor’s and left the fire burning. We had cereal and orange juice for breakfast, so we didn’t need the stove.’

‘I see,’ Shanni said. She didn’t see.

Wendy staggered forward and plonked her little sister on a kitchen chair. ‘I’ll find a plaster.’

This at least was a place to start. Abby’s finger was grazed. ‘We need to clean it,’ she told Wendy. ‘Can you find me a face cloth and some soap?’

‘I think so,’ Wendy said cautiously. ‘Are you going to look after us?’

‘I have no idea,’ Shanni told her. ‘Or, not in the long term. But for now it looks like I need to look after you at least until your father gets home. Let’s start with one sore finger.’

Bessy went to sleep somewhere between the doctor’s surgery and the pharmacy. Finally. She’d sobbed practically all the previous night. She’d sobbed in the doctor’s waiting room and in the surgery. The silence as she slid into sleep was almost deafening.

Pierce was lucky enough to find a parking space just outside the pharmacy. Yes! There was no way he was going to wake her.

But here was another occasion where he could be censured by child welfare—never leave your child alone in a car.

It wasn’t like this was a closed-in car. His cute little sports coupé—a bright yellow MX5 he loved almost more than life itself—was open to the sun. It was a gorgeous spring day. He’d be able to watch Bessy though the window of the pharmacy as he dived in and grabbed the prescription.

But there were ten prescriptions before him.

‘It’ll be twenty minutes,’ the pharmacist said, and Pierce almost groaned.

‘I’ve got kids at home and the baby in the car.’

‘Don’t leave your child in the car.’

‘Look, can you fast track…?’

‘Twenty minutes.’

‘Fine.’ He sighed. He couldn’t slug everyone in this town even if it was starting to feel like everyone was conspiring against him. ‘I’ll sit in the car and wait.’

He tried to stalk out, but his legs were too tired to stalk. As he walked past the window on the way out he caught a look at himself in its reflective glass.

He hadn’t shaved for two days. He’d slept in these clothes.

He looked like death. A little old lady entering the pharmacy gave him a wide berth, and he didn’t blame her.

He slid into the driver’s seat of his cool little car. Beside him, Bessy was still soundly asleep.

‘Twenty minutes, Bess,’ he said, but she didn’t stir.

He empathized. He sighed. He closed his eyes.

The warm spring sun was a balm all by itself. It was quiet. So quiet.

Twenty minutes.

He could just fold his arms on his steering wheel and let his head droop.

It was so warm….

‘How long did you say your dad would be?’

‘He said an hour. The appointment was for half past ten.’

‘It’s now well after eleven. Shouldn’t he be back by now?’ Shanni said cautiously.

‘Yes,’ Wendy said, and her bottom lip trembled. Just a bit. She caught herself almost before the telltale quiver happened, but Shanni had seen.

She felt like quivering herself.

Uh-oh.

She was only staying here until Pierce got home, she told herself. Then she was out of here fast. But these kids were starting to look more scared than she was. She couldn’t leave them. Nor could she sit round in this appalling mess worrying about where Pierce was.

They were all staring at her, and Wendy’s poorly disguised quiver was reflected on each of their faces.

They’d lost their mum. Pierce was late.

Their world wasn’t as stable as they might like.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring the doctor’s surgery, shall I?’

‘Yes,’ said Wendy, sounding relieved.

So she rang. Yes, he’d been at the doctor’s surgery.

‘He has to collect a prescription before he goes home,’ the receptionist told her. ‘And he’s probably taken the opportunity to go shopping. Has he left those poor children by themselves?’

There was enough censure in her tone to make Shanni back off.

‘No. They’re with me.’

‘If there’s a problem…’

‘Why would there be a problem?’

‘The child welfare people aren’t all that happy about the way he’s coping.’

Her voice was loud enough for Wendy, clinging to Shanni’s side, to hear.

‘Tell her we’re coping fine,’ Wendy said, her face flushing. ‘Yeah, Dad’ll just be shopping. We’re okay.’

‘We’re okay,’ Shanni said, and put the phone down.

‘They want to take us away from Dad,’ Wendy said.

Maybe they, whoever they were, had grounds.

But meanwhile…She could hardly phone the police and report Pierce missing. Not yet. She’d give him a bit of leeway.

But there was still fear on four little faces.

‘There’s no earthly use looking like that,’ she told them, mentally rolling up her sleeves, girding her loins, doing whatever a girl had to do before launching into battle. ‘If you’re worried about child welfare, then we need to show them we’re coping.’

‘How are we coping?’ Wendy asked.

‘By cleaning.’ She stared at the mound of dishes. ‘First thing first. This is a big job, so we need a major battle plan. I’ll chop enough wood to light the fire and get some hot water. Lots of hot water. A sink isn’t going to cut it. Let’s fill the bath. Donald, can you find us a pile of clean towels? The rest of you carry every dirty dish—except the knives, we’ll leave the knives for me—into the bathroom. Boys wash and girls dry. I want the whole bathroom filled with clean plates, so clean they sparkle. I’ll clean in here, and then we’ll bring the clean things back in.’

‘We can’t,’ Donald said. ‘We’re not old enough to wash dishes. Only Wendy.’

‘Nonsense,’ Shanni said with a lot more briskness than she felt. ‘Big doesn’t mean clever. Take your boots and socks off so if you get wet it doesn’t matter. Washing in the bath is fun. Do you have a sound system—for music?’

‘P…Dad has one,’ Wendy said. ‘He’s got lots of CDs.’

‘Then let’s put on a bouncy work CD,’ she said. ‘Something like Abba. Do you know Dancing Queen?’

‘Yes,’ Abby said, her eyes lighting up. ‘Our Mummy liked Abba. That’s why she called me Abby.’

‘Then we’ll put on Abba.’

‘I don’t know whether Dad’s got Abba,’ said Wendy.

Huh?

No matter. Questions could wait.

‘Let’s look then, shall we?’ Shanni said, sounding a lot more decisive than she felt. ‘Cos this house looks like it needs about a hundred Abba CDs to lick it into shape.’

At four o’clock the sun slipped behind the Craggyburn Post Office clock tower and Pierce and Bessy lost their sunshine.

Bessy woke first. She wiggled in her car seat, reached across to Pierce, put her pudgy hand into his mess of unkempt brown curls and pulled.

Pierce woke like he’d been shot.

‘Mmmphf,’ Bessy said in deep satisfaction at the results of one small tug.

‘Bess,’ Pierce said, coming to and trying to stop his eyes watering. ‘Boy, you don’t know your own strength.’

He winced and rubbed his head. He stirred and he stretched.

He gazed sleepily up to the clock tower.

The world stilled.

Surely he hadn’t. Surely…

Oh, God, he had. He’d been away for over five hours. Almost six.

He reached for the ignition, his fingers fumbling in haste. A woman from the pharmacy was restocking shelves in the window. She saw him backing out of the parking space, and she waved to him frantically to stop.

He paused and she came to the door.

‘Your prescription’s filled,’ she called. ‘We wondered when you’d wake up. You should be more careful. Mr Connelly, the pharmacist, says the baby’ll probably be sunburned.’

Not bad at all.

Shanni stood back and surveyed the pencil sketch she’d just done with a tinge of admiration. Her very first cow. It even looked like a cow.

Its leg looked a bit funny.

She checked her line of kids. Four kids. Four boards with paint, four brushes, four makeshift easels. Intense concentration. Good.

Four o’clock. How long before she called someone in?

She looked across at Wendy who was working with almost desperate absorption.

Donald, Bryce and Abby were silent, too.

Damn him. What was he playing at?

She should call…

Wendy looked across at her, her eyes pleading.

Not yet.

Pierce was struggling to stay under the speed limit as he and Bessy flew homeward. Bessy was rested and cheerful, crowing in delight at the soothing feeling of wind against her increasingly itchy skin.

Pierce might have rested but he didn’t feel rested. He’d left them for an hour hoping the woman—who was it? Shannon? No, Shanni—would arrive.

Even if she had arrived, she’d be long gone by now. The kids would be terrified.

He turned the last curve—and there was a police car in the yard.

The police…

It’d be the pharmacist, he thought, remembering the prissy set to the man’s mouth as he’d handed over Bessy’s medicine. The whole town thought these kids would be better off in care. And now…

‘I’ve stuffed it big time,’ he told Bessy as he lifted her from the car. ‘I don’t deserve to have you guys.’

Where was everybody?

Two policemen appeared from behind the hayshed.

Accompanied by a redhead.

A woman. Small. Slim. Faded jeans. Bright red windcheater, splodged with green paint. A yellow bandana catching back shoulder-length flaming curls. Green paint smeared on a snubbed nose. Freckles.

Memory stirred. One of Ruby’s family weddings. A nightmare of being alone. A kid the same age as him, taunting, ‘He’s one of Aunty Ruby’s strays. He’s a bastard. Bastard, bastard, bastard.’

Then a skinny little girl, dressed in a scarlet party frock and with a huge pink bow in her flaming hair, marching up to her big cousin and stomping hard on his foot. So hard the kid had yelped.

‘Gee, I’m sorry, Mac,’ she’d said, and she hadn’t sounded sorry at all. Then she’d turned to him and smiled. ‘Hi. My name’s Shanni. What’s yours?’

He’d remembered. That tiny piece of kindness and bravado had stayed with him, to be used as an inward smile at need.

Could this really be her?

‘Pierce, dear, we’re over here,’ she said, smiling brightly and waving to him like he was her long-time cousin. ‘How’s our darling Bessy? Did you get the things I wanted from the store?’

‘Um…hi,’ he said weakly, and the memory of the stomping was suddenly crystal clear.

Amazingly the cops were smiling as well. Pierce recognized them—an older cop who had family in the town, and a younger guy whose stock in trade was aggression. They’d been here two weeks ago with the child welfare officers.

They’d left then looking grim. They weren’t looking grim now. The younger guy was smiling almost fatuously, and the older guy was looking on with benign amusement.

‘So, Friday night…’ the young cop said to Shanni.

‘Can I let you know?’ Shanni said. ‘I need to sort out rosters with my cousin. It wouldn’t do to leave the kids by themselves.’

Ouch.

‘We’ll see you round, then,’ the older cop said benignly. ‘Good luck with that cow, miss. I’m sure you’ll get that leg right in the end.’

‘I’ll ring you on Friday,’ the young cop said, waving a slip of paper. ‘Thanks for your number. I won’t lose it.’

They waved to Pierce in friendly salute. They climbed into the police car, and they were gone.

Leaving Pierce with Shanni.