by Fiona Harper
‘It’s okay,’ she said to Alex. ‘I’ve found her.’ And then she slid her phone closed, too intent on finding out if her stepdaughter was all right to worry about Alex. He’d have plenty of time to shout at her later.
‘I was worried about you,’ she said softly.
The only answer she got was a sniff.
‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Looking for Mummy.’
The answer cracked Jennie’s heart wide open. ‘Oh, darling. Why did you think she’d be in here?’
‘Auntie Toni said I lost Mummy. And she said Mummy would always be with me. So I ’cided to look in here, just in case. I found Daddy’s torch but it not work.’
Jennie closed her eyes, despite the dark. She remembered this. The way grown-ups talked to you about death. Some of her relatives had said some very confusing things after her mother had died, and it had taken her quite a while to come to grips with everything. However, she’d been eight when her mother had died. Mollie was only three. She probably didn’t even understand what it meant, how final it was. And having adults talking in hushed voices and vague terms was only making matters worse.
‘Mollie, do you have Daddy’s torch there? Can I have a look at it?’
She heard more shuffling and then heard something roll along the wooden floor before it hit her ankle. She fumbled with the rubber casing until she found the button. The torch was old and it took a push harder than a three-year-old’s thumb would manage. A pale yellow circle lit the floor. Jennie put the torch in her lap, facing away from both their faces and looked at Mollie. She was huddled up in the corner, her lashes thick with tears and her nose slimy.
‘Are you cold? Do you want to sit on my lap?’
Mollie shook her head, but she inched a little closer.
Jennie took a deep breath. She might be doing totally the wrong thing here, but there wasn’t time to rush inside and thumb through her parenting book. She was just going to have to go with her gut. All she’d wanted when her own mother had died was for someone to sit down and talk to her about it. But nobody had. They’d pretended nothing had happened and tried to be happy around her. They’d clothed everything in euphemisms rather than giving her facts. And it had made her sad that no one would let her talk about her mummy, about how much she missed her and how sad she was.
Without warning, her eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away.
She looked Mollie in the eye. ‘When I was a little girl my mummy died, too,’ she said, watching her stepdaughter’s face and trying to gauge her reaction. Mollie went very still and looked at her with wide eyes.
‘Did you ever find your mummy ’gain? Did you lose her, too?’
Jennie swallowed. ‘No, sweetheart. I didn’t.’ And she went on to explain, with simple words and plain facts, why she wouldn’t see her mother again—not on this earth, anyway.
Mollie’s lips began to wobble. Jennie saw the look of hope in Mollie’s eyes, begging her to tell her what she’d just pieced together wasn’t true, and it took all her willpower not to hide that truth in platitudes, the way everyone else had done for Mollie. The little girl’s whole face crumpled up. ‘Don’t want Mummy to be dead,’ she whispered.
I don’t want mine to be dead either, Jennie thought. And I miss her so much. One of the tears she thought she’d dealt with escaped and rolled down her cheek. She saw Mollie watch it, a look of surprise on her little round features.
‘Why are you crying?’ she said, sniffing, tears falling fast down her own cheeks.
Jennie found she needed to sniff, too. ‘Because I’m sad my mummy’s gone, too,’ she said. ‘And sometimes I get angry. But it’s okay to feel like that. It’s okay to be angry or sad or happy or fed up, and it’s okay to cry if you need to.’
Mollie crawled towards her and inspected her tears with chubby, inquisitive fingers.
‘Are you sure you’re not cold?’ Jennie said, trying to smile. ‘Because I am, and my lap desperately needs warming up.’
Mollie blinked and then she climbed into Jennie’s lap and put her arms around her. And then she rubbed Jennie’s back with a tiny hand in a way Becky must have done to soothe her when she was upset. That just made Jennie cry all the harder. All of Mollie’s defences crumbled and she clutched on to Jennie and sobbed. Jennie wasn’t in much of a position to do anything but join her.
After a short while she felt Mollie relax in her arms. Jennie wiped her own cheeks with her fingers, not even bothering to avoid her mascara.
‘I don’t know about you, but I need a tissue.’
A little head nodded against her chest, and Jennie decided not to think about what kind of smears were now on her rather expensive designer jumper.
‘And I’m hungry, too,’ she added. ‘How about we go inside and find something to eat?’
Another nod.
She carefully lifted Mollie off her lap and scrambled to her feet. ‘Why don’t you use the torch?’ she said to Mollie, who brightened instantly. As she stood up and brushed the dust off her rear end, Jennie thought of yesterday’s attempt at tea—burnt toast, lukewarm baked beans…
She backed out of the tree house door, stooping to avoid whacking her head on the top of the frame. ‘Stuff it,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘I’m getting takeaway.’
Her boot squelched in the mud at the bottom of the steps as a little voice called out from behind her, ‘Can we have pizza?’
She smiled and held out a hand. ‘Of course.’
Jennie stared at the open pizza box, having nothing better to do than watch the remaining slices get harder and curlier. Alex hadn’t said much when he’d come in. He’d just dropped his briefcase and coat in the hall and quietly climbed the stairs to Mollie’s bedroom. He’d been up there forty-five minutes now.
She decided she’d go crazy if she didn’t find something to do, so she started to clear the dishes. She was just putting the last one into the dishwasher when she heard Alex’s footsteps in the hall. Her mind filled with reasons why this wasn’t her fault, why he shouldn’t be angry with her. That also was stupid. Suddenly she felt Mollie’s age, scared with the same chilly fear that she’d had when her father had made one of his rare appearances in her bedroom. Scared of what he’d say. Because whenever there was trouble, she was sure to be the cause of it.
But Alex didn’t rant and rave. He didn’t say a thing. Didn’t look at her with that heavy disapproval in his eyes. And maybe that was worse. He collected a pair of wine glasses from the cupboard, filled them with Merlot and gestured in the direction of the living room. Jennie followed him there.
They sat in different chairs—Jennie by the fire, Alex on the sofa—the cool awkwardness between them preventing them from doing anything else. So much for tonight being The Night. Jennie sipped her wine and stared into the fire while he collected his thoughts, found a way to let whatever difficult words were in him out. But it took a lot longer than she expected. Alex was so quiet, so still, it made her feel fidgety. Pretty soon she was screaming inside her head.
And then it all came spilling out of her. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I only took my eyes off her for a moment…’
He shot her words down with a look. A what-do-you-think-you-were-doing kind of look. She waited for him to say it—to tell her she was a failure and that he’d made a mistake when he’d asked her to stay.
‘Mollie was almost asleep when I got up there.’ A pained look crossed his face, and he looked as if he was going to say something. After a few seconds of silence, his jaw hardened.
‘Is she okay?’ Jennie asked quietly.
Alex nodded. ‘I just sat in the armchair and watched her until she fell asleep.’
Jennie pressed her lips together and tried to smile at him. It came out all wonky. What could she say? What could anyone say to make this right?
Alex looked deep into his wine glass. He hadn’t even touched it yet. ‘I don’t think I could bear it if we do the DNA test and the results come back negative.’
Jennie swallowed as Alex’s eyes shimmered in the firelight. So that was why he’d stalled on getting it done. She bit her lip. All the awkwardness was forgotten. She felt as if her heart was literally reaching out for Alex, straining against her ribcage.
Alex had stretched himself to his limit to keep going through all this mess. Maybe even before that. Maybe he’d been holding himself tight together ever since Becky had left him. She thought back to the first night she’d met him, how he’d had that undercurrent of power and intensity, how he’d seemed hyper-aware, edgy. It had been rather intoxicating. She hadn’t guessed just what it must have cost him to stay strong for everyone else, ignoring his own needs.
For a while he’d been fuelled by adrenalin, doing what needed to be done because that was what Alex Dangerfield did. But the emergency was over now. They were supposed to be quietly getting on with their lives. The dullness in his eyes told her Alex’s adrenalin had drained away. Unfortunately, she suspected they still had a bumpy road ahead of the three of them so, in some ways, the struggle had only just begun. Just as Alex had reached the end of himself.
Jennie put her glass down. Although Alex would never admit to being anything less than omnipotent, right at this moment her husband needed someone to share his load. Unfortunately for the poor guy, she was the only candidate, so he was just going to have to put up with whatever haphazard help she could offer.
She unfolded herself from her chair, crossed the room, took his glass from him and placed it on the low coffee table. Then she knelt next to him on the long leather sofa, looked into his eyes and ran her fingertips softly across his shoulders. He shivered at her touch and closed his eyes.
She might not have a great scientific brain, able to provide DNA results to soothe his ridged brow. She might not be Supernanny, ready to transform any kid from monster to angel with a sticker chart and a naughty step. Her only skills lay in guest lists, canapés and booking venues. And knowing how to help people have a great time, to feel good.
That much she could do for him.
Alex needed time out of his life, to feel something other than despair, to think about something other than the problems that consumed him. She had a sneaking suspicion that had been her attraction for him in the first place, so she might as well do her job. She could make him forget—at least until morning.
She shifted one leg so she was sitting across his lap facing him, a knee on either side of his thighs, and then she leaned forward and kissed him. Softly. Tenderly. Putting all her heart into it—the way she’d been aching to do ever since he’d turned up at Alice and Cameron’s reception.
He met her eagerly, pulling her towards him, sliding his fingers under the hem of her blouse to feel her skin, and her breath hitched. Blindly, she reached for the top button of his shirt and fumbled with it.
Oh, yes. She was going to make Alex feel good. Very, very good.
Alex woke, as he usually did, well before dawn the next morning, and for a few blessed moments he felt totally relaxed, totally peaceful. Jennie was curled up against him, breathing softly. He kissed her bare shoulder gently enough not to wake her.
It shocked him how much he loved her. He’d never loved Becky this way.
As he lay there, slowly waking, these strange thoughts flooding his head, the events of the previous day started to sharpen and come into focus. The cold dread he’d been trying to ignore returned and he closed his eyes, willing his pulse rate to flatten, willing himself back onto an even keel.
Jennie’s arm twitched and she sighed gently, then burrowed closer to him. He twisted his head and looked at the alarm clock. Six-thirty. Not a time of day that Jennie habituated. Far from it. Much as he hated to leave her, his brain was whirring now and he feared he’d disturb her if he stayed much longer, so he gently eased himself out of bed and dressed quietly in the bathroom before padding downstairs.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in front of him when Mollie appeared. She poked just her head round the door, her eyes wide and blinking, her mouth gathered into a tense pout. She was waiting to see what he’d do, what he’d say. He softened the grim line of his mouth into the beginnings of a smile, let the warmth shine out of his eyes. She walked slowly over to him and stood there looking very forlorn. The thumb on her right hand protruded from her tiny fist and, after a moment’s hesitation, she stuck it in her mouth.
‘You mustn’t run off without asking a grown-up, okay?’ he said, resisting the urge to reach for her and pull her close, just in case it would be too much for her.
She blinked again.
‘Do you think you can do that?’
She frowned, deep lines appearing on her forehead—much too deep for a three-year-old.
Jennie had told him of her conversation with Mollie as they’d lain wrapped around each other in the dark last night. A thought hit him. ‘And perhaps we can go and visit Mummy’s grave, take her some flowers and those lovely cards you’ve made her.’ The light returned to Mollie’s eyes and she gave him the slightest, sweetest smile. Before she started bugging him about the lack of chocolate cereal in the house and whether she could have boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast, she leaned against him so their arms touched and pressed into him. Almost, almost lay her head on his shoulder. And then she was gone again.
Alex let out the breath he’d been holding. Maybe it was better she was holding back still. It made it easier for him not to get too attached. She was so sweet, so beautiful. If it turned out…
He flattened that feeling out, too, couldn’t even think about it. Instead, his mind strayed to the case he was trying. Although it was complex, it was much more comfortable than thinking about Mollie. In a week or two they’d know for sure, and then he could breathe out and enjoy the little girl he was starting to lose his heart to.
Jennie woke to the smell of warm coffee. She stretched like a cat and opened her eyes to find Alex smiling at her. Boy, her husband was gorgeous when he smiled. And, after last night, she hoped he had a lot to smile about. A long sigh, mixed with a yawn escaped her lips.
Her hunch had been correct—it had been different between them. But better different. Not just heat and fire, although that had been there in abundance, but…richer, too.
‘Good morning,’ she said, injecting a smile into the remnants of her yawn.
Alex just placed a mug of coffee on the bedside table and leaned forward to kiss her. And kiss her again. And again. And… Well, the coffee had gone cold by the time she remembered it was there.
‘I’ll make you another one,’ he said, putting his shirt back on and looking a little sheepish.
Jennie smiled. She didn’t care about coffee. All she cared about was that somehow, last night, even after all the turmoil, she and Alex had found a way back to each other. They were no longer dancing around each other like boxers, keeping themselves beyond the other’s reach if there was a hint they might inflict any further damage. This morning she was in the centre of his world again, right where she wanted to be.
CHAPTER TEN
JENNIE helped her stepmother clear the dishes while the rest of the family argued over the last piece of pavlova. Cameron was putting forward a very good case, but he didn’t have Mollie’s cute factor. Alice and Alex were cheering their respective loved ones on, and her father was relishing his role as judge and jury.
It had taken a few weeks before they’d been able to get them all together on a Sunday for a family lunch. Alice and Cameron had been on honeymoon and her parents had taken a short trip away to relax after all the wedding madness, and this was the first time both her father and Alice and Cameron had met her new family properly.
Jennie carefully put the pile of plates she’d been carrying down near the sink. ‘That was an incredible lunch, Marion.’ She smiled. ‘Made me realise how much I’ve got to learn. I’ve only just mastered boiling eggs.’
Marion put down the large serving plate she’d been carrying. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re
doing?’
Jennie nodded brightly. ‘Boiling water, salt and then three minutes…hang on.’ She frowned. ‘Or is it four?’
‘No,’ Marion said. ‘I meant with Alex and Mollie…’
The smile slid from Jennie’s face. Of all people, she would have thought that Marion would be the one to understand, to support her.
Marion looked pained, but she clasped her hands in front of her and carried on talking. ‘I just need to know…’ she started, but then she shook her head and began again. ‘You’ve dived into so many things without thinking…and I can’t fault your enthusiasm, but this isn’t some silly scrape you can sweet-talk your way out of when it’s not fun any longer. This is for life.’
‘I know that.’ Jennie’s hands felt all clammy and cold. She folded them into the crooks of her elbows and hugged herself tight. ‘Don’t you… Don’t you think I can do this?’
Marion walked towards her, face full of compassion. ‘I’m not saying that, but…’ She glanced in the direction of the dining room. ‘You haven’t chosen an easy path. I look at that wonderful man and that darling girl and I see…’ She gently gripped Jennie’s upper arms, held her. ‘Those two come with baggage. Lots of it. There’s going to be heartache as well as joy ahead.’
The sinking feeling in Jennie’s stomach overrode her instant mental denial at Marion’s statement. She stared at the kitchen door. Mollie cheered in the other room and Cameron gave an overly theatrical groan. She knew who’d won her father over in the end and it made her smile, made the cold churning stop.
‘I know what I’ve got myself into.’ She looked into Marion’s eyes. ‘And I know it isn’t going to be easy—it might even be my ultimate scrape…’ She let out a dry laugh. ‘But of all the scrapes I’ve ever got myself into, this is the one that’s worth it. I love him, Marion. I love them both. I don’t care whether it’s sensible or not, whether it’s going to be easy or not—I’m sticking with it.’
