I grin up happily at him.
‘I love you, Ella.’
A warm feeling of such love and joy gushes into me I have to gasp. ‘I love you too, Dominic Eden. I love you so much I could fuck you all over again.
‘Go on then,’ he challenges cheekily, as his mouth comes down to claim me.
EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER
I place Adam on the changing mat.
‘Right,’ I say confidently. ‘Let’s do this.’
He gurgles up at me. I take a deep breath and blow it out.
‘Right,’ I say again. ‘We’re doing it without Mummy.’
This time he blows a bubble. I look down on the changing mat.
Wipes. Check.
Fresh clean diaper. Check.
Diaper rash cream. Check.
Plastic bag for disposing of soiled diaper. Check.
If I’m really fast I won’t get more than a lungful of stench. Adam kicks his legs and hands encouragingly. I unfold a diaper and put it close by.
Gently, I take his shoes and socks off. He seems happy enough at this stage, and so am I. I unbutton his little suit and expose the diaper. I pull his little legs out of the suit.
I take a deep breath of clean air and, holding it in my lungs, I pull both the Velcro tabs at the same time, and, detaching the diaper from his tummy, reveal the extent of the damage.
Fuck! Not good.
I grab his ankles in my hand, pull his bottom upwards, and, using the diaper, wipe away the worst of the brown mess before smoothly sliding the diaper out. I fold it on itself and fix it with the sticky tapes. As fast as I can, I clean the area with the baby wipes, making sure to get into all the folds. I dump the wipes into the plastic bag with the soiled diaper and tie it tightly.
I let out the breath I was holding in a sudden burst.
Adam grabs his toes with his hands and watches the great big gulps of air I take.
‘And then what happened?’ I say to him.
He claps his hands and coos.
‘Mummy’s the first best thing that ever happened to me, and you’re the second best thing that ever happened to me,’ I tell him.
He lets out a little squeal.
‘I know, but Mummy has to come first. Without Mummy there would be no Adam. You see how all this works, huh?’
I carry on talking more nonsense while I apply diaper cream, and then I lift his little bottom up again and slide the new diaper under him. I pull it over and snap the Velcro bits down. I dress him again in the same clothes. I tickle the soles of his feet and he cackles with laughter, his big blue eyes sparkling with innocence.
‘You wait until you become a daddy. Then we’ll see how you get on with changing dirty nappies.’
I wipe my hands and, picking him up, hold him close to my chest. After a big kiss and hug, we go downstairs. He can have a bottle of lovely warm milk while I have my glass of whiskey.
I’ve fucking earned it.
I open the door and see Dom coming down carrying Adam. My face breaks into a happy grin. No matter how many times I see the two of them together the joy that fills my heart never lessens. I love them both so much sometimes it feels as if my heart will burst with happiness.
‘Hello,’ I say.
‘Ah, Mummy’s home,’ Dom says with a grin.
‘Hello darling,’ I say going closer to them. Adam is so crazy about his Dad he will not come to me or anyone else when his father is around, but he does make an excited squawk and wave his little arms at me. I walk up to them and standing on tip- toes kiss first Dom and then my beautiful son.
I touch Adam’s diaper. ‘Does he need changing?’
‘All done.’
My eyebrows rise. ‘You changed his diaper?’
‘Of course.’
I hide a smile. ‘Any … um … problems?’
‘No,’ he says casually.
‘Well done,’ I say with a huge smile.
‘Although, you really should stop feeding our son dead cats.’
I laugh.
‘And what have you been up to?’ he asks.
I lift up my bag of shopping. ‘I got you your favourite.’
His eyes twinkle. ‘Chocolate arrows?’
I pretend to be serious. ‘No.’
‘Watermelon pasties.’
‘Be serious, you,’ I reprimand with mock seriousness.
‘If it’s not watermelon pasties I give up. I don’t know. What?’
‘Edible panties.’
He grins cheekily. After thousands and thousands of grins. After all this time my tummy still flutters with the incredulous thought, and this man is mine?
‘Wonderful,’ he says, eyes twinkling. ‘It’s been ages since I ate one of those delicious things.’
‘You ate one two weeks ago,’ I remind.
‘That’s way too long, Ella, my love. Way too long.’
THE END
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Coming Next…
GOLD DIGGER
Georgia Le Carre
CHAPTER 1
‘Whatever you do, don’t ever trust them. Not one of them,’ he whispered. His voice was so feeble I had to strain to catch it.
‘I won’t,’ I said, softly.
‘They are dangerous in a way you will never understand. Never let your guard down,’ he insisted.
‘I understand,’ I said, but all I wanted was for him to stop talking about them. These last precious minutes I didn’t want to waste on them.
He shook his head unhappily. ‘No, no, you don’t understand. You can never let your guard down for even an instant. Never.’
‘All right, I won’t.’
‘I will be a very sad spirit if you do.’
‘I won’t,’ I promised vehemently, and reached for his hand. The contrast between my hand and his couldn’t have been greater. Mine was smooth and soft and his was gnarled and full of green veins, the skin waxy and liver-spotted. The nails were the color of polished ivory. The hand of a seventy-year-old man. His fingers grasped fiercely at my hand. I lifted them to my lips and kissed them one by one, tenderly.
His eyes glowed briefly in his wasted, sunken face. ‘How I love you, my darling Tawny,’ he murmured.
‘I love you. I love you. I love you,’ I said.
‘Do your part and they cannot touch you.’
He sighed. ‘It’s nearly time.’
‘Don’t say that,’ I cried, even though I knew in my heart that he was right.
His eyes swung to the window. ‘Ah,’ he sighed softly. ‘You’ve come.’
My gaze
chased his. The window he was looking at was closed, the heavy drapes pulled shut. Goose pimples crawled up my arms. ‘Don’t go yet. Please,’ I begged.
He dragged his gaze reluctantly from the window. His thin, pale lips rose at the edges as he drew in a rattling breath. ‘I’ve got to go, my darling. I’ve got to pay my dues. I haven’t been a good man.’
‘Just wait a while.’
‘You have your whole life ahead of you.’
He turned his unnaturally bright eyes away from me, looked straight ahead, and with a violent shudder, departed.
For a few seconds I simply stared at him. Appropriately, outside the October wind howled and dashed itself into the shutters. I knew the servants were waiting downstairs. Everyone was waiting for me to go down and tell them the news. Then I leaned forward and put my cheek on his still, bony chest. He smelled strongly of medicine. I closed my eyes tightly. Why did you have to go and die and leave me to the wolves?
In that moment I felt so close to him I wished that this time would not end. I wished I could lie on his chest, safe and closeted away from the cruel world. I heard the clock ticking. The flames in the fireplace crackled and spat. Somewhere a pipe creaked. I placed my chin on his chest and turned to look at him one last time. He appeared to be sleeping. Peaceful at any rate. I stroked the thin strands of white hair lying across his pinkish white scalp, and let my finger run down his prominent nose. It shocked me how quickly the tip of his nose had lost warmth. Soon all of him would be stone cold.
I wondered whom he had seen at the window. Who had come to take him to his reckoning. My sorrow was complete. I could put my fingertips into it and feel the edges. Smooth. Without corners. Without sharpness. It had no tears. I knew he was dying two hours before. Strange because it had seemed as if he had taken a turn for the better. He seemed stronger, his cheeks pink, his eyes brilliantly bright and when he smiled it appeared as if he was lit from within. He even looked so much stronger. I asked him what he wanted to eat.
‘Milk. I’ll have a glass of milk,’ he said decisively.
But after I called for milk and it was brought to him he smiled and refused it. ‘Isn’t this wonderful?’ he asked. ‘I feel so good.’
And at that moment I knew. Even so it was incomprehensible to me that he was really gone. I never wanted to believe it.
‘In the end you wanted to go, didn’t you?’
There was no answer.
‘It’s OK. I know you were tired. It was only me holding you back. You go on ahead. Find a place for me.’
He lay as still as a corpse. Oh God! I already missed him so much.
‘I understand you can’t talk. But you can hear me. When it is my turn I want you to come and get me. I’ll be expecting you to come in through the window. Go in peace now, my love. All will be well. They will never know the truth. I will never tell them. To the day you come back to collect me.’
And then I began to cry, not loud, ugly sobs, but a quiet weeping. I didn’t want the servants to hear. To come rushing in. Call the doctor waiting downstairs to come in and pronounce him dead. I knew what waited for me outside this room. Another hour…or two wouldn’t make a difference. This was my time. My final hours with my husband.
The time before I became the hated gold digger.
Wounded Beast (Gypsy Heroes Book 2) Page 18
