Accidental Nanny

by Lindsay Armstrong

  ‘I…I don’t understand.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ He looked at her ironically. ‘Why would I care what becomes of Frank Valentine’s daughter? Why would I bother to tell him that he really should take better care. of you—of your mental well-being—if I didn’t…if I didn’t owe you a very real debt, Chessie? But it’s one I can’t repay any other way, because I…’ He stopped.

  Can’t forget Olivia. Francesca didn’t say it, but it was there between them as if she had spoken. But the thing that hurt most, she thought, was that he still held a mistaken view of her. He still couldn’t see that this person who had looked after Jess was the real Chessie, not someone who had fallen under the brief spell of a kind of domestic harmony she hadn’t known before.

  That she was the kind of person who could easily give away the bright lights and the social pages, had never had much time for them anyway, and had been as victim of her father’s flamboyant life-style if anything… But then again, what difference does it make? she asked herself. Whatever he thinks, I’d only be dashing myself against the memory of Olivia all the time.

  ‘Raefe…’ She paused and steepled her fingers to her mouth for an instant, fighting for composure and the right tone. ‘Thanks for that, and you don’t owe me anything. Not many people would be immune to Jess. But I think you’d better send Sarah to Tahiti with a clear conscience and you’d better arrange for the couple from Tallai to move in as soon as possible.

  ‘I’ll do all in my power to fade away with as little pain as possible. She is only seven. Why don’t you plan a few treats for her? You could take her to visit the School of the Air base in Cairns. And she would probably love to have a puppy or a kitten.’

  ‘Chessie-—’

  But she”d had enough. ‘No. It’s all been said, Raefe.’ She stood up lithely and stared down at him for a moment. ‘Don’t lose any sleep over it.’

  He watched her walk away without making any attempt to follow her. Watched her straight shoulders, her swinging arms and hair, the rounded curve of her buttocks as they moved up and down beneath the white cotton of her shorts, then switched-his gaze away deliberately and cursed beneath his breath. Cursed himself primarily, but also fate for choosing to send the beautiful enigma that was Francesca Valentine across his path…

  ‘I had a mummy once,’ Jess said. ‘Did you ever have one, Chessie?’

  ’They were at the breakfast table, all of them, that same morning, but while Francesca, Raefe and Sarah were lingering over coffee, discussing Tahiti, Jess had finished and was paging through a picture book.’

  They all froze.

  Until Francesca leant over to see what had prompted this in Jess, and saw her studying a picture of a family—-a mother and father, and two children.

  ’Yes, I did,’ Francesca said slowly. ‘But she—she went to heaven when I was just a little girl, Jess.’

  ‘So did mine. She’s with the angels now. I could show you a picture, only Daddy put them all away—didn’t you?’ She turned to Raefe.

  ‘I…I could get them out again,’ he said, in a voice curiously unlike his own.

  ‘Oh, good, then I can show Chessie. Now come on, Mo and Flo—’ she unhooked the monkeys who’d shared her chair-back during breakfast, ‘—we’re going to check up on those gollies—I just hope they’ve been good!’ And she scampered off happily.

  Sarah had sudden tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘They said it was only a matter of time, didn’t they, Raefe?’

  But as they stared at each other, brother and sister, it was plain that Raefe couldn’t trust his voice, he got up and walked outside. Francesca watched him go and found she had tears in her eyes too.

  And, later in the day, that was how she was able to put a face to the shadowy figure that had lurked in her mind almost since she’d first met Raefe Stevensen. But, not only that, it was how she came to put the last nail in the coffin of her dreams.

  For Olivia Stevensen, captured in a silver frame with her blonde hair blowing about her small face, her slim form carelessly dressed in a pair of khaki trousers and a bush shirt, was laughing up at Raefe with adoration in her eyes, as he was laughing down at her. But that wasn’t all. She was so like Jess it was almost breathtaking.

  Somehow or other Francesca was able to put the photo down steadily on the cabinet it had come from and marshal her resources to speak normally to both Raefe and Jess.

  ‘She’s lovely. I wish I had a photo to show you of my mother, Jess, but I can tell you about her anyway. She had the same colour hair as mine—she used to say it might get me into a lot of bother and she wasn’t wrong! Isn’t it funny that I should remember that‘? But I do,’ she added slowly.

  ‘Why?’ Jess asked. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your hair.’

  Out of the corner of her eye, Francesca saw Raefe relax somewhat, and knew that he must have been dreading this moment in case it went awfully wrong. But Jess only looked enquiring.

  ‘Well, you see, sugar, it might be more golden-brown now, but it started out a bit red. And redheads can be people who get into a lot of trouble because they…er…’

  ‘Can be strong-willed.’ Raefe took over. ‘And have bad tempers, Jess.’

  ‘But Chessie’s not like that,’ Jess objected.

  ‘No, you’re right—she’s not,’ her father agreed gravely, then hesitated. ‘Shall we leave this photo out now?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Jess said. ‘Then I can bring my toys in and show them. Chessie, we mustn’t forget to feed Bob and Barbara’s animals—shall I get your car keys?’ And she ran off without waiting for a reply.

  Leaving Francesca and Raefe alone.

  ‘I’m sorry—so very sorry,’ Francesca said, barely audibly. ‘She is lovely.’

  ‘And it seems I owe you another debt,’ he replied.

  ‘No. I’m sure they were right. It was only a matter of time—and don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on Jess in case there are any repercussions.’ And she left the lounge quietly.

  There weren’t.

  Jess went to bed serenely that night, and it was left to Francesca to toss and turn in the hot darkness as she grappled with the knowledge that while time might have worked in Jess’s favour it was going to do the opposite for Raefe. It was going to give him a constant, living reminder in the form of his daughter.

  The next few days were filled with comings and goings Sarah left, and a day and a half later the Forsters arrived from Tallai.

  ‘Look, I think we’ll do this gradually,’ Raefe said, the morning of their arrival.

  Francesca glinted an enquiring look at him. He’d asked her to come into his study after breakfast and to bring their coffee with her. It was an overcast, hot day, as steamy as a Turkish bath.

  ‘Sit down,’ he murmured, and turned the overhead fan on, placing paperweights on the piles of paper on the table.

  Francesca sat, and was visited by the most acute recollection of virtually disrobing herself in this very room a few nights ago—it was the first time she’d been in it since. Consequently she said, ‘You were saying?’ rather abruptly.

  Raefe, in khaki shorts and a yellow T-shirt that was already clinging to his back, sat down and reached for his coffee-cup. ‘I think I’ll put the Forsters down in Bob and Barbara’s cottage for a couple of days. By the way, they go by the names of Pete and Milly. Milly can come up every day and take over the housekeeping from you and get to know Jess—gradually. And I thought they could have their evening meals with us, so Jess can get to know Pete as well.‘

  Francesca sipped her coffee. ‘Sounds like good thinking to me,’ she replied eventually. ‘Bob and Barbara wouldn’t mind—how are they, by the way?’

  ‘Bob’s out of hospital now, and they’re all crammed into Annette’s flat. But I’ve arranged for them, to have a month’s holiday at Mission Beach, just south of Cairns. Annette will be able to spend weekends with them. As well as the young man with the unfortunate name,’ he added with a fleeting grin.

  ‘That
was his mother,’ Francesca responded wryly. ‘She also told him faint heart never won fair lady.’

  ‘I gather the Browns are discovering that.‘

  ‘Damn.’ Francesca grimaced. ‘I told him to go slowly.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Well, she is only eighteen.’

  Raefe sat back. ‘Where were you when you were eighteen, Chessie?’

  Francesca. blinked and thought back. ‘At a finishing school.’

  ‘Here? In Australia?’

  ‘No, overseas—in France.’

  ‘Did you learn much there?’

  ‘I learnt to ski and speak French, and how to conduct myself as a lady.’ A faint smile played across her mouth. ‘Not that they were entirely successful there. In fact at one stage they were all set to send me home. I’m not sure how much it cost my father to make them change their minds,’ she reflected.

  ‘What did you do?’ Raefe asked after a moment.

  ‘Well, I didn’t have a flaming affair with the ski instructor or the dancing master, if that’s what you’re thinking.’ She tossed her hair. ‘I simply went walkabout several times.’

  ‘Just—took off?

  ‘Uh-huh. It wasn’t my idea to be there in the first place, you see. So I thought that if I had to be in France I might as well see a bit more of it—the bits I wanted to see as opposed to the bits they wanted to show me on carefully shepherded tours.’

  ‘What bits were those?’

  She tipped a hand. ‘Places I’d read about.’

  ‘Off the beaten track?’ he suggested.

  ‘Yes.’ A sudden far-away glint lit her eyes. ‘It was lovely.’

  ‘Meanwhile the whole country was being scoured for you?’

  Francesca came back with a faintly rueful look. ‘I guess so—but have you never read about places that have so captured your imagination you almost couldn’t help yourself?’

  ‘Yes, like you, I set off to find some of them too—only I didn’t have to run away to do it.’

  ‘Sarah told me.’ Francesca looked amused. ‘Was it fun flying a sheikh and his harem about the world?’

  ‘It had its enlivening moments. Harems can be a handful.’

  They laughed together, then Francesca said curiously, ‘Were you allowed to see inside any of them?’

  ‘Only on pain of death.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Well, perhaps not, but it wasn’t a wise thing to do—if not from one’s own point of view, which could result in one meeting. with a nasty little accident, then certainly from the ladies.’

  Francesca was silent. ‘I just can’t imagine it.’

  ‘Just as well—I feel quite strongly that you would not be at all suited to a harem, Chessie.’

  ‘I know,’ Francesca said drily, without thinking.

  ‘Know?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

  ‘I mean—well, how many women do you know who would?’

  ‘Point taken,’ he replied, and a strange little silence followed as they eyed each other—Francesca with a tinge of hostility that she couldn’t quite hide, Raefe with a frown in his eyes.

  Then Francesca stood up with an air of decision about her. ‘Is there anything you want me to do?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as—’ she gestured impatiently ‘—preparing for this Milly and Pete in any way?’

  He stood up. ‘No, thanks. They’re quite capable of seeing to anything that needs doing down at the Browns’ cottage. Chessie—’

  But whatever he would have said was destined to be unknown as the VHF radio came to life.

  ‘Sécurité, sécurité, sécurité, the disembodied voice said, over some static. ‘This is Townsville Radio, Victor India Tango. Hello, all ships, this is Townsville Radio. We have a cyclone alert issued by the Bureau of Meteorology at zero six hundred hours this morning. A low-pressure system has developed overnight in the Coral Sea…’

  Raefe grabbed la pencil and began to make notes. Francesca watched and listened with growing disbelief, but only spoke when the broadcast was finished. ‘Is it coming this way? Where is it?’

  ‘Still a few hundred miles’ off the coast north-east of us, and stationary at the moment, but if it develops and travels south-west, who knows?’ he said wearily, and tossed the pencil down. ‘The last bloody thing l need at the moment!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘WILL we have to evacuate?’ Francesca asked.

  ‘Not at this stage—cyclones are notoriously unpredictable. They can double back on their tracks, change direction, et cetera. Nor is it a full-blown one yet, but we’ll have to be prepared. And not only for destructive gale-force winds—once they cross the coast they tend to degenerate into rain depressions which mean floods.’

  ‘We’ve only just—’ Francesca stopped.

  ‘As you say. Look, if you want to get out while the going’s good, I won’t hold it against you.’

  ‘That’s vary kind of you but I’m not a coward.’ She eyed him coldly.

  ‘Chessie…’ He drew in an exasperated breath. ‘I’m not suggesting that. Your father, for one thing, would—’

  ‘You just leave my father to me, Raefe,’ she advised. ‘Would I be right in surrnising that you’ll be stretched to the limit protecting both Banyo Air and Bramble Downs from a cyclone if it happens?’

  ‘I…’ He paused, his grey eyes narrowing ‘Why do I get the feeling anything I say is going to be taken down and used as evidence—against me?’

  ‘Because I’m right, aren’t I?’ she informed him coolly. ‘Look, if you’re worried I’m going to take advantage of you. at the same time, perish the thought,’ she said gently. ‘I——’

  ‘Take advantage of me as in how?’ he asked through his teeth.

  ‘As in catching you off your guard and sweeping you off your feet!’ she murmured, with a glimmer of amusement in her blue eyes. ‘Or just plain seducing you.’

  He swore.

  ‘Dear me—you should have let me finish,’ she remonstrated, her lips twitching. ‘I’m over all that, is what I was going to say. I do hope you believe me, Raefe. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to need your wits about you for a few days. In the meantime I’ll do all I can to help.’ And she walked out of the study, closing the door gently behind her.

  She leant back against it for a moment and clenched her fists, then sighed deeply. Why do I do it? she wondered. But it occurred to her that this time she hadn’t acted with the inborn arrogance she might never be able to subdue completely, but out of a sense of self-protection for her battered heart…

  Nor was she entirely surprised when he retaliated, but that came much later in the day.

  In the event it turned out to be an uncomfortable sort of day. Pete and Milly Forster arrived and took over the Browns’ cottage, and Jess retreated somewhat.

  To give her her due, Milly Forster couldn’t be blamed for it. She was a comfortably plump, middle-aged woman with a sense of humour, and she confided to Francesca that she had four grown-up children and seven grandchildren. She didn’t make a fuss of Jess, and seemed content to allow the little girl to take her time over the process of their getting to know each other.

  Francesca couldn’t help approving this tactic, nor could she help thinking that Raefe had chosen wisely—Milly Forster was both sensible and kindly, as well as obviously experienced with children. But it hurt her, nevertheless, to see Jess retreating into her shell, as if she had an intimation of what was to come.

  On top of this, the hot, overcast mugginess of the day plus the thought of a shrieking cyclone somewhere out to sea waiting to pounce on them was harder on the nerves than Francesca had anticipated. But she forced herself to make good so her promise to help, and in a two-pronged effort she and Milly worked side by side through the afternoon, checking the cold room for supplies they might. need, checking torches, batteries and candles, and checking the house and surrounds for anything that could become a missile in gale-force winds.

  Th
e effort was two-pronged in that it also helped Milly to familiarise herself with Bramble homestead and its workings. They rang through with the list of supplies to Raefe, who was at the airfield, co-ordinating that end of things, and he would fly them home with him that evening.

  It turned out that Milly and Pete were old hands at cyclones, and by the time they had dinner-—-she, Milly and Jess alone; Pete had spent most of his day organising things down at the cattle yards—every window was taped across, to prevent it from shattering, and every garden chair, dustbin lid and so on was either tied down or stowed away.

  ‘Probably won’t even hit—nine times out of ten they don’t,’ Milly said, wiping the sweat off her brow. ‘But you can never be sure. ’She’s a quiet little thing, isn’t she?’ She nodded at Jess.

  ‘Sometimes. Do we know where this cyclone is?’

  ‘Pete knows. He and Raefe have kept in touch. I don’t reckon it’ll hit tonight. I must say—’ she smiled ruefully ‘—it’s not every day you start a new job in these conditions.’

  Francesca felt a stab of guilt as she realised she’d probably been preoccupied and withdrawn herself. ‘You’ve been great,’ she said warmly. ‘You’ve hardly had a minute to yourself, you’ve had to take over someone else’s cottage and you’ve barely had time to drop your bags, let alone unpack!’

  But Milly said philosophically, ‘That’s the way we do things up here. Although now dinner’s done I might go down to the cottage, if you don’t mind. Raefe’s due in shortly, so you don’t need to worry—there’s no way he’d leave you and young Jess alone for long. Will you be all right?’

  “Fine. Thanks!’

  ‘That’s Daddy,’ Jess said, sitting up in Francesca’s lap.

  They were in the lounge reading a book, and, although Jess was having difficulty keeping her eyes open, it was plain she was determined to do so until her father arrived home.