by Clare Revell
Lydia chuckled. “Maybe I could call you Nick here. I couldn’t do that in church or elsewhere. It wouldn’t be right.”
“OK.” He slid his cufflinks into his jeans pocket and rolled up his sleeves. Some days he may as well wear a dog collar—even though evangelical ministers didn’t do that. “And I happen to like washing up. Which is probably just as well, looking at this pile of dishes and pans.”
“I’ll make you that coffee.”
“Thank you.” He turned to the sink and emptied it of all the dishes. Then he filled it with fresh, hot soapy water. Whistling along to the music, he washed dish after pot and pot after dish. The pile seemed never ending.
When he offered to come and help out, he’d imagined he’d be out the front, talking to people, solving problems for them, helping them. But instead he was out the back, washing dishes.
Nick, washing dishes is as much a service as talking to people. So stop complaining and get to washing. What else did I have planned for tonight? A big, fat nothing. God wants me here, and if washing dishes is what God has planned, then who am I to argue? I can’t always play the hero.
“Someone’s happy.”
He glanced up and smiled at Mrs. Branning. “I like washing up. Actually, I just like being useful, and it beats sitting in front of the TV watching the usual repeats.”
Mrs. Branning winked. “In that case, the rubbish needs taking out. The pig bin needs emptying, and then the floor needs mopping.”
Nick smiled. “Sure. Before or after I’ve finished these?”
“Now, please. And then come and see me in the office as soon as you’ve done that.” Mrs. Branning spun on her heel and left the kitchen.
Lydia looked at him. “I’d have told her where to get off, except, being a good Christian woman, I can’t. You’re volunteering. It’s not like she can sack you if you refuse to do it.”
He winked, drying his hands. “’Cept being a pastor I’m not meant to think things like that, let alone say them. Besides, once I’ve done all the boring stuff, and promise not to evangelize everyone in sight, then maybe she’ll let me pour coffee or something.”
“That is what she originally wanted. Someone to serve drinks and be on hand just to chat to people who seemed lonely. So I don’t know why she stuck you out the back here.”
“Like you said, the dishwasher broke and someone has to do the washing up. It’s all serving, no matter where we are. Where’s the pig bin?”
“That’s the yellow bin out in the back. Ordinary rubbish goes in the black one. Recycling goes in the green one.”
“Yes, boss.” Nick grinned, fired off a mock salute, and picked up the bucket of food scraps. It reeked, yet he somehow managed to carry it outside without gagging. Taking the lid off the yellow bin, the stench increased tenfold, and he did gag. He dumped the waste and replaced the lid, turning away taking several deep breaths, his stomach roiling.
He came back in to find Hope standing in the kitchen, holding two plates of food. She looked tired and drawn. He guessed she hadn’t slept much the previous couple of nights. He put the bucket down. “Hello again, Hope.”
Hope’s smile lit her tired eyes. “Hello, Nick. I didn’t think I’d see you here again. I thought the other day might have scared you off.”
“It takes more than a bloke with a knife to scare me away. I’m volunteering, although I wasn’t expecting pot wash duty.” He paused, aware of Lydia’s interest as he scrubbed his hands. “How are you and Angel doing?”
“She’s OK, aside from the nightmares the last two nights, which I kind of expected. I made her go to school, which didn’t go down over well. She was afraid he’d find her again.”
He nodded. “Why bring her back here?”
“I have nowhere else to go. We’re living here.”
He didn’t hide his shock. “Really?”
“Yeah. For now. I’d better go take this upstairs before it gets cold.” She turned and almost ran from the room.
Lydia cleared her throat. “That was you who saved Angel’s life.”
He moved his head slowly. “Yeah, but please, don’t make any ‘in the nick of time’ jokes or call me a hero. God made sure I was in the right place at the right time.” He paused. “I knew Hope had lost her home, as she used to live in the same place I do, but living here?”
Lydia set another pile of dishes in the sink. “That’s her story and has to come from her, sugar. I’m not one to gossip, even if I did know all the facts.”
Nick smiled. “Maybe she’ll talk to me later.”
“Have fun with that one. She kept to herself before Sunday. And you’d best go see Tori before she comes looking for you.”
He brushed his hands on his jeans and headed to the offices. He tapped on the open door. “Mrs. Branning?”
She turned and smiled. “Come on in, Pastor. Please, sit.”
He crossed to her desk. “It’s Nick.”
“Pastor Nick.” She smiled. “And please call me Tori.”
Nick returned the smile and sat down. “You wanted to see me?”
“I wanted, needed, to thank you for intervening on Sunday. The police tell me that your actions certainly saved Angel’s life.”
“I was just there at the right time.” Nick shifted on his chair; wishing people would stop crediting his stupidity as something more. He’d acted without thinking.
Tori tucked her hair behind her ears. “Anyway, to avoid the police shutting me down, they are stationing two undercover officers here for a while. No one else knows and the only reason I’m telling you is that one of the officers is a member of the church, and you’ll probably know him. I don’t want you inadvertently blowing his cover.”
Nick nodded. “May I ask who? So that I don’t give the game away when I see him.”
“DS David Painter will be here during the day and another officer overnight.”
Nick took a deep breath. “OK.” Glad of the police presence because that would keep Hope and her child safe, something niggled at the back of his mind.
“What are you thinking?”
“About Hope. Whether she and Angel were deliberately targeted or whether it was just random. I’m honestly surprised she’s still here. It’s no place to bring a child. Surely there must be somewhere else…”
“She said she’d tried all the shelters, and I was her last resort. Her home went with her job and when she lost one, she lost the other.”
He leaned back in the chair, stunned shock running through him. “Oh. I thought…” He broke off and rephrased what was running through his mind. “She lived in the same block of flats as I do, and they have a strict no child policy. I assumed the other residents had her evicted because of her daughter. What kind of a job puts her and a child somewhere like that and then just tosses her onto the streets?”
“Even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you.”
“No, of course not. I understand.”
Tori nodded. “So, once again, thank you for Sunday and for helping out over the next few weeks. I’m sorry to put you on pot wash, but with the dishwasher not working, someone had to do it.”
He grinned. “It’s all service, no matter where I am. If that’s all, then I’d better get back down there. Lydia dirties those dishes as fast as I clean them.” Nick strode back down to the warm kitchen. So that’s why You wanted me here washing dishes, Lord. Perhaps I can help Hope after all. At least I’ll see her again and maybe on a more social level. I’m not sure why my heart beats double time when I see her, but it does.
As for the dishwasher, he’d learned how to fix things in the army and it might be something as simple as a blocked hose or filter. He pulled the dishwasher out from under the counter, switched it off at the mains and got down on his knees to check it over.
Hope’s voice came from somewhere over his head just as he’d gotten the dishwasher tipped backwards. “I don’t think praying is going to fix it, Pastor.”
Nick chuckled. “It’s Nick,” he said, straight
ening up and clocking his head hard on the corner of the dishwasher. His laugh turned to a groan of pain and he clutched his head. “Owww. Maybe not.”
She knelt beside him and put a tool kit between them. “But this might. Let me see your head.”
Cool fingers ran over what felt like a sizable lump and Nick winced. “Being around you is dangerous,” he joked. “Do you come with a health warning?”
She laughed. “I ought to, but no. This probably feels worse than it looks. I’ll put some butter on it. I think you’ll live.”
“Butter?” he asked. Had he heard her right? Or had the bump to his head confused him?
Hope got up and grabbed a knob of butter. She smeared it over his forehead. “Not sure why it works, but it does.” She offered him a screwdriver. “So, do you know a lot about dishwashers?”
He lay down on the floor again and took the panel of the base. “They clean dishes and do untold damage to heads.”
“Really? I thought they cleaned clothes,” she deadpanned.
He rolled his eyes. “That explains it then, because apparently—” he tugged a dishcloth from the drain in the base of the machine and waved it, “—this one does.”
“I wondered where that cloth had gone,” Lydia said, snatching it from his hand. “But you can’t blame Hope for that. It went missing about a week before she arrived.”
Nick put the dishwasher back together, his head thumping. “Hopefully, this now works. Then I need to find some paracetamol or something.” He plugged it back in and hit the on button.
“Nice one,” Hope said, as the machine chugged into life with a surge of water. She handed him a glass of juice and a box of painkillers.
He took them gratefully. “See, not just a pretty face. Although, once all these bruises start to change color…”
She laughed and turned to leave.
No time like the present. Nick reached out and grabbed her hand. “Have dinner with me.”
Hope hesitated. “I’ve eaten…”
“Tomorrow,” he said, holding her gaze. She really did have the most amazing eyes. “I do two ’til six here. We could eat in the place up the road. We’ll take Angel. Get the two of you out of this place for a while.”
Her smile lit her eyes. “She’d like that. Thank you.” She paused. “I’d like that, too.”
He returned the smile, wiping his hands on his jeans. “So would I. It’s a date.”
She hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. She walked to the door, turned back to look at him, and then left.
His heart warmed. What was it about her that he found intriguing, and so very attractive? He wanted to get to know her better. And he wasn’t sure what she’d infer by the word, date, but he meant it exactly the way it sounded.
5
Nick arrived just before two and set about the pile of pans. He took comfort in the fact there weren’t a pile of plates to go with them today. Alone in the kitchen, he was disturbed by a gravelly voice from the other side of the counter.
“Got any coffee, mate?”
He turned with a smile. “Sure.” He recognized the man instantly. Even with the scruffy beard, beanie hat pulled down over his head, and huge oversized padded jacket, he was the undercover cop from church. “With or without milk.”
“However it comes.” DS Painter held out a hand with dirty, broken nails. “Simon. You must be the priest who saved that child.”
Nick shook his hand and then poured the coffee. “I’m not a priest. I prefer pastor, but yeah, I am.”
The man leaned in. “You need to keep away from her mother, Pastor. She’s under investigation.”
Nick tried not to show his surprise. “Really?”
The cop nodded. “The DSS fired her. Oh, the official word is suspended, but its way more than that with the charges leveled against her.”
It didn’t take long for Nick to work out DSS was the Department of Social Services. “Is Angel in danger?”
“If she was, they’d have taken her into care. They still might, depending how things go.” He took the coffee and stood upright. “Thanks for this.”
“Welcome.” Nick turned back to the sink, confused. That would explain Hope losing her job this close to Christmas, but what charges could they possibly have leveled at her? He longed to ask more, but to do so would be to put the cop in danger of being exposed.
Perhaps Hope would tell him herself over dinner tonight. Maybe between them they could put right whatever had gone wrong. He didn’t believe for a moment that she could have done anything that would endanger anyone.
****
Hope let Angel sit by the window and then slid into the seat beside her. The restaurant Nick had chosen was busy. It also did Nepalese food as well as English, something she hadn’t expected. But then being a single mum, going out in the evening didn’t happen much and if it did, then it was fast food.
Nick sat opposite and handed Angel a menu. “You can have whatever you like from the kids section,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “With one of those ice creams in a glass dish after.”
Angel looked at him with her mouth open. “Really?”
He nodded. “You too, Hope. My treat.”
She pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. “The kids menu or the ice cream?”
“Both.” He winked. “Have whatever you like from anywhere on the menu.”
The tinsel around the pictures, the carols playing over the speaker system and the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner mocked her. She didn’t need a reminder that it was another Christmas without her family.
Raising the menu card to her face, Hope took a deep breath. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. This was far harder than it should be. Being here, with a bloke was such a normal thing for most people. Something she’d always longed for herself. Deep breath, Hope. Just enjoy tonight for what it is. But he’s a preacher. And you’re… She shook her head, breaking off the thought. That part of her was long since dead and buried. It was in the past. But it will prevent him from wanting anything to do with you.
Nick touched her hand, the warmness shooting ripples through her entire body. “What are you having?”
“I think a salad,” she said. This treat was for Angel and she shouldn’t take advantage.
“Salad in December?” He shook his head. “Please, have more than that. Otherwise I’m going to look a right pig with my lamb chili masala. What are you having, Angel?”
“Sausages, chips, and beans,” she said. “An’ chocolate milkshake.”
Nick winked. “Maybe we order the same for Mummy.”
“Mummy says beans are evil. They make her sick. The only beans she likes are coffee beans, but the coffee in the jar ain’t beans at all.”
“Isn’t, not ain’t,” Hope corrected automatically. “Give me a sec and I’ll pick something else.” She looked back at the menu. Spoiled for choice, everything looked so good. “Never tried Nepalese, so I think I’ll stick with the English tonight. Chicken, chips, and salad. With a mug of tea.”
Nick chuckled. “You and your salad. I shall go and order. Back in a sec.” He strode to the counter with long, confident steps.
“I like him,” Angel said. “Are you going to marry him?”
Hope raised an eyebrow, the innocent words ricocheting through her. “Wherever did you get an idea like that from?”
“School. Toby’s mummy got married last weekend. He was a page boy. I want to be a page boy.”
“Girls can’t be page boys. But I’m not getting married.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?” Nick asked, putting the tray of drinks on the table.
“Why aren’t you and Mummy getting married? She’s never been married and I’m the only one in my class now who doesn’t have a daddy at all.”
Hope’s cheeks burned. “Angel, that’s enough.”
“It’s a fair question.” He sat down and gave Angel her milkshake. Then, he put a mug of tea in front of Hope. “Let me see. When people get married it
’s because they love each other. Marriage isn’t something you jump into. You find someone you like, and you go on lots of dates—”
“Like this?” Angel studied him intently.
Hope sighed. She knew that look, and her daughter, all too well.
“Kind of,” Nick said. “But you don’t normally take kids on dates. And you really have to get to know the other person in order to find out if God wants you together.” He picked up his tea. “So, what did you do in school today?”
“We made calendars, and we started learning the Christmas play. It’s called Snowmen at Sunset, and I’m a penguin. Do you want to hear the song we have to sing? I can do it without the actions.”
“Sure.”
Angel began singing. “To do the penguin waddle…”
Hope shot Nick a grateful look for changing the subject. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
“It’s fine,” he mouthed back.
The tea was steaming and Hope put several spoons of sugar in, before wrapping her hands around it. She closed her eyes and sipped. It tasted so good that it could have been nectar rather than tea. She took several deep mouthfuls, draining the mug, then looked at Nick. “Thank you. I needed that. It’s been a long day with no time to stop.”
“Welcome. Would you like another?”
“Please.”
He took her cup and headed back to the counter.
“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Angel told her.
Hope flicked her daughter’s nose. “No, I won’t. And you need to learn to mind your manners. You don’t ask things like that.”
“Why?”
She let out a deep, slow breath. “It’s rude. And rude girls don’t get any pudding.”
“But Pastor Nick said…”
“And don’t answer back.”
Angel’s face fell.
Hope leaned in and kissed her forehead. “But remember I love you no matter what.”
Nick came back with her tea.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The food will be over in a few minutes.”
She held the mug, letting the heat seep into her frozen fingers. She hadn’t been warm since they’d left the flat.
“Penny for them. You seem quiet and distracted tonight.”
