by Sarah Morgan
Her curls tickled his chin and as her arms wound trustingly round his neck, Daniel tightened his grip on her protectively. ‘You wouldn’t be so trusting if you knew how inadequate I feel,’ he murmured, nudging a pile of toys to one side with his bare foot.
How did Patrick keep the place looking so cosy?
Despite the Christmas tree dominating the beautiful living room, the barn felt cheerless and morose so early in the morning. As if the family living there had moved out.
And that was his fault, wasn’t it? He had no idea how to inject sparkle into Christmas. Neither did he have any idea what to do with a three-year-old at five-thirty in the morning.
Feeling bleak, Daniel bent down and switched on the Christmas-tree lights and decided that it was an improvement. ‘Enough light for atmosphere, but not enough to illuminate the mess.’
‘Thirsty.’ Still clinging to him, Posy cuddled the velvet comforter she carried everywhere.
Daniel looked at her blankly. ‘What do you drink at this time of the morning? Not tea or coffee, I presume. Milk? Juice?’
‘Juice peese.’
Daniel walked back to the kitchen, filled a beaker with juice and gave it to Posy. Glancing idly out of the window, he looked towards the stable, wondering what Stella was doing.
Then he gave a hollow laugh. Stella would be asleep, snuggled under a warm duvet, and one thing he knew for certain—she wouldn’t be dreaming of him. Not unless she was having a nightmare.
Moving back to the living room, he rummaged through the pile of DVDs that Alfie had left strewn on the floor, found one with a cartoon on the cover and slid that into the player. Then he settled himself on the sofa in the darkness, with Posy half dozing on his lap.
At seven, Alfie appeared, yawning.
‘Dad never lets her get up this early.’ He curled up on the sofa next to Daniel, his hair ruffled and his feet bare. ‘He makes her stay in her bed and play with her toys if she wakes up.’
‘I’d like to know how he makes her do that,’ Daniel muttered, his eyes closing again. ‘Your sister is a woman who knows her own mind.’ He felt exhausted. The house was a mess and he honestly had no idea how he was going to occupy two small children for one entire day, let alone four.
As if to increase his feelings of inadequacy Posy grabbed her juice and the lid flew off. Orange liquid poured over the sofa.
‘Posy, no!’ Daniel made an abortive grab at the beaker and watched in horror as an orange stain settled into the fabric. ‘Oh, for—’
‘Don’t say it,’ Alfie urged. ‘She’ll copy you. She’s like a parrot at the moment. She’s more effective than my spy toys. I can plant her in a room and get an exact reply of everything that was said.’
‘How am I going to get the orange out?’ Daniel dabbed in effectually at the stain while Alfie offered advice.
‘She’s supposed to have milk in the morning, not juice.’
‘She asked for juice.’
‘Dad only bought that sofa in the summer.’
‘Thanks for reminding me of that, Alfie.’
‘He doesn’t let us bring drinks in here in case we spill them.’
‘Right.’ Daniel gritted his teeth. ‘Anything else?’
‘My pyjamas are wet.’ Resigned, Alfie slid off the sofa. ‘I’ll go and get dressed.’ His body language was so forlorn that Daniel felt a pang of guilt.
‘Alfie—what do you want to do when you come back down?’
Alfie looked at him hopefully. ‘Can you make pancakes?’
His confidence at rock bottom on the domestic front, Daniel seriously doubted it, but he didn’t want to disappoint Alfie any more than he already had. He could perform the most technically challenging procedures in the emergency department—surely he could make pancakes?
‘I can make pancakes.’
Alfie cheered up. ‘I can do the mixture if you can cook them.’
‘Deal.’
But after the fifth pancake had turned to a scrambled mess in the pan, Daniel wished he’d stuck to cereal.
‘It doesn’t look like that when Mrs Thornton makes them. Maybe the pan isn’t hot enough.’ Alfie dragged a chair up to the cooker, clambered up and reached for the pan. ‘Ow! Ow, the handle was hot.’ Bursting into tears, he jumped off the chair, sobbing and holding his hand.
Daniel felt a white-hot flash of panic and for a moment he couldn’t think.
‘Cold water,’ he muttered, scooping the child up and sprinting to the tap. ‘Hold it under cold water. Is it bad? How bad is it? God, I’m sorry, Alfie. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you touch that pan.’
‘It was my fault,’ Alfie sobbed, trying to pull his hand away from the stream of water. ‘Can we stop this now? It’s so cold.’
‘It’s meant to be cold. It will help the burn,’ Daniel said through gritted teeth, discovering that his own hands were shaking. ‘Just hold it there a bit longer. Good boy.’
Posy started crying and Daniel felt his head pound.
This was hopeless. He just wasn’t the right person for this job.
Switching off the tap, he examined Alfie’s fingers. ‘I think they’re all right.’ Relief rushed through him and he made a mental note not to let either child anywhere near the kitchen again. Somehow he had to occupy the pair of them without any more mishaps. ‘Can you sit on the chair for a minute while I see to Posy?’
An hour later he was at the end of his tether and he picked up the phone and dialled Andrea’s number.
She arrived an hour later, dressed in a slinky wool dress and suede boots that weren’t designed for snow or outdoor life. ‘I wasn’t expecting a lunch date today. Quite romantic.’ Her eyes slid to his shoulders. ‘You look good in that jumper. Macho. Sexy. But I thought you were supposed to be looking after the kids. Who’s babysitting?’
‘Babysitting?’ Exhausted and exasperated, Daniel looked at her, wondering why he didn’t feel the same rush of lust that he did when he looked at Stella. ‘We’re babysitting. And we’re cooking lunch here. You’re going to help me amuse the kids. It will be fun. We can do Christmas things.’ Whatever they were…
Andrea gave a disbelieving laugh, as if he’d suggested she strip naked and indulge in a food fight. ‘Dan, I agreed to see you today because I thought you wanted to spend some time together. I allow myself one day off a week and I don’t intend to spend it sweating in front of a stove and playing Monopoly with kids who aren’t even mine. You said yes to this, not me. And for the record, I don’t think you should have said yes. You’re too soft.’
‘Those “kids” are my niece and nephew,’ Daniel said thinly, ‘and I said yes because my brother needed my help.’
‘Why didn’t he just pay someone to do it?’
‘Because he wanted family.’ Daniel looked at her red hair and her perfectly made-up face and tried to feel something other than disappointment. ‘Would you really have said no in my position?’
‘Absolutely.’ Her tone was devoid of sympathy. ‘You make choices in life, Daniel, and you have to live with those choices. Your brother chose to have kids. They’re his problem, not yours.’
‘Actually, I don’t see them as a problem.’
‘Really?’ One sculpted eyebrow lifted. ‘You don’t exactly look as though you’re having the time of your life.’
‘Uncle Daniel, Posy’s just been sick on the floor.’ Alfie appeared next to him, Mary and Joseph playing around his ankles.
‘I’m coming,’ Daniel said gruffly, his eyes on Andrea’s face. ‘Spend the day. I’m not asking you to have babies, just to muck in with me for one day. We could have fun.’
‘Fun is a weekend in Paris or a Michelin-starred restaurant.’ One wary eye on the kittens, Andrea backed towards the door. ‘Keep those things away from my suede boots. Dan, if you can get a babysitter, call me. Otherwise I’ll speak to you when this is over. And next time Patrick asks you, just say no.’
‘Patrick is my brother,’ Daniel intercepted the kittens before
they could escape through the open door. ‘And I love his kids.’ He just didn’t love the complexities that went with the children. It made him feel hugely inadequate.
Andrea looked at him for a moment, a strange smile playing around her glossy red mouth. ‘For a guy who doesn’t want kids, you look pretty comfortable with those kittens in your arms. Maybe you ought to stop kidding yourself.’
Daniel watched her walk back to her shiny red sports car, waiting to feel regret. Andrea was perfect for him, wasn’t she? She was intelligent, strong, and she wasn’t embarrassed to admit that she didn’t want children. She was just like him, in fact.
So why wasn’t he running after her?
Chapter Seven
HE’D invited the lawyer over.
Telling herself that she didn’t care who Daniel saw, Stella curled up in front of the wood-burning stove, sipping her second mug of coffee and staring at the mountains. The Sunday papers were strewn in front of her and she had the prospect of a lazy day doing nothing.
Despite the fact she’d had a terrible night, she should have felt relaxed and happy.
Instead, her head was full of images of Daniel and his redhaired beauty, playing with the children and having fun.
Infuriated with herself, she switched on her laptop. Another forty men had left their details and she wondered why she couldn’t be more enthusiastic.
The prospect of dating anyone had lost its appeal.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she identified two that sounded interesting.
‘Stella?’ Alfie burst through the door, bringing snow and mud with him.
‘Whoa!’ Stella sprang from the sofa and caught him in her arms before his muddy boots made contact with the cream rug. ‘What’s the rush?’ Through the open door she couldn’t help noticing that the lawyer’s car was gone.
Why hadn’t she stayed?
Was she coming back later?
‘I just wanted to see you.’ Alfie’s shrug was a little too casual and he clung to her more tightly than usual. ‘I thought we could hang out, you know?’
Stella focused on his face, sensing that he was close to tears. ‘That would be nice.’ She helped him pull off his boots. ‘Do you want to help me on the computer?’
‘Yeah, why not? Maybe I could email Dad.’
Hearing the wobble in his voice, Stella pulled up a chair. ‘Good idea. Let’s do that. He’ll be back very soon. How are you getting on over there?’
‘It just doesn’t feel like it should.’ Alfie typed with one finger. ‘It doesn’t feel like—like Christmas.’
‘Daniel bought you a wonderful tree yesterday.’
Alfie pressed ‘send’, staring at the screen as his email flew into cyberspace. ‘The tree’s great. It isn’t the tree. It’s everything else. I don’t know.’ He drooped slightly and Stella slid her arm round his shoulder.
‘There’s a problem?’
‘There are lots of problems. Uncle Daniel just doesn’t do it right.’
‘But he’s trying,’ Stella said softly, smoothing his hair away from his face. ‘He’s there with you, trying his best. Isn’t that what counts?’
‘I suppose.’ Alfie thought about that. ‘I thought it would be cool being able to do what we liked, but it isn’t cool. The sofa’s wet, my favourite DVD is scratched and just now he trod on my remote-control car.’
Stella hugged him. ‘All those things can be sorted out.’
‘The worst thing is that Uncle Daniel can only do one thing at a time, so I’m not going to get any lunch because he can’t take his eye off Posy. And I didn’t get breakfast because the pancakes were scrambled.’ Suddenly he looked very tired and very young. ‘Do you think Dad will be back soon? How long can a person be without food before they starve to death? And Uncle Daniel rang the newspaper last night and advertised the kittens.’ He burst into tears and Stella rocked him gently, knowing that he was just tired and disturbed by the change in his routine.
‘Shh,’ she soothed. ‘You know you can’t keep all the kittens, Alfie.’
‘I wish I could keep Gabriel, too.’ He wiped his face on her jumper. ‘Dad’s going to be so mad with me when he comes home.’
‘Why is he going to be mad with you?’
‘Because I’ve done something,’ Alfie muttered, and Stella eased him away from her and looked at him.
‘What have you done?’
‘I’m not telling you. Then you can’t be blamed. I expect Dad will blame Uncle Dan, because he was in charge.’
Stella wondered what the little boy had done and made a mental note to mention it to Daniel when she next saw him.
Then she realised that this whole situation was ridiculous. She was lonely and Daniel was struggling.
‘Come on. I’m going to spend the day with you, if Daniel doesn’t mind.’ Stella stood up decisively, took his hand and walked to the door. ‘Put your boots back on.’
‘Really? You’re going to spend the day?’ Alfie’s face lit up like the Christmas tree and Stella smiled.
‘Really.’
It was pathetic, she told herself, staying away because she couldn’t cope with seeing him. Was she five or twenty-five? ‘Come on. Let’s go and see if Daniel needs some help.’
‘Of course he needs help.’ Alfie tugged on his boots. ‘That’s why he rang that woman.’
‘What woman?’
‘The scary one with the sharp face who doesn’t like animals or kids.’
The lawyer. Stella reached for her own boots. ‘I saw her car.’
‘Don’t be upset about it. She was useless.’ Alfie’s tone was disparaging. ‘She almost jumped on the chair when she saw the kittens. What a wimp. Uncle Daniel asked her to spend the day with us and she said no—which is a good thing because there was no way I wanted to spend my day with her. I want to go to the park and I bet she hates monkey bars.’
‘You’re hard to please, Alfie Buchannan.’
‘Yes, well, Uncle Daniel was not impressed.’
Trying not to feel pleased about that, Stella bit her lip. ‘So what’s he doing at the moment?’
‘When I left he was clearing up Posy’s sick.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Why are you surprised? He’s a doctor. He’s used to gross stuff.’ Alfie shuddered. ‘Anyway, I thought if I hung out with you I might actually get to eat something when it’s lunchtime. Any chance of those gingerbread men you made the other day?’
‘Maybe.’ Stella opened the front door and Alfie frowned at her.
‘Are you sure about this? I thought you guys found it difficult being around each other?’
Stella found herself speechless. ‘I—er…’
‘That’s why you went home yesterday, isn’t it? He looks at you—you look at him. Then you go pink.’ Alfie sighed. ‘I may only be ten, but I’m not stupid. I have eyes. I can see he wants to kiss you. And I can see you want to kiss him. I know about sex.’
‘Alfie!’
‘I guess it’s hard because you don’t want to end up getting divorced.’ He looked wise. ‘I understand that. Divorce is no picnic.’
Suspecting that his parents’ divorce had affected him far more deeply than anyone would imagine, Stella pulled him into her arms and hugged him tightly. ‘You’re a sweet boy, have I told you that lately?’
‘I’m not sweet. Sweet is for babies and I’m grown up. I’m cool,’ he muttered. ‘So—are you going to come and cook something?’
‘Stella?’ Daniel’s voice came from behind her, sharp with anxiety. ‘Have you seen Alfie?’
‘He’s right here. Alfie? Didn’t you tell Daniel you were coming to see me?’ Stella stood to one side so that he could see the child and Daniel closed his eyes briefly, some of the colour returning to his cheeks.
‘Don’t do that again, Alfie,’ he snapped. ‘Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought—’ He broke off and let out a long breath.
‘Don’t yell at me! I wan
ted to see Stella.’ Alfie glared at him, a sheen of tears in his eyes. ‘This isn’t like Christmas! It doesn’t even feel like home. I want Dad to come back.’ His voice broke and Stella was about to intervene when Daniel dropped to his haunches and hauled the boy into his arms.
‘Alfie, I’m sorry,’ he muttered, holding him tightly, ‘I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I shouted, but I was worried. Not that that’s a decent excuse. I’m sorry I’m useless at making it like Christmas.’ He released the child slightly so that he could look at him. For a moment he was silent and then he gave a sigh, as if resigning himself to talking about something he hated talking about. ‘My parents didn’t really do Christmas when I was young so it isn’t something I’m good at. We didn’t have all those routines and rituals that you do.’ He pushed his fingers through Alfie’s hair, a lopsided smile on his face. ‘You didn’t use a comb this morning.’
‘Couldn’t find one.’
‘I’ll try and find one for you.’ Daniel paused for a moment, clearly choosing his words carefully. ‘Why don’t we go back home, make ourselves a drink and you can tell me how you’d like to spend your day.’
‘I like making stuff. Cards. Paper chains. Robins.’ Alfie peeped up at him. ‘It gets pretty messy. It means lots of glue and glitter and—’
‘Where does your Dad let you do that?’
‘On the kitchen table. Or on newspaper on the livingroom floor.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Daniel nodded enthusiastically. ‘Do we have everything you need in the house or do we need to go shopping?’
‘I can take a look and let you know.’
‘Good. Let’s do that.’ Daniel took the boy’s face in his hands, his eyes gentle. ‘I’m sorry about the wet pyjamas, the scratched DVD and the broken car. And I’m really sorry about your hand.’ He glanced up at Stella, who was standing there stunned by this side of Daniel she’d never seen before.
Daniel Buchannan humble? Apologetic?
She’d only ever seen him self-assured and confident.
‘Sounds like you’ve had quite a morning so far.’
