Instant Mother. Emma Richmond

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘OH COME on, come on...’ Fighting the key into the lock, shoving the door wide, Alexa dropped the lead and lunged for the ringing phone.

      ‘Mike?’ she gasped breathlessly.

      ‘Mike?’ a deep voice enquired suspiciously. ‘No, it is not Mike. It’s Stefan! Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past two hours! Have you got her?’

      ‘Got her?’ she queried blankly. ‘Got who?’

      ‘Jessica!’

      ‘Jessica?’

      ‘Stop bloody repeating it! Have you got her?’ he demanded urgently.

      ‘No, of course I haven’t got her. Why would I have...?’

      ‘No?’ he yelled. ‘Why the hell not? Alexa,’ he continued furiously, ‘if you’ve—’

      ‘Wait, wait, wait,’ she interrupted hastily. ‘I...’

      ‘I don’t have time to wait! Didn’t Mrs Bailey ring you?’

      ‘Mrs Bailey?’

      ‘Yes! Jessica’s grandmother!’

      ‘No, no one’s rung me,’ she denied worriedly.

      ‘Oh, God. Right listen, this is very important. How far are you from the school?’

      ‘The primary school?’

      ‘Of course the primary school! Sorry,’ he apologised raggedly. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m frightened sick. How far, Alexa?’

      ‘Ten minutes,’ she said quietly.

      ‘Then go—now.’

      ‘But...’

      ‘Don’t argue! Just go and pick her up! Please. Just go,’ he repeated with the aggravated menace of a man at the end of his tether. ‘I’ll ring in half an hour to make sure you’ve got her. Go.’

      ‘Yes,’ she agreed weakly. Replacing the phone, she stared at Mr Jones, who stared back at her, head on one side. ‘I won’t be long,’ she told him stupidly. Unclipping his lead, she tossed it onto the chair, and went to the school. Ran to the school because his urgency had communicated itself to her.

      But why on earth did Jessica need picking up from school? She had met Jessica, of course she had met her, but she didn’t know her. Didn’t know what she liked... And none of this was supposed to happen until next month!

      Married to a man she barely knew, living in a minuscule cottage because the brother of an acquaintance had wanted it sat on—or in—for a few weeks, was due back any day now, and she still hadn’t found herself alternative accommodation. Which meant that she was likely to be homeless before the week was out—or not, if Stefan was coming back. And it was no good now saying that she hadn’t known what she was doing. No good blaming anyone but herself. She should have stayed in the hotel where Stefan had put her but she hadn’t wanted to stay in the hotel. She’d needed something to do, not to sit around waiting, getting more and more miserable. And it was such a stupid thing to have done, to marry a man she knew nothing about. But she’d been angry, disbelieving, hurt—homeless, because David, who had also been her landlord, had walked out on her whilst she was in the hospital. That had been bad enough, but he’d also cancelled her lease on the restaurant and the flat above it. And she didn’t know why.

      Stefan had been a lifeline. An unthought-out, panicked lifeline. And maybe if he hadn’t had to rush off to the States immediately after the court hearing to grant him custody...if he had given her time to think... But she’d been ill then, weak—and now she wasn’t, and the full import of what she had done was beginning to hit home. If she’d stayed in the hotel, where there were other people, instead of weakly allowing herself to be persuaded into cottage-sitting because she had thought it would give her time to sort herself out... As she would have done, she assured herself, if the plan had been adhered to... And anyone with a tendency towards impulsive behaviour should be forcibly gagged and bound until the impulse had passed!

      She had a dog because she’d been unable to say no when someone had asked if she would have him whilst they went on holiday. And didn’t come back. She worked in a charity shop when people didn’t turn up for their shift. Did an old lady’s shopping... Now she was to be responsible for a little girl whose uncle was on the other side of the Atlantic. Was he intending to stay on the other side of the Atlantic? Or was he coming back early? And, if he was, where on earth were they all supposed to live?

      A painful stitch in her side, amber eyes squinting against the freezing wind, woolly hat tugged down over her ears, she dashed into the school.

      Breathless, heart racing, she skidded to a stop in the reception area, grabbed the janitor. Chest heaving, she had to wait a minute or two to catch her breath before she could speak. ‘Little girl,’ she gasped out. ‘Jessica. Have to pick her up.’

      Shrugging off her hand, he stated crossly, ‘And about bloody time!’

      ‘Sorry?’

      ‘Poor little mite’s been here ages!’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘And Miss Henderson was not best pleased!’

      ‘Miss Henderson?’

      ‘The headmistress!’

      ‘Oh.’

      Hands on knees, still trying to get her breath, she tried a conciliatory smile. ‘Sorry. Got held up.’ Well, she could hardly say she hadn’t known anything about it, could she?

      ‘All right, then,’ he murmured more reasonably. ‘Miss Henderson had to leave. She didn’t like doing it, but she had no choice. Said I’d look after her, didn’t I? What’s your name?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘What’s your name?’ he repeated crossly.

      ‘Alexa Giff... Blake,’ she hastily substituted. ‘Alexa Blake.’

      ‘And your telephone number?’

      Bewildered, she slowly gave it. He nodded, muttered grumpily, ‘Have to be sure it’s the right person picking her up, don’t I? Gent said to ask.’

      ‘Gent?’

      ‘Her uncle!’

      ‘Oh, right, yes. Sorry.’

      ‘Can’t be too careful nowadays.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘It’s this way.’ Propping his broom against the wall, he led the way across the wooden block floor and pushed open a door on the far side. ‘In here.’

      With a muttered ‘thanks’, she peered inside.

      Hot, face red from her exertions, she stared at the little girl sitting rather primly on a chair, warmly wrapped against the cold. Navy hooded coat, thick knitted gloves. Grey eyes regarded her solemnly. Eyes too old for her little face.

      Alexa walked across and squatted in front of her, smiled. ‘Hello, Jessica. Sorry I’m late. Did you think no one was coming?’

      ‘I’m Corrie,’ she announced with a rather worried air.

      ‘Oh, right, Corrie, yes.’ She gave the hopeful smile of one who wasn’t sure whether she was coming or going. ‘I sometimes pretend to be Jasper,’ she added stupidly. Jasper? Oh, boy!

      Getting