Instant Mother. Emma Richmond
nodded. ‘Still don’t seem right...’ he muttered. ‘Leaving a little girl like that as though she’s a parcel. I was just about to ring the police.’
‘Yes, well, all’s well that ends well,’ she murmured hastily, and, grasping Jessica’s hand a little more tightly, hurried out. She could feel the tension in her small body, the tight grip of her little gloved hand.
‘Right. Well, your uncle is ringing as soon as we get home. And until he can get here,’ she continued brightly, ‘you’re going to stay with me.’
As they turned the corner into the main road the wind hit them with the force of a truck, and they both staggered. With a little shiver, she released Jessica’s hand and quickly buttoned her coat to the neck. ‘Shall we hurry? There’s a nice fire at home, and Mr Jones—he’s my dog...’
But there was nowhere for her to sleep except in with Alexa, probably nothing for a small child to eat in the house... House? It was a shed! A small, cramped cottage sandwiched between two old Victorian houses. A meagre slice of cheese between two large slices of bread. One tiny bedroom, one tiny lounge, a minuscule bathroom and a kitchen no self-respecting cook would be seen dead in.
Glancing down at the solemn little girl, she shook her hand. ‘What would you like for tea, Jessica?’
‘I’m Corrie,’ she announced again.
‘Oh, right, what would you like for tea, Corrie? We could have...umm...’ Mentally reviewing her cupboards in the possible hope that something appetising might be there that she knew very well wasn’t, she asked hopefully, ‘Shepherd’s pie?’ She’d bought mince and vegetables yesterday, but she hadn’t felt very hungry yesterday. ‘And I think there’s a tin of rice pudding... Would that be all right, do you think?’ She glanced down at the little girl, and she nodded.
‘Right. Good.’ With another shiver as the bitter wind found its way past her collar and against her neck, she huddled more warmly into her coat. The coldest January for thirty years, the weatherman had said. Before the accident that had robbed her of confidence, the head injuries that had robbed her of her lovely red-brown hair, she would have taken all this in her stride. And probably would again, she encouraged herself. She was getting better, she knew she was. Once her hair grew again, once she put back the weight she’d lost... Which you won’t if you don’t eat, Alexa. No. She hadn’t been beautiful, or stunning, but she had been attractive. Now she looked like a little ghost. Face too thin, making her eyes look too big, always cold. She’d had a lovely smile, but now it was sad, rather wistful. And nobody knew she was there. She’d deliberately moved out of Canterbury to the nearby village of Trenton, where no one knew her, cut herself off from her friends. And it wouldn’t do, she thought sadly. It really wouldn’t do. If only she could stop thinking about David... Wondering why he had done what he had. Wondering where he was now.
The phone was ringing when they got in and she dropped Jessica’s hand and rushed across to answer it. ‘Hello?’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘You got her?’
‘Yes. She’s fine. Would you like to speak to her? Jessica? It’s your uncle.’ Holding out the phone, she waited, watched, as the little girl took it, put it to her ear.
A slow smile spread across her face. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, to whatever was being asked. ‘No. Yes. Bye.’ She gave the phone back to Alexa.
‘Thank you,’ he said quietly. ‘I should be with you about midnight.’
‘You’re coming back?’
‘Of course I’m coming back! Did you see the headmistress? What did she say?’
‘Nothing. I mean, she wasn’t there.’
‘She just left her?’ he demanded angrily.
‘Yes, the janitor said—’
‘Alexa, I don’t want to know what the janitor said. Look, I have to go, my flight’s being called. I’ll see you tonight.’
Replacing the receiver, she told Jessica, ‘He’s just running for his plane, and then he will be on his way.’
‘Yes.’ But her eyes were on Mr Jones, who thumped his tail in welcome as Jessica walked cautiously across to him.
And Alexa’s mind was on Stefan. Who was coming home.
‘He looks a bit fierce, I know...’ she murmured rather absently. In fact, Mr Jones looked like a small and rather scruffy wolfhound. ‘But he won’t hurt you,’ she reassured her. ‘He likes to be scratched behind his ears.’ After waiting a moment to be sure they would be all right together, she walked through to the kitchen.
Removing her coat, she tossed it towards the bedroom—and then went to hang it up properly. You have a quest. No sluttish behaviour, please, Alexa.
Eyes still showing her worry and abstraction, she returned to the lounge to see Jessica sitting on the floor, her arm round the dog. Finding a smile, she went to remove the little girl’s outdoor clothes. Hanging them with her own, she returned to sit in the chair. ‘Now, what shall I tell you? This is Mr Jones, and he likes to go for a walk twice a day. We can take him out after we’ve had our tea. Would you like that?’ No answer, just a solemn little face with eyes too old for her years. ‘Right,’ she persevered, ‘there’s the television...’ Picking up the remote control, she showed Jessica how to turn it on and off. ‘Then you can have it on any time you want, can’t you?’
Holding out her hand, which Jessica obediently took, she added brightly, ‘Now I’ll show you round, so that you know where everything is, and then we’ll have something to eat.’
She fed the dog, made the shepherd’s pie, and when they’d eaten she racked her brains for something to occupy the little girl for the rest of the evening. ‘What do you usually do? Watch television? Draw? I don’t have any toys or anything...’
‘Draw.’
‘Right.’ Chewing her lip as she tried to remember if she had any paper, she finally went and got her writing pad, found a pen and handed them to the little girl.
A little smile flickered and was gone as she lay down beside Mr Jones and began to draw.
Watching her, Alexa wondered if she was normally this quiet and good, or whether she was just shy. No surprise there. Dumped on a stranger... ‘How old are you, Jessica?’
‘I’m Charlie,’ she announced, without looking up from her drawing.
‘Oh, right,’ Alexa agreed with a little grin. ‘Charlie. And how old is Charlie?’
‘Six.’
‘And do you like school?’
‘Yes.’
Smothering another smile, she continued to watch her. ‘We have to take Mr Jones out in a minute. Shall you mind going out in the dark?’
Her drawing was abandoned with a haste that was almost alarming, and Alexa was even more worried when Jessica carefully put the pen and notepad tidily on the chair. She then stared at Alexa with tense expectancy.
‘There’s a good girl,’ she praised inadequately. ‘You’re very tidy, aren’t you?’
She didn’t answer, merely waited.
They took Mr Jones out, and when they came back Jessica continued with her drawing whilst Alexa rang the charity shop to explain that she wouldn’t be able to help out for a while. By eight o’clock, Jessica was yawning.
‘Would you like to go to bed, darling?’
She nodded.
Walking with her into the bedroom, Alexa asked gently, ‘Do you need help undressing and washing? ’
She shook her head.
‘All right, don’t forget to clean your teeth—use my toothbrush for now; I don’t suppose it will matter.