Cara, quiet in her carrycot, begins to fuss. James casts an eye across. “I’ll take over those carrots, Charlotte.”
“I thought you wanted help making the meal?”
He takes a carrot from her hand, prises the peeler from the other. “There are plenty of us here to help with lunch. Only you can provide Cara's. And besides, we’re nearly done here. I’m going for a shower in a minute. Why don’t you take Cara up to the nursery? You’ll be warm and quiet there.”
He stoops, lifting the tiny girl out from her blankets. She barely fills his hands as, supporting her head in one palm, he cradles her to his chest. “Kirstie, would you go with Charlotte, please. Keep her company while she gives Cara her feed.”
But I’m barely listening to his words. The expression on James’ face as he holds Cara…
Love…
Adoration…
Utter devotion…
The expression seems completely out of keeping with the front James projects; the stern-faced Dom. But I know him well enough to know that front conceals a man of strong passions and utter loyalty.
God help anyone that threatens her…
Cara’s fussing grows louder. Abandoning my chestnuts, “Can I hold her? I’ll carry her upstairs for you.”
Charlotte eases up out of her seat and grins, looking much more herself. “Sure. She’s getting used to having a lot of people around her.”
With only the slightest hesitation, James releases Cara to me. “It’s good for her; learning there’s a lot of people she can trust.”
Although still so small, Cara is heavier than I’d expected and I hold her carefully, supporting her head in the way I saw James doing. Her face, already red, is colouring up further and her fussing is turning to a wail. “Definitely ready for her lunch, I think.”
Maybe it would be nice to have one of these of my own…
Then I realise that from across the kitchen, Ryan, peeling parsnips, is watching me.
*****
I sit with Charlotte and Cara in the nursery, taking in the mass of murals, colourful and bright, occupying the walls. Mobiles hang from the ceiling, dangling birds and horses and little bells which sway and tinkle with the slightest movement.
From outside comes the slam of a car door.
More visitors?
still pale but a touch
day
subject, I speak carefully. “How are you feeling
they had me prisoner in there, yes, it was awful, but the main thing I was thinking about all the time was whether they’d
to keep talking but is interrupted by a tap on
“May I come in?”
adjusts her clothes, turning slightly, “The door’s
Not ‘Dad’…
Not yet…
much more healing to
and Larry Klempner enters, then stalls as he sees me. “Oh... I didn’t mean to interrupt…” He has
Charlotte. “We
to rise from my seat. “I’ll
waves me down. “It’s fine, Kirstie.” She waves across
I have something for you. A Christmas gift…” He stares at his feet, then looks up again. “… I had no idea what it should
package to Charlotte. “Anyway… I
package is small, square
A CD?
Odd choice…
long-estranged daughter
expression, I’m not the only
around her. “Could
Klempner’s gift, then slides the ribbons to one side and peels aside
it’s a
to her mouth, raising her gaze to her
reaction. “What
She’s shiny-eyed. “Scheherazade.”
to give you, Jenny.
drops her face into her hands, gasping and sobbing. I want to hug her, to ask her
the bang of a door, the thumping of
A series of vicious-looking circular bruises are centred over his ribs, like the worst squash-ball impact you ever saw. They’re a good match to the purple-red
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