Cathy Kelly 3-book Bundle (119 page)

Connie grinned. ‘Sure. But after your snack.’

At the table, Ella sniffed the milk cautiously. ‘Is this slug juice?’ she asked.

‘No, I was teasing. It’s plain old milk and a cheese sandwich. I’m sorry I don’t have anything more interesting.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘I have profiteroles in the freezer.’ Keeping them there was a great way to diet. That way, it took half an hour for them to defrost and normally, she couldn’t wait long enough, so the desire for the sweet thing would be gone by then.

‘What are proff…poff…– those things?’

‘Little cakes with chocolate on the outside and cream on the inside.’

Mouth full of sandwich, Ella made a thumbs-up sign.

Connie drank her tea and wondered why it felt different to have a child in her home instead of standing in front of a classroom of them. Yet it was different. She felt responsible for this little person in a strange way. In class, she was responsible for the girls’ learning and for their wellbeing in school, but that was a shared responsibility. Their parents, other teachers, a whole host of other people were involved. But now, with Ella,
she
was totally in charge.

‘My dad said a shark bit someone in the sea in India,’ Ella announced.

Connie considered this.

‘Did that scare you?’ she asked.

‘A bit,’ Ella admitted. ‘Why do sharks eat people? Don’t they like people?’

Connie believed that all children’s questions should be answered seriously.

‘They don’t know people at all,’ she said gravely. ‘That’s the problem. They might love us if they did, but we can’t invite them in for a cup of tea, now, can we? So they’re a bit scared and maybe hungry, and when a shark is scared and hungry, it bites.’

‘Like the big furry dog in number 8?’

‘Did he bite you?’

‘No. He nearly did once.’

Connie briefly wondered what a nearly-bite was.

‘The shark could be having a sad day,’ she went on. ‘Maybe he got up and was late to school, and the whole day didn’t work out nicely, and he was so grumpy, he bit a person. Or…’ Connie thought of the next bit. She was enjoying this. ‘Maybe he had a mean teacher and that’s what did it.’

‘Or he had a row with another shark and they sulked and he bumped his nose into the person and he got a fright…’ Ella began to get into it too.

‘And he wanted to say sorry, but humans don’t speak shark.’

‘Sharks don’t know how to kiss to say sorry,’ Ella said happily.

‘Exactly.’

Ella performed a conversational swerve. ‘Why don’t you have any children?’

Connie had been a teacher long enough not to choke on her tea, but it was a close call. ‘Not everyone is lucky enough,’ Connie said in a voice that sounded overly pious, even to her.

‘Why not?’ Ella asked. ‘Do you have to be very good to get children?’

‘N-o. It’s not about being good or bad.’ This was worse than discussing licentious sixteenth-century popes with the fifth years.

‘But how did the pope get to have children, Miss O’ Callaghan?’

And Connie wasn’t used to kids Ella’s age. Who knew what a ten-year-old had been taught about where babies came from.

‘When mummies and daddies love each other very much, they can be lucky and have babies,’ she ventured.

‘You never got lucky enough with a daddy?’ Ella said.

‘That’s it,’ said Connie, relieved.

‘My daddy did, but my mummy died when her car crashed into a wall,’ Ella said, still chirpy.

‘That must have been very sad for you,’ Connie said slowly. How awful. The poor, poor child.

‘I was a baby, I don’t remember,’ Ella said in matter-of-fact tones. ‘I’ve finished my sandwich. See? Can I see your room now?’

‘Oh!’ Ella’s gasp was of pleasure as she stood at the door to Connie’s bedroom. ‘It’s like a princess’s room,’ she breathed. She flitted around, reverently touching Connie’s flower fairy lights on the dressing table, petting the pretty cushions massed on the bed. ‘If I slept here, I would never go to sleep. I’d lie and look at it all,’ she said softly, and suddenly Connie’s heart ached for this motherless child.

Ella was keen to put on some of Connie’s limited supply of make-up and Connie was equally keen that she didn’t.

‘Your dad mightn’t like it,’ she said firmly.

‘He won’t mind,’ Ella said, dimpling up at Connie. ‘I have my own lipstick. It’s Hello Kitty and it’s pink and sparkly and it gets on clothes and Dad puts that pink washing goo that makes stains come out on it and it works but not on his best white shirt even though he did it lots of times and I’m not allowed to put my lipstick on him any more.’

It was five to six when Steve Calman arrived and when he walked into the room, Connie felt instantly at ease with him. There wasn’t any of the ‘does he like me, do I like him?’ anxiety she always felt when she invited in a man she was dating.

After spending the time with Ella, Connie had a clear vision of Steve Calman. He was Ella’s dad and a widower and she didn’t really register his looks or his suitability as a date. What she did register was his smile of delight when he picked Ella up in a great hug.

‘I can’t thank you enough for all of this,’ he said to Connie, with Ella clinging on to him like a koala.

‘Lilly’s mother phoned me in bits from the hospital and said she’d totally forgotten about Ella, but that when she’d phoned the school in a panic, they’d said Petal’s mother had taken her. And it seems this monkey had said the same thing to the teacher and snuck out. Your teacher is going to kill you tomorrow, by the way,’ he added to Ella.

‘I can go home on my own now, Dad,’ Ella said, affronted. ‘I’m old enough.’

‘No, you can’t. Lilly’s not in school tomorrow and I have too many meetings to come away early, but Petal’s mother kindly volunteered to have you for a few days until Lilly’s back at school and Fee can mind you again. I can collect you from Danielle’s house if I leave work early…’

‘I can take Ella after school.’

Even as she said it, Connie knew he’d say no. What would a single woman, who taught kids all day, want with another
child around in the afternoon? He’d think she was mad. How could she explain that Ella had been like a little spark of light into her day?

‘She gets into your heart, doesn’t she?’ Steve said.

‘Yes,’ said Connie instantly.

‘She can be a monkey too.’

‘I’m sure she can.’

Ella sat there, pretending not to listen. Whatever Steve had done, he’d made her happy and confident. How did parents do that?

‘It would just be tomorrow,’ Steve went on.

‘Of course,’ said Connie. She was too busy to take care of Ella any other time, obviously.

‘But if you’re stuck anytime,’ she found herself saying. ‘I can babysit, you know. She can come here.’

‘Dad doesn’t go out,’ Ella said informatively. ‘People ask him. He says he gets a headache when he gets asked to boring parties and dinners and ladies smile at him.’

Connie caught Steve’s eye. ‘You forgot to mention the fact that I hate washing up and that I have a tattoo,’ he said to Ella.

She perked up. ‘Dad has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a bit of an eagle and he said it hurt, but he got the wing done and I like it.’

Steve looked resigned. ‘There are no secrets with Ella. It’s easier to let her tell everyone everything.’

‘Secrets are bad,’ Ella recited. ‘Secrets are only for your family and if anyone tells you something is a secret, you have to shout loudly until another grown-up comes along.’

‘If you come tomorrow, you can tell me everything,’ Connie said to Ella, casting a sideways grin at Steve. ‘You can tell your dad I have fairy lights in my bedroom.’

‘Really?’

‘And fluffy pillows and pink things,’ said Ella quickly, ‘and shiny lipsticks and a picture of a man with no
clothes on on the front of a book and a lady kissing him –’

‘That’s enough, Ella!’ said Steve.

‘It’s a romance novel,’ Connie said, her face puce. ‘He’s got clothes on, it’s just his shirt is off –’

‘Fine,’ said Steve, suddenly busy getting Ella’s coat.

The next day, Connie left work at four and drove to the address Steve had given her.

Danielle was mother to Petal, a ten-year-old in Ella’s class. Connie liked flower names but always wondered what happened when cute little poppets named Petal grew up and tried to get jobs as engineers or scientists.

‘Dr Petal has been working on the vaccine,’ sounded a bit daft.

Petal opened the door with Ella beside her. Petal was a sweet child, though not, Connie thought biasedly, as cute as Ella.

Danielle was right behind them, a slim and glamorous blonde wearing jeans, a teeny pink hoodie, and plenty of lip gloss.

Connie was in her customary navy – a long-sleeved dress and flat knee boots – and felt ninety beside this trendy creature.

‘Hello, you must be Connie, I’m Danielle.’

Danielle looked at her curiously and Connie was sure that Steve was the source of much interest in his daughter’s school. There probably weren’t that many good-looking, unattached, single fathers around and she remembered Ella saying that Danielle was divorced. Sure enough, Danielle began a bit of idle questioning as Ella collected her school coat and bag.

‘So,’ Danielle said, all chatty and smiley, ‘you’re a friend of Steve’s?’

‘Yes,’ said Connie, just as smiley.

‘She lives next door and I go to her house sometimes,’ Ella said, keen to keep secrets at a minimum.

‘Yeah,’ said Danielle, ignoring Ella totally. ‘How long have you been –’

‘– friends?’ said Connie artlessly. ‘Oh, not long.’ True.

‘He parked in her space once,’ Ella added.

Also true, although it sounded much more interesting than it was.

‘Just once,’ Connie said, nodding. She and Ella made a good double act. ‘Steve really appreciates you picking Ella up. I couldn’t because I was at work.’

She waited for Ella to fill in details of Connie’s job, with a possible mention of fairy lights, but Ella was now keen to go.

‘Come on,’ she said to Connie, pulling her sleeve. ‘You said we’d have more por…proffo…– those cakes with the chocolate you have in the freezer.’

Connie grinned wickedly at Danielle. ‘She loves profiteroles.’

‘Petal’s mummy thinks you’re Daddy’s girlfriend,’ Ella announced as they got into Connie’s car.

‘Really?’ Connie put her seatbelt on. If Danielle had a lick of sense, she’d see that this was highly unlikely. Given that Steve was surrounded by foxy mums on the prowl like Danielle, he’d hardly be dating Connie, now, would he?

‘I told her he likes you a lot. More than the ladies at dinner parties who are bored. You could bring him to a dinner party.’

‘But who’d take care of you?’ Connie asked.

‘I could sit on your bed in your fluffy pillows.’

‘No you couldn’t,’ said Connie cheerfully. ‘There are too many of them. You’d get stuck, I’d have to hang around to pull you out or else you’d get sucked into the bed and get lost in fluffy pillow land.’

‘Oooh, lovely,’ said Ella.

‘I’m having fun. I don’t want to go home yet,’ said Ella when Steve arrived at six. ‘Please can we stay?’

‘Ella, we can’t stay. We have to go home for dinner.’

‘You could have dinner here,’ Connie suggested off the top of her head. Not that she had a thing in the house suitable for dinner for three, but still. They could have takeaway. Khans was just round the corner.

‘Do you eat Indian food?’ she asked Ella.

Eyes wide, Ella nodded enthusiastically.

‘She’s never had Indian in her life,’ said Steve, smiling.

‘I did, too. I had a peanut butter thing in Lilly’s house and it was OK.’

‘Satay chicken,’ Steve explained.

‘Sattee chicken. I ate it all.’

‘You ate half of it and said you felt sick on the way home.’

‘I was in the car. I won’t be in the car on the way home from Connie’s, will I?’

Ella sat on the couch and folded her arms firmly. Seeing both Connie and her father begin to laugh, Ella blinked her big blue eyes, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

‘Did someone tell you to make puppy-dog eyes to look cute?’ Connie asked.

‘Yes!’ Ella said. ‘Daddy says I am cute when I flutter my eyes like butterflies.’

‘You won’t win,’ Connie advised Steve.

He smiled at her and suddenly, she realised that Ella had inherited his eyes and long lashes. Everything else was different. He was rough-edged and big, whereas Ella was small and soft, but they both had those fabulous eyes that could light up a room.

In the end, Ella ate mainly naan bread and sweet mango pickles rather than the creamy and mild korma Connie had chosen for her.

When she was finished, she started wandering round the apartment again and ended up heading into Connie’s bedroom.

‘Ella, don’t –’ began Steve.

Connie waved a hand at him. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. ‘Ella can go anywhere she wants.’

‘Thank you,’ shouted Ella from the bedroom.

‘You’ve been very kind to her, and to me,’ Steve said. ‘We don’t have many women friends. Her grandmothers don’t live nearby and I don’t like bothering the other mothers too much. Fee, her friend Lilly’s mum, is a childminder and we have a professional arrangement, which is great.’

‘No girlfriend?’ Connie asked, busying herself tidying up the plates.

‘No. There’s no space in my life for that,’ Steve said easily. ‘Who’d want to take me on? Besides, I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t love Ella.’

‘I understand totally,’ said Connie, and she did. She thought of her list with its insistence on never dating a man with children. How stupid had she been? If someone had arranged a blind date with Steve, the list would have meant she’d have said no straight up.

No to someone who’d been married before, undoubtedly a definite no to someone who was widowed, and a final no to a man who clearly put his ten-year-old daughter first.

She was in love with the idea of Ella, Connie decided: a ready-made family for her to slip into. That wasn’t love and it wasn’t sensible, either. Steve hadn’t looked at her with any degree of romantic interest. She was his kindly neighbour. Nicky was the type of woman he’d have liked. It was Nicky he’d remembered, not her. People didn’t remember her in that way.