Bound By Their Babies. Caroline Anderson
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tomato and mascarpone pasta bake. And yes, I timed the veg,’ he growled.
‘Wonders will never cease,’ she mocked, rolling her eyes, then stuck a forkful of the pasta bake in her mouth and moaned. ‘Oh, that’s really tasty. Good job I caught it in time.’
He opened his mouth to reply, and she raised both hands, her lips twitching at the corners, and he gave a soft huff of laughter and rolled his eyes. ‘Why don’t you just shut up and eat it before it’s cold?’ he said drily, and she smiled, stuck her fork into her food and then looked up at him again, her eyes almost luminous, her voice wistful.
‘You know, it’s really nice having someone to eat with, especially someone I can have a conversation with.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Zach doesn’t talk to you?’
It got a laugh out of her, although it was just a little one. ‘You know what I mean. I love him to bits, but it’s not the same as sharing a meal with an adult. It’s a long while since I’ve done that, and even longer since someone cooked for me. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure,’ he said softly, grateful for the timely reminder that she’d only lost her husband less than eighteen months ago. Dragging his eyes off hers, he turned his attention firmly back to the food.
* * *
‘What time do you start tomorrow?’ she asked as he cleared the plates.
‘Seven. I need to leave at quarter to.’
‘So—will you see Matilda before you go? Does she know you’re not going to be here all day?’
He sighed and propped his hands on the worktop, defeat in every line of his body.
‘Not yet. I was going to tell her in the morning. I didn’t want her worrying all night.’ He straightened up and turned back to face her. ‘Do you think that’s the wrong thing to have done?’
She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I have to admit to being wildly out of my depth here, but I would imagine that the loss of her mother is going to affect her. She’ll be missing her presence, the familiar surroundings—although she’s used to you and to being here, so that’s not an issue, but she doesn’t know me very well, she’s only met me a handful of times, and then there’s Zach. She wasn’t exactly overjoyed to see him and she probably won’t be thrilled at being left alone with us.’
His shoulders slumped. ‘No. I’m sure you’re right. Damn, this isn’t going to work, is it? It’s too much to expect of either of you. I should never have asked—’
‘You didn’t, but you didn’t really have a choice and we’ve already had this conversation. If you want to do something useful, you could shut up and put the kettle on. I could murder another drink before I go to bed.’
He gave a soft huff of laughter, walked over to her, pulled her to her feet and hugged her hard.
‘Thank you for helping me out, Em,’ he murmured, his head resting against hers. ‘I don’t know where I’d be without you. You’re such a good woman, and the best friend I could ever ask for. I don’t know how to thank you.’
She hugged him back, suddenly and shockingly aware of him, of the blatant masculinity she’d made a life’s work of ignoring. ‘Ditto. Except you’re not a woman, obviously, but whatever.’
He laughed, and his arms dropped and he turned away.
‘So, having cleared that up, tea or coffee?’ he asked lightly, picking up the kettle, and she felt a tension ease that she hadn’t even known was there.
* * *
He was right, it wasn’t going to work.
Jake had only been out of the house half an hour and Emily was already at her wit’s end.
Matilda hated her. Or, more exactly, hated not having her father there and not having Emily’s undivided attention, either. Which meant she also hated Zach. No surprises there, then.
‘Come on, Matilda, let’s go downstairs and get some breakfast,’ she coaxed. ‘Shall we see what Daddy’s got in the cupboards?’
‘Want toast,’ she said, after Emily had finally persuaded her to come down, so she put Zach in the nearest high chair and Matilda promptly burst into tears and tugged Zach’s arm hard.
‘My chair,’ she sobbed, so Emily lifted the now crying baby out of the way and hooked over the other high chair, only of course he didn’t want to go in it now, arching his back and screaming.
Stifling a scream of her own, Emily jiggled him on her hip, found the sliced bread that she assumed Jake had got for Matilda, put two slices in because Zach would be happy with toast, too, and then tried again with the high chair once he’d calmed down.
‘There you go, baby. You stay there now, while Mummy gets your toast.’
‘You not Mummy,’ Matilda piped up, her voice wobbling.
Oh, lord. ‘I’m Zach’s mummy,’ she told her, but she was starting to recognise that mulish look that meant Matilda wasn’t having any of it. She crouched down to Matilda’s level and reached out to touch her shoulder, but she jerked it back out of reach, her lip quivering.
‘Not my mummy. Go ’way. Want Daddy.’
‘Daddy’s had to go to work, sweetheart. He’ll be back later, you know that, he told you he would.’
‘Want Daddy now,’ she demanded, folding her arms emphatically in a curiously adult gesture that nearly made Emily laugh.
She stifled the urge. ‘Darling, I’m sure he’d much rather be here with you, but he’s had to go to work at the hospital. There are lots of mummies there with tiny babies, and he’s got to look after them, but he’ll come home when he’s finished for the day, and he’ll be back in time to put you to bed, you’ll see.’
The toast popped up, and she crossed her fingers behind her back, straightened up and put the toast, the butter and some plates on the table then lifted Matilda into the other high chair. Her high chair.
‘Don’t want toast,’ Matilda said, folding her arms again, but the defiant little gesture wasn’t funny anymore.
None of it was funny. It was exasperating, worrying, and nothing to do with toast. It was all about controlling a situation that Matilda had been thrown into by her mother’s sudden disappearance, and all Emily could do was damage limitation. And not having breakfast wasn’t going to damage the little girl.
‘OK,’ she said easily. ‘You don’t have to have breakfast today if you don’t want to. I can eat your toast.’
She ignored Matilda for a few moments, buttering the first slice, cutting it into fingers, handing one to Zach who grabbed it with both hands and stuffed it into his mouth.
‘Mmm, yum-yum,’ she said, but Matilda just folded her arms more firmly and stropped a bit more, and Emily let her, pretty sure hunger would cut in before any harm was done.
‘Want honey on it,’ Matilda said, caving in as Emily handed Zach a second finger of toast and buttered the other slice.
‘OK. I’ll see if I can find any.’
Please, please don’t have run out and not replaced it.
There was a smear at the bottom of the jar, but—hallelujah!—a new, unopened one behind it. She twisted off the lid, dug the knife into the smooth, unblemished surface and made a wish.
No prizes for guessing what her wish was going to be, but she smeared honey on the toast, cut it into fingers like Zach’s and slid it across to Matilda.
‘Say thank you,’ she said, sure that Jake would have taught her that even if her mother hadn’t, and maybe her fairy godmother was watching over them because Matilda stuffed the first bite into her mouth and