Nothing Left to Give. Caroline Anderson
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with the smoking cessation clinic on Monday evenings some of the time.
For someone used to working full-time, it wasn’t much. She would have to find something to fill her leisure hours. Maybe one of her elderly patients had a dog that needed walking, or perhaps she could do some shopping for one of them. She’d ask—but not now. Now, she wanted to find a shop in the square and buy something to eat tonight, and then go back and cook it and eat it in front of the television, curled up on that unbelievably comfortable sofa.
Maybe she’d take up patchwork or tapestry or something to while away the long winter evenings.
It was only September, but already the nights were drawing in and there was a chill in the air.
She said goodnight to Molly and headed for the door.
Spaghetti, perhaps, or maybe a couple of those wonderful cheeses from the specialist food shop that lurked innocently on one side of the square.
She went in and bought some dolcelatte and a slice of a sheep’s milk roulé, and then on impulse picked up a bottle of Chianti.
‘Celebrating something?’
He didn’t mean to speak to her, but it was difficult to avoid her all the time and he didn’t want to be conspicuously churlish.
She turned and smiled, the wine in her hand. ‘Not really—it just looked appealing.’
‘You shouldn’t drink alone,’ he found himself saying.
She shrugged. ‘I don’t, as a rule, but—well, I thought tonight…’
She looked suddenly wistful, and he found himself asking her to join them for supper. ‘Nothing fancy—just spaghetti bolognese, I think, tonight. It’s Will’s turn, and he always does spaghetti.’
She nearly laughed. ‘I was going to cook that for myself.’
‘So will you come?’ He found himself waiting for her reply.
‘Thank you, yes, I will. I’ll bring the cheeses—we can have them afterwards.’
Her smile brushed her eyes with gold, and he felt the ache start again, low down. Damn. Now what had he done?
‘Fine,’ he said tersely. ‘Seven o’clock?’
‘That would be lovely—if you’re sure?’
‘Quite sure,’ he lied. ‘We’ll see you then—I’ll leave the lights on.’
IN FACT it was still fairly light at seven o’clock although dusk was creeping in, but the lights made the big house seem even more welcoming as Beth scrunched up the gravel drive and rang the doorbell.
She waited for a moment, then rang it again. She could hardly hear it in the distance, over the music—at least two sorts, if not three—and the screaming of a child.
She smiled. That would be the small girl, in a paddy if she was any judge. She opened the door and walked into a scene of utter pandemonium.
The little girl was lying on the floor screaming, there was steam billowing out of the kitchen, and from the depths of the steam something with a heavy bass-line throbbed and wailed at full blast. The television was blaring forth from another room, and something else filtered down from upstairs.
She closed her eyes and tried not to laugh. Poor man, no wonder he hadn’t heard the doorbell!
She went into the kitchen and found it empty except for a pan of boiling water and the music. Both needed switching off—she went for the music first. Then she found the TV in the breakfast-room next door and switched that off.
The silence was shattering. Even the little girl stopped screaming to listen to it.
She went back out into the hall, now quiet except for the music emanating from an upstairs room.
‘Hello,’ she said to the child, and she sat up and eyed Beth warily.
‘‘I?.’
‘I’m Beth.’
‘I’m Sophie.’
She sat on the floor beside the child. ‘What’s wrong, Sophie?’
‘Nothing,’ she mumbled mutinously. ‘I can’t find Daddy. I called him.’
Beth shot a glance at the kitchen. ‘I don’t suppose he could hear you. Shall we see if we can find him?’
‘Who turned that off?’ a voice yelled over the banisters, and a youth vaulted over the top rail on to the middle of the first flight and bounded down to the hall.
‘I did.’
‘Ah.’ He skidded to a halt at her feet and peered down at her. ‘Um—is Sophie all right?’
She looked up at a younger version of Gideon, thinner and still a little gangly, but filling out fast. The eyes were identical.
‘I think so—I imagine she was just trying to make herself heard,’ she said drily.
He flushed. ‘You must be the nurse.’ He held down his hand and hauled her to her feet with a grin. ‘I’m William.’
She returned the grin. ‘I’m Beth. I turned off your hot water, as well, but there wasn’t much left.’
There was a tug at her hand. ‘Find Daddy,’ Sophie demanded.
William scooped her up into his arms. ‘Daddy’s in the shower.’ He looked over Sophie to Beth. ‘He sends his apologies—he won’t be a sec. He’s had a bit of a crisis in the bathroom. You couldn’t help me get Sophie into bed so I can get the spaghetti on, could you? The sauce is made.’
‘I want ‘ghetti.’
‘You’ve had yours—go on, Tuppence, don’t be a pain.’ He kissed her and handed her over to Beth. ‘Top of the stairs, turn sharp right. You can’t miss her room—it’s got pink furry things all over the floor.’ Sophie giggled. ‘He means My Little Ponies. Want to see?’
Beth smiled at her, her heart twisting. She was such a cherub. ‘Love to. Shall we?’
She set her down and they walked together up the stairs, hand in hand, while Beth wondered what sort of a crisis Gideon could possibly have had in the bathroom. She didn’t have to wonder for long.
‘I had a bath,’ Sophie told Beth seriously as they mounted the stairs. ‘A big one.’
‘Oh,’ Beth replied just as seriously. ‘Very big?’
Sophie nodded. ‘Too big—all the water fell over the top, and all the bubbles. Daddy threw a mega.’
She caught the laugh just in time. That expression just had to be straight out of her big brother’s or sister’s mouth. Lips twitching, she turned the corner at the top of the stairs just in time to see Gideon cross the landing clad only in a towelling robe belted loosely on his hips.
‘Beth!’
She smiled uncertainly. ‘Um—Sophie was yelling for you. William asked me to put her to bed…’
‘That boy—OK, Tuppence, come on, let’s tuck you up —’
She hid her hands firmly behind her back.
‘Beth do it.’
‘No, Daddy do it—‘
‘No.’ The chin stuck out, the cherub lips pursed in a determined little pout.
‘Really, I don’t mind ——’
‘Sophie ——’
‘Please, Daddy, please?’
They