Passionate Protectors?. Maggie Cox
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‘It’s your call.’
Matt covered the distance between Seadrift and St Winifred’s Primary feeling a sense of incredulity. Had he really left Sara—if that really was her name—alone in his house? After spending the last few years isolating himself from everybody but his family and the people who worked for him, had he actually encouraged a complete stranger to spend the night in his home?
Was he mad? He knew practically nothing about her, and what he did know was definitely suspect. She had no more decided on a change of life than he had. He’d bet his last cent that she was a runaway. But from whom? And from what?
Whatever it was, he knew that it made his own misgivings about leaving her in his house groundless. She wasn’t a thief. He was sure of that. Nor was she anyone’s idea of a nanny, although he was prepared to believe that she hadn’t been lying when she’d said she’d been a teacher. That had been the only time when there’d been real conviction in her voice. So what was she? Who was she? And what was he going to do about her?
For the present, however, he had other things to think about. Not least the fact that he had to introduce her to Rosie. He had no idea what his daughter would think of him inviting a strange woman to spend the night. Rosie might only be seven, but she could be remarkably adult on occasion, and she was bound to wonder how Sara came to be there.
To his relief, he heard the bell that marked the end of the school day as he pulled up outside the gates. He wasn’t late, thank goodness. But his early arrival did mean that he had to get out of the Range Rover and be civil to the other parents who were already gathered outside the school.
‘Hello, Matt.’
Gloria Armstrong, whose husband farmed several hundred acres north of Saviour’s Bay, gave him a winning smile. Like several of the mothers of children in Rosie’s class, she was always eager to chat with him. Matt was by no means a conceited man, but he knew these women seemed to get a disproportionate delight in using his first name. It was a pity Hester wasn’t still here to run interference for him.
‘Gloria,’ he responded now, nodding to her and to one or two of the other parents. Thankfully, there was a handful of fathers present, too, and he was able to ally himself with them as he waited for Rosie to emerge from the school buildings.
‘I hear you’ve had no luck in finding someone to care for Rosemary,’ Gloria added, not at all daunted by his offhand greeting. Her heavily mascaraed eyes moved over his tall figure with a certain avidity. ‘I wish I could do something to help.’
Yeah, right. Matt schooled his features and gave a wry smile. ‘I’m sure you’ve got enough to do looking after those three boys of yours,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Not to mention your husband. How is Ron, by the way?’
Gloria’s mouth turned down. ‘Oh, Ron’s all right,’ she said dismissively. ‘So long as he has his golf and his beer and his cronies, he’s as happy as a pig in muck!’ She grimaced. ‘I sometimes think he doesn’t care about me and the boys at all.’
Remembering what Rosie had said about the three boys, two of whom were in her class, Matt reserved judgement. There was no doubt they were tearaways in the making, but who was he to condemn them? He’d probably been far worse in his youth. At least if half of what his mother maintained was true.
‘I imagine the farm keeps him fairly busy,’ he said neutrally, wishing he could move away from her. He noticed their conversation was being observed by more than one pair of interested eyes, and the last thing he needed was for someone to mention to Ron Armstrong that he’d been seen chatting up his wife at the school gates. Despite what he’d said to Gloria, he knew her husband was a hothead and a bully. He could imagine the headlines if the other man chose to take him to task for being a womaniser.
A womaniser! Him! Matt stifled a groan. Nothing could be further from the truth. These days he was virtually celibate. The last time he’d got laid had been before Hester retired. He’d had to spend a weekend in London, visiting his agent and doing some publicity, and one of the advertising execs had come on to him. She’d been exceptionally good-looking, he recalled, but their hasty coupling in her hotel room had hardly been memorable. He’d been glad he could honestly say he was leaving London the following morning, and he’d left strict instructions with his agent that he wasn’t to give his phone number to anyone…
‘I wish I had a job.’
He’d forgotten Gloria was still there, but her rueful remark forced him to acknowledge her again. ‘You have a job,’ he said, wishing Rosie would hurry. He glanced at his watch. ‘I wonder what’s holding them up?’
‘Who?’ Gloria looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
‘The kids,’ said Matt quellingly. Then, with some relief, ‘Ah—here they are.’
‘You know, I could look after Rosemary.’ Gloria grabbed his arm as he would have moved away. ‘At least I’ve had plenty of experience.’
And not just in looking after children, thought Matt drily, shaking her hand off his sleeve. For the first time he felt a little sympathy for Ron Armstrong. Perhaps he had some justification for his temper, after all.
‘It’s okay,’ he heard himself saying now. ‘I’m hoping I’ve found someone. She just started today, as a matter of fact.’
Gloria’s full mouth took on a sulky slant. ‘Well, that’s news,’ she said, clearly not believing him. ‘I was talking to Emma Proctor yesterday morning and she didn’t say anything about you hiring a nanny.’
‘She doesn’t know yet,’ said Matt, wondering how he could have been so reckless as to say such a thing. Now he would have to ring Emma and explain the situation to her.
‘Obviously not.’
Gloria sniffed, but to Matt’s relief Rosie had seen him and she came barrelling out of the gate towards them.
‘Daddy! Daddy!’ she squealed, flinging herself into his arms. ‘You came! You came!’
‘I said I would, didn’t I?’ said Matt, swinging her round. He grinned. ‘Have you had a good day?’
‘Quite good—’
‘Your daddy’s had a better one,’ put in Gloria maliciously, before Matt could perceive her intent and deflect it. ‘He’s found someone to look after you, Rosemary. Isn’t that nice? I expect she’ll be coming to meet you tomorrow.’
Rosie’s eyes grew round. ‘Is that true, Daddy? Has the agency sent you someone else?’
‘Not exactly.’ Matt could have strangled Gloria as she stood there enjoying his discomfort. Clearly she thought he was making the whole thing up and she wanted him to have to admit it. Casting her a malevolent look, he ushered Rosie away towards the Range Rover. ‘I’ll tell you all about it as we go home,’ he promised, flicking the key fob to unlock the vehicle. ‘Okay?’
‘But you have found a new nanny, haven’t you, Daddy?’ Rosie asked, clambering, with his assistance, into the front seat. ‘You weren’t just saying that?’
Matt reflected again how adult Rosie was at times. He had no idea what he was going to say to her. He couldn’t lie to his daughter, but equally he had to come up with a reasonable explanation of who Sara was and why she was staying at the house.
If she was still there when he got back, he acknowledged. She could have taken the keys he’d left on the counter in the kitchen and made another attempt to start her car. Once she found it was operable, she was a free agent. Whatever he thought, she’d have no reason to stay.
He sighed, fitting his keys into the ignition, and Rosie gave him a troubled look. ‘What’s wrong, Daddy?’ she asked shrewdly. She hesitated. ‘Is it because you haven’t found a nanny? Did you just say that because you don’t like Mrs Armstrong? ‘Cos that’s all right. I don’t like Rupert and Nigel either.’
Rupert and Nigel! Matt raised his eyes heavenward