by Kate Genet
‘Thank you for my new dress, Daddy,’ Rose said, winding herself around his leg like a plump little cat.
‘You look very pretty in it,’ he said and narrowed his eyes at Zoe, who looked like she was going to complain about yet another princess dress for Rose, this one all silver and purple sparkles, which didn’t clash with the hair quite as much as the pink ones did. ‘Do you have Lottie’s present to take with you?’
Zoe threw her hands into the air. ‘I would have forgotten! Quick Rose, go get Lottie’s present, then it’s time to go.’
The little girl untwined herself from his leg and ran off. Zoe leaned against him for a moment. ‘What did you get for her?’ she asked.
‘What?’ he asked. He’d been a million miles away.
‘For Lottie,’ Zoe said.
‘Oh,’ he said, shrugging and trying to remember. ‘A blonde Frozen wig.’ Zoe’s look was blank. ‘From the movie?’ He shook his head. ‘Never mind, Lottie will love it, long blonde hair past her little bum.’ He led the way out of the bedroom, cast a glance at the open door to his office. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take her? I can take one of my cameras. Macy might like some photos.’
Zoe shook her head and looked around, probably for her handbag. She was always putting that down somewhere and forgetting where. ‘Don’t you ever get tired of taking photographs?’
He thought about that for a minute, and the birthday party Rose was going to, all the little girls running around, hair flying, hands sticky with cake. Then he shook his head.
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Never do.’
4
The house settled down without protest to a hushed silence and Danny padded from room to room, antsy, before standing at his office door. What he’d said had been true. He’d had every intention of stopping at his computer and going through the photographs he’d taken at the wedding yesterday. Sort them out, send the best ones through to the newly-weds for them to pick through.
Sort out the ones he was going to keep for himself.
He sniffed and rubbed a palm on the leg of his jeans, thinking of the locked cupboard in his study.
A muttered curse. He knew better – he really did. It wasn’t easy though, having to watch himself all the time. Standing taller he drew in a breath.
‘Pull yourself together, mate,’ he whispered. ‘No harm, no foul.’
Rose hadn’t seen anything but him looking at a couple photos, and big fucking deal, he looked at photos all the time. It was his job, for crying out loud. It wasn’t like he’d shown them to her. That wasn’t part of the plan. Yet.
But she’d given him a fright, sneaking up on him like that. He looked down at the door handle and thought about how Zoe would react if he put a lock on the door. Yeah, maybe he could get away with it. Delicate equipment and all that – the printers cost a fortune – and the photographs were easily messed up now that Rose was getting so much bigger.
He might be able to get away with it. Privacy. Just the thought of it made him tingle. He liked having a family, especially liked watching Rose growing up, but sometimes it drove him crazy, always having to watch himself, always having to hide.
His eyes flickered to the photograph in the big frame above the old fireplace and he felt the familiar pull of pleasure at the sight of it, as though his skin tightened a size, and everything was close and touching.
He’d told Zoe it was on the wall because it was the only photo he had of his sister, the only one that had survived the fire that gutted their home when he was eighteen. She’d been understanding. Not that the two of them would ever meet, but that was another thing entirely.
He didn’t want to be cooped up today. Skin still cling-wrap tight, he wished Zoe had let him take Rose to the birthday party instead of insisting she do it and telling him he had the day off. He’d rather be at the party. There were reasons he was a father after all and going to events like today’s birthday party was one of them.
His car keys were where he always left them, and he jangled them in his hand on the way out the door. Sliding in behind the wheel, he smiled. This was what he needed, a bit of a drive. Be good to get out and relax. He turned his head from side to side, working out the kinks, then rolled his shoulders and plugged the key into the ignition.
A drive would undo some of the tension inside him. It had been building lately until he thought he might explode. Was it possible that a man could die from frustration?
He knew just where he wanted to go. Reaching over to the passenger’s seat, he patted his trusty camera.
‘Spot of baby-birdwatching,’ he said in a fake, plummy accent, and laughed.
5
She was there.
He’d had a feeling she would be. It was destiny, he was sure of it. Pleasure at the sight of her fluttered around under his breastbone, then went to roost lower, deep in his belly.
She was perfect.
The light breeze caught at her hair, flipping it up to show the delicate shell of an ear. He zoomed the camera lens in tight, focused, held it there, watched for a long moment, then took the shot. She spun around, and he caught that too, the swirl of her dress around smooth, plump thighs.
Laughing. She was laughing, and it was the purest sound he’d ever heard, floating towards him on the summer breeze. He wanted to go to her, scoop her up, feel the warmth of her skin against his, the quickening of her breath as he ran his palms up under that skirt.
But she wasn’t on her own. She never was.
There were a bunch of other kids clustered around the playground. Some older, a sprinkling of younger ones running around on unsteady legs. But only she was perfect.
The sun glinted on her hair, turning it the colour of light clover honey. Rachel had had hair exactly like it. Closing his eyes for a moment he breathed in the memory of it, smelling the shampoo his sister had used, just cheap stuff with the scent of green apples, but he’d thought he’d never smell anything more beautiful – and he never had.
He remembered touching it, letting it fall through his fingers like a silken waterfall. It had been so long, and it had driven him crazy when he’d swept it over the taut skin on his chest, belly, lower.
Sahara Woolsley had hair just like it. Long, it was tied up into twin pigtails at the moment, but he knew that if he were to tug on those sweet blue ribbons, they would come free and her hair would fall down her back, right down to her pert little bum.
Then she was running towards him, the whole group of kids scattering in every direction, only one left, eyes covered, counting at the top of his voice.
This was fate, just like he’d prayed for.
He panned quickly, following the other children, but they were spreading out in every other direction. Letting the camera fall onto the strap around his neck, he watched Sahara come racing towards him, a huge smile on her face, eyes dancing. He stepped back a couple steps into the shadows, but still where she would see him.
‘Hello Sahara, what are you doing?’ he asked.
She came gasping to a stop. ‘Hi Mr Fry,’ she said and the fingers on one hand automatically went searching for the end of a pigtail, finding it and slipping it seductively between her lips to suck on. ‘I’m playing hide and seek,’ she explained. ‘It’s my birthday today. We’re having a picnic party.’
‘Are you really?’ he said, smiling at her. He lifted up his camera. ‘Here, let me take a photo of the birthday girl.’ It only took a moment. ‘How old are you today?’
‘I’m seven now,’ Sahara said.
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah.’ Her smile widened, then she looked behind him. ‘Where’s Rose?’ she asked.
Danny turned his head to look back into the trees with her. ‘She’s playing hide and seek too,’ he said. ‘I’m supposed to be looking for her.’
Sahara’s face lit up further. ‘Maybe I can hide in the same place as her,’ she said.
‘That’s an excellent idea.’
She nodded, threw a look back at the grassy area
behind them where the bigger kid had stopped counting and was now chasing down a squealing toddler while the adults laid out a groaning table of food.
‘It’ll be cool if Jamie never finds me,’ she said confidentially. ‘He’s such a bully.’ She sent Danny a sidelong glance that let him admire her thick eyelashes. ‘He said he was going to eat all my birthday cake and that I couldn’t stop him.’
Danny gave her an understanding nod and concentrated on breathing in and out nice and slow. Nice and regular. The excitement was bubbling through him and he almost couldn’t think over it. He cleared his throat, rubbing at arms suddenly goose-bumped in his tee shirt.
‘She’s over this way,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell, but I heard her giggling just before you came over.’
Sahara sent a critical glance through the trees. ‘Little kids,’ she said, with newly-minted seven-year-old contempt. ‘I’ll never give away my hiding place.’ She strained her head forward on a slender swan neck. ‘She’s hiding pretty good for a little kid. My cousin Mary is useless. She thinks if she closes her eyes no one can see her. I try to tell her it doesn’t work like that, but she’s only three.’
‘Like Rose. Rose is pretty good at hiding though. I haven’t heard a peep out of her for a minute or so.’ Impatience flooded through him on a tidal wave of desire and he almost stumbled back another step. ‘Let’s go look for her.’ He reached out and touched her arm and had to close his eyes at the electric shock of her hot skin.
‘I still don’t see her,’ Sahara said after a moment of walking beside him into the small copse of trees.
‘She’s just in here,’ Danny said. ‘Under this one. It’s kind of neat under here, like a room made of leaves.’
That got her excited and she ducked ahead of him beneath the branches of a small weeping willow. He allowed himself an audible groan at the sight of her small little bottom, then followed her.
‘She’s not here, Mr Fry,’ Sahara said as soon as he was through the curtain of branches. ‘It’s cool in here and all, but Rose isn’t here.’
He didn’t bother to look around. Of course Rose wasn’t there. She was miles away, stuffing herself full of cake.
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘It’s a great place to hide and we can play here together.’
Sahara’s smile turned to a frown. ‘What do you mean, Mr Fry? Don’t you think you better find Rose?’
‘Rose is fine. I think I’d rather stay and play with you. It’s all right, don’t you think? We’ll be real quiet, and no one will find you here. I’ve wanted to play with you for such a long time because you’re so pretty. Then you can be the winner and eat all the birthday cake you want, and strawberries and chips and whatever else your mum’s got.’
‘I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr Fry,’ Sahara said, backing up until her hair caught on the bark of the willow tree. ‘You’re scaring me.’
He laughed then. ‘I'm not scary, Sahara. I don’t want to hurt you. Everything’s going to be all right, I promise.
‘I think I’d better be getting back…’
He shook his head, barely hearing her words over the rushing of blood between his ears. Panting, he moved closer, reached out and grabbed hold of the little girl, pulled her against himself.
She wriggled against him and he tipped his head back, every sensation so glorious, so wonderfully a relief, that he thought for a moment that he might actually pass out from the sheer pleasure of it.
No matter how he pretended to himself that the photos were enough, he couldn’t lie to himself forever. They weren’t enough.
This was what he needed.
6
Except then it went all wrong.
The little vixen, she was fighting too hard, and she was as slippery as an eel, and surprisingly strong. He didn’t remember Rachel being this strong or fighting this hard.
Of course with Rachel it had been easy, and he’d had time. Brushing his fingertips along her slim lines, finding her sweetness, whispering in her ear when her eyes grew large.
You know you’re mine, all mine. I’ll do anything for you to stay just mine. Say, how about I kill Mum and Dad - just for you. You know how much I like fires. Sound good to you? It does to me. But I guess if we stay real quiet, they won’t get too jealous; we won’t need to fry them. Now that’s funny, ‘Fry Them’, get it? Sure you do. Now as long as our secret stays secret you can have me, just like you like it. Oh, how good you feel. You like that don’t you, my love? Yeah, I see you do. Are those tears? Let me catch them - just for you.
Rachel had been as quiet as a mouse after that, but apparently this one didn’t have as much sense. Sahara was twisting in his arms and a moment later pain lanced through his bare upper arm. His cry was outraged.
‘You little bitch!’ he hissed. ‘You bit me.’
She bared bloody teeth at him and scrambled away, ducking to shove herself under the branches.
But that wasn’t going to happen. No way was she going to go screaming out of the trees getting everyone’s attention. If he’d had a bit more time, if she’d shown a bit more sense, he could have had her nice and quiet, and sensible enough to be a good girl, never tell anyone. Then he could have met her again and again, whenever they came to the park.
But it was too late for any of that. It had all been a bit spur of the moment anyway.
He grabbed her by the ankle as she dived through the curtain of weeping willow and dragged her back into the green-fringed room, hefting her up and clamping a hand over her scream.
‘No you don’t,’ he said, shaking his head, keeping his hand over mouth and nose. He counted the moments by heartbeats until she went limp in his arms.
Taking his hand away, he looked down at her. Plucked several leaves out of her hair, then in a quick gesture he tugged one of the ribbons and just as he’d known it would, her hair spilled over his hand, soft and sweet. Dipping his head down he sniffed at it, but it didn’t smell of apples. He recognised it as the same shampoo they used on Rose and that made him smile.
A distant shout jerked him back to his senses. Someone was calling for Sahara. Tucking the length of ribbon into a pocket, he got to his feet, the child in his arms. Cocking his head, he listened a moment then passed out of the sanctuary the willow had provided and stalked quickly towards the wire fence at the edge of the path. The river was behind that.
A tragic accident, that was what everyone would think. She went too far trying to find a hiding place during a game of hide and seek. It probably wasn’t the first time a child had fallen into the river, drowned.
She moaned in his arms and he hushed her. Brushed his lips against her honey tea hair, then let her slide into the river, which barely rippled as it gathered her into its watery arms.
Poor thing. It had been her birthday too.
Poor him. He’d been so close to something he’d wanted.
Next time he’d have to plan better.
7
Zoe found sanctuary in the kitchen with about half a dozen other mums. She squeezed in beside one and took the pro-offered glass of wine with a sigh of relief.
‘Yours is the little redhead, right?’
Rolling her eyes, she nodded. ‘Yeah, and before you ask, everything you hear about redheads having tempers is true.’ She leaned happily against the kitchen counter and took a deep gulp of the wine. It was good. Dry the way she liked it.
The mother next to her laughed. ‘I'm Trish. Robert’s mum,’ she said. ‘Robert the Rooster we currently call him. Due to his habit of early and extremely noisy rising.’ She tipped her glass towards Zoe. ‘Cheers to motherhood. Isn’t it everything we never dreamed of?’
‘And we wouldn’t swap it for anything.’ Zoe grinned. ‘I don’t quite understand that, but there it is anyway.’
Further down the counter another of the mothers poked her head forward. ‘You’re Zoe, aren’t you? Rose’s mum?’
‘Only if she hasn’t bitten, kicked, or otherwise inappropriately stolen your child’
s favourite toy while hyped up on artificial colouring and excessive amounts of sugar. If she’s done any of that, then no, I'm afraid you have the wrong woman.’
There was a chorus of laughing agreement. ‘Seriously though,’ the other mother persisted. ‘Your husband is Danny, right? The photographer?’
Zoe took another sip of wine and peered into the glass. It was delicious, but she knew there’d be no refill, which was fine, but for five minutes it was wonderful to feel like an adult.
‘Wedding photographer,’ she corrected and winced. She’d sounded like a wedding photographer didn’t quite qualify as serious. It wasn’t what she’d meant at all. She was glad beyond words he had a job that allowed him to be at home with Rose all week.
‘That’s what I meant,’ the woman said, stepping forward and smiling at Zoe. Unlike the other mothers, she was perfectly pressed and looked to Zoe like she’d just stepped from the pages of a magazine. She tried not to hold it against her, or to look down at her own comfortable jeans and blouse.
‘Then you have the right man,’ Zoe said and forced a smile to her lips.
The woman’s face lit up even more. ‘I'm so glad!’ she said. ‘He was showing me some of his work and I really want him to come take some shots of Maddie at her birthday next month. She’s our only child so it’s a big deal.’
The frown was a deep imprint on her face. ‘What?’
The woman waved her glass in a shrug. ‘I'm Yvonne, and when I brought Maddie over for a playdate with Zinny, Rose and Danny were here too. He was mucking around with his camera, taking shots of the kids playing, and they were really good. He certainly has an eye, doesn’t he?’ She put the glass down and dug suddenly into her back pocket, emerging with the latest iPhone, scrolling through it with the deftness of long practise. Then she thrust it at Zoe.