Friday's Child

by Clare Revell

  Should he have tried harder to find her? What had happened to cause such a change in her? She only ever seemed to come to life when she sang.

  He shot Shay a barely perceptible nod before he turned his attention back to the road.

  Just as Nahum expected, Elle had pushed to go to the club. Just as planned, he objected then relented. He refused to believe Elle was involved in this drug ring, and the best way to clear her was to keep appearances as normal as possible and keep her singing. Not that he liked the way she dressed or the lyrics she chose. But it was her choice and she wasn’t prepared to discuss her faith, or lack of it, with him right now. He wasn’t going to let it drop, however. The fate of her soul hung in the balance.

  Lord, Elle needs my help. Not just to keep her safe from Foster if that’s who this Mr. F turns out to be, but to guide her back to You. I don’t know what she thinks she did that was so terrible, but the very fact she says she’s beyond redemption, indicates to me at least, that she hasn’t done anything that unforgivable.

  He glanced at her again. His feelings for her hadn’t changed, yet he knew deep down there wasn’t a chance of anything developing between them. And it wasn’t just the fact he didn’t have time.

  She didn’t want him anymore. Her attitude towards him made that perfectly clear. Well, that wasn’t going to stop him from loving her, looking out for her, and protecting her to the best of his ability.

  Whether she liked the idea or not.

  And as for the fight with her manager? Someone in the club had threatened Elle, and he had a good idea now who it was. Whether he was involved in the drug ring or not, Zeke had just put himself on the MI5 radar. If Patrick had tipped his hand, it would have exposed Elle and that wasn’t going to happen—at least not yet. He had a role to play here, and it wasn’t to look threatening. Thus he’d sat back down at the bar and waited. He’d bide his time, then this Zeke bloke would pay for hitting Elle.

  He parked outside the safe house and secured the area before nodding to Shay. She woke Eleanor and together they escorted her inside the house as quickly as possible.

  Shay looked at Patrick. “I don’t know about you, but I’m shattered. You all right if I go to bed?”

  Patrick nodded. “Sure. I need to unwind for a bit first anyway.”

  “OK, good night.” She headed up the stairs.

  Eleanor looked at him. “Bit early to go to bed, isn’t it?”

  “We’ve worked pretty much every hour there is since Monday,” he explained. “The case culminated in a raid and shootout this morning. The last time I actually saw a bed was Sunday night.”

  “But it’s Thursday. How did you manage?”

  “Cat napped at the desk. It’s just the way it goes sometimes.”

  “If you want to sleep…”

  He stifled a yawn. “In a bit. Once Nigel gets here.”

  Her face creased. “Who’s Nigel? I thought you and Shay were my guard dogs.”

  He grimaced at her derogatory tone. He’d have preferred sheep dog given the choice. “He’s doing the nightshift. He’ll sit in the lounge and watch TV.”

  “OK. Silly question, but why can’t you sleep now?”

  “Because if I’m asleep, I can’t protect you.” He broke off as his phone rang. “Shame I don’t get paid extra to answer this,” he quipped. “Page.” He listened for a moment. “What’s wrong? Oh, no, is she all right? I see. OK, no, no, you stay home and make sure she rests up. We’ll manage. Yes—Give Laura a hug from me and tell her to go to bed and stay there. OK. Good night.”

  “What’s up?” Her hand touched his arm, sending rivers of warmth pouring through him and straight to his stomach.

  “That was Nigel. He’s been at the hospital with his wife most of the afternoon.”

  “That’s not good. Is she all right?”

  Patrick nodded his head. Nigel and Laura had been trying for a baby for years. And a scare like this was the last thing either of them needed. “As long as she rests, she’ll be fine. So I’ll go take a cold shower to wake up some and then make a pot of coffee.”

  “There’s no need. You don’t need to watch me. I’m tired. If I go to bed, you can lock up and sleep, too. This is a safe house, right? No one knows where we are?”

  “Yeah…” What was she getting at? Maybe he was more tired than he thought. Or she just didn’t understand. Surely she wasn’t that naïve?

  “So we’ll be fine. Lock up. Go to bed and sleep. You look exhausted. I trust you not to let anything happen. Good night.”

  He stood in the hall, completely dumbfounded, as she crossed the small space to the stairs and vanished up them. Locking the front door, he then pulled the heavy curtain across it and flicked off the light.

  This Elle was a paradox. Just when he though he’d figured her out, she blindsided him with something else. Maybe the old Elle was still there. The Elle he’d fallen in love with, and still was in love with. But she’d made it clear she didn’t feel the same way. He could live with that. Couldn’t he?

  He went upstairs, showered and returned to the sofa fully dressed. At least this way he’d be on guard, albeit asleep.

  Lord God, keep watch over us tonight.

  9

  Eleanor woke as the sun peered over the horizon. She got out of bed and crossed to the window. There was something about the sunrise that drew her to it. A new dawn with the promise of a clean slate awaited everyone. Except her. She was doomed to keep repeating the mistakes of the past. Like Patrick.

  She leaned her forehead against the cold glass. There was an apple tree in the garden. Memories of another apple tree from long ago came to mind.

  Patrick grinned down at her. “It’s not that hard, see. If I can climb up here, then anyone can.”

  She looked up at him. “That’s easy for you to say now you’re up there. What if I fall?”

  “You won’t.”

  “What if I get stuck?”

  “You won’t.”

  “Can you say anything other than you won’t?”

  There was a long pause. “Nope.”

  “Fine, but if I get stuck I’m blaming you.”

  “You won’t.”

  She reached up, pulling herself onto the first branch. “That response is getting a little tiresome. I’m going to fall.”

  “Then the sooner you get up here, the better. These apples are delicious.”

  “I thought it was the woman who tempted the man with the apple,” she said, breathing hard as she climbed laboriously upwards.

  “It was. And I’m not tempting you. I’m enticing you. That’s a totally different kettle of fish all together.”

  She glanced up into the leafy boughs, finally seeing his feet swinging above her. “Fish, too? Is there anything you don’t have up there?”

  “That would be you.” He laughed.

  Her whole body now shaking with effort, she reached the branch he was sitting on and lowered herself down beside him. She closed her eyes tightly, her breath coming in gasps.

  “Was it that hard to climb up here?”

  She shook her head, holding on tightly. “No…”

  “Then what is it?”

  His hand touched her face making her jump. She cried out, only her tight grip stopping her from falling.

  “Elle?”

  “Don’t like heights…”

  His strong arms folded around her, his scent and warm breath covering her. “Why didn’t you say something, you silly goose?”

  “You were already here, and I didn’t want you to call me a scaredy-cat.”

  “Elle, I would never call you a scaredy-cat.”

  A thud made her jump. “What was that?”

  “I tossed the pack down so I can help you. We’ll do this one step at a time.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can because I’m helping you.” He slid down on to the next branch. “Now do exactly what I say and we’ll be down before you know it.”

  She smiled, turning away from t
he window. True to his word, he had guided her down, step by step, never letting her fall. Everything had been so simple then. He promised he’d keep her safe, she trusted him, she loved him, and she’d hoped he’d be the one man she’d spend the rest of her life with.

  So much for that idea.

  She left the bedroom and headed down to the kitchen. Today was a new day. Once again her life was in Patrick’s hands, and she knew she was safe. And he was right, if she had a target on her back, Abbie was safest with Mum. She had to let him do his job. And she’d start by making up to him for being horrible yesterday.

  The kitchen was warm and smelled of freshly-brewed coffee. Someone was already up judging by the scent.

  She opened the fridge. Good, there are eggs. Now all I need is flour. Finding some in the cupboard, she began to make batter. She had no idea if Shay liked pancakes, but Patrick did. So did Abbie.

  Abbie—

  She’d never been apart from her for this long before and it felt like she was drowning. I need to see her, somehow. This separation is tearing me up inside. Please, God…

  Eleanor broke off. She had no right to ask anything.

  “Morning.” Patrick stumbled into the room, looking dreadful. Pale and gaunt, with stubble over his cheeks, he still wore the same clothes as yesterday.

  “You look awful.”

  “Thanks.” He moved to the coffee pot and filled a cup. Draining it quickly, he refilled it.

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  “After Shay woke, a little, not much.” He smiled faintly over the top of the cup. “Honestly I spent most of the night thinking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Praying for you.”

  “That’s very kind, but I’m really not worthy of your prayers. They won’t do much good. I’m unforgivable.”

  “You keep saying that.” He finished the coffee and poured more. “You do know what the unforgivable sin is, right?”

  “Of course I do.” She flipped the pancakes, not wanting them to burn. “I wish…”

  “Wish what?”

  How did she phrase this? It really made no sense. She’d thrown away her salvation, but she wanted it back? “I envy you your faith,” she said quietly.

  “It does make life bearable. Knowing that whatever happens, God is in control and I can take everything to Him in prayer. Knowing He has my back at work and off duty as well.”

  She poured more batter onto the griddle. “How dangerous is your job?”

  Shay laughed from the doorway. “The way Patrick does it? It’s very dangerous.” She came in and helped herself to coffee. “He almost got us all blown up yesterday. Along with the Hyacinth Street Mall and half of Headley Cross.”

  “I did not.” Patrick protested, refilling his coffee mug.

  “You did.”

  “Didn’t.”

  Eleanor laughed as she carried the plate of pancakes over to the table. “That’s the Patrick I remember. Come eat while they’re hot.” She looked at Shay. “I need to apologize to you both for my behavior yesterday. I wasn’t very nice to you. It was a bad day and…” She broke off. “No, I’m not making excuses. I was horrid and I’m sorry.”

  Shay smiled. “Apology accepted.”

  “Apologies in pancakes are gratefully received.” Patrick sat, not needing to be told twice. “I haven’t had pancakes since you last made them for me.”

  Eleanor sat next to him. “Seriously? What about Pancake Day?”

  He shook his head, taking three and covering them with lemon juice and sugar. “Nope. I could never make them the way you do.”

  “It’s not that hard, really.” She watched the look of pleasure on his face as he ate. “Think someone died and went to heaven,” she teased.

  He grinned. “Oh, I think you’ll find heaven beats your pancakes by a long chalk.”

  “Really? And what is a long chalk when it’s at home?” She laughed as Patrick spread his arms as wide as he could.

  “About this big.”

  As the laughter died down, she ate slowly. Being with Patrick was so easy. Could she put the past behind her? Could they become friends at least? She’d like that. Maybe over the next couple of days that would happen—but could she ever tell him the truth? And not just about Abbie...All of it.

  Clearing her plate, she studied him. With his sleep tousled hair and blue eyes shadowed with worry, he looked so much like Abbie. Had he guessed the truth? What would he do if he knew? Demand custody? Want access? Weekends and Christmas, four weeks in the summer?

  How would a man who, by his own admission worked every hour God gave him, fit a teenager into his life? No, he had no time for Abbie or her. It wasn’t going to happen.

  “Penny for them,” he said setting down his fork.

  “I was thinking about Abbie. Is there any chance I could see her?”

  “We talked about this yesterday.”

  “Please, Patrick…”

  “She’s safer with her mother.”

  She looked down at her hands, picking at her index finger. But I am her mother.

  The phone rang. “Excuse me.” Patrick stood and pulled his phone from his pocket, answering it as he headed from the room.

  Eleanor pushed her chair back and started taking the plates over to the sink. She ran the hot water, watching the washing up liquid turn into bubbles.

  Shay brought over the rest of the dishes. “You have a special relationship with your sister, despite the age gap.”

  She smiled. “Yeah. We’ve always been really close. She’s a great kid.”

  “I’m like that with my sister. We can talk about anything. Some days it’s us against the world.”

  “Exactly. If I’m not there she has no one to talk to. She needs me. And I need her.”

  “Elle—” Patrick’s voice came from behind her.

  Did she keep fighting the battle over her name? Her mother insisted on Eleanor and nothing else now, but the way he called her Elle sent perfumed flowers spinning into the air. It reminded her of a time when she was young and carefree.

  She turned around and smiled. The smile died on her lips as she took in the look of devastation on his face. Maybe something had happened to his brother. She reached his side in a few seconds. “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “There’s been an accident. Your mum and Abbie have been taken by air ambulance to Headley General.”

  Her knees buckled. Her skin turned cold and clammy and a rock dropped her stomach into her feet. The air ambulance was funded solely by voluntary donations, and thus was only used in the most serious life-threatening cases.

  “Whoa…” Patrick’s hands caught her and guided her to a chair.

  “I’m all right,” she whispered. “What happened?”

  “Your mum’s car left the road and went down the embankment.”

  “I have to go to them.”

  “I know.” His hand pushed the hair from her face, his eyes—Abbie’s eyes—staring into hers. “Give me five minutes to shower, shave and change.”

  “Patrick, please…” Her voice was almost a whine, tears in her eyes.

  “Five minutes.” He glanced over her head at Shay. “I’ll need you to drive. Then I can sit in the back with Elle.”

  “That’s fine. Go change.”

  Patrick hurried from the room and Eleanor buried her face in her hands. Please don’t let them die. I may not like her but she’s my mum…and I love her.

  10

  Headley General Emergency Department was busy. Eleanor stood in the queue at the reception desk, her fear rising all the time. Every minute she stood here, was a minute Abbie was without her. If she lost Abbie, she didn’t know what she’d do. She looked at Patrick. “I’m scared.”

  “Why?” he asked gently.

  “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You’re not alone, Elle. I’m here and God’s here, too. Neither of us are going anywhere.”

  “All right.”
She nodded ever so slightly, but didn’t sound convinced.

  More minutes passed and still they hadn’t moved. Eleanor looked at the clock. “How much longer…?” she whispered.

  “This is ridiculous,” Patrick said. “Come with me.” He pulled his ID from his pocket and, taking her hand, queue jumped. “Excuse me.” He flashed his MI5 card at the receptionist and gave her a charming smile. “Agent Page, MI5.”

  Eleanor cringed inside, feeling the disapproval of the others waiting in line.

  “Can I help you?” the receptionist asked.

  “We’re looking for a Mrs. Harrison. I had a phone call saying she and her daughter Abbie had been admitted.”

  The receptionist nodded. “I’ll get someone to come and see you.”

  Patrick lowered his voice. “We don’t have time to wait. I need to see her now.”

  “Just give me a moment please, sir. Take a seat.”

  He sighed in exasperation and lowered his voice even more. “Do the words ‘national security’ mean anything to you?”

  Eleanor would have laughed had the situation been different as the receptionist’s attitude changed completely. Her mother and sister had nothing to do with national security and Patrick hadn’t even implied they did, but merely mentioning the two words was as effective as saying open sesame.

  “Would you like to come to the door? I’ll get a nurse to take you through.”

  “Thank you.”

  Eleanor gripped his hand tightly. “Come with me, Patrick.”

  “That goes without saying, Elle.” He glanced at Shay. “Are you coming with us or staying here?”

  “I’ll come. Guard one while you take Eleanor to see the other.”

  “Assuming they aren’t in adjoining cubicles or both in Resus.”

  Eleanor walked numbly to the door. Each scenario in her head was worse than the previous one. They were fine and just needed a lift home. Or both had cuts and bruises. Or whiplash. Or concussion. Or numerous broken bones. Or amnesia. Maybe amputations. Or they were dead.