Be My Baby

by Fiona Harper

  And it was for this reason, and this reason alone, she was going to make him listen to her, rather than walk back down the lane and head home.

  CHAPTER TWO

  WELL, if she was going to face him, she couldn’t just stand here getting muddier by the second. But, as much as she wanted to help, she didn’t relish facing the snarling man who’d just stomped into the house, either. It was that look in his eyes, the look that said she was worthless, stupid and way out of her league.

  Of course, the look really wasn’t for her. It was for the phantom journalist he’d taken her for. But she’d seen the same look in David’s eyes many a time, and it made something inside her wither. When her ex-husband had looked at her like that, he’d known exactly who he was talking to.

  Gaby smoothed her hair back with her hands and walked up to the front door. Her heart pounded in time with the three sharp raps she gave with the knocker. She waited, ears straining for a sound, but there was nothing. Just as she was about to knock again, she heard a door slam somewhere inside, and she thought better of it.

  He knew she was out here; he was just ignoring her.

  She sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. She’d driven for over seven hours to get here. She was cold and her feet were soggy, and she wasn’t going to just turn round and go home again because Luke Armstrong was in a strop.

  She followed his footprints round to the back of the house, where she found the back door slightly ajar. He’d probably been too fired up to make sure it had clicked shut behind him.

  It gave a creak as she nudged it with her fingertips. ‘Mr Armstrong?’

  She peered inside and found a small room, with an even smaller window, full of sturdy boots and sensible-looking coats on hooks.

  ‘Mr—’ She swallowed the rest of her sentence as the door leading into the rest of the house crashed open.

  ‘You people never give up, do you?’

  Gaby gulped and fumbled to get her bag off her shoulder. In this tiny space he seemed much more menacing, like a caged animal.

  ‘Get out before I call the police!’

  He took a step towards her and she backed away, glancing down at the bag as she rummaged inside it. When she looked up at him again, his jaw was set like steel. Now would be a really good time to do exactly as he’d suggested and run out through the door and down the lane without looking back.

  She held her breath as the air fizzled with his barely harnessed anger. And then her fingers felt the corner of the business card she’d been searching for and she pulled it out of her bag, surprised by the deftness of her own movements.

  He looked slightly taken aback and she used the split-second opportunity to wave the card within his line of vision. ‘Bright Sparks Agency, Mr Armstrong.’

  He stared at the card, then stared at her, then stared at the card some more.

  ‘I’m here for the interview.’

  He looked at her once again, clearly astonished.

  ‘For the nanny’s position,’ she offered.

  The penny finally dropped. She saw a small change in his features as he marshalled his thoughts. He was still giving her a hard stare, but it lacked the zinging fury of the last one. This one felt like a defensive position rather than an attack.

  ‘You’re late.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. I got a bit—’

  ‘You’d better come inside, then.’ He turned and went through the small door leading into the house and disappeared down a corridor. Gaby was about to follow him when she remembered the state of her shoes. Now her future employer—fingers crossed—had calmed to simmering point, she didn’t want to do anything to raise his temperature again.

  She sat down on a low bench and tried to work out how to take her shoes off while keeping her hands mud-free. Eventually she succeeded and placed them side by side under the bench. Then she hung her fleece on a hook.

  Come on, Gaby! Nothing to be frightened of. He should be apologising to you, really. But she stood motionless, her feet feeling the cold of the tiled floor. Somehow, the prospect of being interviewed in her socks made her feel at a disadvantage.

  Luke’s face reappeared through the open door and she flinched.

  ‘It’s this way.’

  He pointed down a small corridor. The only thing she could do was scurry through the house after him until they reached the kitchen.

  ‘Coffee?’

  He didn’t wait for her answer, but turned to fill the kettle.

  How bizarre! It was as if the whole scene outside had never happened. She’d bet there was only a slim chance of getting an apology too. But that was okay. It was so long since she’d heard anything like that pass a man’s lips, she was starting to think they were genetically incapable. At least she knew what she was getting if he acted like that. Seven years of marriage to David had given her plenty of practice.

  She leaned over the kitchen counter slightly to look out of the window. The river was as smooth as glass. Off in the distance she could see the jetty in the village, but no smudge of red fleece was visible.

  Slowly, she became aware that he was watching her. She turned and straightened, feeling instantly as if she’d been summoned to stand in front of the headmaster. He didn’t smile, but he didn’t look fierce either. He just seemed to be taking her in. Assessing her.

  ‘They said they’d try to send someone, but I thought our luck had run out.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  He frowned. ‘The agency. Mrs Pullman said she’d try a long shot, but she wasn’t hopeful. When you were late, I assumed the long shot hadn’t paid off.’

  ‘Well, here I am—at last.’ Far too bright and chirpy. She was overcompensating. ‘Don’t worry about…earlier. I totally understand.’

  Old habits died hard. She was apologising for being in the right, yet again.

  ‘So, as you know, I’m Luke Armstrong. Mrs Pullman didn’t get around to telling me your name.’

  ‘Gabrielle—well, Gaby, really. Michaels. Gaby Michaels.’

  ‘Like the angels.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The archangels—in the Bible. Gabriel and Michael.’

  She creased her forehead and looked at him hard. Was he making fun of her? His face was blank. In fact, he looked as if he’d forgotten how to laugh. Definitely not a joke, then.

  ‘I’d never thought of my name that way.’

  He nodded.

  Boy, this guy was cryptic! She had no more idea of what he was thinking than she had of when high tide was. They were never going to get through the interview if they carried on like this.

  She took a deep breath. ‘How old is your daughter, then?’

  ‘I thought I was supposed to be interviewing you.’

  She shrugged. ‘Interview away. But there are a few things I need to know before I decide if I’m…what you need.’ She had been going to say staying, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was the fact that she suspected he hadn’t always been like this, that he needed a second chance. Heaven knew she was an expert at that. Her ex had used up second, third and three-hundredth chances.

  He plonked a mug of coffee in front of her and she saw his eyes glaze slightly as he slipped into autopilot. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d done this. He asked her the usual stuff at first, but then he put down his mug and looked at her.

  ‘If you don’t mind my saying, you’re not what I expected. Most of the nannies I’ve seen have been younger and—er—dressed a little differently.’

  She didn’t think for a minute it would matter if she did mind, and decided she might as well be equally straightforward.

  ‘Well, Mr Armstrong, just because I don’t look like Mary Poppins, it doesn’t mean I’m not competent at my job. Some children find meeting new people a little unsettling, especially if they look all starched and pressed. I find it helps if I’m more casually dressed.’

  It was one of her strong points—the fact she could still remember that situations adults took for grante
d could be very uncomfortable for a child. It was why the agency had liked to send her off to deal with some of the ‘problem’ cases when she’d been working full time as a nanny. And why Mrs Pullman had phoned her up out of the blue when every available nanny on her books had baulked at taking this job. She’d jumped at the chance. It had to beat her temporary job at the riotous soft-play centre in Croydon.

  ‘As for my age, well, I’m returning to work after a few years’ break.’

  ‘Oh?’ He looked suspicious.

  ‘When I got married, my husband preferred I didn’t work.’

  ‘And he doesn’t mind now?’

  ‘It’s none of his business. We’ve been divorced for nearly a year.’ She didn’t add that her husband had got the seven year itch and had scratched it enthusiastically.

  ‘And now you’re back on the market? Job-wise, I mean,’ he added hastily.

  ‘I am.’ She gave a little smile, a real one. ‘Actually, I’m really looking forward to being a nanny again.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you decided to come out of retirement for us. Heather definitely needs an experienced hand. How soon can you start? We could do with you right now.’

  She’d been planning to visit one of her old school-friends who lived in Exeter after the interview. She hadn’t seen Caroline for years and was looking forward to a week of coffee and gossiping.

  ‘Oh. I’m not sure I…Don’t you want some time to think? To check references?’

  His mouth pulled down at the corners and he shook his head. ‘If you’re good enough for the Bright Sparks Agency, you’re good enough for me. And besides, I’m desperate.’

  Her chair scraped on the slate floor as she stood, but before she’d even managed to say she needed time to think, the back door slammed open. She was facing the oposite direction but, from the grim look on Luke Armstrong’s face, she had no doubt that his experienced-hand-needing daughter had just made her entrance.

  ‘Heather, this is—’

  A red fleece swept past the kitchen table and out into the living room. Moments later heavy feet pounded the stairs in a distant part of the house.

  Luke shot to his feet, his eyes blazing.

  ‘I’m sorry about that. She’s having a difficult time adjusting at the moment. I—I’ll explain later.’

  With that, he forged out of the room. More heavy footsteps. Must be genetic. She couldn’t have made that much noise if she were wearing lead boots. Muffled shouting. A door slammed. Then footsteps in tandem.

  Luke nudged Heather into the room. Her eyes were on the floor and her bottom lip stuck out like a toddler’s. ‘Luke says I’ve got to say hello.’

  ‘Heather!’ The rising volume of his voice had Gaby shaking, but it seemed to flow off the girl. Her chin jutted more decidedly into her chest.

  ‘Heather, I would like you to say hello to Gaby. She’s going to be looking after you when I start work.’

  Gaby spluttered. ‘Actually, I—’

  At the sound of Gaby’s voice, Heather lifted her head just enough to peer out from under her fringe. ‘Oh, it’s you. The crab lady.’

  Luke looked between the pair in astonishment.

  Gaby waggled a hand in the air while she waited for the words to come. ‘We met…earlier…on the jetty.’

  If it were possible, his face got even more thunderous. ‘Heather! I’ve told you never to—’

  ‘God! Take a chill pill, Luke. I was only crabbing!’ Then she spun on her heel and stomped off again. Luke looked as if he’d been slapped in the face. Gaby swallowed.

  He slumped down on a chair and rubbed his face. The start of his next sentence was muffled by his hands. ‘I don’t know how much Mrs Pullman told you, but we’re facing a rather difficult set of circumstances with Heather.’ He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. ‘Please, don’t let that little outburst put you off. She’s a good kid underneath it all. But she’s had a lot to deal with in the last few years.’

  Gaby smiled gently at him. ‘It’s okay. I know about the trial and…everything.’

  Luke let out a long breath. He seemed very relieved not to have to run through the details. ‘Good. If that hasn’t put you off, I don’t know what will.’

  ‘Oh, I—’

  He didn’t seem to hear her.

  ‘She took her mother’s death very hard. And then she had to deal with me being…away. We’ve only been living together again for a couple of months, so we’re still getting to know each other again, really.’ He looked down at the table, as if he hadn’t meant to say all of that in front of her.

  The silence stretched. If only there were something to say, something she could do to make it all go away. This was the point at which her alarm bells should be ringing. That little tug at her heartstrings always meant trouble. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall completely in love with her charge again this time.

  If getting inside a child’s mind was her strength, the fact she let them too far into her heart was her weakness. Too many times she’d been left heartbroken when a family moved overseas or didn’t need her any more.

  She was older and wiser now; she should be past this. And maybe, if David hadn’t kept putting off the issue of children, she would have been. It was probably down to the overly-loud ticking of her biological clock that she was ignoring all the old warning signals. If she had any sense, she would excuse herself and return to London—leave this family to someone who could look at them objectively, help them without getting too emotionally involved. It would be better for Luke and Heather in the long run too.

  ‘I’d better go and see to my errant daughter.’ He pushed the chair back and stood up.

  He looked so lost, so unsure of what to do, that Gaby put a hand on his arm to stall him. ‘Let me go.’ The least she could do before she left was help defuse the current situation.

  He started to shake his head, but then he said, ‘Okay. Heather’s room is on the left at the top of the stairs.’

  She crept up the stairs, stood outside the door, took a deep breath and knocked gently.

  ‘Go away! I don’t want to speak to you!’

  ‘Heather? It’s me—Gaby.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  The door edged open and Heather poked her nose in the gap. ‘It’s a bit messy.’

  Gaby smiled. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that. You should have seen my room when I was your age. My mum used to have an awful go at me. In the end I just shoved it all in the cupboard and hoped no one opened the door. If they had, they would have been buried in an avalanche of clothes and toys!’

  Heather gasped and her eyes got even bigger and rounder.

  ‘Believe it, kid, you’ve got nothing on me.’

  The door swung wide and Gaby walked in. She perched on the edge of a bed decked in pink and frilly bed-clothes. Heather grimaced. ‘He thinks I’m still a baby.’

  ‘I’m sure he doesn’t think you’re a baby. He was probably trying very hard to make things nice for you.’

  Heather made a gagging noise and rolled her eyes, but when her face returned to normal her expression had softened. ‘Are you really going to be my nanny?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘I don’t need looking after, you know. I’m all right on my own.’

  Did no one in this house ever let you finish a sentence?

  She swivelled to face Heather. ‘I know that. But your dad has to have someone in the house while he’s out at work. He’s not allowed to leave you alone, you know.’

  ‘’Spose so.’

  ‘Why don’t we go downstairs and chat to your dad about it?’

  ‘You can talk to him, if you like.’

  It might have sounded as if Heather were reluctant to make peace with her father, but Gaby saw the ache in her eyes. She desperately wanted to be able to open up to him; she just didn’t know how. What had it been like for her while her father had been in prison? How often had she seen him? Had she been carted along in her best dress a
nd told to tell him she was being a good girl?

  No wonder they couldn’t communicate with each other. They’d probably spent years being on their best behaviour, each making sure the other didn’t know how they were suffering.

  When they reached the kitchen, Luke was so surprised his mouth dropped open. Gaby thought it was a shame he recovered quickly. Too quickly. It would have done Heather good to see the look on his face—that same aching expression she’d been wearing just moments before.

  Heather opened the fridge door and stuck her head inside. ‘I’m hungry.’

  Luke looked at Heather and then at Gaby. ‘Would you like to stay for dinner? It would be a good chance to get to know us better. Start afresh.’

  She was going to decline, say she needed to get back to her car, but she saw Heather’s face above the fridge door and stopped short. The girl’s eyes were wide, as if she were waiting for something important, like the results of a spelling test. When Gaby nodded, she glowed.

  ‘Heather, why don’t you show Gaby the house, while I get the food ready?’

  Heather let the fridge door swing closed and tugged Gaby by the hand.

  ‘Come on. I’ll show you the terrace. It’s cool.’

  Gaby thought the terrace was way more than cool. The flat roof above the kitchen had been turned into a seating area with railings and a stunning view of the River Dart. The light was fading and a gold sun glowed through dense grey clouds. Gaby breathed in the salty air. She could tell it was only a couple of miles to the estuary.

  The terrace could be reached directly from two of the bedrooms on the first floor: the master bedroom, which she didn’t look in—it felt too much like snooping—and a guest bedroom. A flight of stairs led down to the kitchen door, making it a great place to have breakfast when the weather improved.

  She went still. It looked as if her subconscious was already planning on staying, whether the rest of her liked it or not. That wasn’t a good sign.

  The rest of the house was just as impressive. It had an unusual layout and a kind of quirky charm. The best feature by far was the little area just outside the back door. A flight of steps led down to a flat area with rings to tie boats to. At that moment the tide was out and she could see more steps that led down on to the stony beach. But when the tide was up, you could row right up to it and skip straight into the house—like Venice!