Turned

by Clare Revell

  She sat on the edge of the sofa, her unease apparent. She looked as guilty as her body language indicated. “Did the girls go down all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good.”

  He drew in a sharp breath. “I understand from Jodie that you took them to the cemetery this afternoon.”

  Amy swallowed, her fingers lacing and unlacing. “Yes, I did. They made cards. We put them in clear plastic bags and left them on their mum’s grave.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s obvious both girls miss her a lot.” She shifted under his gaze and looked at the floor. Was she hiding something? “I—I thought this way they could at least visit, tell her they love her. Then we went to the park on the way home and you picked us up there.”

  He nodded, pushing down his irritation. At least her motives had been in the right place. “Yeah. About those texts you sent…”

  Amy sighed. “Actually, Jodie sent them while Vicky was on the swings. How many kisses did she put in the end?”

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You knew about that?”

  “She threatened to do it. I told her no.”

  “Six.”

  Amy grimaced. “Sorry.”

  “Nate found it amusing. My boss didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He sucked in a deep breath, his anger tempered slightly. “The first one had kisses, as well.”

  Amy shifted in her seat, picking at a fingernail.

  He narrowed his eyes. His copper’s instinct went on full alert. She was definitely hiding something, but what? Was this going to be Adeline all over again? He knew Nate had had his doubts about her at one point.

  “You’re my employer,” she said finally. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “OK.” He dropped it. “Did you do any more drawing with them?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get them.” She got up and left the room.

  Dane picked up the TV remote and changed channels, putting the football on. Maybe this would take his mind off things for a while.

  Amy returned and held out two pieces of paper. “Here.”

  Dane took them and studied them. Concern gnawed at him and goose bumps rose on his skin. Both pictures scared him. Maybe the girls did need to see a doctor or a psychologist. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “What I find interesting is Jodie’s.”

  He jerked his head up to look at her. “Interesting?” That was so not the word he’d have used to describe it.

  “Yeah. That’s not her mother’s grave in the picture. And each time she draws it, it’s bigger than before.”

  “It’s her initials. Jodie Kathlyn Philips.” He looked at the picture. Had he missed something? She seemed fine outwardly, coping at least better than Vicky was, and to some extent better than him. But this? This was way out of his comfort zone, and he had no idea what to do. “What is she trying to tell us? That she wants to die?”

  “I don’t think so. But she is worried about dying and death.” She paused for a moment. “All teenagers feel worthless at some point. All those hormones kick in and they don’t know whether they are coming or going. Maybe this is her way of expressing it.”

  He didn’t bother to point out again that Jodie wasn’t a teenager, but twelve. “But what if it isn’t? What if she’s self-harming or something?”

  “She’s too fond of those very short strappy tops, and I haven’t seen any signs of it. But I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “Thank you.” He took a deep breath. “And the next time you want to take them to the cemetery, let me know, and I’ll drive you all over there. It’s not the best part of town to be in after dark.”

  “OK. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. A sudden cheer from the TV distracted him, and he glanced up to watch the replay of the goal. “Good one. About time Reading scored an away goal.” He paused. “Do you mind if I keep this on? I could do with the distraction tonight.”

  “Not at all. I did want to mention something. I walked by the school twice today and Vicky was crying both times.”

  “The teacher says Vicky is constantly crying, but I’ll speak to her teacher.” He stifled a sigh. It wasn’t just his boss who evidently thought he was a bad parent. From the constant comments from her teacher, she probably did as well. And when he did try to ask about things at school, the blame was put on Vicky’s inability to talk.

  There was silence for a minute then Amy stood. “I’ll see you in the morning. I have some stuff to do upstairs.”

  “OK. Good night.” He leaned back heavily in the chair as she left and closed his eyes. Well that went well. Nice one. Managed to mess that up good and proper. He reviewed his reaction to the texts he’d received. They’d been flippant, teasing, almost flirty and those kisses? He should have known she wouldn’t have sent them. It was now obvious it was Jodie, but at the time?

  Get over it. Amy’s a lot younger than you. You’re an old man, Dane. End of.

  He looked at the photo on the sideboard of him, Jas and the kids. He would die alone and probably, like his grandmother, be widowed longer than he was married in the first place. Love was what he had felt for his wife. Not his children’s nanny. What he felt for her was—

  He paused. He wasn’t sure. He liked having her around. Liked having someone to talk to in the evenings and to be with rather than sitting alone.

  OK, I admit it. There is something there. Something there shouldn’t be.

  Infatuation, he decided. Nothing more. Nothing that would be returned. No matter what he thought or hoped or anything else for that matter.

  A loud crash echoed from the kitchen. A short cry of pain, cut off. He leapt to his feet and ran the short distance across the hall.

  Amy stood by the sink, a bloody tea towel clamped over her wrist. She was shaking, her wide brown eyes staring and haunted, and more worrying than anything else, she had no color whatsoever.

  6

  “What happened?” Dane ran over to Amy and gently guided her to the stool.

  She kept shaking. “Just being an idiot. I jumped at my own reflection and dropped a glass into the sink. It shattered and cut my wrist.”

  “Let me see.” He gently lifted the tea towel and grimaced, his stomach turning. The cut was deep and gushing. He put the towel back and applied firm pressure to it, raising her arm above her head. “We need to get you to the ED, now.”

  “No.” Her response was too fast for his liking. Her eyes closed and then reopened.

  “Why not? This needs stitches.”

  “It means waking the girls and taking them.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  She shook her head, abject terror written in her eyes. She shuddered hard, but that was probably from shock rather than fear. “Please, I don’t like hospitals.”

  The towel oozed beneath his fingers. He grabbed another one, wrapping it tightly over the first, not liking the amount of blood she was losing and the speed at which this was happening. “You need stiches.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He’d ring the doc attached to the station as police surgeon and beg a favor. If Janice couldn’t come out, then he’d take Amy in, whether she liked it or not.

  Janice answered the phone on the second ring. As a doctor, he imagined she was used to being on call. Something he could never do—the doctoring bit, not the being on call. First aid was his limit of medical knowledge. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Janice, it’s Dane. Sorry to ring so late.”

  The tiredness vanished from her voice. “It’s not late, not by my standards anyway. What’s up? Do you need me at the station?”

  “No, but I do need a favor. My kids’ nanny has cut her wrist pretty badly and has a morbid fear of hospitals. I don’t suppose there is any chance you could come and take a look? It’ll need stitching most likely.”

  “For you, sure. I’m on my way.”

  

  Amy sat in the kitchen as Dane showed the doctor out. He seemed really frien
dly with her, which was good, because she didn’t stand a chance with him, no matter what direction her thoughts took at times. She looked at her bandaged wrist. It had been a close call, in more ways than one. She was stupid. She’d seen a figure in the window and thought it was him. But it had been her reflection. It was her fault for not closing the blind when it had gotten dark. But she liked the way the solar lights lit the edge of the pond and twinkled its reflection.

  She ran her fingers over the bandage. It was bloodstained already. She had to go to the doctor’s in the morning and get the stiches checked and the wound redressed. She’d argued that she didn’t have a GP yet, but the woman, Dr. Janice Chandler, had said she could go and see her at the end of morning surgery and wouldn’t need an appointment.

  She reached over and pulled the blind down over the window.

  Dane came back in. “How are you doing?”

  “OK,” she whispered closing her eyes. In reality, she felt cold and sick and light-headed, but if she mentioned that, he’d have her on the way to the ED and then the game would be up. He’d know who she was and send her away.

  Dane’s voice came from a long way off and echoed. “Amy?”

  “Really tired…” she managed. “Might go to bed.” She stood to find her legs buckle underneath her.

  Just before she fell, strong arms surrounded her and she was enveloped in clouds of Dane’s aftershave. She leaned against his chest, hearing his heart beat in time with hers as he carried her up the stairs and into her room. He laid her on the bed and sat by her. His voice still echoed. Why was he speaking from so far away? She struggled to focus on his voice.

  “I should have taken you to the ED. Maybe I still should.”

  “No,” she managed. “Your friend fixed it.”

  “You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

  Blood…

  A squeal of brakes and a series of three loud thuds—bumper, bonnet, and windscreen. The glass cracked, blood streaked the windscreen and the road…

  Amy jumped, her heart pounding and thudding in her ears. “I didn’t mean it…”

  Dane’s warm fingers cradled her face, pushing the hair from her eyes. “Hey, where did you go?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “You zoned out on me. Said you didn’t mean to do it?”

  Her cheeks burned. “Cut myself,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to break the glass either. I’m sorry.”

  “Accidents happen. Get some sleep.”

  She nodded, closing her eyes, a shaft of grief stabbing her as he moved his hand and got up. She tugged the covers around her, drifting in and out of sleep until a shadow appeared in front of her. She jerked awake to find Vicky standing by the bed, eyes wide. Amy reached out a hand for her.

  Vicky backed away, screaming, and waving her arms.

  Amy threw the covers back, reaching for Vicky. “It’s OK, sweetie.”

  Vicky kept screaming.

  Dane ran into the room. “What’s going on?”

  Amy shook her head. “I don’t know. I woke, and she was there. I reached for her, and she flipped. She’s never done this before.”

  Dane gently wrapped his arms around Vicky, sitting on the edge of the bed and cradling her. “It’s all right, sweetheart. Daddy’s here. You’re safe now.”

  Vicky clung to him, sobbing.

  Dane rubbed her back, whispering to her.

  “I’m sorry,” Amy whispered. “I must have scared her somehow or woken her.”

  “Don’t be sorry. At least we know her voice still works.”

  “Dad…” Jodie appeared in the doorway. “Is she all right?”

  “Vicky’s fine, honey,” Dane said. “She just had a nightmare. Go back to bed. I’ll come see you once she’s settled.”

  Jodie yawned and rubbed her eyes. “OK.” She turned and wandered back down the hallway.

  Dane hugged Vicky. “Did something scare you, honey?”

  Vicky pointed to Amy’s bloodied bandage.

  Amy felt sick. This was her fault. “I’m sorry. I cut myself. But it’s OK. Daddy got a doctor out and she fixed me.”

  Vicky shook her head.

  Dane hugged her. “Sweetie, I promise. Amy’s going to be just fine. It’s a small cut. Dr. Janice fixed it.”

  She looked at him and frowned slightly.

  “Daddy’s doctor friend from work, remember? I took you to see her when you had an earache last summer. She gave you some drops and some banana medicine to stop the hurting.”

  She nodded slightly.

  “So when Amy broke a glass and cut herself, I called Dr. Janice. She came out and looked at Amy’s wrist. She made it better. I promise. Amy will be just fine.”

  Amy reached out a hand and rubbed Vicky’s fingers. “Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”

  Dane frowned and raised an eyebrow.

  Amy looked at him. “That way she can make sure I’m all right and it’s just tonight.”

  Vicky nodded, sliding under the covers beside her.

  “OK, but just this once.” Dane tucked her in and kissed her forehead. “Night, sweetie.”

  Vicky pointed to Amy.

  Dane chuckled. “No, I’m not going to kiss Amy goodnight or tuck her in. She’s already tucked in quite nicely.”

  Amy pretended to pout.

  Dane grinned. “Goodnight.” He headed out and shut the door.

  Amy turned onto her side and looked at Vicky. “Want me to leave the light on?”

  Vicky nodded. She took tight hold of Amy’s hand and closed her eyes.

  

  Dane came into the kitchen, his mind going over the events of the night before. Both girls were dressed and at the table, eating. He did a double take. Up, dressed, and eating? Was Amy some kind of miracle worker? He peered at Jodie’s bowl. That wasn’t oatmeal. “What have you got?” he asked.

  “Honey circle things,” Jodie said. “Vicky has jam, marmite, and marmalade on the same piece of toast.”

  Oh, yuk. That is even more disgusting than before. He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  Jodie mimicked his gesture. “Yes, really. And we got chocolate milk. With a straw.”

  Dane looked at Amy. “Sweet stuff? I thought we’d had the conversation about that.”

  “They’ve promised to clean their teeth afterwards. The straw means the milk doesn’t touch their teeth and they’re eating without a fuss.”

  “What about you?” he asked, noting there wasn’t a plate in front of her.

  “She always eats without a fuss,” Jodie said. “Amy’s a girly swot.”

  Amy looked shocked as she reached for the toast. “I’m a what?”

  “Girly swot, nerd, teacher’s pet, goody two shoes…”

  “I know what one is, thank you.” Amy poked her good naturedly. “I just didn’t think that eating breakfast made me one.”

  “Why do you think we don’t usually eat?” Jodie laughed.

  Amy winked. “I thought that was just to wind your Dad up.”

  “Well, there is that as well. But mainly because we don’t want to be girly swots.”

  Dane chuckled, grabbing the last piece of toast. “Does that make me one as well?”

  Vicky nodded slowly.

  He sat down. “And you’re a cheeky monkey.” He reached for the butter, glancing at Amy, concern filling him. She looked pale and gaunt. Had she slept at all after Vicky woke her? “Are you OK? I can call in to work, and take the day off if you need me to.”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s a small cut, nothing more. Once the girls are at school, I can rest. And I’ve got that doctor’s appointment for it, anyway.”

  “OK, see that you do. And if you do need me, call or text and I’ll come home. I’ll cook tonight.”

  “OK.”

  Jodie looked at Amy over the top of her glass. “Can we go to the park after school, Amy? We can go to the one down the road. It’s huge. Have you been there yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. And sure. Does it ha
ve a duck pond?”

  Vicky nodded, her eyes lighting up.

  “Then I’ll bring bread for the ducks. We could go straight from school. If that’s all right with your dad.”

  Dane nodded.

  “Can Vianne come?”

  “So long as it’s all right with her parents.”

  “She lives with her uncle and aunt. Can she stay for dinner, too?”

  Dane looked at Amy. “That’s my partner Nate and his wife Adeline.”

  “Ah. I met Adeline properly yesterday. Vicky’s drawing underestimated the cuteness of her hearing dog.”

  Dane nodded. “Actually, maybe we have them all over to dinner tonight.” He pulled out his phone and texted Nate. Within a few seconds he got a reply. “They’d love to. Vianne is to come straight here from school with you, Jodie. Nate suggests we get take-out on the way home from work. I’m going to pick him up, and Adeline will bring his car over this afternoon when she finishes work.”

  “Can we have fish and chips?” Jodie asked.

  He tilted his head. “I was thinking Chinese, but sure, you kids can have fish and chips.” He turned to Amy. “Are you sure you’re going to be OK?”

  Amy sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Daddy.”

  Jodie squealed with laughter and even Vicky smiled.

  Dane grinned. “Good. Don’t forget the doctor’s either. You need the dressing changed.” He kissed the girls, and put his plate in the sink.

  It made such a difference knowing the girls were in good hands and happy. Not that they weren’t with his parents or Jas’s parents, but Amy was different. She’d done more in a few days, than anyone else had accomplished since they’d lost their mum.

  And that, he decided, was more than a miracle. It was an answer to prayer.

  

  Amy tidied the kitchen as the girls grabbed their school bags and jackets. It was so nice being part of this family. If only it were her own. A man who loved her, who looked after his kids the way Dane cared for his, was all she wanted. Since Rosalie had found Ray, she’d been looking, but no one had caught her eye. Or rather, she hadn’t caught anyone else’s eye.