‘I can be, no problem. What do you need a hand with?’
See? Just like that. No suspicion, no hesitation, just a straightforward offer of help.
Chapter 14
‘So you two have known each other for almost a year.’ The social worker from the local fostering team was making notes as she inspected Gin Cottage. ‘Since Dexter first came to the village.’
‘That’s right.’ Molly nodded; well, it was technically true, even if they’d only met twice. The woman just needed to be reassured that in moving down to Briarwood, Dexter would be among friends; if he needed help with Delphi she would be happy to chip in.
The ballpoint pen hovered over the page. ‘And are you . . . very close?’
Gah, how embarrassing. Molly shook her head violently. ‘Oh God no, nothing like that!’
The social worker smiled. ‘No need to sound so horrified. He’s not that repulsive.’
‘We’re just friends,’ Molly reiterated.
‘I’m giving that side of things a miss.’ Joining in, Dex said firmly, ‘It’s all there in my notes. From now on it’s just going to be me and Delphi.’
Gin Cottage was approved, the social worker left and Molly stayed on to help Dex unpack the rest of his belongings from the car. Not the garish yellow Porsche either; that had gone, been replaced by a practical Mercedes Estate.
‘Look at this.’ Having lifted the pushchair out of the boot, Dex unfolded it and click-snapped the levers into place with a flourish.
Her mouth twitched. ‘How long have you been practising that?’
He looked proud. ‘For weeks.’
‘Very good,’ said Molly.
‘I know. If I’d bumped into me in the street three months ago I wouldn’t have recognised myself. I’ve turned into Mr Sensible.’
In his head, maybe. From the outside he was as raffishly good-looking as ever, exuding dangerous amounts of charisma.
Once they’d emptied the car and finished unpacking the boxes, Dex took a bottle of champagne from the fridge and said, ‘Well, this is it, we’re officially in our new home. I hope you’re going to stay for a bit and help us celebrate.’
‘If you were really Mr Sensible you’d have a cup of tea.’ Molly hoped the man she’d just vouched for didn’t have a raging alcohol problem.
Reading her mind, he said good-humouredly, ‘Don’t panic, new leaf and all that. From now on I’m never going to have more than one drink a night.’
‘Crikey,’
‘I know.’
‘Is that going to be difficult?’
‘Compared with changing hideous nappies it’ll be a piece of cake. Anyway, it’s just one of those things.’ Dex shrugged. ‘Drunk in charge of a baby wouldn’t be a good look, would it? Has to be done.’
Delphi, in her dungarees, was crawling determinedly across the tiled floor towards him. Watching as he picked her up and swung her into the air, Molly listened to her shrieks of joy and saw the look of love on his face. ‘And she’s so worth it.’
‘She is.’ Dex nodded then said, ‘I know what I haven’t shown you yet. Remember the time you saw Laura down here with Delphi? She borrowed the house keys without telling me why. She said it was a late Christmas present but wouldn’t tell me what it was. And I was too busy to come down and find out.’ As he spoke, he led the way out of the blue and white kitchen and up the stairs. ‘I don’t know what I thought she’d got for me. Some kind of lampshade, I suppose. Or a bit of furniture too big to fit in the Porsche. But it wasn’t, it was something much better.’ They’d reached the landing now. He stopped midway along it.
‘She bought you that? Oh wow.’ Having followed the direction of his gaze, Molly studied the stained-glass window at the far end of the landing. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘Brrraaahhhh!’ said Delphi, dribbling happily.
‘She made me that. Did the whole thing herself. Even knocked out the old window frame and fitted it, can you imagine?’
‘That’s even more amazing.’
No longer smiling, Dex reached out and touched the expertly puttied-in frame. ‘She was brilliant at DIY. A million times better than me.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Molly meant it; the stained-glass scene depicted a tiered garden with trees, shrubs and butterflies and a small lily pond in the foreground.
‘It’s where we grew up. That’s the garden of our old house in Kent. It must have taken her hours,’ said Dex. ‘I can’t believe she went to so much trouble, doing all that for me.’
‘You were her brother.’ Molly’s heart went out to him. ‘Why wouldn’t she want to do it for you?’
He shrugged. ‘I know, but it makes me feel bad. I bought her something I thought she’d like for Christmas and it turned out to be all wrong. So then I said I’d take it back and get it sorted . . .’ He paused, visibly stricken with guilt. ‘But I never got around to doing it, did I? So bloody typical of me. I bet Laura knew she’d never see her Christmas present, but she still bothered to do all this. That’s the difference between us.’ His voice cracked. ‘Oh shit . . .’
‘Hey.’ He’d been doing such a good job of putting on a brave face, it was easy to forget he was still grieving. Molly said, ‘She was your sister. You could have a million faults and she’d still love you to bits. When did you first see this?’ she went on. ‘Was it the last time you came down?’
Dex shook his head. ‘No, not then. I didn’t even come up the stairs that night. I only saw it this afternoon when I was carrying the cot up to the bedroom.’
‘So you didn’t know she’d done this for you when you decided to take care of Delphi. And why are you doing that? Because you love her and you loved your sister.’ Molly paused. ‘So there’s absolutely no need to feel guilty. You stepped up and did the right thing when it counted.’
‘You think I have?’ He still didn’t look convinced.
‘Definitely.’ She nodded.
‘We’re only on day one. It’s bloody scary,’ Dex said with feeling. ‘I feel like a fraud. What if I can’t do this?’
‘Listen to me.’ Molly rested her hand on his arm and felt the tension beneath the surface. ‘Just take it one day at a time, and I guarantee you can.’
It was three o’clock in the morning and Delphi couldn’t settle.
Which made two of them.
Dex closed his eyes briefly. Oh God, what happens now?
Molly had done a good job of reassuring him earlier but she was no longer here and the doubts were setting in. Last night in London he’d been lucky and Delphi had slept through, tricking him into thinking she had a proper routine and it would always be like that.
Tonight it was the opposite and he felt helpless. For the last two hours she’d been wide awake and fractious, and he had no idea what was wrong. Was she too cold? Too hot? Too hungry or too full? He didn’t know, he just didn’t know.
‘Meh . . . mehhhh . . . MEHHHHH.’ The gripes rose to a wail and Dex reached over to lift her out of the cot again. He’d read the books saying leave them to cry but it was killing him. What if she was missing her mum?
‘Sshh, don’t worry, it’s OK.’ It wasn’t remotely OK but he murmured it anyway, attempting to soothe her with the timbre of his voice.
Delphi shook her head violently and jabbed him in the eye with her thumb. ‘Ow.’ Dex rocked her from side to side and walked her the length of the landing, from the wall at the top of the stairs to the stained-glass window at the far end. He continued to pace and rock and murmur ‘Ow . . . ow . . . ow-ow,’ to the tune of ‘YMCA’, because it had been stuck in his head all day and appeared to be keeping Delphi from crying. Her huge dark eyes were fixed on his now, her right arm flung across his chest. Each time he stopped singing she began whimpering again. ‘Ow . . . ow . . . ow-ow,’ Dexter carried on. She definitely liked it. The idea that something so ridiculous could entertain another living being was like a tiny miracle. And unlike Molly and her mad dancing earlier, there was no one around to witness the ridiculousness. It w
as quite freeing, actually. Delphi wasn’t going to be spilling the beans any time soon.
‘Gahhh.’ Her tiny starfish fingers flexed against his skin.
‘Y . . . M . . . C . . . A,’ Dex sang, and this time detected the first glimmer of a smile. Oh yes, success. Hello, Wembley!
‘Gyaah,’ bubbled Delphi.
‘Y . . . M . . . C . . . A!’
‘Kha-brrooogh.’
Holding her firmly with one arm, he did the letter-shaping gestures with the other. Delphi kicked and gurgled with delight as he danced up and down the landing, in and out of the bedrooms. OK, so the baby-raising books also warned you to maintain an atmosphere that was quiet and calm in order to soothe the infant back to sleep but he’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked. At least this was keeping them entertained, cheering them both up.
And luckily Delphi wasn’t fussy; she wasn’t remotely bothered that he didn’t know the words.
Forty minutes later he lay her down in her cot and said, ‘That’s it, sweetheart. Concert’s over. The Village People have left the building.’
In response Delphi blinked up at him a couple of times, then closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Just like that. Spark out, in about three seconds flat.
Will you look at that? I’m a genius. I should write one of those How-to books.
The trouble was, he was now far too alert to fall asleep himself. Once he was properly awake, that was it. Covering Delphi with her pink elephant blanket, Dex made his way back to his own room. The interior designer had got the gist of him and decorated the bedroom accordingly, and the results were impressive: slate-grey walls, silver ceiling, black and white bedding, and concealed wardrobes running the length of the room.
Ironically, from now on there would be no female visitors to be impressed by it all. Not for the foreseeable future at any rate. Dex headed over to the window. There was an awful lot of nothingness out there. By day, the view over the village was perfect, like something the tourist board would use in their advertising posters, the ultimate depiction of Cotswold village life. It was out there, he knew, but right now it was like a blackboard that had been wiped very clean indeed. A few lights had been left on overnight in scattered houses, but that was all. The rest was just overwhelming, unremitting darkness.
It was four fifteen in the morning and everyone else in Briarwood was asleep. The silence was as heavy as a blanket, muffling every last sound.
Dex shuddered inwardly; what if he wasn’t just the only person in the village to be awake? What if something cataclysmic had happened and he was the only person left awake in the whole world? This was a recurring dream he’d had as a child; it hadn’t happened for many years now, but it used to completely freak him out.
Would a psychologist link it to abandonment issues, the death of his parents and the associated terror of being left alone?
Could that be why he’d slept with so many girls?
Dex considered this for a few seconds. No, fuck it, he’d just slept with so many girls because it was fun and he could.
But all the same, this silence was oppressive. What seemed peaceful by day felt alarmingly isolated at night. Had moving here been a terrible mis—
BRRRNNGG, BRRRNNGGGGGG.
Who the bloody hell was calling him at this time of night? Grabbing his mobile before the noise woke Delphi, Dex said, ‘Yes?’
‘Yay, Dex! Heyyyy!’ He heard raucuous male laughter and pounding music. So the rest of the world wasn’t asleep after all. Just over a hundred miles away, Kenny and Rob were in a nightclub having the best night ever.
‘Dexy, mate! What’s up? Listen, where are you? We’re at Mahiki and you need to get yourself over here now!’
Dex exhaled steadily. ‘I’m in Briarwood.’
‘Bryard?’ Kenny sounded baffled. ‘Never heard of it. Is it new? Hang on, is that the place that just opened behind Harvey Nicks?’
‘Ken, listen to me, concentrate. I’m not living in London any more. It’s almost four thirty in the morning and I’m in my cottage in Briarwood. With Delphi.’
‘Delphi.’ Kenny was drunk; it took him a couple of seconds to absorb this information. ‘Oh, that’s your sister’s kid, right? But who’s looking after it? Can’t you leave them there and still come up?’
Dex felt his jaw tighten; had Kenny always been this much of a prize idiot? ‘No, I can’t. Because I’m the one looking after Delphi. Who’s a she,’ he added pointedly. ‘Not an it.’
‘Hey, man, don’t get mad.’ Evidently still flummoxed, Kenny said, ‘But you’ve got a nanny too, right?’
‘No, no nanny. Just me.’
‘Oh man, that sucks. So, who’s in charge?’
‘I am.’
‘But . . . but . . .’
‘Guess what? Some people actually think I’m capable of it.’ Dex ended the call and switched off the phone.
Silence reigned once more.
Chapter 15
‘OK if I sit by you?’
Amber looked up and saw the tall boy with the floppy brown hair who’d visited the café back in February – it must have been six or seven weeks ago now. Molly had forced him to take one of her business cards and there’d been no sign of him since.
And now he was back. Still good-looking in that clean-cut way of his and still absolutely not her type.
‘Fine.’ She nodded; he already had his hand on the arm of the chair next to hers. ‘Didn’t think we’d see you again.’
‘I’ve been busy.’ He shrugged and sat down. ‘You’re Amber, right?’
‘Right.’ Of course he remembered; he was the kind that would.
‘I’m Sam. Hi.’
‘Hi.’ OK, now she was sounding like a parrot. ‘Can I just say something?’
He hesitated. ‘Go ahead.’
‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way,’ said Amber, ‘but if you’re here because of me, don’t go getting your hopes up.’
‘Meaning . . .?’
‘I don’t fancy you. Not at all. No offence.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Sam. ‘Are you always this blunt?’
She shrugged. ‘Pretty much. Sorry, I just think some things are better said and got out of the way.’
‘Fine.’ A glimmer of a smile. ‘Luckily I don’t fancy you either. So that’s good news, isn’t it?’
Amber raised a sceptical eyebrow. Modesty aside, she was perfectly well aware of how pretty she was. Most boys were attracted to her. He was probably just saying it to get even.
‘See that over there? Smashed on the floor?’ Sam indicated something on the ground ahead of them.
Twisting on her chair to see what he was pointing at, Amber said, ‘Where? What is it?’
‘My heart, broken into a million pieces? Can’t you see it? That must mean I’m OK.’ He clapped a hand to his chest. ‘Phew, lucky. Still in one piece.’
‘You’re hilarious.’
‘Thank you. I know.’
Despite the fact that he was gently mocking her, Amber was intrigued. ‘So what made you come back?’
He indicated the closed drawing pad on his knee. ‘I want to learn how to draw cartoons and comic strips.’
‘Let’s have a look?’ She opened the pad and flicked through the half-dozen or so pages with drawings on them. Oh dear.
‘Well?’ Sam was waiting for her reaction.
‘You know how I’m a bit blunt?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, these aren’t very good, are they?’
He surveyed her with amusement. ‘I know. That’s why I’ve come along to this evening class, to get better.’
But something told Amber that it wasn’t.
Everyone else had arrived. Molly cheerily greeted them all, introduced Sam to the rest of the class, wrote a list of drawing tasks on the board and pinned up a selection of photographs for people to use as the basis for caricatures and cartoons. Once they’d all started work, she would spend time with each student in turn, guiding them
, offering help and suggestions and explaining how to create scenarios and particular effects.
‘It’s lovely to have you back!’ Sitting down in front of Sam, she looked at the cartoon he was currently working on.
‘It’s OK,’ said Sam, ‘you can say it. I know it’s rubbish.’
‘It isn’t. You’ve got some lovely lines going on here. Just too many of them. What you want to do is cut it down to the absolute minimum. Simplify.’ Taking a fresh sheet of paper, Molly copied the scene he’d been attempting to convey. ‘See? Pare it right back, exaggerate the expressions . . . and you don’t need so many movement lines. Try again, let your hand relax and loosen your shoulders. Draw the lines faster . . . there, you see? So much better! Just enjoy it and don’t get hung up on the tiny details. They’re your characters; you can make them do anything you like . . . that’s it, keep going . . . and again . . . well done!’
Amber smiled at the look on Sam’s face. She’d seen it before, that moment of sheer wonder when Molly first showed her students that their work could be so much better than they’d ever imagined. It was revelatory and uplifting, like watching a five-year-old ride a bike for the first time without stabilisers.
He was still pretty rubbish mind, but that didn’t matter. Molly’s enthusiasm was infectious; her speciality lay in abolishing the fear that caused so many to tense up and fail before they’d even started.
‘Hey, cool.’ Sam’s face was an absolute picture as he swooped and swirled across the page with his pencil. ‘I can’t believe I’ve never tried this before. Just holding the pencil more loosely makes a difference . . . oops, that’s wrong.’ He’d made a swoop too far.
Molly grinned at Amber and prompted, ‘What do we say now?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Amber recited to Sam. ‘You aren’t Michelangelo working on a three-ton chunk of Carrara marble. It’s just a piece of paper. If you can fix it with a rubber, do it. If you can’t, turn the page and start again.’
‘That’s right.’ Molly gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘And what else do we say?’
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