Don't Want To Miss A Thing

by Mansell, Jill

  The door closed in her face. The chain was unfastened. Then Hope reappeared, trusting her finally. ‘Well, it’s lovely to see you again, but I can’t imagine what this is about.’

  ‘There was something I wanted to tell you. I wrote a letter.’ Frankie opened her bag and took out the addressed envelope. ‘But I wasn’t sure if you’d still be here and I didn’t want to run the risk of it getting lost or being read by someone else.’

  ‘Come in.’ Hope led the way through the cottage to the wraparound balcony at the back, overlooking the valley and the brook at the bottom of the sloping country garden. There was a sunbleached wooden bench and a table, a jug of lemonade and one tumbler, a battered paperback, a wide-brimmed straw hat and a half-empty packet of liquorice.

  ‘Amazing view,’ said Frankie, shielding her eyes in order to admire it.

  ‘I know. I can sit out here for hours. Here, take a seat.’ Plumping up an eclectic collection of cushions, Hope said, ‘I’ll fetch another glass while you make yourself comfortable.’

  When she’d done so, Frankie handed over the envelope and allowed her to read the letter in silence.

  As she learned what Stefan had said about having to end the relationship with the woman he’d truly loved, tears welled up in Hope’s eyes and dripped off her chin, landing on her baggy grey linen trousers and soaking into the material.

  Then she wiped her eyes with the backs of her fingers and managed a wobbly smile. ‘Thank you. For finding out and for letting me know. I can’t believe he did it for me, to protect me. I honestly had no idea. As for my career . . . oh dear, what a waste of time it was, trying to save that. He was just so proud, I suppose. Didn’t he realise he was a million times more important to me than any stupid acting job? And I wouldn’t have cared what anyone else thought. Stefan should have known that. Men can be so blind . . .’

  ‘It’s the pride thing.’ Frankie nodded in agreement.

  ‘Such a waste. Oh well, I’m still glad I know now.’

  ‘I didn’t tell him about you. But I so badly wanted to. I wish you’d let me.’

  ‘No.’ Hope shuddered and indicated her face. ‘We’ve been through all this before, remember? I’d still be a disappointment.’

  ‘I honestly don’t think you would be.’ How to convey to this insecure, once-stunning woman that Stefan simply wasn’t that shallow? That when he was creating things from outwardly unprepossessing pieces of wood he took delight in seeking out and revealing its hidden beauty? ‘But if you wanted to, you could always tidy yourself up . . .’ Oh God, that sounded terrible.

  Hope said ruefully, ‘It’s OK, I know what you’re saying. But there’s a world of difference between a bit of a tidy-up and a whole-head transplant.’ Grimacing down at the rest of herself she added, ‘A whole-head-and-body transplant, more like.’

  Back at the gate, having bid Hope a fond farewell, Frankie waited for her lift to show up.

  It was ironic that Henry and Hope had never met but between them had conspired to change the way she was living her life.

  For the last fortnight Henry had been in her thoughts and she’d found herself longing to see him again. But only a shameless floozy would take the initiative and make the first move, wouldn’t she? Even if she had already demonstrated just how much of a floozy she could be.

  The sound of a car engine in the distance reached her and Frankie smiled in anticipation. If Stefan and Hope’s love story had taught her anything, it was that you only had one life to live and sometimes risks were worth taking. Two days ago she’d sent Henry a text suggesting that if he wanted to meet up again he should call her. When he had, she’d asked him outright how he’d feel about spending Saturday night with her in a hotel in Devon?

  Her treat, obviously.

  And guess what? It had turned out that he liked the sound of that idea very much indeed.

  When she’d explained that she just needed to pay a brief visit to a friend living nearby, Henry hadn’t minded at all.

  If it hadn’t been for Henry, would she have come all this way to see Hope?

  If it hadn’t been for Hope, would she have been brave enough to extend the invitation to Henry?

  Basically, no, she probably wouldn’t.

  And here he was now, coming to pick her up on a hot and dusty roadside in the middle of nowhere, in order to whisk her back to the charming country hotel she’d booked in nearby Honiton. Frankie felt her heart expand like a marshmallow as the car slowed and the driver’s window buzzed down.

  ‘Hi.’ Henry lowered his RayBans and flashed her a dazzling white smile. ‘You’re gorgeous. Fancy spending the night with a tall dark stranger in a four-poster bed?’

  ‘Would that be you?’

  ‘It most certainly would be.’

  ‘Right. Just checking.’ Frankie loved it when he gave her that look. ‘In that case, yes please.’

  ‘Hop in, then.’ When she’d jumped into the passenger seat he gave her hand a brief squeeze and said, ‘How was your friend?’

  She hadn’t told him about Hope and, perhaps sensing that discretion was called for, Henry hadn’t pressed for details.

  ‘She’s fine. It was really nice to see her again.’ Frankie had been most struck by the realisation that both Stefan and Hope spent endless hours of their lives sitting in solitude outside their homes, taking in their respective views of wild flowers, weeping willows, and a stretch of grass sloping gently down to a small river . . . Imagine how much happier and better the view would be if they could enjoy it together.

  Well, she’d done her best. Maybe in time her words to Hope would sink in and have the desired effect.

  ‘Good. Glad it went well.’ As the car snaked along the narrow sun-dappled lane overhung with trees that almost met in the middle, Henry said, ‘I’ve never been to Devon before. I like it.’

  Frankie nodded in agreement.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘It’s not the only one.’ Glancing sideways at her as the breeze through the open windows whipped strands of hair across her face, his expression softened. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I think we’re going to have a fantastic weekend. And I’m so glad you contacted me.’

  See? It was simply a matter of being brave, daring to take that risk. Frankie tilted her head back and felt the sheer elation of the moment rise up. Aloud she said, ‘Me too.’

  Chapter 44

  ‘Bababa . . . dadada . . . mamamama . . . BREEEGH!’

  ‘Don’t do that.’ Dex shook his head at Delphi, who was chattering away in her high chair and banging her spoon on the tray by way of punctuation.

  ‘TatatataGAH!’ Beaming and kicking her bare legs, she flung a spoonful of porridge across the table.

  ‘No.’ He took the spoon from her and gave her his unamused look, causing Delphi to shriek with laughter. Dex said, ‘Not funny, OK?’

  In response she jammed her fingers into the bowl, scooped out two handfuls of porridge and slathered it all over the front of her favourite Bob the Builder T-shirt.

  ‘No.’ Dex made a grab for the bowl but Delphi was too quick for him; with a full-body sweeping gesture she sent it flying across the kitchen. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if it had been a thick-porridge day but this morning he’d added too much milk and the resulting goo was now splattered across the window, the wall and the floor.

  ‘Ha-ha-HA!’ Delphi let out a whoop of delight.

  There was no getting away from it; on some days, small children could be a complete and utter pain in the neck. Lifting her out of the chair and holding her at arm’s length, Dex stepped on a splat of porridge on the floor and skidded. In order not to drop Delphi he ended up clutching her tightly to his chest, which meant they were both now smeared with the stuff.

  For fuck’s sake . . .

  ‘Bwwwwaaaah!’ As a coup de grâce she blew a triumphant porridgey raspberry in his face.

  Great.

  The phone rang and Dex thought: Just leave it. But then he saw who was
calling. It was Phyllis, Laura’s kindly old neighbour in London, who’d supplied him with that glowing character reference when he’d been applying to become Delphi’s guardian.

  Right now, he was kind of wondering why he’d ever bothered. In a parallel universe at this moment, he could still be living a trouble-free, porridge-free, baby-free life.

  Keeping the phone out of Delphi’s sticky reach, he pressed reply and said, ‘Hello, Phyllis. How are you?’

  ‘Ooh my goodness! How on earth did you know it was me?’ Phyllis had never got to grips with twenty-first-century technology. ‘Hello, could I speak to Dexter please?’

  ‘This is Dexter.’ His voice softened. ‘It’s OK, your name comes up on my phone when you call me.’

  ‘Well I never. Like magic, isn’t it?’ Phyllis marvelled. Then she lowered her voice a fraction and said, ‘The thing is, I’ve got a friend of Laura’s turned up here and he wants to have a long talk with you. He didn’t know she’d died, love. So he’s quite shocked and upset.’

  Molly was in Cheltenham spending a happy hour stocking up in the art supplies shop when the text came through from Dex: ‘Need to see you. It’s urgent. Can you come over as soon as you get home?’

  She sent a message back: ‘I’m in Cheltenham. Back by three, is that OK? What’s happened?’

  He replied: ‘Tell you when I see you. Hurry please. x’

  Was it the please that did it? Or that tiny lone kiss? Molly felt a squeeze inside her ribcage and prayed the reason he needed to see her wasn’t because Amanda had just informed him she was pregnant and they were getting married.

  Although after all that banging on about contraception this would have its funny side in a Schadenfreudey kind of way.

  She carried her wire basket over to the till and watched as the assistant rang up the various technical pens, pencils, erasers and sketch pads. She’d planned on doing a bit of clothes shopping while she was here, but Dex’s messages had got to her; she’d head straight back instead.

  And no, of course it wouldn’t be amusing if Amanda was pregnant; the tiny hairs along her spine prickled in alarm at the thought. It would be horrendous.

  Alarm, a whispering inner voice enquired, or jealousy?

  OK, never mind about that. Molly hastily dismissed the snide inner voice as she stuffed her debit card into the card machine and tapped in her number.

  Let’s find out what the problem is first, shall we? One step at a time.

  Dex was waiting for her. Pulling up outside the cottage just after midday, Molly was struck by the taut muscles and controlled anxiety in his face. He was wearing a navy polo shirt and jeans, and carrying a sleeping Delphi whose head was resting in the crook of his neck.

  ‘Thanks for coming back.’ The expression in his dark eyes was unreadable.

  Jumping out of the car, Molly said, ‘What’s wrong? Is she ill?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ He led the way inside Gin Cottage and began pacing the living room, breathing deeply and evidently psyching himself up to begin.

  ‘She’s fast asleep.’ Molly pointed to Delphi, snoring gently on his shoulder. ‘Why don’t you put her down in her cot?’

  But Dex shook his head; he was holding on as if he couldn’t bear to let go. ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Tell me what’s happened. It’s something to do with Delphi.’ Molly belatedly realised her fingernails were digging into her palms; his tension was catching.

  ‘I got a call from Phyllis this morning. She lived next door to Laura in Islington . . . well, she’s still there . . .’

  ‘I remember. You told me about Phyllis.’ Molly nodded. ‘In her eighties, used to make cakes for you.’

  ‘That’s the one.’ Dex tilted his head so his cheek was resting against Delphi’s downy hair. ‘Anyway, someone called Matt turned up on her doorstep this morning. He’d tried Laura’s house first and the new people sent him next door. He asked Phyllis where Laura was and she had to tell him what had happened.’

  ‘Poor guy,’ said Molly. ‘That must have been a shock for him.’ In view of Dex’s reaction she already had an inkling as to what this might be about.

  ‘It was. A hell of a shock. Then he got a bigger one,’ said Dex, ‘when Phyllis started going into detail and talking about Delphi. From the sound of things, that’s when he really freaked out. He hadn’t known Laura was pregnant.’

  Oh God, oh God.

  ‘Is he the one?’ Molly’s mouth was dry. ‘Is he Delphi’s father?’

  Dex shrugged and carried on pacing, a muscle jumping in his jaw. ‘I don’t know, but there’s obviously a chance. He wants to see her. I spoke to him on the phone. He’s coming down here this afternoon to talk to me and to meet Delphi. Oh God, every time I think about it I feel sick. She’s mine now.’ His voice cracked as he said the words. ‘I can’t bear the thought of someone else turning up and taking her away.’

  ‘He might not want her.’ What else could she say to lessen the terror? ‘Lots of men don’t.’

  ‘I know that. I know. But he’d have got out of there the moment he found out, if that was the way he felt. He’d have cut and run.’ Dex was shaking his head now. ‘But he didn’t, did he? He’s driving down from London to see us. Phyllis had already given him the address. He’s definitely interested.’

  ‘OK, interested is one thing, but actually wanting to take on a baby . . . that’s on a whole different level. That’s major,’ said Molly. ‘So many men couldn’t handle it.’

  Dex closed his eyes briefly. ‘But what if this one wants to? Just because the odds are against it doesn’t mean it isn’t going to happen.’

  ‘OK, have you called your social worker? Asked her what you should do?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want her involved. You don’t know what she might say.’

  It was like having symptoms of a serious illness and not going to the doctor because you didn’t want it to be true. Lovely though Dex’s social work team were, they would undoubtedly tell him Delphi had a right to know her biological father. If this man decided he wanted to care for her full time, could anyone refuse him that?

  ‘What made him suddenly turn up today?’ said Molly. ‘After all this time?’

  A muscle was twitching like a metronome in Dex’s jaw. ‘He’s been in Australia. That’s where he lives now.’

  Australia. So if he won guardianship of Delphi, he could take her to live with him on the other side of the world.

  ‘Have you talked to Amanda?’

  Their eyes met and something unspoken passed between them. Like the social workers, Amanda was part of officialdom.

  Another shake of the head. ‘No,’ Dex said slowly. ‘Only you.’

  Matt-from-Australia was due to arrive at five o’clock and Dex’s stomach was in knots.

  By three o’clock the shortlist for their plan of action had comprised two possible alternatives: leave Briarwood for a few months and hide, or bury Matt-from-Australia in a shallow grave in the back garden and quickly put down a patio.

  By three thirty Dex had come up with a third option. It definitely wasn’t the kind that would be approved of by social workers but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

  When this much was potentially at stake, he’d go with anything that might do the trick.

  ‘Hiya!’ Tina greeted them with a beaming smile. ‘Come along in, excuse the mess, we’re just back from the school run . . . you two, stop fighting and share the biscuits.’

  Dex and Molly followed her into the house. Dex liked Tina, who lived next to the village shop and was always cheerful, despite having seven children whose decibel levels would have driven a lesser woman to drink.

  ‘I need a favour,’ Dex told her. ‘Someone from social services is coming over in a bit to do one of those review updates and they’re interested in seeing how Delphi interacts with other children. So I was wondering if we could borrow George for a while.’

  ‘Of course you can! Borrow as many as you
like!’ Tina stepped over a couple of school-age ones stretched out on the floor playing with the dog and watching TV. She scooped George up and said, ‘Hey, baby boy, want to go on a play-date with Delphi?’

  George regarded his mother with pale, blond-lashed eyes; nothing much bothered him. Placid and largely silent, so long as he had food to eat, he was a happy lad. Only a week separated him and Delphi but whereas she was dark-eyed and dainty, George was as bald and chubby as a baby hippo.

  ‘BRRREEEEEE!’ Delphi gleefully reached over to grab one of George’s ears by way of greeting.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Molly, holding out her arms and taking him from Tina. ‘And don’t worry, we’ll look after him. He’ll be back before seven, is that OK?’

  ‘No problem.’ Tina blew a kiss and gave her son a wave. ‘Byebye, baby boy, see you later. Have fun!’

  ‘Oh dear. Poor George.’ Molly stepped back to admire her handiwork. ‘He doesn’t look as if he’s having much fun.’

  ‘Sorry, George,’ said Dex. ‘We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t have to.’

  George eyed them balefully from his position on the sofa. The pink smocked dress that was too big for Delphi was a bit tight on him. He was wearing frilly white ankle socks and his fair hair had been coaxed into a little topknot and secured with a bright pink scrunchie. The next moment, as if accepting his fate, he broke into a placid smile and examined the white lace trim around the hem of his dress with interest.

  ‘Good boy, George.’ Dex nodded approvingly. ‘I mean, good girl.’

  Molly said, ‘If he grows up to be a transvestite, it’ll all be down to us.’

  Chapter 45

  Molly had left, taking Delphi with her. Dex watched from the window and waited for Matt to arrive. George, after eating a couple of biscuits and watching an episode of In the Night Garden, had fallen asleep on the beanbag. OK, it was unlikely that Matt would turn up demanding a DNA test today, but if he asked for one any time soon, they’d just have to borrow George again. It was the only way.

  And yes, it might be wrong and illegal and morally indefensible but Dex knew he would do it; he’d do anything, risk anything to prevent Delphi from being taken away from him.