And Daughter Makes Three. Caroline AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
hospital corridors to her room, and she opened the door with a flourish. ‘Voilà! Welcome to my humble abode.’
He went through the door and peered around. ‘God, it is, isn’t it? I’d forgotten what hospital rooms are like.’
She laughed and closed the door quietly. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one? Make yourself at home; I’ll get the drinks. Tea or coffee?’
‘Oh—coffee, please.’ He was thumbing through the textbook she had been unable to concentrate on, and she slipped past him, made the drinks and returned to find him sitting on the end of the bed, one leg hitched up and the book lying open on his lap, asleep.
‘I found it riveting too.’
He opened one eye and peered at her, then a slow smile tilted his mouth. ‘Sorry. It’s been a rather hectic weekend.’ He snapped the book shut and sat up, taking the coffee from her. ‘So, where’s this fabled cake?’
She rummaged under the bed and came out with a cake tin, worried now that it would taste awful and disappoint him.
‘I hope you’re not expecting Fortnum & Mason’s standard,’ she joked, stabbing a knife into the centre of the untouched cake and chopping out a wedge.
He winced. ‘I’m glad I’ve already seen you operate, otherwise that would really have worried me!’
She chuckled and handed him the crumbling slice. ‘Sorry there aren’t any plates—here, have the lid.’
He took the lid and sniffed the cake. ‘It smells wonderful.’
‘Brandy. Go on, then, try it.’
‘What about you?’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘I want to see if you die first.’ He grinned and took a bite, then shut his eyes and groaned, keeling slowly over onto the bed.
‘Ha ha.’
He opened one eye and mumbled something totally unintelligible, swallowed and tried again. ‘I said it’s worth dying for.’
Quite unexpectedly she felt her cheeks heat. It was one thing to be complimented for her work, and quite another when his remarks were personal—and somehow the fact that she had made the cake and he was impressed was very personal, almost intimate.
She was disgusted at how pleased she was, and yet she couldn’t hold down the happiness. It was absurd that it should matter so much, she thought, and hacked off another wedge for herself.
He was right, though—it was good, even if she said so herself. She finished her chunk, licked her fingers and looked up to find him watching her, a strange expression on his face.
Her breath lodged in her throat and she coughed slightly, looking away from those piercing blue-grey eyes. ‘More?’ she said, and her voice wavered, to her disgust.
‘Um—no, thanks. I thought I’d just go back to the ward and check on Mr Lee, then I ought to go back to Jane.’
He stood up, suddenly big in the tiny room, and she put down her cup and stood too. ‘Thanks for coming in.’
He laughed without humour. ‘I should be thanking you for covering for me so I could sort Jane out, not the other way round. Oh, well, I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks for the coffee and the cake—you can save me a slice for another time.’
He was right beside her now, just inches away, and he paused and lifted a hand.
‘You’ve got a crumb on your lip,’ he murmured, and she felt his fingertip like a butterfly’s wing against her mouth, easing away the crumb. It lingered, just a heartbeat longer than was necessary, and suddenly the butterfly’s wing burned against her skin.
Fire shot through her, and as their eyes locked for a long, aching moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Then his hand dropped, and with a muffled sigh he opened the door and was gone.
Robert wasn’t enjoying this telephone call, but it had to be made. However, he didn’t even try to keep the hard edge out of his voice. ‘I thought I made it perfectly clear that during the school holidays you wouldn’t entertain your lovers.’
‘Oh, Robert, for God’s sake, it was New Year’s Eve! Everybody entertains!’
‘I didn’t,’ he growled. ‘I was at work, earning your maintenance.’
‘Jane’s maintenance,’ his ex-wife reminded him with a bitter cut to her voice. ‘If you remember you declined to support me.’
Robert sighed. Not this again. He refused to get drawn in. ‘She tells me they were “doing drugs”.’
‘What a revolting expression, darling! Just a little smoke—’
‘I don’t care how you phrase it, Jackie, I am not having my daughter exposed to drugs and debauchery!’
There was a mock sigh from the other end. ‘Here we go—trotting out the moral outrage. Just because you don’t know how to enjoy yourself any more—’
‘I don’t consider getting drunk and smoking cannabis with a lover in front of my daughter enjoying myself, and I’m appalled that you should. I’m sorry, Jackie, but you’ve gone too far this time. Jane’s living with me now, for good. I’ll contact my solicitor and sort out visitation rights, but she’s slept the night in your home for the last time.’
He could feel the tension coming off her. ‘Robert, darling, you’re overreacting! I promise it won’t happen again—’
‘No, it won’t. I’ll arrange to collect all her things this weekend—’
‘But Robert, please, think about it! You can’t just do this—’
‘I can and I am. You’ve had plenty of chances, Jackie.’
‘But the maintenance …’
His hand tightened on the receiver and the plastic creaked ominously. ‘To hell with the maintenance. As you’ve just pointed out, it wasn’t for you anyway, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t suffer.’
He cradled the poor unfortunate receiver with more force than was necessary and flexed his fingers absently. He must be mad. How was he going to look after Jane? She had no friends in the area, and he was working all day and often at the weekends.
Had he been hasty?
He rammed his fingers through his hair and swore, softly and comprehensively. Would it never end?
He heard a sound behind him and turned his head slowly to see his daughter, clad in her nightshirt, leaning against the doorpost and eyeing him warily as he sprawled in the big old chair.
‘Mum?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I’ve just told her you’re living with me now.’
Jane hovered, chewing her lip unhappily. ‘Are you sure you want me?’ she asked tentatively. ‘I make your life so complicated.’
He couldn’t deny it. His life had been complicated by her presence ever since she had been conceived fourteen years before, when he was just a green medical student with more hormones than sense, but want her? Oh, yes …
He held out his arms. ‘Come here, sweetheart.’
She watched him for a second, then shrugged away from the doorpost and crossed to him, curling up on his lap the way she had as a little girl, her head nestled on his shoulder, her fragrant hair tickling his nose, her light frame angular now and leggy like a foal’s.
He snuggled her deeper into his arms, rested his chin against her head and sighed. ‘Love you, JJ.’
‘Love you too, Dad,’ she mumbled, and he felt her slim arms creep round his chest and squeeze.
Anger rose in him, anger at his ex-wife for so callously and selfishly following her own path to the detriment