‘That’s enough, Alfie.’ This time Patrick did intervene. ‘Daniel and Posy have been making brownies.’
Alfie walked over to the table and stuck his finger into the mixture. ‘When are these going to be ready?’
‘When I put them in the oven,’ Daniel said roughly, ‘but don’t raise your hopes. You know I’m useless at cooking. They’ll come out burnt.’ He felt strange. As if Alfie had taken everything inside him, thrown it into the air and it had come down in a different pattern.
His mind racing, he sank down onto the nearest chair, trying to make sense of his thoughts. Of what Alfie had said.
Alfie reached across the table for the rest of the chocolate bar, spreading fingerprints over Patrick’s half-written cards. ‘Are you OK, Uncle Dan? You look weird.’
‘I feel weird,’ Daniel croaked, looking at his nephew.
‘You probably ate too much brownie mixture. That makes me feel weird, too. If Dad ever goes away again, you can look after me. That would be cool. What do you think, Posy?’
‘Want a cuddle,’ Posy mumbled, sliding off the chair and pressing her chocolaty face into Daniel’s trousers.
Staring down at the tangle of golden curls, Daniel felt humbled.
The children wanted him to look after them again?
After everything he’d done—and everything he hadn’t done—they still wanted him?
A lump in his throat, Daniel scooped Posy onto his lap just as the phone rang.
Patrick hunted for the receiver and answered it. ‘Yes—yes, that’s right. Two—a boy and a girl. They’re really sweet.’ He gave a thumbs-up sign to Daniel. ‘No trouble at all. It doesn’t matter that you’re ringing on Christmas Eve. No, I don’t think it’s weird at all. I’ll give you the address…’
When he put the phone down, he punched the air. ‘Yes-s-s. Someone is interested in the kittens. She’s coming round later.’ He slammed his hand against his forehead. ‘Can you believe I forgot to ask her name?’
Daniel just happened to be watching Alfie, otherwise he wouldn’t have seen his reaction.
The little boy froze and then slid off the chair, his cheeks pink and a look of guilt in his eyes. ‘I’m just going to go and squash my presents.’
Seeing that Patrick was distracted, gathering stuff together for the kittens, Daniel lowered Posy to the floor and followed Alfie into the living room.
‘All right, sport, tell me the truth—what’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ Alfie kept his head down, dragging presents from under the tree. ‘Everything’s fine.’
‘I lived with you for four days. That was long enough for me to know when you’re lying.’
Alfie looked at him, anxiety in his eyes. ‘If Dad gets really, really mad with me and throws me out, can I come and live with you? I know your flat is very flashy with lots of glass, but I promise not to touch anything.’
‘Why would he get mad with you and throw you out?’
‘Because I’ve done something.’
‘I thought so.’ Daniel pushed his hands into his pockets and narrowed his eyes. ‘Tell me.’
‘That woman on the phone…’
‘The one phoning about the kittens?’
‘She wasn’t phoning about the kittens. Dad misunderstood.’ Alfie spoke in a small voice. ‘I sort of arranged something. For Dad. Only now I’m wondering if he’s going to be too mad to enjoy it. If he gets really, really mad, do you think he’ll take away my presents?’
Daniel grinned. ‘I don’t know. You still haven’t told me what you’ve done.’
‘It’s bad.’
Daniel shrugged. ‘As you keep telling me, no one is perfect.’ And that realisation somehow made him feel light-headed. Had he been putting too much pressure on himself? Had he created this image of perfection that didn’t exist? ‘You’d better tell me what you’ve done so that I can protect you.’