‘And I don’t want there to be. Jodie is my priority.’ A small sigh escaped her lips as the last lingering wisps of the ‘Sarah in Milan’ scenario misted away. ‘But, truly, thank you for the offer.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I hope this doesn’t mean you’ve changed your mind about the interview.’
Annoyance tightened his lips. ‘Of course I haven’t.’ He reached into his pocket, pulled out a business card and scribbled a number on the back. ‘That’s my mobile. I’m leaving on Sunday afternoon. If you change your mind let me know. Otherwise, good luck at the interview.
’
‘Thank you.’
An hour later, after Ben had dropped her home, Sarah tiptoed into Jodie’s room, looked at her daughter’s much-loved face as she sprawled on the bed, her teddy clutched under her chin. Sarah’s heart turned over. The emotion confirmed the decision she’d taken—it was unimaginable to leave Jodie.
Tiptoeing out, she entered the lounge, where her mother and Georgia awaited her, impatience etched on both faces.
‘So—spill,’ her mother said, handing her a steaming cup of cocoa. ‘Who did you go to dinner with and where did you get that dress?’
‘You really won’t believe it.’
‘Try us.’
Half an hour later both older women stared at her, jaws to knees.
Her mum picked up her mug and then put it back down. ‘Ben Gardiner wants you to go to Milan Fashion Week with him? He wants your input on his latest range and he wants you to wear the new Sahara line of clothes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you turned him down?’ Georgia emitted a groan. ‘Are you mad?’
‘I explained that I can’t leave Jodie.’
The two women exchanged glances and her mum leant forward. ‘Yes, you can, sweetheart. This is a marvellous opportunity for you—the chance of a lifetime.’
Sarah shook her head, looking at her mother in disbelief. ‘You can’t possibly think I should go?’
Mary Fletcher knew how precious Jodie was to Sarah—knew too how life could destroy you without warning. And yet, there was no doubt on her mother’s face at all.
‘Darling, I do think you should go. You’re my daughter and I love you. I also love my granddaughter, and I am more than capable of looking after her for a few days.’
Sarah bit her lip. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her mother—she totally did. But panic sloughed off her skin at the enormity of the whole idea of Milan, told her it would be wrong to leave her daughter.
‘But what about your work?’
‘I’ll help as well,’ Georgia said. ‘I’m your godmother and Jodie loves me too. Your mum and I will sort it out. Of course Jodie will miss you, but you should do this.’
Guilt flicked her nerves. How could she even think about it? Jodie was only six. What if something happened at school? Happened because she wasn’t there to prevent it? An accident...a quirk of fate?
After all, accidents did happen, and fate had a habit of dropping the axe with no warning at all. All those years of believing Imogen was a healthy double of herself and then—wham—the doctor’s serious face, her mother’s tears, her father headed for the whisky bottle.
Perhaps her mother read her expression, because she leant forward. ‘I swear I’ll look after her, sweetheart.’
But even her mother hadn’t been able to save Imogen. Nobody could have done that—not Sarah, not anyone. Yet, logical or not, the idea of leaving Jodie made her clammy with panic,
‘I can’t do this.’
‘Yes, you can.’ Georgia stepped in again. ‘Because it would be for Jodie. The consultancy fee would be enough to pay for ballet lessons and a birthday party. But, more than that, I think she would be proud of you for getting the job. It will be good for her to see how talented and wonderful you are. And if you impress Ben Gardiner, who knows where it could lead?’
‘Georgia is right, sweetheart. This is too big a chance to miss,’ her mother intervened. ‘Take it. I promise I will call you if Jodie gets so much as a cold.’
‘But...’
‘Do it for Jodie.’