‘Is Lucas going to be my new daddy?’ Melody asked interestedly, almost causing Kim to swerve into the kerb.
‘What?’ Her voice was too shrill and she tried to moderate it a little as she said, ‘What do you mean, sweetheart? Of course not.’
‘Aw.’ Melody grimaced at her like a dissatisfied elf. ‘Susan has got a new daddy and so has Kerry, and Kerry’s daddy makes her breakfast. She told me. And he brings her presents sometimes.’
The penny dropped. Kim took a long silent breath as she searched for the right words and then said carefully, ‘People often bring other people presents, chicken, just to be nice, especially grown-ups for children.’
‘And do people stay and cook breakfast too?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘I like Lucas.’ It was defiant and hopeful and bewildered all in one, and Kim’s heart went out to the small scrap of humanity at the side of her.
‘And he likes you too, darling,’ she assured Melody quickly.
‘But not enough to be my new daddy?’
This child of her heart had a way of going straight for the kernel in the nut. Kim glanced at her helplessly. ‘There’s more to being a daddy than that,’ she managed softly. ‘Adult things, and very complicated. But Lucas likes you every bit as much as you like him, I promise you.’
She could feel Melody gazing at her and prepared herself for what might come next, but in the mercurial way of children Melody suddenly tired of that avenue of thought and said instead, ‘I got all my letters right yesterday, Mummy. Even the hard ones.’
‘Well done, darling.’
‘Kerry didn’t. And she can’t hop, either.’
So a new daddy didn’t provide the answer to everything. Kim’s hand reached out and squeezed one of Melody’s for a moment. They would get through this. Somehow.
On the way back to the house Kim found she was shaking, and she stopped the car in a quiet lay-by for a few minutes to give herself the chance to calm down and prepare for what lay ahead.
Somehow, and she still wasn’t quite sure how or when the situation had escalated so alarmingly, she was going to have to convince Lucas she wasn’t in the market for an affair, albeit a potentially serious one from his comment about loving her. Did he? Did he love her? Kim considered the possibility with tightly shut eyes, her hands resting limply on the steering wheel.
How could you want something and yet fear it so much it made you nauseous at the same time? she asked herself silently, dragging in the air through lips that trembled.
Love meant disappointment and betrayal and bitter hurt. She knew that; she knew it. It meant a transference of power from one person to another with terrifying consequences. It meant subjugation and a bondage that was worse than anything in the physical realm because it involved the heart, the emotions, the very essence of who you were.
She couldn’t really remember her parents beyond a deep male voice mixed with the faint odour of cigar smoke, and the feel of her mother’s softness enveloping her in a warm, secure, satisfying embrace in the middle of the night when—presumably—she had woken from some bad dream or other. But she could remember her Aunt Mabel. Remember the promises that she was safe now, that everything would be all right, that she would be loved and looked after like Mummy and Daddy would have wanted.
And then her aunt had gone, and she had found herself in an alien environment. She had cried and screamed, she could recall that as though it were yesterday, and someone—a trained child counsellor, probably—had explained everything to her.
It hadn’t been until much later that she had realised her Aunt Mabel, who for two years had been her security and base, hadn’t made any provision for her. Had left her at the mercy of those relatives who had descended like vultures on her aunt’s estate.
Kim opened her eyes wide and stared straight ahead. And then there had been Graham… Her face set in rigid control and
she turned the ignition key with a sharp movement of her hand.
Lucas was waiting for her when she drew up outside the cottage. He looked tough, remote, but she now knew that remoteness of his was a devastating weapon which he used with expert finesse, lulling one into a false security that was deadly.
‘The coffee’s ready.’ His voice was gentle—deliberately so, Kim warned herself silently.
‘Lucas, this is pointless, us talking like this,’ Kim nerved herself to say quickly.
‘I disagree.’ He smiled blandly.
Kim tried a different approach. ‘The Marsden contract is hanging on a thread,’ she reminded him evenly. ‘You were supposed to call Miles Marsden at nine this morning.’
Lucas suggested somewhere that Miles Marsden could go before narrowing his eyes and staring at her fixedly. She stared back for a moment before the silver gaze became unbearable.
‘Coffee,’ he reaffirmed smoothly, his voice firm but expressionless. ‘I’ve got used to my daily quota and I can’t do without it, or perhaps I should say I don’t intend to do without it.’