In Need of a Wife

It was, indeed, and Bonnie responded as though she remembered him, waving her arms and gurgling with pleasure.

‘Did Daddy bring you?’ he asked Sasha, his face wreathed in a happy smile, his blue eyes dancing with delight.

‘Yes.’ Sasha nodded to the building. ‘He’s gone inside to collect you.’

‘I’m out here,’ Matt said unnecessarily. He turned to his friends who had followed him over. ‘See? I have got a baby to play with,’ he said triumphantly. ‘She’s a little girl, and my Daddy said I

could help look after her ‘cause she’s living in our house now.’

‘Boys are more fun than girls,’ one boy observed.

‘I like girls,’ Matt said very seriously.

Sasha couldn’t help smiling.

One of the other boys eyed her up and down. ‘Are you Matt’s mother?’

‘Course she is!’ Matt insisted, wheeling on the doubter. ‘I told you she was coming.’

Sasha, who had opened her mouth to deny it, promptly held her tongue. She remembered the taunting in her own childhood about the lack of a father. No one believed she had one because he was mostly away in the navy. She had always felt the odd person out. What harm was there in letting Matt win at least one round with his playmates?

She would have to correct him once they were alone together. She could not allow him to continue the fiction. But for the present, it didn’t matter much at all. In fact, it was quite flattering to be accepted so readily. Perhaps it reflected the little boy’s deep inner yearning for a mother.

‘Are you going to live with Matt now?’ another boy asked, checking out the facts.

‘Yes,’ Sasha answered. ‘Bonnie and I have come to stay.’

Matt beamed his pleasure in her affirmation. ‘I can show Bonnie lots of things,’ he said, his eyes shining at the prospect of having a ready admirer at hand from now on.

‘Matt! Your father’s here,’ a woman called, beckoning him into the school building.

Matt sped off like a frisky colt, running and leaping for joy that his world was set to rights, at least for one day. The other boys trailed away from the fence, and Sasha returned to the car.

A minute or two later, Nathan and Matt appeared, the little boy swinging on his father’s hand, skipping along beside him, obviously cock-a-hoop about having a ‘family’.

Matt was strapped into his car seat beside Bonnie. As Nathan drove them home, the little boy excitedly told Bonnie of his favourite toys and what they could do with them. Bonnie made approving noises.

‘I’ll drop you at the front door before I garage the car, Sasha,’ Nathan said as he turned the BMW into the driveway. ‘If you’d like to leave the carrycot and simply lift Bonnie out, I’ll carry it up for you later.’

‘Can I get out with Bonnie, Daddy?’ Matt asked.

‘We’d better go and see Marion first, Matt. If it’s all right with Sasha, you can then visit Bonnie.’

Sasha turned to give the little boy a welcoming smile. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Matt.’

‘It’ll be real soon,’ he replied eagerly.

The car stopped at the front steps and Sasha quickly assured Nathan she didn’t need him to get out and help. She collected her holdall, picked up Bonnie, thanked Nathan for everything, and closed the car doors on father and son.

As she unlocked the front door and entered the house, Sasha wished she could enjoy a sense of homecoming. The events of the day had left her with very mixed feelings about how to handle living here with Nathan Parnell and his son. Last night it had seemed relatively clear-cut. Even this morning she had thought all the choices were hers to make. Which they were. But they didn’t feel quite so clear-cut any more.

Her arms full with carrying Bonnie and her bag, Sasha pushed the front door closed with her shoulder, then noticed that the double doors from the lounge to the foyer were wide open. Marion must be doing some cleaning, Sasha thought, and looked in to say hello to the housekeeper.

There was a woman in the room but it wasn’t Marion Bennet. Nor could she be remotely connected to cleaning. She had made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs, a drink in one hand, a smouldering cigarette in the other, and she had the look of being perfectly at home, having been born and bred to a rich and luxurious setting.

On catching sight of Sasha, she raised a finely arched eyebrow that somehow projected both curiosity and condescension. ‘Who have we here?’ she asked in a tone that simulated interest but had absolutely no heart in it.

Sasha did not reply. Her mind was busy trying to place the face which was elusively familiar to her. The woman crushed her cigarette into an ashtray and stood up. She wasn’t beautiful. She was elegant. She was class from head to toe.