part of her had wanted him to follow her, to see the children for himself, to understand how important the project was on a humane level.
As vain as she knew it to be, another part of her wished he had come when she hadn’t been dressed as a clown in pyjamas.
She wished he would say something.
She unzipped the yellow onesie and stepped out of it with relief. With no air conditioning in the building, it had been like wearing a portable sauna.
‘What is this place?’ he finally asked, his voice heavy.
‘I thought you said you’d read my letter,’ she said, deliberately keeping her tone breezy. She opened the cloth sack in the corner and folded the onesie into it, stuffing the wig and nose in its pockets.
However this conversation went, she would not allow it to affect her. The children were very sensitive to undercurrents of mood.
‘I read what I thought was enough.’
‘What did you think it was?’
‘A crèche.’
‘Really?’
His jaw tightened. ‘You look pleased.’
‘I am.’ She crossed her arms and gave him a rueful smile. ‘Your reaction is more forgivable if you thought this was an ordinary day care centre for ordinary kids from ordinary families.’
His lips tightened, his throat moving.
Unbelievably, she felt a pang of sorrow for him and his cynical view of her.
‘Do you understand why I had to be here today? If I hadn’t, the centre wouldn’t have opened. It’s a lifeline for their families as well as for the kids.’
‘Who are these children?’
‘Children who, whether by birth or accident, will never lead a normal life but who have enough awareness to want a normal life.’
She wished she could read his eyes and know what was happening in his brain.
‘Stay for a few hours.’ Reaching out, she brushed her fingers on his hand before placing them down her side. ‘See what we do here and what your money is saving.’
After a beat he said, quietly, ‘We’ll leave when you’re ready.’
Her heart lighter than it had felt in a very long time, she walked by his side back to the day room.
Lunch was in full swing so she went through to the dining room to help. As was usual, it looked as if a food war had broken out. She glanced at Raul, whose attention had been taken by a board with smiling pictures of all the staff.
‘You’re a volunteer?’
‘Yes.’
He nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing but not in a way that made her skin go cold. This time there was no contempt in that look, only contemplation. ‘What do you want me to do?’
She stared at his Armani suit and grinned. ‘Help the kids eat.’
A tug on her shorts had her lowering herself automatically to take Karin into her arms, whereby the little girl immediately prodded her then covered her face in sloppy kisses.
‘Come on, let’s get you fed,’ she said, carrying Karin to her own special seat at the table and opening her lunchbox for her.
She looked to where Raul had brought over a chair to help Ramon eat his dinner, quietly sniggering at what she knew would happen next. Ramon, possibly the messiest eater of them all, was eating a centre-cooked hot meal of carbonara.
Oh, well, she thought cheerfully, Raul could afford the dry-cleaning bill.
* * *
Once back in Barcelona, the sun setting on the horizon, they stopped at a pizzeria for something to eat, wedging themselves on an outside table inches from the pavement.
One thing Charley had always appreciated about Raul was his lack of snobbery when it came to food. His tastes were refined towards everything else but he would happily wolf down anything put in front of him. When she’d suggested they eat here rather than somewhere fancy, he’d shrugged his shoulders and agreed.
Fancy food was something she’d had to get used to when they’d married, having been raised on a diet that consisted mostly of microwave meals or baked beans on toast. A chocolate bar or ice cream had been their usual form of dessert.
How simple everything had been back then. Her mum had been young and naïve but incredibly hardworking. She’d held down two jobs for as far back as Charley could remember but had always made sure she was home to have dinner with her only child. Half the time she was unaware her daughter had skived off school again and had spent the day watching music videos on the television.
Charley had never doubted her mum’s love for her.
It was her father’s love she’d always doubted, a thought she shoved firmly from her mind, feeling disloyal to even think it. Of course her dad loved her—he told her so every time he saw her.
She just wished she could have seen more of him but he had always been so busy, running his latest get-rich-quick scheme and being with her half-brothers. This had been completely understandable; her half-brothers had lived in the same town as him. A visit to his daughter every few months had been the most time he could spare. And he had visited her home on a whim once, when she’d been at school. He’d left a note for her saying he’d been there. If that didn’t prove he loved her and carried her in his thoughts, what did?
And if her days skiving off school, watching music videos, had been spent hovering on the sofa by the window that had overlooked their flat’s car park, and every time she’d seen a dark blue estate car pull into it her heart would accelerate with excitement that maybe he was paying her another unannounced visit...well, it was hardly his fault that he’d never made another unexpected trip, was it? Her dad hadn’t known she’d been sitting there in hope, waiting for him.
‘How did you get involved with the centre?’ Raul asked once their order had been taken.
‘I went there as a volunteer to entertain the children...’
‘Yes, but how? Did you see an advert?’
‘Kind of. I decided to do some voluntary work to pass the time while deciding what to do with my life. I’ve always liked children and keeping them entertained is about the only thing I’ve ever been good at.’
All those teenage years sitting alone in the flat in the hope her dad would eventually turn up instead of knuckling down at school had left her with nothing to show for over a decade of education. It was only after she’d left school and seen how severely limited her options were that she’d understood what she’d thrown away: her future. She’d never given the future any real thought; the present had been enough to cope with. Her mum had been so disappointed too, although she’d tried to cover it up with an understanding hug. That one hug had spurred Charley on more than any career advice she could have been given.
