nanny had been reading, Tammy saw. A paperback had been hastily thrust aside and a daytime television programme was blaring. The little boy was wide awake but he was simply sitting in his cot. There wasn’t a toy in sight. His only distraction was the window.
And the nanny had been watching television and reading. Dear heaven…
Tammy dropped her pack and was across the room in seconds, gathering the little boy into her arms as if he was her own. As her face nestled into the familiar curls, as she smelled the familiar scent of baby powder and…well, just baby…it was all too much. Until this minute what Marc was telling her had been a fairy tale. But this was real. Henry was real.
For the first time in years she burst into tears.
The child didn’t respond. He held himself stiffly against her, his small body rigid. His expression didn’t change at all.
Slowly Tammy pulled herself together. She was aware that the other adults were watching her without comment—the nanny, who looked about sixteen, and Marc. Their expressions were wary, as if they didn’t know where they’d go from here.
Which was maybe just as well, as Tammy didn’t know where she was going either.
There was a vast armchair beside her. She sank into it, perching Henry on her lap so she could look at him properly.
The little boy gazed back up at her, and then his gaze returned to the window. Windows were more important than people, his expression said.
‘Henry?’ It was a faint whisper against his cheek, but the child didn’t respond.
‘He doesn’t answer to his name,’ the nanny said, as if it was something Tammy should know. ‘He’s only ten months old.’
That didn’t make sense. ‘He’s sitting up,’ Tammy said. He’d been sitting in his cot as they entered. ‘Is he crawling?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then surely he should know his name. If he’s crawling that means he’s developing fine.’
‘I guess,’ the nanny said indifferently. ‘He’s pretty advanced.’
‘But he still doesn’t respond. Does he say anything?’
‘No. Why should he?’
Why should he indeed? The little boy’s stare was lack-lustre, as if he was bored with what was before him. Maybe if Tammy had been staring at the same view for weeks on end…
‘Do you play with him?’ Tammy asked, and watched as the girl cast a furtive glance at her novel.
‘Of course I do.’
‘Of course nothing.’ Her fury was mounting, until she felt like hitting out. She was hugging the little boy to her, and that stopped her raising her voice, but her fury was barely disguised in her whisper. ‘This isn’t normal.’
‘I’ll get him a proper full-time nanny when we return to Broitenburg,’ Marc told her, and Tammy could hear the uneasiness in his own voice. He knew what the problem was. ‘Kylie was employed via an agency and the situation was urgent. I was lucky to get her at short notice.’
‘So he’s been with Kylie, or someone like her, since his parents died?’ Tammy was stroking the little boy’s curls, trying to find some sort of response from him. ‘Or longer. Has he been with nannies since birth?’
‘I’d imagine so,’ Marc told her. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Does anyone know?’ She rose then, standing to her full five feet six inches and glaring at the pair of them. She held the baby against her as if she was prepared to battle the world on his behalf. ‘Does anyone know anything about how my nephew has been cared for? He’s obviously been fed and clothed. Has anything else been done?’
‘I…’
‘Anything at all?’ Tammy’s rage was threatening to overwhelm her. ‘Have you ever seen anyone give this little boy a hug? Has anyone ever played peek-a-boo with him? Has anyone loved him?’
Marc bit his lip. He was on the back foot here, and he knew it. ‘He’ll be looked after when he gets home.’
‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Or at least not by you he won’t. Nor any of your nannies—even if you have nannies by the thousand. If Lara’s named me legal guardian then I can only be thankful. Henry’s at home right now. He’s staying in Australia and he’s staying with me. Thank you very much for bringing his situation to my attention, Prince Whatever-Your-Name-Is, but I don’t think we need trouble you further. If I can just collect his things, I’ll take him now.’
‘But—’
‘I’m his legal guardian. The rest of you can go to hell!’
CHAPTER THREE
SHE wasn’t budging.
Tammy didn’t release the child for a moment, almost as if she feared if she put him down Marc would snatch him from her. She held him tight and moved around the room, collecting anything that looked like his and tossing it into a heap on the armchair.
‘Can we talk about this?’ Marc demanded and Tammy shook her head.
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
‘You can’t take him.’
‘Watch me.’
‘You can’t afford to keep him.’
That stopped her. She whirled to face him, her face rigid with fury. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I can’t afford to keep him—like this.’ She motioned around her at the five-star luxury and the glorious views. ‘But if you think this is what he needs then you’re mistaken. He doesn’t need money. He doesn’t need nannies and views and Room Service. He needs hugs and cuddles and someone who cares. Which you’ve shown very clearly that you don’t.’
‘I do.’
‘Yeah. Pull the other leg. It plays “Jingle Bells”.’
‘Will you slow down?’ She was tossing a packet of milk formula onto her pile with such ferocity that it bounced onto the floor.
‘No.’
‘Please?’
‘No!’
‘Have you thought it through? How can you look after a baby?’
‘I can look after a baby better than you.’
‘You obviously don’t have the money for decent childcare.’
‘Who says I don’t?’ Another formula packet hit the first and suffered a similar fate. Marc leaned over and retrieved both packets, setting them side by side on the chair. Behind them the nanny—Kylie—looked on with wide-eyed wonder.
‘You don’t have spare money. I just need
