I tried to explain that I couldn’t stay here she asked me if it was because she was adopted. Because of her colour…’
And she looked across at Maisie, crooning to the rabbits, coaxing them out to play. She looked so happy, so relaxed, so different from the little girl who’d delivered that straight-to-the-heart appeal.
‘What did she say, Jacqui?’
She held her hand up in front of her, holding him off with a little wave, unable, for a moment, to speak…
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I can probably work it out all by myself. She said that I didn’t love her, didn’t want her because she’s adopted, or different. Is that the gist of it?’
She nodded. Then, because she had to know, ‘Is it a problem for you?’
He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared down at the ground on the far side of the wall. Then, not looking at her, ‘Yes, it’s a problem.’
What?
She didn’t say the word out loud, but maybe her expression was enough.
‘When I look at her all I can feel is—’
‘No. Not another word.’ She took a step back, putting a yard of clear air between them. If he registered the fact it didn’t show in his expression. Nothing showed…‘Here I am,’ she said, slowly, ‘dying of embarrassment for maligning you if only in my thoughts, and you’re actually going to stand there and tell me that it’s true?’
‘I—’
‘Look, Jacqui!’ Maisie, eyes alight, ran up with something clasped in her hand.
Jacqui gathered herself, then turned round and folded herself up to child height so that she could see what she was holding. Forced herself to smile. To speak normally…
‘What have you got there, sweetpea?’
Maisie opened her hands to show a tiny yellow chick. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s pooped on me…’
‘That’s all we need,’ Harry muttered from somewhere far above them. ‘Chicks on the loose. Fox heaven—’
‘Where did you find it, Maisie?’ Jacqui said, interrupting Harry before he said something that would seriously upset the child. Trying to ignore what he’d just told her as she dug a tissue out of her pocket to clean up the mess. Getting a peck for her trouble. Even cute fluffy chicks had beaks…
‘Over by the hedge. There are lots of them. Come and see.’ She didn’t wait, but began to stomp back across the paddock in boots that were at least two sizes too big for her.
‘Wait! Be careful, Maisie. You don’t want to step on them.’
She might not like chickens much, but she wouldn’t want to see one stomped on.
Maisie froze, one leg comically in the air. She was happy, really happy, and Jacqui thought her heart might break for the child…
‘We’re going to need a cardboard box to put them in. I’m sure I saw one in the mud room.’ She turned to Harry, who was still standing by the wall. ‘Do you want to get that?’
‘You don’t want to know what I want,’ he said.
‘I already do, but don’t hold your breath, it’s not going to happen any time soon.’
‘That sounds as if you know something I don’t.’
‘First the chickens,’ she said. ‘Then the bad news.’
CHAPTER NINE
JACQUI, while grateful for the distraction of rounding up the chicks, nevertheless held her breath as Maisie offered one up to Harry when he returned with the box.
He looked so huge beside her. She looked so vulnerable and she knew he could so easily crush her with an unkind word. But he didn’t. After a long moment, he crouched down, placed the box on the ground in front of him and let Maisie tip the chick into his hands.
She looked anxiously up at him for approval.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he asked. ‘Go and find some more.’
Not exactly praise, but Maisie rushed off, tripping over her boots in her eagerness to please him. As Jacqui watched he reached out a hand as if to steady her, but her momentum carried her out of his reach as, the pink ruff of her skirt bouncing, she rushed back to the hedge.
It was over in a second, but the look on his face as he watched her gave the lie to all the hideous feelings of shock and disgust that were whirling around inside her.
As he watched her go, forgetting her prima-donna princess act and just dizzy with excitement like any other six-year-old, his true feelings were etched on his face for the briefest of moments.
Behind the cold, uncaring mask there was exasperation. Amusement, too. But most of all love.
By the time he looked across at her, it had been wiped out, obliterated, but she wouldn’t be fooled again.
‘Ouch! Cut it out.’ She shook off the annoyed mother hen who had taken exception to their rescue operation and was pecking at her ankles. ‘We’re taking care of your babies, OK?’
‘I told you to wear wellies,’ Maisie told her in passing—and sounding exactly like a grown-up telling some little kid ‘I told you so’.
Harry caught her eye. ‘That had better not be a smile,’ she warned him.
‘Not even close,’ he assured her.
Hmm.
Ten minutes later, as she placed the last chick in the box, she said, ‘That seems to be the lot. Where do we put them?’
‘In the stables. Here, take the box.’ He pushed it into her arms and she thought he was done, but he said, ‘I’ll go and look for some boards to keep them penned in.’
‘They’ll need food and water,’ Maisie reminded him, still buzzy with excitement and forgetting to be cool and distant.
‘You’re right. Do you want to see to that?’
Her shoulders went up to her ears in an absolute paroxysm of joy at being given something important to do by Harry, and she rushed off.
‘What are you looking so pleased with yourself for?’ he demanded, looking up and catching her in a grin that, unlike him, she was not quick enough to hide.
‘Me?’ Jacqui asked.
‘The words “Cheshire” and “cat” come to mind.’
Not quite the image she was striving for, but she kept the smile glued to her face and said, ‘I have a naturally sunny disposition, Harry.’ Then added, ‘You’d better get used to it.’
‘Is
