December air hit them as they stepped out onto the busy street. It was the strangest walk; he took her backpack and Ainslie pushed the stroller. Christmas was everywhere—the shops ablaze with decorations, people tipsy from pre-dinner drinks heading for a work party—and it just seemed to magnify his loss. Even the chemist was full of cheery, piped music, chiming Christmas songs, and lazy shoppers were grabbing easy gifts as they stopped to buy Guido’s paracetamol.
‘Should we get nappies, wipes…or do you have plenty?’
‘I haven’t been to the house since I arrived—I have no idea what my sister would have. We’d better get them—get whatever you think he might need.’
So she did—put whatever she thought might be needed into a basket and stood trying to hush the little boy as his uncle paid, watching the checkout assistant chatting happily away to her colleague, briefly asking the man if he had had a good day, not noticing that he didn’t respond, his face a quilt of muscles as he handed over his credit card.
‘I don’t know your name.’ It was the first thing she said as he made his way back to them.
‘Elijah…’ He gave a tight smile. ‘Elijah Vanaldi. And you?’
‘Ainslie Farrell.’
And that was all they said. They walked along in silence till they came to a quieter street and stopped outside a vast four-storey residence.
But somehow, for now, it was enough.
It was surreal—Elijah working out keys as she stared at the wreath on the door, stepping into someone’s house, someone’s life, someone you didn’t even know, and being entrusted to take care of their most treasured possession. And though it was a beautiful towering white stucco home, as she stepped in, walked along polished floorboards and glimpsed the vast lounge, though her eyes took in the high ceilings and vast windows and expensive furnishings, they didn’t merit a mention. The only thing Ainslie could really notice was the collection of shoes and coats in the hall, the scent of pine in the air from the Christmas tree, and the half-cup of cold tea on the granite bench when she walked into the luxury kitchen. Sadness engulfed her when she saw the simple shopping list on the fridge and the breakfast dishes piled by the sink.
Elijah undressed an exhausted Guido.
‘Has he had dinner?’
‘He had some biscuits, he doesn’t seem very hungry.’ Elijah held his hand to his forehead. ‘He still feels hot. Should I bathe him?’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it tonight. Let’s just get him changed for bed and give him his medicine.’ As she wandered upstairs to find pyjamas for Guido, Ainslie could tell that this elegant house with its lavish furniture and expensive fittings was first and foremost a home—a home with a book by the unmade bed, and hair staighteners still plugged in. In the bathroom a tap drizzled, and piles of damp towels and knickers littered the floor, reminding Ainslie that this was a family home that had been left with every intention of coming back.
‘She rang me last week to say she was giving in and finally going to get a housekeeper…’ His voice behind her made Ainslie jump, and she felt the sting of tears behind her eyes as he walked over and turned off the tap. ‘She was never very good at tidying up.’
‘Mess doesn’t matter.’
‘She’d die if she knew we’d seen it like this…’ Elijah halted, grimacing at his own words. ‘You always had to ring Maria to warn her you coming over—she hated it when people dropped in. She’d hate that she didn’t do one of her infamous quick tidies—she’d be embarrassed at someone seeing the place like this.’
‘She thought she was coming home.’
‘He has an ear infection.’ Elijah watched as she easily measured out the antibiotics. ‘The doctor said that was why he was miserable and so naughty, but—as I explained to him—from what my sister tells me, and what I have seen of him, he is always trouble!’
‘He’s got croup too,’ Ainslie said, as Guido suitably barked. ‘Poor little thing. The medicine should help his pain, though, and the antibiotics will hopefully kick in soon.’
‘Hopefully.’ Elijah sighed. ‘For now I will make him some food, then he can go to bed.’ He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and looked at it for a moment, then headed to where Guido was sitting on the couch, his eyes half closed, half watching the cartoon that Elijah had put on for him.
There were people who had no idea about children, and people who had no idea about children, and Ainslie watched as he peeled a rather overripe banana and handed it to the little boy, who just blinked back at him, bemused.
‘Maria said he liked bananas.’
‘He’s not a monkey…’ Ainslie’s grin faded. ‘Let me,’ she said instead, and headed to the kitchen. She found some bread in the freezer and gave it a spin in the microwave, then took off the crusts and put some mashed banana in. She arranged it on a plastic plate and offered it to Guido, who this time accepted it.
Later—when he was falling asleep with exhaustion—Elijah carried his nephew upstairs and Ainslie followed, tucking the little boy, unresisting, into bed.
‘He has a night light.’ Elijah was looking at his bit of paper again. ‘He wakes up, but all he wants is his blanket put back on.’
Watching his strong hands tuck the blanket around the little boy’s shoulders, Ainslie could feel her nose running, and had to turn her head quickly away as he straightened up. She headed down the stairs and into the lounge, sniffing away tears as a short time later he came back in, holding two mugs of coffee.
‘Thank you.’ He handed one to her and sat down, took a sip of his drink and held it in his mouth before talking again. ‘I am not a stupid person…’
‘I know.’ Ainslie gulped. ‘I’m sorry about what I said about the banana thing…’ She managed a little smile, and he did the same.
‘I have nothing, nothing to do with children. Nothing!’ he added again, in case she hadn’t heard it the first or second time. ‘And my sister said that she wanted me to have him. That she wanted me to be the one who raises him.’
‘What happened?’
For the first time it seemed right to ask—right that she should know a little bit more.
‘There was a car accident—it ran off the road and caught fire on impact.’ He gave a hopeless shrug. ‘I was at work when the hospital called—in the middle of a meeting. Normally I would not be disturbed, but my PA called me out, said this was a call I needed to take. I knew it would be bad. I had no idea how bad, though—a doctor told me that Rico, Guido’s father, was already dead, and that my sister was asking for me. I came straight away. Guido had been at a crèche and they’d brought him to the hospital.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘She knew she was dying—she had terrible burns—but she was able to talk. She waited for me to get there so she could tell me what she wanted, so she could tell me herself the things Guido likes…’
‘That was the list you were reading?’
He nodded, but it was a hopeless one. ‘I love my sister, I love my nephew,
