Juliet felt as if she had been transported back to another time. Bea managed to eat her children’s size serving even with her sling in place and Juliet felt sure she would sleep well with a full tummy.
But no matter how stunning the room, Juliet had to admit the gorgeous antique bath positioned by the large bay window was completely impractical for a four-year-old with a cast. She felt so sorry for her tiny daughter as she stood her next to the porcelain wash basin and used the fluffy white washcloths to give her a freshen up. It would have been too awkward to place Bea into the free-standing and very deep bath. She needed to check the bathroom of the longer-term accommodation before she signed anything, she thought as she dried Bea and slipped her into snuggly warm pyjamas. Fortunately the pyjama top was made of a stretch knit and quite loose fitting so she could slip it over the cast. But working around her daughter’s broken arm was not how she’d seen the first day ending.
With Bea snuggled in bed after some pain relief and drifting off to sleep, Juliet ran a bath for herself.
‘Mummy,’ Bea called out sleepily across the warm room.
‘Yes, sweetie, what is it?’ Juliet asked as she took a nightdress out of her suitcase, which was open and lying alongside Bea’s. Juliet decided there was no point unpacking and using the ample white built-in wardrobe, which blended into the wall colour, or the ornately carved chest of drawers. They wouldn’t be staying long enough.
‘Why duth Grandpa call you honey and not Juliet?’
‘He’s just always called me honey since I was a little girl.’
‘Ith that becauth he’th your daddy?’
‘I guess so. It’s his special name for me because I’m his daughter and everyone else calls me Juliet.’
‘Charlie called me honey...’
Juliet stopped what she was doing. ‘When?’ she asked with a puzzled look.
‘When I fell in the playground and he picked me up. Duth that mean Charlie could be my daddy?’
Juliet felt her stomach fall and her heart race as she dropped closed her suitcase. Her fallen stomach was the reaction to the unexpected daddy question and just thinking of Charlie in the role of Bea’s father made her heart race. She swallowed a lump that had risen in her throat. Charlie’s handsome face appeared in her mind. She no longer pictured Bea’s father or even thought of him when she looked at Bea.
But now she suddenly pictured Charlie.
With legs shaking, Juliet walked back to her daughter and sat beside her, stroking her face and watching her tired eyes struggle to stay open. They were slowly closing as she kissed her gently. Juliet was trying to find the words to answer Bea. She was still too young to understand what had really happened and why she didn’t have a daddy.
‘No, my sweet, Charlie is not your daddy. But one day when you’re much bigger we can talk about your daddy.’ With that she pulled up the covers over her daughter.
‘Okay.’
‘Sweet dreams.’
As Juliet tiptoed back to the bath she heard her daughter mumble, ‘Mummy?’
‘Yes, sweetie.’
‘I think Charlie would make a nice daddy.’
Juliet felt momentarily overwhelmed. It was obvious now that her daughter missed having a father. With a heavy heart, Juliet removed the last of her clothing in the soft light of the bedside lamp and climbed into the steaming bubbles, where she remained for a good half an hour thinking about her life and about Bea’s. Her daughter’s question was spinning along with all the others she had for herself. Her mind was on overload and Bea’s innocent curiosity added another weight. While the travel was beginning to take its toll, the question of Bea’s paternity was now an issue and one that she had no idea how exactly she would answer. Soon she would want more answers. And Juliet would have to answer each and every question as honestly as she could without letting her know that her father was a cad.
Juliet’s eyes felt heavier and heavier as she reached for an oversized towel and stepped carefully from the bath. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. It had been a whirlwind since she’d stepped off the final plane at Heathrow. Then she admitted silently the whirlwind had begun before she and Bea had even boarded the first aircraft. The push to hand over her patients at the Perth Women’s and Children’s Medical Centre in a matter of hours and packing their suitcases in temperatures hovering around one hundred degrees for freezing cold weather and all the while questioning the practicalities of travelling with a four-year-old. As she dried herself and slipped the nightdress over her head she heard the soft breathing of her sleeping daughter and knew that no matter what happened or what they faced they would do it together. And they would be just fine.
Barefoot, she tiptoed over to her side of the bed, slipped in between the brushed cotton sheets, turned down her mobile phone and turned off the bedside light. Sleep overtook her the moment her head rested on the softness of the duck-down pillows.
* * *
‘Mummy, wake up! Someone’th here,’ the lispy voice announced.
Juliet opened her eyes to see Bea standing beside the bed and looking in the direction of the hotel-room door. There was firm and unrelenting knocking. Not brash but loud enough to seem urgent. Juliet climbed from her bed, kissed the top of her daughter’s head and grabbed her robe from the end of the bed where she had dropped it the night before.
‘Who is it?’
‘Charlie Warren,’ came the response, but even without his self-identification his voice told her immediately that it was him.
Juliet’s brow knitted. What on earth was he doing at her door? The heavy drapes stopped her seeing how dark or light it was outside but she imagined it was early; she felt as if she had barely been asleep.
‘Is there something wrong? Has Georgina progressed to stage five?’
‘No. Georgina’s stable but they’ve made their decision and I thought I’d let you know first-hand.’
Juliet crossed to the door, running her fingers through the messy curls. She didn’t care at that moment about her appearance. She just hoped the news was good and they had chosen surgery. She opened the door ready to ask that question when she came face to face with a vision head to toe in black leather. Suddenly she felt senses that had lain dormant for many years awaken without warning. Charlie stood before her, once again dressed in his leather riding gear, and holding his helmet in his leather-gloved hand. The same hand that had so tenderly applied Bea’s cast the day before. This was the man that called Bea honey and made her think he might be her father. The look was intoxicating and took her breath and words away but allowing him into her life scared her too.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes,’ she finally managed. ‘You startled me. I was still asleep. I’m as keen as you to know the answer but it’s still so early. Did the Abbiatis call you in the middle of the night?’
‘No,’ he replied. ‘They spoke to me on my nine o’clock rounds.’
‘Nine o’clock rounds?’ she asked incredulously.
‘I called your phone but it went straight
