ALEX didn’t think he’d ever seen Jennie look so beautiful. But, while his hibernating heart had started to beat again, he didn’t need to get ahead of himself. Things had changed. Big things.
He let his smile fade and caught her gaze. ‘We need to talk.’
She nodded, her own smile slipping, and when it was gone he felt awful for putting that look of sadness in her eyes.
They crept past Mollie’s sleeping form, curled into one corner of his bed.
‘Do you think she’s going to be all right like that?’ he whispered to Jennie. ‘What if she falls out?’
Jennie shrugged and motioned for him to come outside. They both stood in the doorway and watched the little lump under the duvet breathe in and out. ‘Where has she been sleeping up until now?’ she said in a hushed voice.
‘At my parents’,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been staying with them for the last couple of weeks. I had things to do. A funeral to arrange. I thought it would be better to let her get to know them and be comfortable with them, and then when I had to shoot off, she wouldn’t feel abandoned.’
Jennie gave a little nod, and he was glad his decision had made sense to her.
‘Toni and her boys have been around a lot over Christmas, so she offered to look after Mollie today while Mum and Dad went to a friend’s birthday dinner, and then bring her home to me this evening.’
Mollie stirred and they both froze. Once they were sure she wasn’t going to wake up and wail, he put a finger to his lips and closed the bedroom door slowly and quietly. Not wanting to go too far, just in case Mollie did fall out of bed, he sat down on the landing with his back against the bedroom wall. Jennie gave a what-the-hell kind of gesture with her hands and followed suit.
She twisted to look at the blank wall behind them. ‘Do you think she’s going to be okay?’
‘I hope so.’
Things had to get better from here on, didn’t they? They had to. Because he had the awful feeling that he was Mollie’s last hope, that it was up to him now to provide what she needed and keep her safe.
Jennie turned back and slumped against the wall. ‘Me, too.’
Unexpected warmth flickered in his chest. It had been easy to think of Jennie as shallow and selfish when he’d been angry with her. Anger that really should have been directed elsewhere. At another wife who’d disappeared and taken his dreams with her. A wife who’d robbed him of the first three years of his daughter’s life. Who’d left him in this hellish limbo.
Jennie’s sudden disappearance had brought that awful sense of dread back, as fresh and new and raw as the day Becky had left. Maybe he’d waited longer than he should have to go and find Jennie. Maybe he’d waited until after Christmas because he’d wanted her to stew, to feel some of what he’d been feeling. He’d reasoned that Mollie was his top priority, that Jennie had made it quite clear she didn’t want to be with him. It struck him now that it was possible that a tiny part of him had wanted to punish her, because having control for once—being able to decide when and where they’d see each other again—had felt good. It had been wrong of him.
He shook his head and looked at his wife. No, Jennie wasn’t selfish or shallow. Impulsive, maybe. Spontaneous. Warm. Fun. All the things he’d forgotten how to be.
He glanced in the direction of the bedroom again. ‘I think we’ll be okay,’ he said, more to himself than to Jennie.
At least he’d almost convinced himself of this. And he would have been successful, but for the fact that, since he’d brought her home, Mollie shrank into herself if he tried to touch her now. Maybe he reminded her of the sadness she’d felt that day. Who knew? But things would improve. Mollie had been through a very traumatic experience and he just needed to be patient.
He hadn’t noticed the silence stretching until Jennie said, ‘Ear-splitting cries and nappy emergencies aside, she seems an adorable little girl.’ They both stared at the banisters and the quiet turned uncomfortable and jagged.
They were back to this, then. Polite comments and folded hands, when only minutes ago it had all been so different.
Every day with Jennie was a roller coaster. He’d realised that soon after he’d first met her. He just hadn’t realised that the lows would include this sense of distance, all the things still unsaid piling up between them. At the beginning of their relationship, the roller coaster had been exciting, all-consuming, leaving him breathless and in the moment, blocking out everything that tormented him. Jennie had been just what he’d needed.
But instead of continuing to ride high in Jennie’s adrenalin-fuelled world, he’d dragged her down into his reality. Now the lows of their ride weren’t merely rest periods before the next leg of the adventure, they were deep, dark pits. And it wasn’t over yet. They had plenty more hills and valleys to conquer—if she decided to stick around, of course.
‘What are you going to tell her about us? About me?‘ Jennie said.
‘I don’t know.’
Silence followed. Well, not exactly silence; no words were uttered, but Jennie fidgeted and shifted.
‘She’s gone through enough, had enough uncertainty. I had meant to tell you about her before I introduced the pair of you. I didn’t want to confuse her if you weren’t willing to try again.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I know this is complicated…’
The fidgeting stopped and she returned his gaze. Normally, she would have quipped about his gift for understatement, but she merely stared at him, her eyes large and pale.
‘I want a future with you, Jennie. We made promises to each other, including “for better or worse”. It’s up to you how I introduce you to Mollie.’ He took a deep breath, asked the question they’d both sidestepped all day. ‘Are you willing to give us a go?’
He couldn’t help but notice how she looked away when he said ‘us’. He didn’t blame her. Us was no longer just the two of them. He’d changed the rules behind her back. When they’d made their promises, they both hadn’t known all the facts.
He had to give her the chance to decide afresh, he suddenly realised. A chance to opt in with her eyes open, knowing everything there was to know.
She hadn’t answered him yet. Her bottom lip was clenched between her teeth and she was frowning, looking so pained and torn. He wanted to reach forward and smooth the ridges in her forehead flat, to kiss the indecision from her face, but he was afraid she would mimic Mollie and shrink away from him.
‘I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you said “I do”,’ he added. ‘I’m sorry.’
He wished she’d smile. Say something. But she looked…empty. She reflected nothing back to him now.
Jennie drew in a breath and held it. ‘I think I need some more of that fresh air,’ she announced, and stood up. ‘I’m going for a walk.’
He watched her walk down the stairs, and then he got up and followed her. From the study window he watched her walk down the drive, arms clamped across her coat, holding herself together, and only when she’d disappeared completely did he move.
He stepped back and his foot made a watery noise on the carpet.
The coffee. He’d totally forgotten about the coffee.
There was a pool of dark liquid on the carpet at one side of his desk. It was an awful mess. His mess. His responsibility.
Jennie didn’t pay much attention to where she was going, which was a pity because the village of Elmhurst was beautiful on this clear January day. The blades of grass on the verges were crisp and razor-sharp, only just having shed their jackets of frost. The sky was a luminous baby-blue and even the brown furrows of the fields in the distance looked pretty.
She kept walking until she saw the village church, a quaint little Norman building nestled beside the vast hedge of the neighbouring stately home. Her watch told her she was too late to catch the service, but one of the doors was open and she suddenly craved the lonely, peaceful feeling always to be found in empty churches. Perhaps a sense of calm from the recent prayers would still be lingering. Perhaps she could borrow a bit of that peace for herself, so she could start to sort and label her jostling thoughts.
The lights were still on inside and a few candles were lit. Far from looking grey and gloomy, the interior of the little church was warm and welcoming. Jennie ducked inside and slid her bottom along one of the back pews until she was resting on the far side of a tall sculpted pillar.
Where did she start?
Her missing groom? His secret daughter? The off-the-rails ex-wife? It was all so confusing.
Start with how you feel.
The thought that interrupted her mental ramblings was calm and clear. Precise. She liked that. Needed that. She latched on to it.
I love Alex.
She didn’t say it out loud, but she felt as if she had. She did love Alex—despite the hastiness of their marriage, despite all the stupid things they’d both done since then. Her heart told her he was still the man she’d fallen in love with, and she was inclined to believe it. It was just this version of Alex was more… three-dimensional. He was no longer the tall, dark stranger who had swept her off her feet and into his arms, who had surprised her with his intensity and passion. He was a father. And she’d glimpsed some of the hidden depths she’d always half-known were there inside him.
She loved Alex, and she wanted to stay with him.
There. She was getting somewhere now, building on that original thought. She decided to keep going.
She imagined him back at his house, frowning out of the study window, or bending over Mollie in the kitchen, carefully tasting her cakes before bestowing his economical, but nonetheless heartfelt, approval.
The picture in her head wasn’t the future she’d said yes to in that gaudy little chapel in Vegas. Her own ideas about what life with Alex would be like were slightly fuzzy, it had to be said, but they had been a comfortable fit. This new picture of how her life might unfold felt foreign—as if she were trying on someone else’s clothes.
Was it horrible of her to falter at the idea of becoming an instant mother, of bringing up another woman’s child?
She decided it was horrible. Understandable, though. She leaned back and looked up at the vaulted ceiling of the church. The curves and arches seemed to go on for ever, each joining and merging with the next to form an elegant pattern. This place asked for honesty, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was better to admit to her less-than-glittering feelings than to whitewash them with the things she thought she should feel. This was the rest of her life she was making a decision about—and she’d played too many games, taken too many chances with it already.
Alex needs me.
Another thought. Fact. Whatever it was…
But that statement wasn’t as simple as it seemed. Why did he need her? What for? She’d assumed he’d needed her when he’d looked into her eyes and said his wedding vows, but was it her soul Alex craved or did he need her for the vacancy of ‘wife and mother’? Someone to fill the hole another woman had left behind.
Mother. That was not a label most people would attach to her easily, believing she was still clinging to the last vestiges of her own childhood. What if they were right? What if she didn’t have it in her? She’d always liked to believe that she’d make a wonderful mother, but there was a half-grown specimen back in Alex’s house. Imagining a hazy future with a tiny pink newborn wrapped in a fleecy blanket wasn’t the same thing as being asked to step into the role of parent right this moment.
And what about Mollie? What if she made things worse for the child with her clumsy attempts at being a stepmother?
She grimaced at her own thoughts. Never in her life had she ever imagined herself as a stepmother. They were a different brand of woman. But then she thought of Marion, thought of how tough it must have been for her to take on a wilful girl still grieving for her lost mother. She thought of Marion’s patience and grace, and wished fervently that DNA could jump the gap left by the lack of their blood relationship.
The truth was she had no idea if she could be a good mother. But how did anyone know what the future held? If everyone cowered away from the unknown, what a miserable place the world would be. She would never have married Alex if she’d thought that way. But married him she had, because it had felt right at the time. It still felt right.
Alex needed her and she wasn’t going to let him down, mainly because she suspected he needed her more even than he realised. And she needed him. The only way to make things work now was to jump in with both feet as she usually did and give it all she had.
This might not be the future she’d envisioned when she’d joined her life to Alex’s, but she was tired of running away, being the irresponsible, flighty party girl. She could change. She could. That was why she was going to ignore the whispers in her head that told her she wasn’t ready for this, that she should think of herself and leave while she had the chance.
She thought back to their wedding day, saw herself standing opposite him in her oyster satin vintage dress. Someone else’s dress, but it had been a perfect fit. Who was to say she couldn’t slide into the life that had originally been fashioned for someone else as easily? Let’s face it, she thought, I could hardly do a worse job than the first candidate, and I’m the girl who’s supposed to be up for anything.
She looked down at the charm bracelet on her right wrist. Slowly, she unhooked it and removed the gold band. It had always looked out of place there. She laid it on the pew while she did her bracelet up again, and then, with a solemnity that matched her surroundings, she slid her wedding ring back onto her left hand.
Meet me in The White Hart? Half an hour, was all Jennie’s text message had said. Alex had almost texted back, saying he couldn’t leave Mollie—Jennie should have realised that—but then he’d reasoned that it might be better to meet on neutral territory. Mollie didn’t need to hear any more hushed conversations, thick with tension, so he’d rushed next door and persuaded the nice old lady to come in and babysit.
The local pub was fairly full when he got there, lots of people taking advantage of the lull after Christmas and New Year to grab a pub lunch or a few beers with friends. In a few days life would gear up again—the commuter trains would be standing-room only, the roads clogged in the mornings, offices full of unwilling workers—but for now a sense of calm had descended over the nation, and everyone seemed happy and relaxed.
Jennie was tucked away in a corner of the pub, as far from the jovial crowd as she could position herself, sipping a coffee and looking nervous. That shocked him. His Jennie never shrank back from anything, never looked all meek and mouse-like.
Even though a bite of food hadn’t passed his lips that morning, he suddenly felt as if he’d had rocks for breakfast. He crossed the pub lounge, dodging through tightly arranged wooden chairs and tables, and his heart began to thud uncomfortably under his jumper.
She was sitting on an upholstered bench that curved round one of the corners of the room and he slid in beside her, startling her. She’d been talking on her mobile and he caught the end of the conversation—something about being back in London soon—and the rocks inside him grew in density.
Jennie slid her phone closed and set it on the table next to her coffee cup, then she gave him a weak smile.
‘So, you’ve made your choice,’ he said tonelessly.
‘Yes.’ She fiddled with her coffee cup, turning it this way, then that on its saucer.
‘Back to London,’ he said, all the time looking at her phone. ‘Back to your life.’
At that she started. ‘No! I mean…yes… back to my life, but not.’
And then he saw a flash of gold as she twirled her cup again. On her left hand.
‘…not like that. My life is with you, Alex. I only need to go back up to town to get more clothes, my things.’
Just like that, the rocks crumbled into dust. No, melted away, leaving him feeling not just warm but so full of heat and fire inside he could barely contain it. He didn’t think about it, didn’t plan it; he just reached for Jennie and kissed her, forgetting completely where he was and who might be watching, just as he had on the night he’d first met her.
She was the first to pull away, blushing. ‘Alex…people can see us.’
‘Don’t care,’ he said, staring into her eyes and refusing to let her look away.
She’d given him something precious in her answer. Hope. For the first time in weeks—years, maybe—he started to truly believe life might start going right again, that the future might not be as desolate as he’d begun to think it would be.
Jennie smiled at him, and it had an added dimension from her usual cheeky, devil-may-care smirk. It was warm and wavering and vulnerable. He felt himself lean forward again, but she halted him with a raised palm on his chest.
‘We need to talk.’
He nodded. This was no way to behave. Trouble was, Jennie always made him feel this way. It was why she was so intoxicating. He forgot everything else, existed only in the present, just as she did.
He caught the eye of one of the barmaids and ordered a couple more coffees.
‘I’ve been thinking while I’ve been sitting here,’ Jennie said. ‘I don’t know much about kids, and I wouldn’t presume to tell you what to do where Mollie is concerned, but I don’t want my arrival in your life to cause her even more upset.’
‘I know. But what’s the alternative? I can’t pretend you don’t exist, that we never married.’
She looked thoughtful. ‘Maybe it would be better if I wasn’t on the scene for a while—just until she’s more settled.’
Alex reached for Jennie’s left hand, took it in his and kissed the knuckle closest to the gold ring. His ring. He loved her for suggesting this, but it wouldn’t do.
‘No, I don’t want that. We’re a family now. We stick together.’
She clamped her hand over the top of his and squeezed. Ploughing through this nightmare with Jennie by his side made it seem doable.
‘I’d rather we faced this now, while everything’s new, rather than spring another surprise on her later.’ If there was one thing he’d learned from his time with Jennie, it was that you couldn’t run from relationships. They were always there, in the background, changing and evolving, even if you thought nothing was going on.
‘I have an idea. A compromise,’ Jennie said slowly, and Alex realised he’d been lost in thought and that a steaming cup of black coffee now sat in front of him on the table and he had no idea where it had come from.
‘A compromise? ‘
She nodded, suddenly looking much more determined. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I went ho—’ She caught herself, substituted another word. ‘If I went back to my flat tonight. Maybe even for an extra day. It would give me a chance to pack properly…break the news to my family.’
She broke off and winced, rolled her eyes, and he brightened further. This was the game-for-anything Jennie he knew he could count on.
‘And it would give you an opportunity to prepare Mollie, tell her about me instead of me just invading her new life with her father without any warning.’
He drank some of his coffee and considered Jennie’s suggestion, turning it over in his mind, looking at the shape of it from every angle. The last thing he wanted was to spend more time away from Jennie, for her to leave this evening. His bed felt empty enough as it was. Tonight it would feel like a football pitch if she wasn’t beside him in it. But he had to admit she was making sense.
‘Come back with me now,’ he countered. ‘Stay for lunch. Stay for the afternoon, and then I’ll drive you back to London myself. You can start to get to know Mollie.’
Armed with four suitcases, three garment bags and half a ton of advice from her stepmother buzzing around inside her head, Jennie left her flat two days later. She’d been desperate to see Alex again—counting the minutes—but now he was here, collecting the first of the cases and hauling them down to his car, and everything felt…rehearsed, as if she were practising for the real thing and this was only marking time. They were doing all the right things, saying all the right things, but it was as if, during the night, someone had reached inside her and switched her emotions off. But that didn’t stop the doubts pecking away at her consciousness.
Had he changed his mind? Was he having second thoughts? She wasn’t equipped to deal with the role she was about to take on and she knew it. Perhaps Alex did, too.
Once inside Alex’s car, she settled into the seat and closed her eyes, letting him navigate the busy London streets without interruption or interference.
Where was all the heat and passion and momentum from the early days of their marriage? They stumbled upon it sometimes, knocking themselves flat with the force of it, but at other times, like today, it was as if they were mechanically going through the motions.
Was this what marriage was supposed to be like? She’d always thought it would be cosy and comfortable—dull, even. She hadn’t expected this confusing switching from hot to cold, and she had no control over when it happened.
It wasn’t until the traffic noise dulled and the roads became longer and straighter that Alex spoke. ‘I’m named as the father on Mollie’s birth certificate,’ he said without taking his eyes off the road.
She glanced at him. ‘That was quick!’
‘I got a phone call on the way up to you,’ he said, ‘but I’m not sure it’s changed anything.’
‘It has to be a relief, even just a little bit,’ she said.
He did a sideways nod that managed to contradict itself.
‘You think Becky might have lied?’
Another nod. ‘I’ve decided to have the DNA test done anyway. We’ll get the results in a couple of weeks, hopefully.’ He breathed out. ‘Neither of us needs to have a question mark hanging over our heads.’
Jennie was just about to say she’d be happy to wait if he was, but then she realised the ‘us’ he was talking about was him and his daughter. She wasn’t included.
They’d talked quite a few times over the last couple of days about Mollie, and these phone conversations had also been something new. Now, they both frowned as they spoke, their heads full of strategies and backup plans, the total focus on Mollie. No more whispered promises that made her insides heat. No more excited plotting about the next bit of snatched time together. Perhaps, now she’d be installed in his house and they could see each other whenever they wanted, it wouldn’t be exciting like that any more, and she wasn’t sure she liked that. Knowing Alex had charged out of his office early to meet her, or had stayed up all night clearing his desk so he could meet her for lunch had made her feel special. She didn’t want their private time together to be reduced to something routine and functional. Where was the fun in that?
She closed her eyes again and, Alex being Alex, he didn’t press her for a response to his statement. Never had she been more grateful for his dislike of extraneous words.
Her muscles were bunched tight and she sighed and tried to relax them. There was another thing preying on her mind. And the more she tried not to think about it, the bigger and scarier it grew.
She was very aware of the fact that she and Alex hadn’t…that there hadn’t been a chance to be alone and.
This was ridiculous! She was even avoiding thinking the word! This wasn’t like her at all.
Sex.
There. She’d allowed it to the front of her consciousness, said it mentally aloud. They hadn’t had sex since they’d decided to patch their tattered marriage back together, and she was suddenly very nervous about the whole thing and she didn’t know why. It was just sex. No big deal. Only.
What if that was all new and different, too?
Oh, it would be fine if they were all hot and steamy and in the moment, as they had been on their honeymoon. More than fine, actually. But, in the last few days, she’d become painfully aware that ‘moments’ were fleeting things, and she and Alex didn’t always find themselves slap-bang in the middle of one any more.
But she didn’t have too long to work herself into knots about the matter because the car slowed and she opened her lids to find they were crawling down Alex’s drive. Well, her drive now.
Her stomach hollowed out. This was it. Her first day as a mother. Lord help that poor child.
Poor child, my foot.
‘Hang on a second, Lucy. I just need to…’
Jennie pressed her mobile phone to her chest, marched across the room and rescued the TV remote from the floor. She punched the volume button repeatedly. Who could think with cartoons blaring at an ear-splitting level?
‘Mollie?’ Jennie said sweetly. ‘Leave the volume alone, okay?’
Was the child deaf? She certainly didn’t react to Jennie’s plea, just kept staring at the jumble of noise and colour on the screen, and as soon as Jennie walked back to her laptop, balanced on the arm of the sofa, Mollie sidled up to the set and left her finger on the button.
Jennie peeled the phone from her chest and put it to her ear. ‘Listen, Lucy, I can’t talk now. Just go ahead and book The Savoy. I’ll sweet-talk the client into thinking it’s the best decision he ever made.’
She slid her phone closed and looked at Mollie, engrossed in the colourful antics on the television. Did the girl have hearing problems? Jennie sat on the arm of the sofa and folded her arms across her chest.
‘Cookies,’ she whispered.
Mollie glanced in her direction, looking hopeful.
Yup. Just as she’d thought. Hearing fine; disposition awkward.
Jennie slid down the arm of the sofa into the seat and reached over to shut her laptop. Working from home had seemed such a simple solution to their current dilemma. Alex was due in court this week and while they were in the process of hiring a nanny to help with the childcare, Jennie had volunteered to stay at home and look after Mollie. It was only day two and she was ready to run screaming from the house.
How did parents cope with this full-time? How did they not go insane? Back at her flat last week, when she hadn’t been packing up her single girl life, she’d spent huge chunks of time reading a highly recommended parenting book. Crash course, if you like. But she didn’t feel in the least equipped to deal with a three-year-old who thought she was the boss.
How did mothers learn to deal with this kind of thing? Perhaps there was a secret technique they divulged in hallowed whispers at childbirth classes. Minor problem: Jennie hadn’t done any childbirth classes because she’d come to motherhood the same way she came to everything else—feet first and out of order—and it wasn’t making it even the tiniest bit easier.
She thought of some of her cousins who’d brought their little darlings to Alice and Cameron’s wedding, about how the children had run riot and the parents had large dark circles under their eyes and a perpetually harried look, and she started to get even more scared. Perhaps it never got better. Maybe this what her life was going to be like from now on. For ever. She shivered.
Distraction.
That was something she remembered from the book. Okay, Mollie wasn’t having a tantrum, but maybe if she suggested doing something different, something exciting, her stepdaughter might allow her to use the off button on the TV set.
Jennie went and stood in front of the television and earned herself a scowl from Mollie. ‘How about we go out?’ she said brightly.
The intense look of concentration on Mollie’s face as she pondered Jennie’s suggestion was actually quite cute. She scrunched up her forehead and looked at the carpet. Eventually she looked up and said, ‘Can we go and see Mummy? Is she still sleeping?’
This wasn’t the first time she’d heard a question like this in the last forty-eight hours. Evidently some bright spark in Alex’s family had decided to explain death to Mollie as a really long sleep. Jennie hadn’t wanted to upset the little girl by being blunt, so she’d just fudged it when she’d had to answer this question. And she had no idea what else people had said to Mollie about her mother’s death. The poor kid was confused enough as it was; Jennie didn’t want to add to that.
‘I thought we might go to the park. Does that sound like a fun thing to do?’
Mollie nodded, but her shoulders slumped forward. Jennie reasoned she’d feel better once she was on a swing or something. There was something about swings that always left you smiling and breathless.
Fifteen minutes later, they were both bundled up in hats, scarves and gloves and were at the park just down the road from Alex’s house. Jennie stamped her feet and clapped her hands together as she watched Mollie wear the slide to a shine.
They were the only ones in the park. But damp January afternoons weren’t always a favourite time to come and play. It hadn’t actually rained yet today, but the clouds hung low in the sky and Jennie could feel their moisture on her cheeks. It wouldn’t be long.
Mollie seemed happy enough now. Jennie’s ‘distraction’ seemed to have worked. Mollie moved on to the roundabout and sat talking to herself on the edge while she pushed at the ground with both feet to spin herself round slowly.
‘Do you want me to make it go faster?’ Jennie called over.
Mollie glanced up and shook her head, so Jennie decided to keep an eye on her from the swings. She sat down on the nearest one and used the toe of her boot to give her a bit of movement.
The swing had been the place where Jennie had done all her hard thinking when she’d been a child. There was something about the way the air blew past you, backwards and forwards, about the way you seemed to fly above the ground, that made it easy to get things straight in your head.
Mollie was still chattering away, but she had taken her hat off. Jennie thought about asking her to put it back on, but decided the kid deserved a break. She put both feet on the floor and pushed a little harder, used her legs to work up more of a decent swing.
What was she going to do about Alex? They’d shared a bed for the last two nights and she’d been waiting for him to give her a signal that he’d prefer it if they did more than just snore in it, but he hadn’t. They’d kissed—quite a few times—and everything had seemed great, but he always pulled back before it developed into something more. Why was that? Couldn’t he bring himself to…? Had she hurt him that much when she’d run away from him?
The rhythm of the swing was soothing. The wind pushed her hair round her face then sucked it away again, over and over, and as the ground moved past more quickly, the swing began to do its magic.
She knew Alex wasn’t punishing her—he wasn’t that vindictive, and it went against his noble nature, but she couldn’t fathom why.
His noble nature. That was it!
Alex wasn’t avoiding her. He was waiting for her. She breathed a sigh of relief. How could she not have seen it before? He was being patient with her, waiting for her to show him she was ready. She wished that he’d have talked to her about it, but she was starting to understand that just wasn’t his style.
Maybe tonight…after they’d put Mollie to bed.
She looked out at the horizon and smiled. The sky had turned a lovely shade of blueishpurple, which meant sunset wasn’t far away. She jumped lightly off the swing onto the bouncy surface beneath and stood up straight. It was time to get home.
She put her hands on her hips and looked over to the roundabout. All she could see was a turquoise woolly hat, circuiting slowly. She scanned the rest of the playground, regretting the fact she’d left it so long before she’d decided to return home. The shadows of the bushes and trees, which hadn’t seemed particularly dark a few minutes earlier, were now blending and blurring, making it difficult to make out Mollie’s navy coat.
She took a few steps forward, studied the slide, the climbing frame. And then it hit her.
Mollie was gone.