November 2019
His hand, next to her tiny one, looks enormous.
She stirs in her sleep, and he lets her perfect fingers curl and uncurl around one of his. Her mouth shapes itself into an ‘o’, and she frowns but doesn’t wake.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Jim whispers, looking down at my daughter. ‘I mean, I know that’s what you’re supposed to say to new parents, but in your case it’s the truth. She really is a little stunner. Have you decided what to call her?’
I can’t resist lifting her out of her Moses basket and holding her up to my shoulder so that I can inhale her sweet, fresh-baked scent. ‘She’s Julia Joanne Palmer,’ I say proudly. ‘Julia was my mother’s name, and Joanne – JoJo – is her godmother and my best friend.’ I turn my head and touch my lips against her cheek. ‘But I mostly call her Lulu.’
Jim turns his head on one side to get a better look at her features. ‘Gorgeous though she is, I can’t really see you in her.’
I shake my head. ‘She looks exactly like my dad. And, strangely, it’s my brother David’s daughter, Poppy, who looks exactly like me.’
The most important thing, I reflect, is that Lulu doesn’t look like her father. Because I know I mustn’t ever start thinking of her as the daughter of a murderer. None of what he did is her fault. She’s her own person.
He smiles down at us. ‘Family resemblances – the gift that keeps on giving. And how’s motherhood treating you?’
‘Oh, you know what the early weeks are like…’
‘I think I just about remember.’ He grins. ‘Even though it’s been a while for me.’
‘I’m really tired, but in a good way. And this house…’ I gesture round the nursery in Waverley Gardens. ‘This house finally feels like a proper home. That’s all I ever wanted, ever since I bought it ten years ago. I love being a mother. And, you know, now that she’s here, it doesn’t matter in the least that I’m not someone’s wife. That I never really was.’
‘Or someone’s widow.’
I lower Lulu back into her basket. ‘That too.’
‘Well, I’d better get back to sorting out London’s identity thieves, missing teenagers and spouses under surveillance.’
He draws me into a hug, and holds me for a few seconds. I breathe him in; the faint tang of leather and tobacco. ‘Thank you for everything, Jim Cardle.’
He releases me and walks to the door, turning back to give me a brief salute. ‘And the best of luck to you, Alice Palmer.’
Our eyes meet. It’s still too soon after Dom, and yet I will him to say something – anything – that will leave the door ajar.
He does. ‘I’ll be seeing you, you can count on that.’
If you were gripped by The Man She Married then you’ll love the addictive Detective Rachel Prince series by Alison James – buy the first book Lola is Missing here!