Luke stared at her shocked. ‘Lyn! You know that’s rubbish! Joss doesn’t think that at all. How could you even imagine it?’
With a little half laugh Lyn shrugged. ‘Quite easy, under the circumstances. You may as well know, Luke, I’m only staying because I love little Ned and Tom so much and I think they need me. Otherwise I would tell her to stick her job!’
He stared at the door open mouthed as she went out, slamming it behind her.
‘Lyn –’ His cry of protest hung unheard in the air.
‘My goodness you’ve walked a long way!’ Janet pulled Joss into the hall of the farmhouse and helped her negotiate the double buggy round the corner into her own kitchen. ‘You idiot. In this weather too.’ The afternoon had degenerated into a cold, blustery grey laced with spinning leaves and icy needles of rain. ‘I’ll run you back when you’ve had a cup of tea.’ She smiled as Tom, cheeks scarlet from the wind, ran to throw his arms around the neck of the old labrador who had risen from beside the Aga to meet him with wildly wagging tail. ‘Joss?’ Sharp eyed she caught sight of the tears on Joss’s cheeks before her guest bent to release the baby from the cocoon of blankets which kept him warm. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’ Holding Ned close Joss shrugged. ‘Lyn thinks I’m hurting them, Janet.’
‘She what?’
‘She thinks I’m battering the children.’ She sniffed hard. ‘Look at Tom’s arm.’
Janet stared at her for a moment, then she went across to Tom and the dog. ‘Here Tom Tom, let me take your coat off, then we’ll find the bicky tin.’ Pulling off the little boy’s jacket and gloves, she pushed up his sleeves. On his left arm was a series of bruises which looked exactly like finger prints. She swallowed hard. Pulling down the sleeve she straightened and went to find him a biscuit. ‘Most for you and only a tiny tiny bit for Sim, Tom. He’s getting so fat.’ She handed the boy a piece of shortbread, then she glanced at Joss. ‘That wasn’t an accident.’
‘No.’ Joss spoke in a whisper.
‘If it wasn’t you, who could it have been?’
‘Not Luke.’
‘Of course not Luke.’
‘Not Lyn. Oh, Janet, she adores him.’
‘Then who? And don’t tell me that a ghost did that, because I won’t believe it. That was done by a real person, Joss. Come on, think. He must have been playing with someone. What about that Jimbo boy who helps Luke? His mother and sister were both a bit strange. Have you ever left Tom with him?’
Joss shook her head. ‘That happened last night, Janet. Luke helped me bath him. Those marks weren’t there then. And when Lyn dressed him this morning, there they were.’
‘And she thought you’d done it?’
‘I’m the only one who goes to the children at night.’
‘Joss –’ Janet plonked the biscuits down in front of her on the table and caught Joss’s two hands in a warm firm grip. ‘Is there any possibility you could be sleep walking?’
Joss stared at her. For a moment she hesitated. ‘No. No, of course not.’
‘You don’t sound entirely certain.’
‘Well, how can I be? But surely, Luke would have heard me? He’d know.’
‘Yes, I suppose he would.’ Climbing to her feet again Janet went to lift the heavy kettle off the stove. ‘OK. Let’s think of something else.’ She poured boiling water into the teapot. ‘What does Tom say?’
Joss shrugged.
Janet looked at her sharply. ‘You have asked him?’
‘Not this time.’
‘Oh come on, darling, you can’t not ask.’ Janet went down on her knees in front of the little boy who was gamely trying to save some of his biscuit, now a soggy remnant of crumbs from the labrador’s enthusiastic lick. ‘Go on, give it to Sim. You’ll have to have another one. You can’t eat it after he’s woofed it!’
Tom giggled. ‘Sim’s woofed it!’ He was delighted with the word.
‘And you can woof the next one. So, Tom Grant, you look as if you’ve been fighting a war. Who did this to you then?’ She pulled the little boy’s sleeve back again gently.
Tom half glanced at it, his attention still on the dog. ‘The tin man.’
Behind them Janet heard Joss make a strangled sound that was half gasp and half sob.
‘And when did this nasty old tin man do this?’ she asked cheerfully.
‘At bed time.’
‘Why didn’t you call your mummy and daddy when he came?’
‘Did.’
Tom pulled another biscuit from the tin she was holding and broke it in half.
‘But they didn’t come?’
‘No.’ He shook his head.
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘What did the tin man do?’
‘Hurt Tom.’
Janet bit her lip. ‘Did he try to pick you up?’
Tom nodded.
‘But you didn’t want to go?’
Tom shook his head.
‘Why not?’
‘Don’t like him.’
‘Tom, what does he look like? Is he big and tall like Daddy?’
Tom thought for a moment and the dog, taking its chance neatly removed the biscuit from Tom’s grasp. Tom smiled impishly at Janet. ‘Sim wants ’nother one.’
‘Sim’s a greedy pig. Tell me about the tin man, Tom.’
‘Like Daddy.’
‘And what does the tin man look like?’
‘Cat food.’
‘A cat food tin?’ Janet stared at him then she looked up at Joss, suppressing a giggle with difficulty. ‘Are we talking a bed time story here?’
Joss shrugged. She was smiling but her face was very white. ‘Tom, tell Aunty Janet about the tin man’s face. What does he look like? Has he got a beard like the milkman?’ Their milkman’s beard fascinated Tom who took every opportunity – of which there were mercifully few – to tug it.
Tom shook his head.
‘Does he wear a hat? A big tin hat?’
Tom shook his head again.
‘Once he gave you some of Georgie’s toys. Has he ever given you anything else?’