‘I usually let her catnap until eight, and then wake her for her feed,’ Melissa said, dashing into the lounge to grab her sketch pad and pencil case from the coffee table. She looked around for her shoulder bag and then remembered she’d hung it on the stairs. Honestly, she’d swear to God that giving birth had addled her brain.
‘There’s milk in the fridge. I generally warm it in a bowl.’ Realising she was running late, she checked her watch – and dropped her sketch pad. ‘You’ll find one in—’
‘Melissa, I can manage,’ Jade assured her, reaching to pick up the pencils that had spilled from the pencil case as Melissa bent to retrieve her pad. ‘And anything I can’t find, Poppy can point me to. Right, Poppy?’
‘Yeth,’ Poppy said, around the thumb plugged into her mouth. ‘You can go now, Mummy.’
Dismissed, thought Melissa, eyeing the ceiling and then smiling gratefully at Jade as she handed her pencils back to her. ‘Don’t miss me too much, will you?’ she said, going over to plant a kiss on Poppy’s cheek.
‘I won’t,’ Poppy said, attempting to peer around her at the TV.
‘Well, that’s reassuring.’ Melissa sighed, theatrically rolling her eyes at Jade.
But rather than feeling put out by Poppy’s apparent indifference to her presence, Melissa was pleased. Jade, it seemed, had definitely won her over, which was a huge relief. Their last babysitter, the daughter of a friend, hadn’t been a hit, and Melissa had been reluctant to bring in another, which wasn’t conducive to she and Mark spending any quality time together. Jade had also been fabulous with Evie, feeding her earlier without a hiccup. She really was a natural with children.
‘Bed by seven thirty at the latest, young lady,’ she said to Poppy. ‘And don’t forget to brush your teeth.’
‘Mummeee…’ Poppy sighed exasperatedly. ‘We’re missing the film.’
‘Right, I can see where I’m not wanted.’ Shaking her head in amusement, Melissa headed for the door. ‘I’ll be back in time for Evie’s ten o’clock feed,’ she told Jade, and then stopped. ‘Damn! I forgot to get milk out the freezer for the morning.’
‘I’ll do it.’ Jade spun Melissa back towards the front door as she turned in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Go. Not too much licking of pencils or drooling.’
Melissa laughed. ‘I’ll try not to,’ she assured her, and then hesitated again at the front door. You know, you’re quite welcome to stay a while if you need to, Jade. I mean, I wouldn’t want you to feel obliged to babysit just because you’re here, but… Well, we have space if you need it while you sort yourself out.’
Jade beamed. ‘I’d love to, as long as you’re sure. It would be a huge weight off my mind.’
‘Positive.’ Melissa smiled warmly. ‘Just don’t let madam here wrap you around her little finger.’ She nodded towards Poppy, who was listening eagerly from the lounge doorway.
‘Does this mean you’re staying forever and ever, Jade?’ Poppy asked, her eyes wide with excitement.
Jade exchanged a knowing glance with Melissa. ‘Well, not forever and ever,’ she said, turning back to her charge. ‘But for the moment, yes.’
‘Yippee!’ Poppy jumped with glee. ‘I told you. I told you.’
‘So you did,’ Jade said, steering her back into the lounge. She smiled at Melissa over her shoulder. ‘See you when you get back.’
‘Thanks, Jade. You’re a godsend. I’m sure Mark will be pleased you’re staying for a while,’ she called, dashing out.
‘Oh, I’m sure Mark will too.’ Smiling, Jade settled down on the sofa, extending her arm for Poppy to snuggle comfortably under.
Seven
MARK
Driving home, Mark was thinking about Daisy Evans, the missing little girl. There had been no evidence of a forced entry, and he was considering the possible involvement of the parents in her disappearance, in particular the father’s. Although Michael Evans had been caught having sex with a girl who was only just past the age of consent, Mark believed he hadn’t known how old she was. The guy was an ex-footballer, and the girl was a member of his fan club. She was apparently besotted with him, and had told him she was eighteen. It didn’t make what he’d done much more palatable, but her friends had corroborated his version of events. He’d had pornographic images on his PC, but nothing illegal. No suspect images or messages on his phone. He also had an alibi for the time in which his daughter disappeared. Mark wasn’t enamoured of the man any more than he was of Cummings – who, laughably, had adopted a stance of moral outrage at Evans’ ‘obvious sexual exploitation of a sixteen-year-old’ – but the guy’s anguish had been palpable.
The meeting with the mother had been harrowing. Mark’s initial assumption on learning the parents had been arguing, so drunk they hadn’t noticed their child was missing, had been a kneejerk reaction, one born of his own childhood memories of cowering in corners as arguments escalated. It had prejudiced his thinking. Daisy’s mother had been beyond devastated, blaming herself. She’d broken down as they left. Pausing on the drive of the house, a detached country property worth a fair sum, Mark had heard her heaving sobs as the front door closed. Whatever the future of their relationship, if Daisy wasn’t found, God help them, the parents would both blame themselves for the rest of their lives.
Dammit. Frustrated, Mark banged the heel of his hand against his steering wheel. They had to find her. But where? Sighing, he ran a hand wearily over his neck. He needed some downtime. He needed to check his girls were warm and safe in their beds, and touch base with Mel. He wished he could do more than touch base… her warm body up close was an appealing thought right now. Whatever shit he was dealing with, he always felt safe in her arms. She reckoned he’d been her white knight; that somehow he’d saved her, but Mark knew it was the other way around. He’d had relationships before her – too many, because with no role models in his life, he didn’t know how to do relationships – but Mel had shown him how, made him believe that love was possible, that he was a fully functioning, normal person, despite his dysfunctional background and his conviction that bad blood would out and he would inherit the traits of his abusive father. She’d made him believe in himself, because she’d believed in him. She’d loved him. His love for her… it scared him sometimes. The all-consuming love he felt for his children terrified him. His family were his lifeblood. He simply wouldn’t know how to be without them.
Noting Mel’s car wasn’t there as he pulled into the drive, it took a second before Mark remembered her art class. It looked like she’d gone after all. Who was watching the kids? Their last babysitter, though she’d come recommended, hadn’t been up to much. Or rather, she had, if coming home early to find her in a steamy clinch on the sofa with her boyfriend had been any indication. Neither he nor Mel were prudish, but the cider the guy had brought with him was definitely not on. Emily, a mutual friend, helped out when she could, but weren’t the Chandlers away on holiday?
Mark checked his mobile as he walked to the front door, only to find the battery had died, which might explain why he hadn’t received a text from Mel. She would undoubtedly have sent him one. The lights were on, he noted. The TV, too. Peering around the lounge door, he saw that it was empty, though the knot of worry in his stomach was quashed at the obvious signs of normalcy. He headed upstairs, figuring the kids would be in bed and the babysitter might be checking on them.