kids. The plan was for revenge, but while she was here, there was no harm in trying to make things better for them as a family, for the good of the children. Was there?
It was a harried trip to graceful Mayfair library, during which Jasper caused near mayhem. Running around the ends of stacks, he pulled books off shelves and talked in the loudest voice possible despite stern glances from a staff member. Zoe used every behaviour management tool she could think of, along with repeated shushing, but eventually had to take him for a time-out, letting Aimee know she’d be out front for a few minutes.
They sat on the stone steps of the entrance while Jasper calmed down, his Ben 10 baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes, feet tapping on the pavement. She relaxed in the balmy sunlight, reading a leaflet picked up from the foyer about the weddings they performed in one of the two ceremony rooms. From the pictures, the venue looked romantic and intimate. Zoe could think of few nicer places to get married; surrounded by books in a nineteenth century building with the beautiful Mount Street Gardens next door, perfect for taking photos.
It was a far cry from the wedding she and Greg had planned at the St. Regis on Manhattan Island, which was as glamorously luxurious as it was hideously expensive. Greg had made his money on the stock markets and was more than happy showing his wealth off. She had insisted on contributing to the cost of the wedding but wondered now how comfortable she would have been on her own wedding day in such rich surroundings, when at heart she was an orphan from the British seaside. She also wondered how comfortable she would have been moving in with him permanently, subject to his world twenty-four-seven. Still, if they’d loved each other enough then it wouldn’t have mattered. They’d have made it work.
Shrugging the thought off, she reminded Jasper of the need to behave and lead him inside by the hand with a firm grip. In sharp contrast to her brother, Aimee was in heaven in the library. Walking purposefully between shelves, she ran her fingers along scripted spines and stroked glossy covers. When she stuffed her rucksack full with the maximum amount of books she could borrow, checked in by a librarian who knew her by name, Zoe was surprised to see a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird go in. It was advanced reading for a girl her age.
As they walked home along wide Park Lane which guarded the eastern boundary of lovely Hyde Park—Zoe looking longingly at the green spaces and trees she could see across the road—down to Hyde Park Corner and along Knightsbridge, Aimee walked with her nose stuck in the Harper Lee classic. Zoe was tempted to tell her not to, especially with how busy the streets were with teeming crowds of tourists snapping away with cameras, shoppers swinging branded bags filled with new summer wardrobes and countless black cabs zipping past. It would be hypocritical though. She’d read books in the street right into her teens, skilfully learning to step around lamp posts and avoid people, and still recalled the guilty pleasure of every possible stolen reading moment. Heck, if she could get away with it now, she would. So she held Jasper’s hand and settled for placing a guiding hand on Aimee’s shoulder as the girl traipsed along.
When they got home, Aimee shut herself away in her room without a word and Zoe decided to leave her to it. She could hardly complain that one of her two new charges loved reading and was happiest when expanding her mind and vocabulary. In that way, she was a dream. On the other hand, she could do with learning a few more social skills. It wouldn’t do her good being too insular.
For a few hours Zoe and Jasper painted and coloured-in while sitting up on stools at the kitchen units, newspapers spread out to protect the expensive marble, aprons on to protect their clothes. Zoe opened the window to let in some fresh air, and turned the radio on so that pop music created a white noise in the background. Occasionally the buzz of a lawn mower drifted in, punctuated by a child’s laugh or call. There must be other kids in the neighbourhood, and Zoe wondered if Jasper or Aimee were friends with any of them.
Just before noon the beeping of horns and high-pitched two-note tone of a siren sounded, getting ever closer. Jasper jumped at the noise, arm freezing in place, paintbrush clutched in his sturdy fingers. Somewhere above their heads, a thud sounded.
‘Everything all right?’ Zoe frowned at the ceiling, and put a hand on Jasper’s back.
Turning his head, he stared at her with solemn green eyes. ‘Don’t like sirens,’ he answered in a tight voice, trembles rippling through him. ‘Mummy went when sirens came.’
‘Oh.’ There were some residual memories of the accident then, even though he’d been so young. ‘Well, there’s nothing to be worried about now, okay? We’re here, your sister is upstairs with her book, and your dad is safely at work. Besides, ambulances go to help people, right? They nee-naw like that to move cars out the way so they can get to people in trouble as quickly as possible. Everything is okay,’ she soothed, stroking his back until the sirens faded away. ‘See? They’ve gone.’
With a nod, he dipped his brush in the blue paint and started outlining swirling clouds. Zoe gazed down at his ruffled hair, marvelling at how freely he’d shared his fears with her, so soon after she’d arrived in his life. Still, that was kids for you, especially younger ones. They were open books. They barely had filters at this age and blurted out pretty much everything they thought.
‘Stay there for a minute, all right? Just keep painting. I need to check on your sister.’ Thinking of the thudding noise. Racing upstairs, she knocked on Aimee’s door, pushing it open gently when there was no reply. ‘Everything good up here?’ she asked, hoping Jasper didn’t get into too much mischief while she was gone. She stared at Aimee’s downturned head, nose only a few inches from the page. ‘I thought I heard something hit the deck,’ Zoe said, ‘was it in here?’ There was no answer, just a slight tightening of the little girl’s pink lips. ‘Oh well, I must have imagined it then,’ she added lightly, ‘never mind. I’ll leave you to it. Lunch is in a bit, by the way.’ Aimee’s gaze flickered upwards and she nodded once, but Zoe could see that her eyes were suspiciously bright. Maybe Jasper wasn’t the only one affected by sirens. ‘If you need anything, we’re in the kitchen.’ She backed out of the room, leaving the girl alone with her thoughts. When she was ready to talk about it, she would.
Zoe wandered down the spiral stairs, hand clutching the curved white rail. She could still remember the horror she’d felt when Mel had told her over Skype, brown eyes tear-filled, that both children had been in the car crash that killed their mum. Mel had only arrived with the family a few days before, and Matt had been battling along without help for three months before hiring a nanny. It had been a difficult time for all of them and Zoe knew that her sister, who could be emotionally fragile at times, had found it hard to deal with their grief. Slowly however, she knew things had gotten better. Or thought they had.
When she sloped back into the kitchen, heart weighed down with the sad thoughts, Zoe halted, mouth opening. ‘Jasper,’ she breathed, fighting not to laugh, ‘what did you do?’
Grinning proudly, he pointed to his face, which was painted a bright shade of blue, save for a crooked, naked stripe down the middle over his nose. ‘I’m Braveheart. It’s one of daddy’s favourite films. He won’t let me watch it but ‘Ncle Stephen lets me sneak peeks sometimes. This is what they do when they fight.’
‘It is.’ Shaking her head, she tried to be serious but sniggered instead. He looked so earnest, and more like a haphazard smurf than a warrior. The fact he’d managed to miss his hair was a minor miracle. ‘But that kind of paint is for paper, not for faces,’ she pointed out. ‘If you want to do this again, please let me know and we’ll buy some proper face paints.’ Reaching for her phone from one of the shelves, she held it out in front of her. ‘Can I take a picture?’
‘Yep! To show Daddy!’
‘That’s a great idea,’ she said, deftly pressing two buttons and taking a selection of photos. ‘We won’t tell him you didn’t ask permission, but I’ll send him a picture if you promise that next time you will.’
He nodded