Her mother hadn’t just abandoned her, taken the easy option, the get-out-of-jail-free card? ‘I never knew.’
Phoebe had never told her. It seemed that her big sister was better at keeping secrets than she’d ever imagined.
‘We agreed that it was for the best. You didn’t have her rebelliousness, her toughness. You needed to feel safe. I loved you more than words could say and it was like cutting off my right arm to leave you, but I knew you’d be happier with her. That it would be easier for you if you weren’t torn by any foolish loyalty to me.’ She kissed Posie’s downy head and handed her over. ‘She would have been such a wonderful mother. But you will be, too. Much better than I ever was.’
There was such a world of need in her eyes that Grace put an arm around her, held her and said, ‘You gave me up because you loved me. That’s the hardest, finest thing for a mother to do.’
‘Oh…’ There were tears in her eyes as she pushed her away, saying, ‘Go and pretty yourselves up. I’ve got a call to make.’
CHAPTER SIX
DRESSING Posie, putting together everything she’d need for the morning, took nearly all the time Grace had so that ‘prettying herself up’ consisted of little more than pulling a comb through her short hair.
Then she fastened jade button earrings to her lobes and a matching necklace of overlapping disks of the same stone around her throat. Make-up she could live without, but jewellery was her business and she’d never been anywhere since she’d been a toddler without something fancy around her neck or wrist—her ‘sparklies’—and she’d feel naked without them.
She settled the necklace into place, trying not to think about Josh, his hands on her shoulders as he’d leaned into her neck to hunt down some elusive scent. The feel of his beard brushing against her skin, sending gooseflesh shivering through her.
The last time they’d been that close, that intimate, they’d been naked. This morning, when she’d felt the warmth of his breath against her ear, been swamped by the scent of a man still warm from his bed, she’d wanted to be naked again.
She slipped on her suit jacket, buttoned it up and, without bothering to check her reflection, fetched Posie from the nursery and went downstairs.
Josh looked up, said nothing, as she hurried into the kitchen ten minutes later than she’d promised. He just looked at her and she was convinced he could see every hot, wicked thought that had been running through her mind, distracting her, slowing her down.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
Stupid question. He was showered, wearing faded jeans and a soft suede jacket that emphasized the width of his shoulders and brought out the amber flecks in his grey eyes. He had obviously been there for some time since all trace of the breakfast disaster had been removed and he was sitting at the table, looking through the local paper.
He closed it, got up and said, ‘Can I do anything?’
‘G-get the buggy? It’s in the mud room,’ she said, opening the fridge, fitting a bottle into its own special little cold box, slipping it into the carrier that contained all Posie’s essentials, exactly as she’d seen Phoebe do dozens of times. Keeping her hands behind her back to hide fingers itching to help.
What she wouldn’t have given for that yearning now. To see Michael instead of Josh setting up the buggy, take Posie and fasten her into the little pink nest. Put the carrier in the rack beneath it.
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘For a first effort.’
He didn’t answer but took the handle of the buggy, wheeled it into the hall.
The steps weren’t exactly easy to navigate, as she knew from experience, and, having opened the door, she made a move to help. Unnecessary. Josh just lifted the buggy, with Posie and all her belongings in it, and carried them down the steps as if it weighed no more than a feather.
A nice trick if you could manage it, she thought and, since possession was nine-tenths of the law, by the time she’d shut the door and reached the footpath he was already walking away from her, forcing her to trot to catch up.
‘Slow down,’ she said crossly. ‘This isn’t a race.’
Without taking his hand off the buggy, he lifted his elbow and, glancing down at her, said, ‘Hang on. You can slow me down if I’m speeding.’
He wanted her to put her arm through his? Walk along arm in arm as if they were Michael and Phoebe…?
As if they were a couple. Lovers…
She swallowed, imagining her hand against the soft suede, her fingers resting on the hard sinewy flesh beneath it. She wanted that closeness in a way that was beyond imagining. Wanted it too much to be able to risk it.
‘You’re all right,’ she said.
He didn’t argue, simply stopped, took her hand and placed it under his arm. ‘Whatever happens, you’re not on your own, Grace,’ he said, then, without giving her time to resist, to object, he continued, rather more slowly, on his way.
The suede was as soft to the touch as a baby’s breath, while beneath it the familiar muscular arm seemed to burn through to her fingers, setting light to the memory of him standing in the kitchen, naked to the waist, in the early light.
As a girl she’d clung to his waist when she’d ridden behind him on his bike, pressed to his back, sheltered from the force of the wind by his body. That had been a secret thrill, one that had given her more of a rush than the speed at which they had been flying along. One that Josh hadn’t ever known about.
This was different. This closeness was not some careless thing, just part of being on the back of a motorbike. He’d made a deliberate choice, just as he had on her first day at school when he’d tossed her his spare helmet. As he paused, turned to cross the road, and his sleeve brushed against her cheek it was like the sun coming out. She wanted to lean into it, suck up that protective warmth.
All illusion. This was not his world. In a week, two at the most, he’d be gone, chasing endless horizons. That was fact. He’d be somewhere out of reach and she’d be alone.
And, with that thought, the true finality of what had happened crystallised in her mind. Until now she’d been skimming along, keeping the wheels ticking over, taking care of Posie. Coping with the details. Standing numbly in the church through hymns and eulogies. Even watching her sister and her husband being lowered into the dark earth, it hadn’t seemed real.
Each morning, her first reaction was that momentary panic at waking in an unfamiliar room, the remembering that she was in the guest room next to the nursery because her sister was away for the weekend.
Only after that came the sickening moment when she remembered that Phoebe was never coming home again. But then Posie claimed her attention and there was no time for anything but the essentials. Laundry, feeding, bathing her, changing her. She was a full-time job all by herself.
Now, walking with Josh in Michael and Phoebe’s place, an icy hand gripped at her stomach, her heart. This wasn’t just for a few days. This was her life. There was only her to be responsible, make decisions, make sure that this precious baby… little girl… teenager… had the best life that she could give her.
‘Grace?’
Josh stopped as she pulled away, gasping for breath, and, ignoring her as she took her hand off his arm, as she tried to keep him away, he let go of the buggy and, catching her by the shoulders, pulled her against him.
‘They’re gone, Josh,’ she said, looking up, wanting him to see, to understand. ‘They’re never coming back.’
His only response was to wrap his arms tightly around her, press his cheek, his lips against her hair as if he could somehow keep out the world.
‘Hush… It’s all right.’
All right…