his worries were written all over his face, because she cut in, ‘He’s been no trouble at all.’
‘Thanks for looking after him. Um, I’m sorry about this.’
‘Not a problem.’
It was, by the look on her face. A big problem. But he’d have to deal with that later—his priority right now was Ryan.
He almost ran to Claire’s office, and could have wept when he saw that Ryan was on his own. Had Fran got fed up with waiting and dropped him off at the hospital? ‘Ryan! Are you all right?’
‘Hi, Dad.’ Ryan was acting as if it was nothing out of the usual for him to be sitting in Eliot’s boss’s office. ‘Look, Claire’s got these dinosaur cards. It’s a game. You have to—’
‘Ryan,’ Eliot cut in, ‘what’s happened?’
‘I had some milk.’
Specific. He had to remember to ask specific questions. Ryan dealt in pure logic. ‘Where’s Fran?’
‘At home with Jon.’
‘Who’s Jon?’
Ryan shrugged.
Her boyfriend. He must be Fran’s boyfriend. ‘Does she know you’re here?’
‘No.’
Then why the hell hadn’t Fran phoned him to let him know Ryan was missing?
‘How did you get here?’
‘Number 17 bus. Four stops, change to number 20 bus to here,’ Ryan recited. ‘This is the fourth floor—’
‘Didn’t the bus drivers ask you where your mummy and daddy were?’ Eliot cut in.
Ryan shrugged. ‘I gave them the right money for my ticket.’
He would. Ryan was excellent with money—he’d grasped the concept much quicker than his classmates, and his maths skills were way ahead of his age. Then a nasty thought hit Eliot. ‘Where did you get the money?’
‘I took Fran’s purse.’
Eliot scooped up his son and sat down with Ryan firmly on his lap. Ryan wriggled, clearly uncomfortable with the close contact. ‘Ryan, sweetheart, you really can’t just take money from people and get on the bus.’
‘But I just did,’ Ryan pointed out logically.
‘OK. It’s something you’re not supposed to do. Number one, you don’t take things without asking and, number two, you always tell someone if you want to go somewhere.’ He paused. ‘What was Fran doing?’
‘Giggling. Jon was taking her clothes off.’
That explained a lot, Eliot thought grimly. ‘Has this—has Fran brought Jon to our house before?’
‘Yes.’
‘A lot?’
‘Most days.’
Eliot kept his temper, with difficulty. It wasn’t Ryan’s fault. But he was angry with Fran—angrier than he’d ever been in his life. To think he’d trusted her with his precious son, and she’d been snippy over him being late when all the time she’d been neglecting Ryan and canoodling with her boyfriend...God only knew what Ryan had seen. His mouth tightened. ‘What do you do when Jon’s there?’
‘Make models, watch telly. But I couldn’t find the remote control and Fran told me to go away. So I came to see you.’
‘I see.’
‘Did I do wrong?’ Ryan looked anxious.
‘No, sweetheart. You were right to tell me. I’ll make it all better again.’ Somehow. Maybe the school knew someone who could step in to help—just until he found another childminder. One who, this time, would look after Ryan properly. Who wouldn’t pull the wool over his eyes. And he’d check every single reference face to face. Twice.
‘Can you stay here for just a moment while I have a word with Claire?’
‘Yes, Dad. I know I’m not allowed to go near the babies in case I give them germs.’
‘Good boy.’ Eliot dropped a kiss on the top of his son’s head. ‘I’ll be back in less than five minutes.’
Remembering her formality with him a few minutes before, he didn’t quite dare use her first name. ‘Dr Thurman? May I have a word, please?’
‘Sure. I’m done here anyway.’ She joined him in the corridor.
‘I’m sorry to ask, but may I leave early? I have a...’ No. He wasn’t going to dump his problems on her. It wasn’t fair. ‘I have a personal problem that needs sorting out.’
‘Whatever.’
Brisk, professional. But there was a hint of disappointment in her face. Disappointment that he had a child? Or that he was proving her jaundiced views of locums correct? ‘I’ll make sure the hospital isn’t billed for the time I’ve had to take off.’
‘Fine.’
‘And thanks for looking after Ryan.’
She shrugged. ‘No problem.’
Clearly it was, but there was nothing he could do about it right now.
He collected Eliot, walked him to the car and then sat on the bonnet out of Eliot’s earshot while he rang Fran.
‘Hello?’
‘Fran, it’s Eliot.’
‘Oh.’ She sounded flustered, then suddenly snapped into the sullen mode he’d grown used to over the last couple of months. Ever since she’d been seeing this Jon person. ‘Are you going to be late again?’
‘No. Early, in fact. I wondered if you had anything missing?’
‘No.’
His mouth tightened. It must have taken Ryan half an hour to get here. And she still had no idea he was missing? ‘Check your handbag,’ he advised coldly.
‘What?’ She sounded slightly scared. ‘Why?’
‘Just check your handbag, then come back to the phone.’
Thirty seconds later, she was shrieking. ‘My purse has gone!’
‘It’s here. With Ryan.’
‘Ryan? I, um...No, he’s in his room, making models.’
‘He’s sitting in my car, in the hospital car park,’ Eliot corrected her. ‘I think we’ve got some talking to do—don’t you?’
‘Eliot, I’m sorry, it’s just—’
‘Save it.’ She hadn’t even asked if the boy was all right. Hell, hell, hell. How had he managed to get it so wrong when he’d hired Fran? At the time she’d seemed young but sensible and Ryan hadn’t minded her. Maybe he’d just been so desperate to find someone that he’d seen what he’d been looking for rather than what had really been there. ‘Ryan’s already explained. We’re on our way home now.’ If Fran had any sense, her boyfriend would be long gone before Eliot arrived. And he’d check the house over before she left. Get the locks changed tomorrow. And he’d need at least one day off...This was rapidly turning into a nightmare.
He consoled himself—just—with the thought that at least Ryan was OK. He’d found his way across Ludbury without any problems, he wasn’t hurt. He’d sort this mess out, one step at a time.
And then he’d face Claire.
* * *
A personal problem. He could say that again. Claire wasn’t sure whether she was angrier on Eliot’s behalf or with Eliot himself. Angry because Ryan was much too young to have travelled