little to protect him from the torrential rain. The youth—for he was barely twenty, Daniel saw as he came nearer—glanced across at the Land Rover and hurried over. Daniel wound down his window.
‘We’re going to be a little while yet, mate. Not much point in ’anging around.’ A hard, assessing gaze. ‘Not unless you fancy giving us an ’and, that is.’ The young man glanced back towards the house. ‘Truth is, I’m a bit lumbered here.’
‘Lumbered?’ Daniel followed his gaze, watching as another figure, dressed more appropriately in a long yellow mackintosh with hood pulled up, scurried down the path towards the van.
‘Yeah, I was let down by a mate.’ The man wiped the rain away from his eyes and turned his collar up, huddling into the inadequate protection of his jacket. ‘We’ve done most of the small stuff, but now we’ve got a bed to shift, and to be honest I don’t see how we’re going to do it.’
Daniel watched as the mackintosh-clad figure glanced towards his vehicle, then clambered up into the van and began to attempt to manoeuvre a bed towards the edge of the van.
‘Hey, don’t be stupid! You’ll do yourself an injury!’ The man’s voice rang out sharply in the damp night air. He glanced back at Daniel. ‘See what I mean?’ He swore sharply as the bed teetered dangerously, then jogged over to the van and hoisted himself up, issuing instructions in a harsh, irritated voice.
Daniel exhaled a breath, glanced around the interior of the Land Rover and retrieved a long, waxed raincoat, which had definitely seen better days, from amongst the mess and muddle in the back. It looked as if he was going to have to help, or be witness to a rain-soaked disaster that wouldn’t be fit to sleep on tonight.
The bed wasn’t particularly heavy, but it was awkward. All the more so with the seemingly willing but rather ineffectual helper in the yellow mackintosh getting in the way. Daniel lifted the bed to the edge of the van, then jumped down and helped the jacketed youth carry the item down the garden path and into the house.
The interior was gloomy, and rather cold, but far better than being out in the rain. Yellow Mackintosh led the way like a beacon of light, and between them Daniel and the other man manoeuvred the bed through the narrow hallway and up a short flight of stairs to a large bedroom with faded pink rosebuds and several large damp stains on the walls.
‘Thanks a lot. Just here will be fine.’
She sounded young and immensely grateful. Daniel wondered why the possibility of her being a woman hadn’t occurred to him before. He gave the yellow mackintosh more than a cursory glance, watching with interest as the shrouded figure pulled down the hood to reveal a riot of crazy auburn curls which were a stark and colourful contrast against the shiny yellow material.
The girl was an amazing and vibrant apparition amongst the drabness of the house. Daniel found his gaze drawn to the delicate complexion, to the flash of emerald eyes. His mouth curved with surprise and the girl’s mouth curved too, into a hesitant, shy smile. ‘This is very good of you,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t think we could have managed on our own, could we, Gary?’
‘Nah. There’s a couple more pieces.’ Gary raised questioning brows. ‘Any chance of giving us a hand with those, mate? Then I can clear out of your way with the van.’
‘Sure.’ Daniel nodded. His gaze returned towards the girl. She looked exhausted. ‘You might as well stay out of the rain,’ he told her. ‘No point in getting wet unneccesarily.’
‘Thanks.’ She managed another smile which, Daniel could see, involved some effort. ‘I’d better go and check on Robbie. He’ll be frightened if he wakes up and I’m not around.’
‘Robbie?’ The question was out before he realised.
‘My son.’ Steady green eyes met Daniel’s enquiring gaze. ‘He’s asleep in a chair downstairs.’ She glanced towards the youth. ‘Gary, if you could get his bed next, that would be really helpful.’
‘Yeah, OK, I’m doing my best.’ He scowled. ‘Can’t promise anything.’
It took another thirty minutes before the last of the furniture was off-loaded from the van. It had been a rather scant haul: a few pieces of heavy, mismatched furniture and jumbled possessions.
‘Thanks, mate. Couldn’t have done it without you.’ Gary let out a sigh of relief and proffered a somewhat grimy hand in thanks. ‘If there was a pub around here, I’d buy you a pint.’
‘There is, actually, but don’t worry.’ Daniel’s mouth curved into a perfunctory smile. ‘I’m on my way somewhere.’
‘You’re very wet. I’m so sorry we had to trouble you.’
He watched as she came into the front downstairs room. The mac had been removed to reveal ubiquitous, loose-fitting jeans and a baggy red jumper which clashed madly with her hair. In her arms was a child of about five or six, with silky brown hair and a cherub face. Daniel smiled. ‘He’s sleeping soundly.’
‘Yes, thank goodness!’ She glanced affectionately down at her son, then looked back at Daniel. ‘I know it’s not much, but would you like a cup of tea before you go? You’ve been so kind, helping us out like this. It’s the least we can offer.’
Her voice was a great attraction: soft and soothing with a hint of huskiness. The sort of voice that stayed in your mind long after any words had been spoken. Daniel gazed for a few moments at mother and child, then, realising he was in danger of staring, made an effort and collected his thoughts. ‘Thanks, but no, thanks. You’ve got your hands full enough as it is.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I’ll leave you both to settle in.’
‘And I’ll shift the van.’ Gary’s voice was rough and harsh, over-loud in the echoey emptiness of the room. The child stirred in the young woman’s arms.
‘He’s very tired. It’s been a long day.’ The girl inhaled a steadying breath as she wrapped the blanket more tightly around her son, bending her head to kiss the silky brown hair. ‘Goodbye, then.’ Her eyelids were heavy with sleep. ‘And thanks again.’
It was the strangest thing, Daniel mused as he hurried, head bent, through the still pouring rain to his Land Rover outside. Why on earth should he feel a compulsion to stay?
He opened the door and climbed in, waiting for Gary to move off in the van. He looked across at the uncurtained window. The house was dismal and cold. He thought of the girl and her son; presumably the two of them had some form of heating sorted out, but even so…
The van was moving. Daniel started his engine, allowed himself one last look across at the cottage, at the solitary light bulb swinging from the ceiling, realised suddenly that he didn’t know her name, then thrust the battered vehicle into gear and pulled away.
All Cathy wanted to do was sleep—impossible, of course, with so much to do, but that was always the way of things. She’d had so many restless nights recently, worrying about the move, frightened to death that she wasn’t doing the right thing, and now she felt dead on her feet.
She carried Robbie to the settee and settled him down beneath a pile of blankets; the mattress on his bed felt slightly damp, and she didn’t want to risk giving Robbie a chill. She placed gentle fingers against his rosy cheek to check his temperature. He was as warm as toast, which was more than she could say for herself, she thought, as a shiver racked her body.
There was a cold draught of air coming from somewhere. She walked out into the narrow hall to investigate. Typical Gary; he hadn’t shut the front door properly. She watched as he jogged back down the garden path. His trainers weren’t as white as when he’d first started the move, she noticed; he wouldn’t be pleased with that. ‘I’ll be getting back.’ He huddled beneath the dilapidated porch, unsuccessfully trying to shelter from the driving rain.
‘You don’t want something to eat or drink before you go?’ Cathy asked dutifully. She was relieved when he briefly shook his head. ‘Nah, I need to get the van back.’ He pulled back the cuff of his