up, and Harriet picked him up, cuddling him close.
‘She won’t be long, my darling,’ she assured him. ‘How about some juice?’
Blessing efficient Stacy for leaving a beaker of his favourite tipple ready in the kitchen, Harriet took the tearful little boy inside to find it, and cuddled him on her lap, deeply relieved when he stopped crying to drink.
‘What a good boy you are,’ she said fervently, and then sniffed at him in deep dismay. ‘Now this,’ she told him, ‘is where you make allowances for an amateur, Robert Dyer. I’ve never changed a nappy before.’
He gurgled, and clutched a lock of her hair as she bent over him, but made no objection to lying on the changing mat his mother had left ready. Harriet had watched closely when Stacy changed her son, but in actual practice found that, like gardening, the process wasn’t as easy as it looked. Due to much chuckling and wriggling it seemed a very long time before Robert was clean, fragrant and put back together again. Flushed with success, Harriet praised him extravagantly, balanced him inexpertly while she washed her hands, then sat him on her lap and gave him a biscuit.
‘Where’s Stacy?’ demanded a voice from the open doorway.
Harriet jumped up in fright, clutching the child protectively at the sight of a thin, furious youth she’d never seen before.
Robert beamed, and the boy darted forward, arms outstretched.
‘Hand him over!’ he yelled.
Robert burst into tears at the loud noise, and burrowed his face against Harriet’s neck.
‘Who are you?’ she demanded, her arms tightening round the child. ‘What are you doing in my house?’
‘I’m Greg Watts, Robert’s dad. Give him to me!’ He tried to snatch his child, but Robert held onto Harriet, sobbing piteously when he dropped his biscuit.
‘Don’t be an idiot, man,’ she said, standing her ground. ‘Can’t you see you’re frightening Robert to death? Stacy left him in my charge so I’m holding onto him until she comes back.’
‘You’ve no right. I’m his father,’ he said, his voice cracking, but as he made another lunge for the child James Devereux strode through the open door, seized Greg by the scruff of his neck and marched him outside, then came back to check on Harriet.
‘Are you all right?’ James demanded.
‘I’m fine, but Robert’s very upset.’ She kissed the sobbing baby and cuddled him close. ‘Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. I’ll ring Mummy and ask her to come right now. James, you didn’t hurt the boy, did you?’ she said anxiously.
‘Of course not. Greg says the child is his, but who’s the mother?’ he added.
‘Stacy Dyer, my cleaner.’
‘Give me the number and I’ll ring her. Then I’ll get Greg back in here and read the Riot Act.’
James’ lecture was so effective Greg Watts was trying to choke back tears when Stacy raced in, wild-eyed and distraught.
‘Greg, what on earth have you done?’ she wailed.
The young man stared in horror at her bruised eye. ‘Oh, God, Stace, did I do that? I’m sorry! You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I just wanted to see Robert.’
Much to Harriet’s surprise the child had fallen asleep on her shoulder. ‘He’s fine,’ she assured the girl, handing him over with care. ‘He was a bit frightened by all the fuss, that’s all.’
‘Miss Dyer should really call in the police,’ James told the boy sternly. ‘You obviously intended to abduct the child.’
‘No!’ The boy stared at him in utter dismay. ‘I just wanted to take Robert home to my mother for a bit, Mr Devereux. Stacy wouldn’t let me near him last night.’
‘If you behave like this I never will, either,’ she snapped, glaring at him over her son’s damp curls.
‘Don’t involve the police, love, please,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll never have a drink again if you let me see more of Robert. I’m not like your dad, Stacy, honest. I would never hurt you or my boy.’
She nodded slowly. ‘I know that, Greg.’
There was silence for a moment while the young pair gazed at each other, oblivious of the other two.
‘You can load the buggy in the car and I’ll drive you home, Stacy,’ said Harriet at last, but the girl shook her head firmly.
‘No way, Harriet. I’ll wheel Robert, and Greg can carry my things.’
The boy’s eyes lit up. ‘Can I give Robert his tea?’
‘Yes. And his bath, if you like.’ She fastened her sleeping son in his pushchair, and turned to Harriet. ‘After all this fuss do you still want me on Thursday?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Thanks.’ She eyed Harriet’s pallor anxiously. ‘You look shattered. I’d better make you some tea before I go.’
‘No need, I’ll do that,’ said James quickly.
Stacy smiled shyly at him. ‘OK, Mr Devereux. Come on, then, Greg.’
The boy looked at Harriet in remorse. ‘I’m really sorry. I know Stacy works here on Mondays so I came round to apologise for last night. I didn’t expect to find Robert here. When I saw him on your lap I just lost it.’
‘Because Stacy left your son with a stranger instead of with you,’ Harriet said with understanding.
‘Which gave you no right to terrorise Miss Verney, my lad,’ said James sternly.
‘I know that, Mr Devereux.’ Greg pulled a face. ‘When Dad hears about this I’ll probably get a shiner to match Stacy’s.’
‘He won’t hear it from me,’ James assured him, relenting.
When the young pair had finally departed with their son James drew out a chair. ‘You look exhausted, Harriet. Sit down. Is there anything to drink in the house?’
‘Wine in the fridge.’
‘No brandy?’
‘There might be some in the cabinet in the other room.’ She got up, but James pushed her down again.
‘I’ll look.’
Surprised by an urge to lay her head down on the table and howl once she was alone, Harriet combed her fingers through her untidy hair, brushed soggy biscuit crumbs from her T-shirt, and managed a smile when James returned with a bottle of cognac and two crystal brandy snifters.
‘My grandmother’s emergency kit,’ she informed him.
‘I think we can definitely class this as an emergency.’ He poured a small quantity into each glass and handed one over.
Harriet took a cautious sip from hers, shuddering a little as the fiery heat hit her. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue. Greg gave me rather a shock.’
James nodded. ‘I know. That’s why I was so rough with the kid.’
‘It probably taught him a lesson.’ Harriet smiled ruefully. ‘When Stacy said the child’s father had hit her I visualised some bruiser with fists like sledgehammers, so Greg came as something of a surprise. It was sad, really. Robert was delighted to see his daddy until Greg frightened him by yelling at me. How do you know Watts Senior, by the way?’
‘You probably know him as Frank. He’s the head gardener up at the house. I’ve known young Greg all his life.’
‘His father must be good at his job. It all looked very perfect when I was up there the other day.’ Harriet sighed. ‘Poor Greg. I’m glad Stacy relented towards him.’
‘Talking