Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris. Fiona Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ thought of the little carving of a mother’s and child’s hands interlinked. It was heartbreaking—and it was beautiful. It hadn’t felt right to ask any questions about her son Peter. She’d only just met Mrs Van Dyke and that would be intrusive.

      But she’d felt the connection. The connection that only another mother who had lost a child could feel.

      Obviously she hadn’t said anything to Mrs Van Dyke. The woman hardly knew her. But that little feeling in the pit of her stomach had told her that this woman would be able to understand exactly how she felt.

      Their circumstances were obviously different. Mrs Van Dyke had spent seven years loving and cherishing her son, getting to know his thoughts and quirks, growing together as mother, child and part of a family. Carrie had missed out on all that.

      She’d spent seven months with her hands on her growing stomach, with a whole host of hopes and expectations for her child. In her head she’d been making plans for the future. Plans that involved a child.

      None of those plans had been for a future without her daughter.

      Her hands were starting to shake a little. Was it from the weight in her hands—or was it from the thoughts in her head?

      A cradle is only really a cradle when it holds a baby.

      How true.

      She’d loved the white cot she’d bought for her daughter. But it hadn’t been nearly as beautiful as this one. It had been dismantled and packed off to the nearest charity shop, along with the pram, because she couldn’t bear to look at them.

      Hopefully some other baby had benefitted from them.

      Carrie walked down the stairs carefully, making sure she didn’t bang the cradle on the way. Who knew what Dan would say to her? She wouldn’t be surprised if he let rip with some choice words.

      Her ears pricked up. Crying—no, wailing. The baby was screaming at the top of his lungs. Her steps quickened and she pushed open Dan’s door with her shoulder.

      ‘Dan, what on earth is going on?’

      * * *

      Dan’s ears were throbbing. Weren’t there environmental laws about noise? No one seemed to have told this little guy.

      He changed him over to the other shoulder. This had been going on for the past fifteen minutes. What on earth had gone wrong?

      He screwed up his face. Why was he even thinking that? He knew exactly what had gone wrong. The little guy had nearly finished the entire bottle without burping once. And according to what he’d read on the internet—that wasn’t good.

      He tried to switch off from the screaming. Tried to focus his mind elsewhere. Who would leave a baby outside in the cold?

      The thought had been preying on his mind since the second Carrie had found the baby. Sure, he’d done the cop thing and made a half-hearted attempt to look for the mother—to see if someone was in trouble out there.

      But truth be told—he wasn’t that sure he wanted to find her.

      Some people just weren’t fit to be parents. Fact.

      He was living proof and had the scars to back up his theory.

      Even twenty-five years ago social services had tried to support his mother to keep him, when the truth of the matter was they should have got him the hell out of there.

      Thank goodness his grandmother had realised what the scars on his back were. The guys in the station thought they were chicken-pox scars, and he wasn’t about to tell them any different. But cigarettes left a nasty permanent burn.

      The expression on Carrie’s face had said it all. She’d felt compassion; she’d felt pity for the person who’d left this baby behind. He felt differently. Maybe this little guy was going to get the start in life he deserved.

      There was a light tap at the door, then it was shouldered open. Carrie—with a wooden crib in her hands.

      She wrinkled her nose at the noise. ‘What did you do?’ She crossed the room and sat the crib at his feet. Had she been with Mrs Van Dyke all this time? It was the only place she could have got the crib.

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Fed him.’

      She shook her head. ‘He shouldn’t be squealing like that. Give him here.’ She held out her arms and he hesitated. What was going on? This woman had hightailed it out of here as if there were a fire licking at her heels. Now she was back as if nothing had happened?

      He placed his hand protectively on the little guy’s back. ‘What happened, Carrie?’ He didn’t care how blunt it sounded. He didn’t care how much help he really wanted right now. He needed her to be straight with him.

      She looked him straight in the eye. But he could see it—the waver. The hesitation in her blue eyes. ‘I needed a little space for five minutes. And now—I’ve had it. I spent a little time with Mrs Van Dyke. She’s great. I wish I’d had the opportunity to speak to her before today.’ She walked over to the sink and lifted one of the pacifiers out of the sterilising solution. ‘Has this been in there thirty minutes?’

      He glanced at the clock and nodded, watching as she put the pacifier in the baby’s mouth and lifted him from his shoulder. ‘Let’s try something else, then.’ She sat down on the sofa and laid the baby across her lap, face down, gently rubbing his back.

      Dan looked at the crib and shook his head. ‘I hadn’t even thought about where he was going to sleep.’

      Carrie smiled. The kind of smile that changed the whole expression on her face. There it was. That little glimpse again of who she could be if she let herself.

      ‘Neither did I. I asked Mrs Van Dyke if she had any clothes and it was she who suggested the crib.’ She peered over at him as she continued to rub the baby’s back. ‘We don’t have a mattress, though. Do you have something we could put inside?’

      Dan tried to rack his brain. ‘What about those new towels? We used one earlier, but I have plenty left. I could fold some of them to make a mattress for the crib.’

      ‘That sounds perfect. I don’t have a lot of clothes. A few cardigans, some embroidered vests and some socks. She also gave me a beautiful crocheted blanket. It looks brand new.’

      The baby had stopped crying. Dan turned his head just in time to see a little pull up of the legs and to hear the loudest burp known to man.

      ‘There we go. Is that better, little guy?’ Carrie had turned him over and lifted him up again, staring him in the face. She put him back on her shoulder and kept gently rubbing his back. Her tongue ran along her lips. ‘I remember somebody mentioning that trapped wind makes a baby cranky.’

      Dan let out a snort. ‘Cranky? You call that cranky? You only had to listen to five minutes of it.’

      She bit her lip. ‘Yes, I know. Sorry.’ He could see her take a deep breath. ‘I find this difficult, Dan. And I’m not sure I’ll be much help.’ She stood up and walked over to the window with the baby on her shoulder. ‘I can’t help feeling really sorry for whoever is out there. Why СКАЧАТЬ