Baby on Loan. Liz Fielding

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СКАЧАТЬ Dalton. So he says. He has a very nasty gash on his forehead.’

      ‘I know. I think he must have hit his head when he fell.’ She picked up Bertie, cuddled him. ‘From the noise, I can only assume he stepped on the cat and lost his balance, although what he hoped to find in the fridge I can’t imagine.’

      ‘You’d be surprised. The fridge and freezer are favourite places to hide valuables. Unfortunately the villains know that, although the gentleman did say that he lives here.’

      ‘He said that to me, too. It’s not true, you know. I rented the house from a Miss Carenza Finch. I only moved in today.’ Bertie grizzled into her shoulder. ‘Maybe he has a concussion.’

      ‘Maybe.’ The man cleared his throat. ‘There’s no sign of a break-in, though. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but this wouldn’t be a domestic situation would it?’

      ‘Domestic?’

      ‘A lovers’ tiff that’s got a bit out of hand?’

      ‘Lovers’…’ Jessie stared at him open-mouthed, temporarily lost for words. ‘Officer, I’ve never met that man before in my entire life. And if I meet him again it will be too soon. I told you, I moved in here today,’ she explained. ‘The owner was going abroad for the summer and needed someone to make the place look lived in, to take care of her cat, her plants. Is this a high-crime area?’

      ‘Not particularly. Most people have burglar alarms. You have one yourself,’ he pointed out. ‘Was it switched on?’

      ‘Well, no. Actually, it wasn’t. I was tired, what with the baby… I just forgot. Maybe I forgot to lock the door, too.’ He nodded, understandingly. ‘Do you want to see the lease? It’s on the table in the hall. Oh, and that man left a bag out there, too. Evidently this wasn’t his first job tonight.’

      The policeman glanced at the lease, made some notes and then picked up the bag. ‘I’ll leave you in peace, then, miss. Maybe you could come down to the station and make a statement in the morning?’

      ‘Yes, of course.’ More time-wasting, Jessie thought, with a groan. Why did the wretched man have to choose her house? She followed the policeman to the door. ‘What will happen to Mr Dalton? If that’s his real name.’ He glanced at the bag with its airline labels and flipped one over. It read Patrick Dalton, but there was no address.

      ‘Maybe he stole the bag,’ she said. ‘And the name.’ And if he hadn’t? If he was telling the truth? His eyes didn’t have the look of a man who lied. But then Graeme had eyes that promised the earth and she’d believed him. She was no judge.

      ‘Right, then. I’ll leave you to put the little one back to bed. Don’t forget the alarm, now,’ he reminded her as he headed down the front steps.

      ‘I won’t.’ There was no way she was going through that again, she thought as she closed the door and set the alarm.

      But, supercharged with adrenalin, she wasn’t going to get back to sleep. She cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, trying not to think about her good-looking burglar with the honest eyes. Or the way his body had felt beneath her. It wasn’t easy and a touch desperately, she connected her computer and set to work.

      ‘I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, Kevin. I miss him so much.’

      ‘Me too. Weird, isn’t it? The quiet actually hurts my ears.’

      ‘Do you suppose it’s worked yet?’

      ‘I shouldn’t think so, sweetheart. They wouldn’t just pitch her out onto the street, would they? Not just like that?’

      ‘Wouldn’t they?’

      ‘We said we’d give it a week, Faye.’

      ‘I’m not sure I can hold out that long. Suppose she can’t cope? Suppose—?’

      ‘Jessie is the most capable woman I know, and she was brilliant with Bertie on Sunday.’

      ‘Yes, but I was there on Sunday.’

      ‘You left enough instructions to fill a baby book. And if she has any problems she’ll…’

      ‘She’ll what?’

      ‘She’ll do what she always does. She’ll call up someone on the internet. Come and have a cuddle.’

      ‘That’s what got us into this situation in the first place.’

      It had been light for an hour when Bertie woke. Maybe she was beginning to get used to less sleep, or maybe it was just that she’d made serious headway with the project she was working on, or maybe it was just the fact that she had somewhere to live for a few weeks, but Jessie felt on top of the world as she bent over the cot and picked him up.

      ‘Hungry, sweetheart?’ He jammed his fist into his mouth and she laughed.

      She put on the kettle, made a note to organise a replacement shelf for the fridge, then made tea for herself and a bottle for Bertie. There was a mark on the curved edge of the worktop. Was that where Patrick Dalton, if that was really his name, had banged his head? Had he hit it that hard? The thought made her feel queasy. Maybe she should visit him in hospital.

      Oh, right. And take him some hothouse grapes while she was at it.

      Maybe he was already in a police cell. The thought gave her no pleasure. He hadn’t looked like a burglar. He hadn’t sounded like a burglar either, but a good start in life didn’t necessarily mean a good end.

      ‘I’m sorry, Mr Dalton, but under the circumstances my officers had no choice but to take Miss Hayes’ word for what happened.’

      ‘I imagine her word was nothing but the truth. As she saw it.’

      ‘You won’t be pressing charges, then?’

      ‘What charges? Your man saw the lease, you said. My niece apparently let my house to the woman. I imagine she’ll insist, with some justification, that she’s the injured party.’ He touched the dressing on his forehead and winced. ‘I’ll reimburse Ms Hayes and when she’s gone I’ll find Carenza and make sure she has a summer she won’t forget in a hurry.’

      ‘Yes, sir. Is that your bag?’ The Deputy Chief Constable nodded to a young constable, who picked it up. ‘The very least I can do is offer you a lift home.’

      The kitchen was clean; Bertie had had his bath and was taking a nap. She was going to take a shower, get dressed and, when he woke, she would put him in the buggy and walk down to the police station to make her statement. And find out if her burglar had recovered.

      Not that she felt responsible. When he’d grabbed her ankle he’d frightened her out of her wits. But then, when she’d been lying on top of him, confronted by grey eyes that looked…what, exactly? Certainly not threatening. Bemused, perhaps. Shaken, maybe.

      Well, she’d been feeling a little off-balance, too. And not just because he’d pulled her feet from under her.

      Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t ever going to put herself through that kind of misery again. Never.

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