‘Nana made me some milk and read me a story.’
‘And did it make you feel better?’
Hope didn’t reply but from the swish of hair against the phone, Rachel guessed she was nodding her head. Raking her fingers through her own dark locks which were hanging loosely over her shoulder, Rachel wished she could stroke her daughter’s hair. ‘Good. And I’m very, very sorry, Hope. Really I am.’
‘OK, but don’t do it again,’ Hope said in a firm, deep voice that held an unshakeable belief that her Mummy wouldn’t be letting her down in the future.
Rachel couldn’t decide upon a half-truth or a downright lie but was saved from answering by her mum. ‘Say goodbye to Mummy and then go upstairs and brush your teeth,’ Karen told her granddaughter.
After escaping Hope’s interrogation, it was the turn of Rachel’s mum to ask the awkward questions. ‘And will it be happening again?’
Rachel nipped at her sore lip nervously before speaking. ‘Would you mind?’ When her mum didn’t reply, she added, ‘It won’t be forever, mum. Only until Martin and Hope get to know each other.’
‘So it’s getting serious then?’
There had been a hint of regret in her mum’s voice that made Rachel’s heart ache. They made a good team, just the three of them. Karen had brought Rachel up single-handedly and had been there to make sure that her daughter didn’t have to go it alone too. They had their moments and it could be frustrating sometimes when Rachel tried to assert herself as a mother in her own right. But it was hard to imagine any other life, and yet that was exactly what she was doing. She and Martin had been up half the night talking about the future they might have together. The dreams they had become expert at weaving were taking on more substance, and if they came true it would mean major changes for all of them, not least her mum.
‘Yes, mum. I think I love him.’
Rachel placed a hand on her chest, as she silently begged her mum not to force-feed her a dose of reality. She could feel her pulse racing as her fingers touched the gold heart-shaped pendant Martin had given her last night. Karen was oblivious to this and somehow managed to speak and sigh at the same time. ‘Oh, Rachel, please don’t go rushing into things, for Hope’s sake as well as your own. Remember how she was when you split up with Dan?’
‘I remember,’ Rachel said. She looked over to the staircase, suddenly eager to get to work.
‘I don’t mind babysitting Hope if you want to spend more time getting to know Martin. All I ask is that you take your time before letting him into her life.’
Rachel wanted to tell her mum that time was something they didn’t have if Martin’s latest plans came to fruition, but she held her tongue and said, ‘OK.’
‘Good. Now I’d better go and see what that little minx is up to.’
When Rachel finished the call, she sloped off to the staffroom to change. She was one of the youngest members of staff at Sunny Days and there were a few knowing smiles from older colleagues when they caught her looking slightly dishevelled in a frilly black dress with layers of chiffon and a scattering of sequins instead of the vest top and jeans they were used to. She kept her head down as she slipped into her uniform and thought she had got off lightly until she went into the kitchen where all the staff were gathered for the shift change.
‘Was that Martin I spotted dropping you off before?’ Carol asked casually when she had finished issuing orders for the day.
The blush that rose in Rachel’s cheeks was as scalding as her coffee. ‘Yes.’
‘I would have thought he’d have treated himself to a better car by now. When he settled the final bill here, he was telling me he had quite a bit of inheritance coming his way.’
‘He’s not going to waste it, Carol,’ Rachel said proudly. ‘In fact he’s going to invest his money in a new business venture.’
‘Ooh, that sounds interesting.’
There was a pause as Carol waited for further details but Rachel was feeling even more uncomfortable than she had earlier. Martin’s inheritance had indeed been substantial. His mum had died just over three months ago and up until that point they had kept their relationship at arm’s length, partly because Martin had been too preoccupied with his mum’s care and partly because he had been too shy to make the first move and Rachel was still convincing herself she wasn’t looking for love. It was only after his mum’s death that Martin had realised he wouldn’t have an excuse to see Rachel anymore and had plucked up the courage to ask her out and she had had the courage to accept. Not everyone, however, would see things that way, and Rachel worried that some would view her as a gold digger. ‘He’s still working on the plans,’ she said.
‘Well, I’m glad to see he’s factoring you into those plans,’ Carol said with a kind smile and a look that told Rachel that she shouldn’t always think the worst of people.
Rachel scraped her hair back into a ponytail as she headed upstairs. Her party frock had been replaced by a crisp cotton uniform, her heels by practical pumps and there was only a faint smudge of make-up on her lashes from the night before. The woman who had been courted by her attentive boyfriend had vanished, outwardly at least, and now the working mum took over. Her first job of the day was to check on Mrs Wilson, who was still refusing to leave her room. ‘I’m sure she thinks we run a hotel service here,’ Carol had complained but Rachel didn’t mind being given the task of looking after the retired headmistress. Mrs Wilson had eighty years’ worth of memories that Rachel would love to hear if only she could be persuaded to share.
‘Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?’ Rachel said, picking up the tray that Mrs Wilson had discarded in favour of her book.
‘Enough of that mush, yes,’ came a muttered reply.
Rachel narrowed her eyes. ‘Judging by the clothes hanging in the wardrobe, I’d say you’ve lost a fair bit of weight recently. If you’re so determined to get home then you’re going to have to do better than that.’
There was a sigh as Mrs Wilson put down her book. ‘The same could be said of your cooks.’
‘If you could make it down to the dining room, there’s a better selection. It’s not all mush,’ Rachel said, tipping her head towards the scrambled egg congealing on soggy, brown toast.
‘I think I’d rather have the mush, thanks.’
Rachel wasn’t going to be fobbed off for the second day in a row. ‘How about we try again to get you up and dressed?’ she said with an air of confidence that had nothing to do with Mrs Wilson and everything to do with Martin. He had spent the night telling Rachel how wonderful she was, how lucky he was to have her and how amazing their life together could be. She had woken up that morning believing him and, more importantly, believing in herself.
The steel in Mrs Wilson’s eyes seemed unyielding but then she said, ‘Oh, anything to shut you up.’
‘Another way to shut me up would be to talk to me. I’d love to hear about your family or all of those boisterous kids you taught over the years. Maybe you could give me some tips on how to keep my six-year-old in check.’
‘The best advice I can give is that, if you make a promise, keep it and if you make a threat, follow it through. Children like the reassurance of knowing what comes next even if they know they won’t like it.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Rachel said as she picked out a blue summer dress from the wardrobe and lifted it up for Mrs Wilson’s approval, but she was already