‘I thought we’d go into the village after that. We can see if they’ve finished decorating the big tree and get some fresh bread to go with our soup for lunch. Will you be back by then?’
‘I don’t know.’ In his coat now, Adam reached for the leather doctor’s bag that had probably been his father’s before him. ‘If I am, you can have the afternoon off. And tomorrow, of course, being Sunday.’
‘But what would you do with the children if you got a call?’
‘They come in the car with me. They’re used to it.’
‘I don’t need a day off,’ Emma told him. ‘I’m loving being with the children.’
Adam paused en route to the door and the look Emma received was one of surprise. Had she sounded too enthusiastic perhaps?
Needy even?
Or maybe he thought it was some sort of rebuke directed at how little time he seemed to spend with his children.
Whatever was going on behind that dark, unreadable gaze, the eye contact made Emma’s heart skip a beat. How could just a look feel like a physical touch?
It went on for long enough to make her start feeling a little peculiar and maybe he would have held her gaze even longer because Emma found herself unable to look away, but then the children burst into the room. Ollie had an instrument that looked like a recorder in one hand and a very dog-eared book in the other.
‘I found them, Dad. They were under my bed.’
Poppy was right behind him. ‘And I’m all dressed now. I just need Emma to do my hair.’ Her face fell when she saw the bag in her father’s hand. ‘Are you going out now?’
‘You know I have to work on Saturday mornings, love.’
Emma’s gaze had been drawn straight back to Adam’s face so she could see the softening as he looked down at his children. There was even a curl to his mouth that most would probably label as a smile but it wasn’t a real smile. Had his children ever seen his eyes crinkle with happiness or basked in the joy of hearing him laugh aloud?
‘I’ll be back this afternoon,’ he said. ‘We can take the dogs for a walk if it stops raining and see if there’s enough ice on the pond to go skating.’
His son’s hair got ruffled and Poppy got a kiss on the top of her head and then he was gone. The children—and the dogs—were left staring forlornly after him.
‘Who wants eggs?’ Emma asked brightly.
‘Me. I love eggs.’ Poppy climbed up onto a chair.
‘I don’t.’ Oliver kicked his chair leg before sitting down. ‘I think they’re icky.’
‘Icky eggs.’ Poppy giggled but then cast a doubtful look towards the pan Emma was stirring.
‘That’s only because you haven’t tried my special scrambled eggs,’ Emma said firmly. ‘They’re from your very own hens and they look yummy. I’m going to have some too and then we’re going to get our skates on and get you to your classes on time.’
Poppy frowned. ‘I don’t think I can dance with my skates on.’
Emma laughed. ‘It means that we need to be quick.’ She put a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Poppy. ‘To go fast, like we’re pretending to be on skates.’
‘I love skating.’ Poppy picked up her fork. ‘I hope the pond is all freezed up. Will you come and have a look on our walk, too, Emma?’
The wide-eyed, hopeful look that accompanied the invitation was irresistible but Emma rapidly replayed Adam’s words in her head. He’d offered to take the children for a walk. He’d told her she could have the afternoon off. That added up to him wanting time alone with his children, didn’t it?
‘I might have some things I need to do,’ she told Poppy. ‘But you can tell me all about it later.’
Adam wasn’t home by the time the soup was hot and the crusty loaf of bread had been sliced and buttered.
‘I don’t think we’ll wait,’ Emma decided. ‘I can leave some soup on the stove to stay hot for Daddy and we’ll save him lots of bread.’
‘And a chocolate?’
‘Does Daddy like chocolate?’
‘Mmm.’ Poppy nodded her head enthusiastically but then frowned. ‘Not as much as me.’
Emma eyed the small bowl on the table. ‘You didn’t open too many doors on your calendar, did you?’
Poppy shook her head. ‘That’s Ollie’s chocolates too. Is there really one behind every door until it gets to Christmas?’
‘Sure is. Have you guys never had an Advent calendar before?’
Poppy shook her head again. ‘Jeannie told me about them at school but I didn’t believe her.’
A momentary doubt surfaced as Emma looked at the two Advent calendars now pinned to the bottom of the big corkboard, within easy reach of the children. Surely Adam wouldn’t object to them having the excitement of opening the doors to find the treat and the tiny Christmassy picture every morning?
‘Ollie? You can stop practising now. Come and have lunch.’
‘I’m going to wait for Dad.’
‘But we don’t know how long he’ll be. You must be hungry.’
Sitting on the sofa, Oliver shook his head and kept blowing on his chanter, laboriously changing his finger positions over the holes. The noise was terrible. No wonder the dogs were looking unhappy.
‘Tell you what …’ Emma had to raise her voice to be heard over the shrill notes. ‘Why don’t you have a little bit now and then some more when Dad gets home?’
Oliver appeared not to have heard the suggestion but when the telephone rang he dropped his chanter and ran to answer it. He came back scowling. ‘Dad says Mrs Jessop is having her baby and it’s coming too early so he has to stay and look after her until the ambulance comes and he might have to go into the hospital with her, too. He might not be home till teatime.’
‘Oh … Emma’s heart gave a squeeze at the small boy’s obvious disappointment. ‘We’ll just have to find something fun to do until then, won’t we?’
Oliver’s scowl deepened.
Emma tried hard to keep the children amused and cheer Oliver up. They all put wellies and coats on and took some carrots out for Jemima the donkey, who was very happy to have visitors. Emma scratched her woolly head and stroked the extraordinary ears.
‘She has beautiful eyes.’
‘She’s really clever,’ Oliver said. ‘She can undo knots. Dad says it’s no use ever tying her up.’
Poppy was being nuzzled gently.
‘She’s kissing me, Emma. See? She loves me. She’specially loves it when I ride her.’
‘Really? Does she have a saddle?’
‘You don’t need one,’ Oliver told her. ‘There’s lots of fluff to hang onto and she never goes fast.’
‘How does she know where to go?’
‘She follows me,’ Oliver said. He stood a little taller. ‘That’s why she’s so good at undoing knots. She doesn’t like being tied up because she wants to follow me. Jemima loves me, too.’
‘She’s quiet now,’ Emma observed. ‘She’s pretty loud in the mornings, isn’t she?’
‘That’s because she’s lonely,’ Poppy said sadly. ‘Donkeys need to have