She parked the vehicle outside the centre.
The Sunshine Children’s Centre was a long, low building, with a corrugated tin roof and a hand-painted sign made by the children. There was a bright yellow sun in one corner, its rays stretching across the sign, behind the words, and in another corner, if you looked hard enough, beyond the accumulation of dust, there was a child’s face with a big, happy smile.
‘This is it.’
‘How many children live here?’
‘Fifty-three. Most of them girls.’
They got out of the car and dusted themselves down. ‘How many of them are your students?’
‘Ten—though others go to the same school. They’re just in different classes.’
‘We should check them all—hand out anti-malarials just in case.’
She nodded. Yes, it was best to err on the side of caution. Preventative medicine was better than reactive medicine.
‘Okay. I’ll introduce you to the house matron—her name’s Jamila.’
‘Lead the way.’
She led him into the interior, explained the situation to Jamila and told her what they wanted to do to check on the children. Permission was given for them to treat them.
Tasha was glad it wasn’t a school day, so the children were all at the centre, though some of the boys were out at the back, playing football. All seemed to be in good health. None of them were showing signs of illness or fever.
‘Looks like Abeje was the unlucky one.’
Jamila stepped forward. ‘Abeje travelled with an aunt back to her village two weeks ago.’
‘With Ada?’ Tasha asked.
‘Yes. The village is about a two-hour drive from here. Do you think she could have got infected there?’
Tasha looked at Quinn and he nodded. It was a distinct possibility.
‘I wonder if anyone is sick at the village? Is it remote? Do they have any medical facilities nearby?’
Jamila shook her head. ‘The Serendipity is the closest they have.’
Quinn frowned. ‘They might feel they’re too sick to travel. Perhaps we ought to go out there? Check on everyone?’
‘Do you have enough medication?’
‘We’ll have to go back and restock. Maybe get a nurse to come along, too. You’ll come, Tasha, won’t you?’
At one stage in her life she would have jumped at the opportunity. But this was different. She didn’t need to go if Quinn and a nurse were going. As far as they knew she was just a teacher. They didn’t need her. Besides, she wanted to stay here and keep an eye on Abeje. Taking a trip with Quinn was her idea of hell!
‘You won’t need me.’
‘Nonsense! As Abeje’s teacher you’ll be able to explain why we have to do this. Introduce us to the aunt. Talk to the villagers.’
‘I barely know Ada. I’ve met her maybe once. Perhaps twice.’
‘More times than any of us.’
The way he was looking at her was dangerous. As if he needed her. Wanted her. Desperately. And it was doing strange things to her insides. Confusing things.
Okay, so more hands on deck might help get the medication distributed more quickly, and she couldn’t expect him to take many medical personnel from the ship to help. Some of them needed to stay behind. To look after Abeje, for one thing.
She could feel her resolve weakening and she hated that. Just like before, she was being pulled deeper and deeper into Quinn’s world.
‘Fine. Okay.’ She nodded quickly, hating herself for giving in. Imagining already how difficult it would be to spend so much time in his company.
‘Great.’ He beamed. ‘And whilst we’re getting there you can tell me how you know me—because I sure as hell can’t place where you’re from.’
She froze as he walked back outside.
So there was something, then. He recognised her as being familiar, but couldn’t place her.
How would he react when he realised she was Nit-Nat? How would he feel? Would he have forgotten what he did? What he’d said? Who she was? How he’d destroyed her little heart in a matter of minutes?
She wanted him to suffer. To feel uncomfortable. To apologise and grovel for her forgiveness...
Part of her wondered if it was better just to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. To insist that they’d never met before. But a stronger part of her wanted to let him know their connection. Their history. To surprise him and have him see how she had changed. She was no longer a chubby, nit-infested, braces-wearing girl in secondhand clothes.
She had not changed for him. She’d just grown up and been battered by life in so many ways. Life had given her plenty of challenges—killing her parents when she was young, making her grow up in a children’s home, having Quinn humiliate her, her job destroy her and her marriage break down. And yet she had come through it all. Was still standing. Still able to find joy in her life. To enjoy it. To feel worthwhile.
Was fate, or karma, or whatever it was called, finished messing with her life?
She hoped so. But the fact that she was here and Quinn was here and they were together made her suspect that fate hadn’t finished putting her through the wringer just yet.
Tasha stepped out into the sunshine, shielding her eyes from the worst of the sun’s rays. She climbed into the vehicle, started the engine and turned to look at him, butterflies somersaulting in her stomach, her mouth dry.
It was time. She had to say it.
Just say it. Get it out there.
‘You do know me. I’m Tasha Kincaid now—but you might know me by my former name, Natasha Drummond.’
She saw him frown, think, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise as his eyes widened.
‘That’s right. You’re in a car with Nit-Nat.’
NIT-NAT? SHE WAS NIT-NAT?
When she’d first said her name his mind had gone blank. Natasha Drummond? Nit-Nat? He hadn’t recognised those names at all. And then a small tickle of a memory had suggested itself. A sense of something appalling. Something he couldn’t quite grasp, slippery and evasive. Something about that name being familiar. Something about that name being unpleasant.
Then he’d realised. It was something shameful. A memory he had tried to suppress... And then the memory had become stronger, fiercer, until it was roaring loudly, like a lion, right up in his face, and the hot breath of fetid shame was washing over him as he remembered what he’d once done.
He’d been fifteen years old the first time he’d become aware of her. Although perhaps ‘aware’ was the wrong word. She’d just been one of the many background faces at the children’s home where his best friend Dex had lived.
He’d always been fascinated by them each time he went to the children’s home, simply because of what they represented. He was one parent away from being there himself, having been raised by his ex-Marine father because his mother had walked out on them. The children at the home had been a bright example of what his life might have been like if his father had left, too.
He’d gone there for Dex, so that they