‘Not a problem. It’s not going any further than me.’
‘Trust you, you’re a nurse?’
‘Something like that.’ Flora smiled at him, and Tom realised that she had dimples. Seriously cute dimples. Dimples he wanted to touch. Dimples he wanted to kiss.
Though now wasn’t the time or the place. ‘Thank you. You’ve been really kind. Can I impose on you and ask you what’s your secret? You’ve got through to Joey when nobody else can, not even his teachers.’
She shrugged. ‘I think he likes Banjo.’
The dog wagged his tail at hearing his name. The sound of Banjo’s tail thumping the floor woke Joey, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. For a moment, he stared wildly round him, as if not knowing where he was.
‘Hey, Jojo, we’re at Flora’s. At the farm,’ Tom said, going over to him and squatting down so that he was at his nephew’s level. ‘You fell asleep, sweetheart. I hear you’ve been running about with Banjo here and seeing the chickens and making brownies.’
Joey nodded.
‘Did you have fun?’
Joey nodded again.
‘That’s good.’ Tom smiled at him. ‘The fire’s out now so your school’s all safe again, ready for Monday morning. And we ought to let Flora get on. Shall we go home to Uncle Tom’s upstairs house?’
Joey just looked at him.
Home.
Clearly Joey didn’t think of Tom’s flat as home. Maybe he should’ve moved into his sister’s house instead of taking Joey back to his place, but he simply couldn’t handle it. Every second he’d been in the house, he’d expected Susie to walk into the room at any time, and it had to be even harder for Joey. Right now, Tom was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, and he hated himself for not being able to make Joey’s world right again. For being a coward and escaping to work whenever he could, losing himself in the adrenalin rush of his job.
‘Shall we say goodbye to Flora and Banjo?’
Joey yawned, then made a fuss of the dog, who licked him.
‘You can come back any time you like and play with him,’ Flora said. ‘He liked playing ball with you this afternoon.’
Joey said nothing, but there was the ghost of a smile on his face.
‘Thank you for having us,’ Tom said, knowing that his nephew wasn’t going to say it.
‘My pleasure. Come back soon, Joey,’ Flora said with a smile.
Tom tried slipping his hand into Joey’s as they walked to the front door, but Joey twisted his hand away. Tom was careful not to let his feelings show on his face. ‘Bye, Flora. Thanks again.’
He opened the car door, and Joey climbed onto his car seat. The little boy allowed Tom to fix the seatbelt, but Tom could see by the look on his nephew’s face that Joey had retreated back into his shell again. He didn’t even wave to Flora. If only he could find a way of getting through to Joey. He was just going to have to try harder.
CHAPTER THREE
DESPITE the fact that he’d lain awake half the night, worrying about Joey, Tom’s body-clock was relentless. He didn’t even need to look at his alarm to know that it was six o’clock. For pity’s sake, it wasn’t even light. And it was the weekend. Why couldn’t he just turn over, stick the pillow over his head and go back to sleep?
Ha. He knew the answer to that. Because Joey woke early, too, and Tom needed to keep the little boy safe. His life had changed completely. Nowadays, he couldn’t stay up until stupid o’clock watching films or playing online with his friends on a game console, or sleep in until midday on his day off. He had responsibilities.
Coffee, first. Tom dragged himself out of bed, then pulled on his dressing gown and headed for the kitchen. He blinked in surprise when he switched on the light and saw Joey sitting at the table in the dark, all dressed and ready to go out. Joey’s long-sleeved T-shirt was on back to front and he was wearing odd socks; Tom couldn’t help smiling. Cute beyond words. Part of him was tempted to ruffle his nephew’s hair, but he knew that the little boy would only flinch away, so there was no point.
And that hurt.
‘Why were you sitting in the dark, Jojo?’ he asked gently.
Joey said nothing, but glanced over to the doorway.
Of course. He couldn’t quite reach the light switch. Tom’s flat wasn’t designed for a four-year-old.
‘I’ll get a light put in here you can reach,’ Tom promised. An uplighter would be the safest. Or maybe one on a timer switch. ‘You look all ready to go out.’
Joey nodded.
‘Where do you want to go?’ And please don’t let him say ‘home’, Tom begged silently.
‘I want to play with Banjo.’
Flora’s dog had clearly made the breakthrough that none of the adults had been able to make, because this was the longest sentence that Joey had strung together since the accident.
It would be an imposition on Flora, Tom knew, but this was the most animated he’d seen Joey since the little boy had come to live with him. He couldn’t afford to let the opportunity slip away. Though going to visit Flora at this time of the morning would be a little too much to ask; he needed some delaying tactics.
‘OK, sweetheart, we’ll go and see Banjo.’ And Flora. Awareness prickled all the way down Tom’s spine, and he squashed it ruthlessly. This wasn’t about his attraction to the sweet, gentle school nurse who had the most kissable mouth he’d ever seen. This was about his nephew. ‘But it’s a bit early to go and visit anyone just yet; it’s still dark outside. I’m not even dressed—and I don’t know about you, but I really could do with some breakfast first. How about we make something to eat, then go and buy some flowers to say thank you to Flora for looking after you yesterday, and a…’ What did you buy dogs? Tom’s parents had always had cats rather than dogs, and he hadn’t had the space in his life to look after an animal properly so he had no pets. ‘A ball or something for Banjo?’ he finished.
Joey nodded.
Tom put water in the kettle and switched it on. ‘What do you want for breakfast?’
Joey shrugged.
‘Juice? Cereals?’ Flora had got through to him yesterday by baking. Tom didn’t bake. He did the bare minimum when it came to cooking: stir-fries, pasta and baked potatoes were pretty much his limit. Anyway, suggesting cake for breakfast wasn’t exactly healthy.
But there had to be something they could do.
‘How about a bacon sandwich?’ he asked. ‘We can make it as a team. How about you’re the chef, in charge of buttering the bread and squirting on the tomato ketchup, and I’ll grill the bacon?’
Joey gave him a tiny smile, and went to the drawer where Tom kept the tea-towels. Without a word, he tucked a tea-towel round himself like an apron, the way he had in the photo Flora had shown Tom the previous evening, then fetched the butter and tomato ketchup from the fridge.
This was good, Tom thought. A positive step.
Joey buttered the bread while Tom grilled the bacon. Tom carefully laid the cooked bacon on the bread, then looked at Joey. ‘Over to you, Chef.’
Joey squeezed tomato ketchup over the bacon—a bit too much for Tom’s taste, but he’d wash it down with coffee and a smile because no way was he going to reject his nephew’s efforts. ‘Excellent teamwork. High five, Chef.’ He lifted his palm, hoping that Joey would respond.
For