SOS: Convenient Husband Required / Winning a Groom in 10 Dates: SOS: Convenient Husband Required / Winning a Groom in 10 Dates

‘The one job for which I have no experience, no qualifications,’ she replied. ‘And, more to the point, no licence.’

‘Licence?’

‘I’m not related to Nancie. Without a childminding licence, it would be illegal.’

‘Who would know?’ he asked, without missing a beat.

‘You’re suggesting I don’t declare the income to the taxman? Or that the presence of a baby would go unnoticed?’ She shook her head. ‘People are in and out of here all the time and it would be around the coffee morning circuit faster than greased lightning. Someone from Social Services would be on the doorstep before I could say “knife”.’ She shrugged. ‘Of course, most of the old tabbies would assume Nancie was mine. “Just like her mother…”’ she said, using the disapproving tone she’d heard a hundred times. Although, until now, not in reference to her own behaviour.

‘You’re right,’ he said, conceding without another word. ‘Obviously your reputation is far too precious a commodity to be put at risk.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ she protested.

‘Forget it, May. I should have known better.’ He shrugged. ‘Actually, I did know better but I thought you and Saffy had some kind of a bond. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll call the authorities. I have no doubt that Nancie’s father has reported her missing by now and it’s probably for the best to leave it to the court to—’

‘You can’t do that!’ she protested. ‘Saffy is relying on you to get her out of this mess.’

‘Is she? Read her letter again, May.’

Chapter Four

THERE was the longest pause while he allowed that to sink in. Then he said, ‘Is there any chance of that coffee you promised me?’

May started. ‘What? Oh, yes, I’m sorry. It’s instant; will that do?’

‘Anything.’

The tiny kitchenette was in little more than a cupboard, but she had everything to hand and in a few minutes she returned with a couple of mugs.

‘I’ll get a blanket and you can put Nancie on the floor.’

‘Can you do that?’

She didn’t answer, just fetched a blanket from the linen cupboard, pausing on the landing to listen. The silence confirmed that the workshop coffee break was over but the thought of going downstairs, facing Robbie with her unlikely visitor, was too daunting.

Back in her sitting room, she laid the folded blanket on the floor, took Nancie from Adam and put her down on it. Then she went and fetched the teddy she’d spotted in her bag. Putting off for as long as possible the moment when she would have to tell Adam the truth.

‘I know you just think I’m trying to get you to take this on, dig me out of a hole,’ Adam said when she finally returned. Picking up her coffee, clutching it in front of her like a shield, she sat beside him on the sofa. ‘But you really are a natural.’

‘I think you’re just trying to avoid putting off telling me the whole truth.’

‘All I know is what’s in Saffy’s letter.’ He dragged long fingers through his dark hair, looking for once less than the assured man, but more like the boy she remembered. ‘I’ve called some of her friends but if she’s confided in them, then aren’t telling.’

‘What about her agent?’ she prompted.

‘It seems that they parted company months ago. Her modelling career was yet another fantasy, it seems.’

May picked up the letter and read it again. ‘She doesn’t sound exactly rational. She could be suffering from post-natal depression. Or maybe having Nancie has triggered a bipolar episode. She always did swing between highs and lows.’

‘And if she was? Would you help then?’ He shook his head before she could answer. ‘I’m sorry. That was unfair, but what I need right now, May, is someone I can trust. Someone who knows her. Who won’t judge. Or run to the press with this.’

‘The press?’

‘Something like this would damage me.’

‘You! Is that all you’re worried about?’ she demanded, absolutely furious with him. ‘Yourself. Not Saffy? Not Nancie?’

Nancie, startled, threw out a hand, lost her teddy and began to cry. Glad of the chance to put some distance between them, May scrambled to her knees to rescue the toy, give it back to the baby. Stayed with her on the floor to play with her.

‘The Garland Agency has a branch in Melchester,’ she said. ‘I suggest you call them. They’ve a world class reputation and I have no doubt that discretion comes with the price tag.’

‘As I said. There are a number of problems with that scenario. Apart from the fact that my apartment is completely unsuitable. You’ve read Saffy’s letter. They’ll want details. They’ll want to know where her mother is. Who she is. What right I have to make childcare arrangements. Saffy is on the run, May. There’s a court order in place.’

‘You must have some idea where she’d go? Isn’t there a friend?’

‘If anyone else had asked me that I’d have said that if she was in trouble, she’d come to you.’ He stared into the cup he was holding. ‘I did ring her a few months ago when there was a rumour in one of the gossip mags about her health. Probably someone heard her throwing up and was quick to suggest an eating disorder. But she was bright, bubbly, rushing off to a shoot. At least that’s what she said.’ He shrugged. ‘She was too eager to get me off the phone. And maybe I was too eager to be reassured. I should have known better.’

‘She sounds almost frightened.’

‘I know. I’m making discreet enquiries, but until I know who this man is I’m not going to hand over my niece. And I’m doing my best to find Saffy, too. But the last thing we need is a hue and cry.’

He put down the mug, knelt beside her.

‘This time I’m the one up the drainpipe, Mouse, and it’s raining a monsoon. Won’t you climb up and rescue me?’

‘I wish I could help—’

‘There is no one else,’ he said, cutting her off.

The unspoken, And you owe me… lay unsaid between them. But she knew that, like her, he was remembering the hideous scene when he’d come to the back door, white-faced, clutching his roses. It had remained closed to his knock but he hadn’t gone away. He’d stayed there, mulishly stubborn, for so long that her grandfather had chased him away with the hose.

It had been the week before Christmas and the water was freezing but, while he’d been driven from the doorstep, he’d stayed in the garden defiantly, silently staring up at her room, visibly shivering, until it was quite dark.

She’d stood in this window and watched him, unable to do or say anything without making it much, much worse. Torn between her grandfather and the boy she loved. She would have defied her grandpa, just as her mother had defied him, but there had been Saffy. And Adam. And she’d kept the promise that had been wrung from her even though her heart was breaking.

She didn’t owe him a thing. She’d paid and paid and paid…

‘I can’t,’ she said, getting up, putting distance between them. ‘I told you, I know no more than you do about looking after a baby.’

‘I think we both know that your experience as a rescuer of lame ducks puts you streets ahead of me.’

‘Nancie is not a duck,’ she said a touch desperately. Why wouldn’t he just take no for an answer? There must a dozen women who’d fall over themselves to help him out. Why pick on her? ‘And, even if she were,’ she added, ‘I still couldn’t help.’

She couldn’t help anyone. That was another problem she was going to have to face. Finding homes for her family of strays.

There wasn’t much call for a three-legged cat or a blind duck. And then there were the chickens, Jack and Dolly, the bees. She very much doubted if the Crown would consider a donkey and a superannuated nanny goat an asset to the nation’s coffers.

‘Why not, May?’ he insisted. He got to his feet too, but he’d kept his distance. She didn’t have to turn to know that his brows would be drawn down in that slightly perplexed look that was so familiar. ‘Tell me. Maybe I can help.’