A Daughter For Christmas

‘All things are possible.’ He shrugged.

‘You can have a million blood tests. They’ll back me up.’ She smiled for the first time, a secret, amused smile, and he frowned as though she had suddenly retreated to a place from which he was excluded.

‘But...?’ he asked, frowning.

‘But nothing...’ But, she thought, you won’t need one. His physical resemblance to Amy was almost scary. ‘Will you just meet her, Mr Kendall? If you choose to wash your hands of the whole matter after that, then so be it.’

She heard the supplication in her voice with mortification. It was true that she would have told Amy about her natural father in time, and would have supported her in whatever choice she made as to whether to seek him out or not. But to be reduced to presenting this man with this dilemma, forced to beg, made her cringe.

‘I’ll meet...the child,’ he said heavily.

‘When?’

‘The sooner the better, I suppose.’ He rose, and as Leigh joined him she was aware, more forcibly this time, of his height, his muscularity, the way he towered over her and made her feel small, even though she was a respectable enough height.

‘I would appreciate it,’ she said, following him out of the building into the bracing cold outside, ‘if you could—’

‘Not let the child know my relationship to her?’

Leigh nodded and pulled her jacket tightly around her. The wind whipped her skirt around her legs like clambering vines. She would have been more comfortable in her usual out-of-work attire of jeans.

‘I think we should wait and see what develops from here,’ he said, looking down at her.

He wasn’t, she realised, about to assume anything. This potentially life-changing situation with which he had been confronted did not exist, as far as he was concerned, until it was proven.

‘When would you like me to introduce you to her?’ Leigh asked shortly.

‘What about the weekend? Sunday. I’ll meet you for lunch somewhere. Where do children of that age like to eat?’ It sounded as though children were a species foreign to him.

‘Any fast-food chain,’ she told him quickly, before he could change his mind, and he frowned, as though trying to identify the name of a fast-food chain. Any fast-food chain.

‘Conversation might be a little difficult in one of those places. I know a hamburger restaurant in the Covent Garden area. I believe they serve all the usual childfriendly things, milkshakes and ice cream. She does eat...stuff like that, doesn’t she?’

‘Adores it’ Leigh smiled.

‘And who should I introduce myself as? Old friend of the family?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Distant relative?’

‘I’ll tell her that you’re a friend.’ Thank heavens, Leigh thought, that she’s only seven. Much older than that and she would be hard pressed to believe that Nicholas Kendall could be anything but a relative, so perfectly did his face mirror hers.

‘Fine.’ He continued to look at her. ‘And don’t forget what I said,’ he murmured with a warning in his voice, bending slightly so that his breath was on her face, warm and disorienting. ‘I’m no fool. Child or no child, I won’t be taken for a ride.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr Kendall.’

‘Nicholas.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Nicholas. You might just as well call me by my first name. Mr Kendall might just be a little formal, considering I’m a long-lost family friend.’ He glanced at his watch, quickly reeled off the name of the restaurant he had in mind and the address, and with mixed feelings Leigh watched him depart in long, easy strides.

Step one, at any rate, had been accomplished. The only problem was that she had no idea what step two would entail.

She turned on her heel and on the journey back to the house she tried to work out what the options were because, whether he knew it or not, he would have no difficulty in accepting that Amy was his.

Money, of course, was the issue. She could repay him as much as she could month by month—a bit like taking out a loan with the bank. She didn’t need much to look after Amy. They would have to find a roof over their heads, something small and sensible. It hardly mattered whether it was in a fashionable district or not, just so long as wherever they lived was safe. She might at least be granted the breathing space to look for a better job, something that would make her more financially solvent.

His contribution, if he decided to help, would be a drop in the ocean to him, no doubt about it, but it could be the lifeline she and Amy so desperately needed.

It was only as she was letting herself into the house that a thought suddenly occurred to her. A very unpleasant thought. What if he decided to fight for custody of his daughter? He was wealthy and powerful, a man with quite a few guns in his armoury. What if he took one look at his offspring and decided that he would plunge into fatherhood, having been denied it for seven years?

Leigh removed her jacket and made herself a cup of tea, her body on autopilot as her mind wrestled this unforeseen possibility.

No, she told herself. Look at things in a logical manner. Nicholas Kendall was not married. He had no experience of children and, from what she had seen, he was probably the last man on the face of the earth to want any experience of them.

She had no real idea what he did for a living but, whatever it was, it doubtless ate up his time. People rarely acquired huge sums of money working in part-time jobs. No, he was probably one of those odious men who lived for their work. He probably rented a bachelor penthouse suite somewhere in Belgravia, an exquisite two-bedroom affair with a daily cleaning service. The sort of place where children and pets were banned.

I can’t let myself get embroiled in complications before they arise, she told herself. I can’t think ahead beyond what happens at the next meeting. I can’t let myself.

I just have to think of Amy.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I DON’T want to wear a dress.’ Amy looked at the blue and white polka-dotted dress neatly laid out on the bed and folded her arms.

‘It’s a lovely dress, Ames.’ Leigh was reduced to pleading.

‘I want to wear my jeans and a jumper.’

‘But that’s what you stay around the house in!’

‘We’re only going out for a burger,’ Amy said, with a little too much logic for Leigh’s liking. ‘No one dresses up for a burger.’ There had been a time when she would willingly have donned any item of clothing Leigh put in front of her, but recently she had developed strong preferences, something Leigh had found charming, the sign of a strong and independent mind. Until now. Now she just wanted Amy to look right, like the beautiful little girl that she was.

‘Anyway,’ Amy said stubbornly. ‘I’m much too old for that dress.’

‘It’s a very pretty dress.’ Leigh could sense defeat in the air and she waved the dress around despairingly. ‘OK, a compromise. You can wear the jeans but not that jumper. You can wear the jeans with the orange jumper.’

Amy looked as though she would throw that out as well, but eventually she nodded. ‘And my lace-up boots?’

‘Why not?’

Did all mothers have to go through this? Leigh wondered. Parental responsibility had been thrust on her, and now she wished she had paid closer attention to how Jenny had handled her daughter. She vaguely recalled that the strict approach had not been used, but would she have given in in these circumstances?

She remained where she was, kneeling on the floor, while her niece got into her jeans, a blue denim polo shirt and the orange jumper, and decided that Amy looked very fetching after all. Not quite The Little House on the Prairie style, but cute. Cute and trendy. And Nicholas Kendall would probably have no one to compare her to, anyway. She doubted if he knew anyone under four feet and ten years of age.

‘Hat?’ Amy asked, pulling out a black, fake-fur-lined number from the darkest corners of her wardrobe. Leigh shrugged and nodded and gave up the battle completely.

‘You look sweet,’ she said, rising to her feet then almost falling over again because of the sudden attack of pins and needles in her legs. She stamped her feet to get rid of them.

‘Thanks.’ Amy smiled and made a face which was supposed to resemble sweet but looked more like a grimace. ‘Your friend must be someone special,’ she said. ‘You’re wearing a skirt again.’