Chapter 11
Kitty looked up from her game of snap as the front door clicked open.
Nick bustled through, a bag of shopping in each hand. ‘Sorry, I got held up.’
‘You’ve been gone for over an hour.’ She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. When she’d left London, she’d promised herself things would be different. Yet it seemed there was no escaping her destiny to be someone else’s doormat.
‘Like I said, I got held up.’
Emily glanced from Kitty to Nick, her brow furrowed. Kitty gave her best impression of a beaming smile. ‘Do you want a bit of time on your iPad while I help Nick get your lunch ready?’
Emily nodded, and Kitty dug out the iPad from the backpack Carla had left. To give Carla her due, she’d thought of everything. Besides a suitcase of clothes, she’d left a bag containing all Emily’s favourite toys, a first aid kit, and the backpack filled with books.
‘There are only two bags of shopping,’ said Kitty, joining Nick in the kitchen.
‘It’s all I could afford.’
Kitty rolled her eyes.
‘I saw that.’ Nick pulled a tub of olives from one of the shopping bags, a six-pack of lager, a packet of sausages, spaghetti, two tins of tomatoes, a loaf of bread and a tub of locally made ice cream.
‘Were the beers necessary?’ asked Kitty.
‘I’m not planning on getting drunk, if that’s what you’re implying.’
‘I wasn’t implying anything. Who are the olives for?’
‘Emily, of course.’
Kitty leaned against the kitchen worktop and folded her arms across her chest. ‘You’ve not spent much time around kids, have you?’
‘I’ve no reason to. None of my mates have families yet, and my brother’s kids are over in Australia.’ He peeled off the plastic lid of the olives, tipped them into a bowl and carried them to Emily.
‘What are they?’
‘Olives. Have you tried them before?’
She shook her head.
‘Would you like to try them?’
Emily nodded, popped one in her mouth, then promptly spat it out again. Kitty hid a smirk behind her hand.
‘What do children eat?’ asked Nick, returning to the kitchen.
‘Not olives, in my experience, although I’m sure there are exceptions to that rule. I’ll make her a sandwich. Did you buy cheese?’
Nick dug around in the bag. ‘I forgot, sorry.’
‘Do you have any jam? Butter?’
‘I’ve got butter,’ he said, pulling the remains of a pack from the fridge.
‘I’ll make her some toast,’ said Kitty with a sigh. ‘Then I’ll go out and do a proper shop.’
Panic filled Nick’s face. ‘You can’t leave me alone.’
‘You won’t be alone. Emily will be with you.’
‘Please, Kitty. I’ve no idea what to do.’
Kitty pulled slices of bread from the packet and began hunting for the toaster.
‘Then you’ll have to figure it out, won’t you?
Nick, I’m not your PA. In fact, I barely know you!
I didn’t sign up for this, and you’ve had plenty of time to think about how to feed and care for a child while you were out buying lager.
’ At the look of horror on his face, Kitty softened.
‘Listen, you’ve got lucky. She’s a great kid, polite, good manners, friendly.
Her mother raised her well. Things could be a lot worse. ’
‘But she’s a girl!’
‘Yes, a girl, not an alien from another planet. We’re all human, Nick. At the very base level, everyone needs the same things: food, water, somewhere to go to the toilet, somewhere to wash, entertainment and love. Actually, love should come before anything else.’
The toast popped up, and Kitty buttered it, grateful for a moment of normality.
Nick was unlike any man she’d met. Kitty had taught five-year-olds more capable and with more life skills than he seemed to possess.
In fact, it wouldn’t surprise her if Emily took charge of things once she’d got over the shock of being left with a man-child for company.
Nick stared at the plate of toast as Kitty held it out. ‘Why are you giving that to me?’
‘So you can take it to your daughter. You need to talk to her.’
‘What can I talk to her about?’
Kitty drew a deep breath through her nose.
She was a teacher, not a babysitter, and dealing with Nick was pushing her to her limit.
Yet again, she was fixing someone else’s mess and telling herself it was only for one day.
‘Here,’ she said, pulling a notebook and pen from her bag.
‘Ask Emily what she likes to eat, her favourite dinners, that kind of thing, and make a list.’
‘A shopping list?’
‘Yes, of course, a shopping list.’ Frustration filled her words.
‘There’s no point in my going to the shop and getting things Emily hates.
You’ve already done that once today. She’s not a feral dog, Nick, she’s a little girl.
Sit next to her, talk to her, and write a list together. Do you think you can manage that?’
‘I’ll try…’
Nick carried the plate of toast to Emily, and Kitty leaned against the kitchen worktop.
She couldn’t work Nick out. At the pub he’d been so sure of himself to the point of cockiness.
Today, he seemed incapable of the most basic tasks, and completely lacking any self-confidence.
It was as if she’d met two different men and had no idea which was the authentic version of Nick Andrews.
While she waited for Nick to return, Kitty filled her time giving the kitchen a once-over. It wasn’t as dirty as she had expected. She guessed that if Nick didn’t cook, he had no opportunity to mess it up.
‘I’ve got your list.’ Nick grinned, waving his phone in the air.
‘Where’s the paper I gave you?’
Nick’s cheeks flushed. ‘It was easier to write it on my phone. That way I can text it to you.’
Kitty took the phone from him, and burst out laughing.
‘What is it?’ asked Nick. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Sorry,’ said Kitty, trying to regain her composure. ‘You’re going to have to watch Emily. She’s a smart cookie and will play you like a fiddle if you’re not careful.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This list,’ said Kitty, holding it out to Nick. ‘Do you notice anything unusual about it?’
‘No.’ He frowned, shaking his head.
‘What about this meal she suggested? Pizza with a side of ice cream and cookies.’
‘OK, so maybe it’s not the healthiest, but I want her to be happy.’
‘Chicken nuggets, chips, smiley faces and doughnuts. Nick, there’s no way Carla feeds her this kind of food.
Emily has basically listed the food you’d find at a children’s birthday party for every single meal.
There isn’t a single vegetable on this list, and nothing that you’d need to cook from scratch.
’ Kitty handed the phone back to Nick. ‘Maybe we should message Carla and ask her for some ideas.’
‘No!’ snapped Nick. ‘I don’t want her thinking I can’t cope. Can you suggest some dinners you think Emily might like? You seem to be pretty experienced at this. Anyone would think you have kids of your own.’
Kitty froze. ‘No, of course I don’t.’ She turned to the sink so Nick couldn’t see the expression she knew would be plastered across her face.
Her fingers tightened around a dishcloth, her knuckles turning white.
She swallowed a sob and turned it into a cough.
After squeezing her eyes tight shut for a few seconds, she took a deep breath and turned to Nick.
‘Pass me that list. I’ll write down a few ideas and be on my way. ’