Lucy Gordon - For His Little Girl

When he finally managed it he reached stiffly for the phone and called the guest house in London. But the phone was answered by a grumpy new resident who knew nothing except that nobody was where they should be. He hung up, still dazed, and when Claudia brought him some more coffee he drank it mechanically.

"You'd better try to get some sleep," Claudia said.

"No, I'm getting the next flight to England."

"I've already booked you on the eight o'clock flight this evening. That's the first that had a seat free. Go to bed and I'll wake you in time."

"You're the best friend a man ever had."

She delivered him to LAX that night, and he caught the 8 p.m. flight to London Heathrow. It lasted eleven hours and he was awake for every moment, looking out of the tiny window at the darkness, with his mind playing tricks, for she seemed to be there.

Sometimes she was as he'd first seen her at eighteen in her outrageous clothes and the attitude to match. But then he saw her as she'd been in the past few days, apparently happy but concealing her secret, because he wasn't man enough to share it. Often she would be wearing the glorious silk robe Claudia had given her, and that would hurt him. "You should have only the best," he'd said, but he • hadn't given her the best. By now she ought to have a wardrobe full of silk, given by the man who loved her.

He wished he could escape the night that offered such unbearable visions, and eventually he was lucky. Because London was eight hours ahead of Los Angeles, he was flying forward in time, and after barely a couple of hours of darkness, he saw the first glint of dawn.

But this was almost worse, because he began to reread her letter, and phrases stood out with new and hideous meanings.

"I've always loved you for what you were, and not a different kind of man that you might have been."

She had always known that he would let her down, and accepted it, and forgiven him. That was what she meant. She'd loved him as a woman loves a child, making allowances, asking nothing. And that, when you came right down to it, was the kind of love he'd always preferred. He put the letter away quickly, wondering if the flight would never end.

At last they landed. It was early afternoon, although his inner clock said dawn. With only one piece of hand luggage he got through the lines quickly. Heathrow had changed since he'd left it eleven years earlier, yet not so much that he couldn't identify the spot where he'd held Pippa for the last time. She'd smiled and teased him about flirting with some beauty on the flight, and he'd thought she didn't care. Now he wondered how he could have been so blind.

Blind and stupid! Blind and stupid!

And there was what looked like the very place where he'd retraced his steps to the gate, hoping to find her there still, and been so desolate that she was gone. And, fool that he was, he'd shrugged his hurt aside and said if that was how she felt, who needed her? And all the time he had needed her, but been too proud to say so, and now it might be too late.

He changed some money and found a taxi, thrusting several large bills into the hands of the startled driver and telling him to "Move it!" Even so it seemed to take eons to cover the twenty miles to London, and then a few more while they crawled through traffic jams to the center. But at last he was turning the old familiar corner, stopping outside the guest house.

The place looked different, he thought, pushing open the glass door. Smartened up out of all recognition. A stocky young woman In jeans came down the stairs, smiling a welcome.

"Pippa," he said tensely. "Where is she?"

"In hospital," the young woman said. "She flew back from America yesterday and they took her straight there. She was in a bad way!"

A cold hand clutched him. "Her operation? She's had it?"

"No, they had to stabilize her first. They were hoping to do it this afternoon, I think."

"Where?"

"The Matthews Infirmary. It's-"

"I know it, thanks." It was where all the medical students came from. Luke was out of the door and running. There might still be time to see her first. There had to be. Because if not-

Because if not, she might die without ever knowing how much he loved her. And for that he would never forgive himself as long as he lived.

At the infirmary he gave Pippa's name to the receptionist.

"On the eighth floor," she said. "But I'm telling you what I've told all the others. You can't go in, and it's going to be a long wait."

"All the others?"

"Ms. Davis seems to have a lot of friends."

The ride up was long enough for him to realize he was walking into the unknown. Josie had known nothing, but she would have been told by now, and some of it would have come from Frank. He wondered if his daughter hated him. For himself, he could bear that burden, as deserved. But when he thought of what it would do to her, the world seemed to grow dark.

As soon as he stepped out of the lift he saw what the receptionist had meant. A crowd had gathered in the corridor. Luke counted seven before he identified Frank, Elly and-

"Josie!"

" Daddy !" The little girl's shriek split the air, and the next moment she'd evaded Frank's detaining hand to dash down the corridor straight into Luke's waiting arms.

'I knew you'd come," she said frantically. "Uncle Frank said you wouldn't. He said you were horrid to Mommy and you'd helped make her sick and you'd never really loved her and-'' Luke's eyes met Frank's over Josie's head. "You've been saying a lot of things, Frank," he said coldly. "Most of them you had no right to say."

"And you have no right to be here," Frank said in a tight voice. "How dare you come barging in, upsetting the child-"

"I reckon she'd be a sight more upset if I hadn't come."

"You're nothing here. If Pippa had wanted you, she'd have stayed with you."

"We'll talk about this some other time," Luke said, giving him a warning glance. "For the moment I'd like to know how she is."

Elly had come to join them. "They're operating. It's been a long job, but they should be through quite soon."

The others drifted across and introduced themselves. They were the current crop of house guests. Luke picked up Harry, Jake, Davina, and his mind refused to take in any more. They regarded him without condemnation, but with a lot of curiosity.

Josie kept a tight hold on Luke's hand to make him sit beside her. "Daddy, why did Mommy leave like that? Were you horrid to her?"

"Tell her everything, if you dare," Frank jeered.

"All right, I will. Yes, darling, Mommy and I did have a quarrel, and it was my fault." A tremor shook him. "All my fault. I came to tell her I'm sorry."

"But why? What did you do?" •

"When I found out that she was ill, I didn't understand why she hadn't confided in me. I blamed her."

Josie's eyes filled with tears. "Me, too. Oh Daddy, I got mad at her on the plane. I didn't mean to but I couldn't help it. And when we landed she collapsed, and it's all my fault-" She burst into sobs.

Luke gathered her into his arms. "It's not your fault, darling. It's mine if anyone's. She should have told both of us, but you see, Mommy's a very strong person. She tends to shoulder all the burdens herself, so that other people can be happy-" his voice wavered "-and then you find out that she's been bearing things alone, and you feel kind of hurt that she didn't share it with you. But you have to understand-you have to understand-that she doesn't mean…" His voice ran down. He tried to hide his despair from the child, but he couldn't do it, and his head sank until it was resting against hers.

They didn't move after that. Nor did anyone else go near the man and the child, enclosed in their own world, needing only each other.