Jennifer Taylor - A Very Special Child

He put his hand to the back of her waist, guiding her back along the hall to the kitchen. It was as tiny as he’d said it was, little more than a narrow galley with cupboards on both sides and appliances neatly built in under the worktops. They both stood in the doorway and Mark laughed as he shot her a quick look.

‘Not the sort of kitchen a dedicated cook would enjoy working in, especially if he or she was claustrophobic! However, as my culinary expertise extends no further than “something” on toast, it suits me fine.’

He gave the room a last, satisfied look then led her to the bathroom, which was very high-tech with its corner Jacuzzi and glass-enclosed shower. Laura made appropriately admiring noises but she could feel a little knot of tension bunching her stomach muscles as they made their way to the last room in the flat, Mark’s bedroom. She paused in the doorway, unable to explain her reluctance to enter his private domain, although that didn’t stop her taking a good look around.

A king-sized bed covered with a navy quilted comforter with navy and white striped sheets proclaimed that the occupant was male. The walls were pristine white with a few, very masculine prints of sailing boats in silver frames scattered here and there. The furniture was heavy, dark oak, from the huge dresser holding a silver-backed hairbrush and a single bottle of aftershave to the enormous wardrobe, the door of which was standing ajar.

Laura caught a glimpse of something light and floral through the opening, maybe a dress or a nightgown, before she hastily averted her eyes. Mark was a hugely attractive and personable man so it couldn’t be surprise she felt to discover that he’d had a woman sharing his bedroom. So what did she feel, then? Disappointment? Regret? Jealousy even?

That last thought made her gasp and she hurriedly turned it into a cough as she saw Mark look at her.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked in concern, bending so that he could study her better.

‘I…um. Yes. Just a tickle in my throat, that’s all,’ she said, quickly turning away. She made her way swiftly back to where Robbie was still playing happily with the cat and stooped down, using the few seconds grace to get herself under control.

What on earth was the matter with her? she wondered sickly, running a trembling hand over the cat’s silky fur. How could she be jealous at the thought of the woman in Mark’s life? He was a colleague, that was all, someone who’d been kind enough to offer her a lift and then take pity on her when she’d needed a bed for the night. That was the only claim she had on him…the only claim she wanted to have!

‘Right, I suppose I’d better rustle up something for us to eat. Or do you want to put Robbie to bed first?’

Laura carefully smoothed her face into a suitable expression as she stood. ‘I think it might be better if I settled him down first. He’s usually in bed by seven and it must be that now.’

‘Almost half past, actually.’ Mark grinned as he saw her surprise. ‘I know. I hadn’t realised how late it was either. It must have taken longer to get here than we thought, thanks to the snow.’

‘Then if you don’t mind I’ll give him his bath.…’ She stopped and grimaced. ‘Drat! I haven’t brought anything for him to sleep in.’

‘How about a T-shirt of mine—would that do?’ Mark immediately offered, bending to ruffle the child’s hair.

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind.…’ she began hesitantly, but he shook his head.

‘Of course not. I’ll fetch one.’

He headed off to the bedroom, leaving Laura to take Robbie into the bathroom and start filling the bath. Robbie was reluctant to leave the cat at first but, once he’d seen the gleaming corner tub, he soon forgot about her. Laura had the bath filled and was swishing a little of the bubble bath she’d found on a nearby shelf into the warm water when Mark appeared carrying a white T-shirt.

‘Will this be OK?’ He dropped the T-shirt onto the cork-topped stool then leant over and pressed a switch on the wall beside the bath. The water immediately began to foam as the Jacuzzi jets clicked into action and Robbie clapped his hands in glee.

‘Me in! Me in!’ he demanded eagerly, holding up his arms to Mark so that he could be lifted into the frothing water.

‘Ready…Steady…Go!’ Mark swung him up into the air, then with infinite gentleness deposited him in the tub. Hunkering down on his heels, he scooped a handful of sudsy water over the child’s tummy. Robbie squealed with delight and promptly retaliated by scooping up two fistfuls of water and dousing Mark with them.

‘Robbie!’ Laura was horrified when she saw the water soaking into the front of Mark’s white shirt, but he just grinned.

‘Oh, that calls for reprisals, young man. Just you wait!’ He scooped up another massive handful of water, although Laura noticed that he let most of it escape through his fingers before he shot it at Robbie. It was obvious that he was completely unconcerned by the soaking he’d had and that he was enjoying himself almost as much as the little boy was.

Laura felt a lump come to her throat as she watched them playing together. It was so poignant to think back to the times when she’d watched Ian playing in much the same way with his son. It hurt to realise just how much Robbie was going to miss out on now that his father was dead.

‘Are you OK?’ Mark’s gentle voice broke through her reverie and she summoned a smile.

‘Yes. I was just thinking…’ she began, then stopped, wondering if she should share her thoughts with him. Surely memories like that were too personal to confide to someone who was virtually a stranger? However, it seemed that once again Mark had guessed what had been on her mind.

‘About Robbie playing with his daddy?’ Mark’s tone was so gentle that tears pricked her eyes and she had to blink hard to stop them from falling. She nodded mutely, knowing that it was pointless trying to deny it.

Mark sighed. ‘You must miss him a lot, Laura. I knew from your application that you were a widow, and then Rachel told me that your husband died about eighteen months ago. I’m really sorry.’

She took a deep breath, feeling strangely comforted by the quiet words of condolence. She had grown to dread the sympathetic expressions of sorrow in the months after Ian’s death, but it was different when Mark said it because she sensed that he really meant it. Odd, but it felt as though some of the cracks which had appeared in her heart after Ian’s death had begun to heal all of a sudden…

‘Thank you,’ she said quickly, refusing to let her mind go any further, because thoughts like that were wrong. She couldn’t forget about the man she’d loved just because of a few kind words!

Laura’s hands shook as she took a towel from the rack then immediately wondered what to do with it. She stared at the soft blue terry in a daze. Suddenly, she didn’t know what to do or say anymore. She had got through the past eighteen months by focusing on the need to take care of Robbie. Now, with Mark temporarily usurping her role, she felt at a loss. It was a relief when he took charge and gave her something positive to do.

‘How about we swop? I’ll finish bathing this young horror while you make us something to eat?’ He grinned up at her, his grey eyes gleaming with laughter, although she wasn’t blind to the compassion they held as well.

‘There’s method in my madness, in case you’re wondering. I’m sure you’re a much better cook than I am and it means that Robbie and I can see who can get the wettest.’

He scooped up another handful of sudsy water, laughing as Robbie crowed with excitement. Laura hesitated but it was obvious that her son was perfectly happy in Mark’s care.