Marion Lennox - A Secret Shared...

It was exactly the right thing to say. Harry didn’t move. The tension was still there but he’d been given an escape route. The pressure was off and if he wanted he could still stay and watch.

He didn’t say a word but neither did he pull back, retreat, head for the safety of the cute little bungalow that was to be their home for the next two weeks.

Instead, he stood silent. His hand was still in Jack’s, not responsive, not clinging but not pulling away either. They watched in silence as Kate waded into the pool and spoke to her four tame dolphins. She showed each of them a fish and asked them to spin three times and do a belly roll before she handed them—formally, it seemed—their supper.

Then she backed out of the water, waved to the dolphins and waved to them with the same cheer.

‘See you later,’ she said. ‘Have a good night. Harry, the sausage rolls are great and the pizza’s better. If you see me when you’re peeking through your curtains tomorrow, can you give me a wave?’

And she was gone, clicking her fingers so Maisie fell in behind her. She was a formal, professional … doctor? A doctor with bare feet, an empty fish bucket and a bedraggled, soaking dog.

What sort of place had he landed himself in?

What sort of woman had Cathy … Kate … become?

He didn’t know. All he knew was that the tension had once again gone out of his little nephew.

‘I need to take a shower,’ he told Harry. ‘I’m all wet.’

He didn’t expect an answer but it came. ‘The dog made you wet,’ Harry said.

He grinned. ‘She certainly did. Would you like pizza?’

‘Yes,’ said Harry, and Jack knew that whatever Cathy/Kate was, whatever she’d become, he needed to take a chance on this place.

He needed to take a chance on her.

HARRY RETREATED AGAIN into silence. Jack ordered via the cabin phone for them both—pizza and orange juice for Harry, a hamburger and beer for himself. A cheerful lass with a strong Canadian accent arrived at their bungalow fifteen minutes later, chatted happily to Jack and Harry, didn’t seem to mind that Harry didn’t respond, left their dinner and left them to the night.

They sat on their little balcony, a table between them, and watched the sun set over the ocean. They could see the dolphin pool from here. From time to time a dolphin broke the surface, the ripples spreading as if dispersing the tangerine rays of the setting sun. The gentle hush-hush of the breaking waves was all the sound there was.

No pressure, Jack thought. If Harry was at Helen’s right now, the whole family would be pressuring him to eat. Even Helen’s kids knew Harry didn’t eat enough, so every time he took a bite was cause for family celebration.

Not here. Jack was taking a leaf out of Kate’s book, backing off.

During the journey he’d insisted Harry eat, playing the heavy-handed uncle.

‘I don’t care if you don’t want it, Harry, but you’ll get sick if you don’t eat. Six mouthfuls or you’re not leaving the table.’

Now, at this place, it seemed less urgent. This seemed the time when they could both start again.

He ate his hamburger—extremely large, extremely good. He drank his beer and watched the sunset and didn’t say a word, and as he finished his food a small hand snagged a piece of pizza. He didn’t comment and when the lass came to collect the empty tray neither did she.

‘Dr Kate says she might drop by later to have a chat,’ she told Jack cheerfully. ‘There are forms to fill in. Boring. She says there’s no need to stay up if you don’t want. It can wait until morning, but she’ll drop by anyway.’

And Jack figured what this was about, too. Their formal appointment this afternoon had been missed. Kate would come—he’d expected it—but by forewarning them both, Harry would be reassured. If the little boy woke and heard voices he’d know what was happening. Harry needed no surprises, no shocks, no worries. He needed his world to stabilise again—if it ever could.

To lose both his parents in the one appalling moment … Jack could hardly imagine the black hole it had created. To be seven and to lose so much …

A shadow emerged from the trees, sniffing up the steps as the girl removed the tray and prepared to leave.

‘Maisie,’ the girl said. She smiled and turned to Harry. ‘Harry, Maisie’s very fussy,’ she said. ‘Every night she decides who she’d like to sleep with. It seems tonight she’s chosen you. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her away with me now. She has her own bed with Dr Kate. We don’t want her to be a bother.’

Harry didn’t answer but it didn’t trouble Maisie. The big dog proceeded ponderously up the steps and put his great head on Harry’s knee. And sighed.

Her message couldn’t be more clear. No one in this world understands me. You’re my only friend. Please let me stay.

She put her paw up in silent entreaty. Harry cast a covert glance at Jack and then back at Maisie.

‘C-can she stay?’

‘Only if she sleeps on your bed,’ Jack said sternly. ‘I don’t like dogs snoring on mine.’

‘D-does she snore?’

‘Sometimes,’ the lass said cheerfully. ‘Will I take her away?’

‘N-no,’ Harry managed, and the thing was settled. So half an hour later boy and dog were tucked up in bed. Harry’s arms were firmly around Maisie’s neck and Harry was fast asleep.

Helen had a dog. They’d also tried him out with a puppy but they’d got nowhere.

This dog, though, knew all the right moves. She knew just how to wriggle her way under a small boy’s defences.

Like Kate was doing?

He’d walked into this place and felt deeply suspicious. What kind of a healing centre didn’t try to save a child? Even if the explanation of terminal illness was true, why was no doctor in attendance? Kate was listed in the resort’s advertising as being a physiotherapist and a counsellor. There was no mention of her being a medical doctor. Something must have gone horribly wrong with her career. He didn’t trust her, and yet somehow he’d agreed to stay. By reaching out to Harry, she’d wriggled under his defences and he was left feeling more than a little vulnerable.

He didn’t like it. Jack liked control. He had no kids himself. Now he had one small nephew who’d managed to touch his heart and leave him exposed. To charlatans? To a woman who called herself Kate but who wasn’t.

‘Jack?’

The voice was so soft he hardly heard it, but he’d been waiting.

Kate? Cathy.

The sun had sunk over the horizon; the merest hint of colour tinging the point where the sea disappeared towards Africa. The night was warm and still. No sound came from other bungalows. What sort of resort was this when by eight o’clock everyone seemed asleep?

‘Hi,’ Kate said, as she reached the steps. ‘I have some forms for you to fill in, and some questions I need answered. Is now a good time?’

She was casually dressed, in jeans with a slouchy windcheater over the top. Her feet were still bare. The only hint of professionalism was the two thick envelopes she carried.

She’d let her hair out, he thought inconsequentially. It was curly and bouncy and touched her shoulders. Nice.

Um … don’t go there. This is Harry’s welfare, he told himself. Be professional.

‘I need to throw you more questions than you throw at me,’ he growled. ‘What are you playing at?’

She was halfway up the veranda steps and she paused. ‘You sound angry.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be angry? This is my sister’s child. I’m responsible for him. You’re not who you say you are. I don’t want anyone messing with his welfare.’

‘Do you think I could possibly hurt Harry?’