Claudia Carroll 3 Book Bundle - Claudia Carroll

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knew she could. There was a soft, caring heart in there, just waiting to get out; he could see it, even if no one else could. She nodded gratefully as their starter arrived and Jake sensed she wanted to get off the subject, so, ever the gentleman, he obliged.

      ‘Anyway, this isn’t a night to talk about work’ he reminded her. ‘You know what I’d love to hear about instead?’

      What?’ she smiled.

      ‘I’d love you to tell me all about your family instead.’

      And for once, miraculously, she didn’t clam up.

      ‘Well, not much to tell you really. I told you my sister’s in town at the moment …’ she broke off though, not saying why, or for how long.

      ‘What does she do?’ Jake asked her innocently.

      But Eloise neatly evaded the question and instead, started telling him a bit about her mother who lived in Marbella.

      ‘And every time I see her, which isn’t nearly often enough, I swear to God, the woman is blonder, more suntanned and even more glam than the time before. Don’t get me wrong, life in the sun suits her down to a T, but … I just wish I could make more time in my life for her.’

      ‘You must miss her.’

      ‘Course I do.’

      ‘So, then do something about it! Come on, you must have years of stored-up holidays due to you from work, so instead of just wondering about her, take time off and go and see her. Hop on a flight with that sister of yours and just go. You’ve only the one mammy in this world.’

      But all she did was roll her eyes heavenwards.

      ‘Jake,’ she drily reminded him, ‘need I point out that holidays are for retired people and not for the likes of me?’

      ‘One day you’ll change your mind,’ he told her firmly. ‘One day you’ll have all the quality time you want to travel and see people you care about and – perish the thought – actually start to enjoy your life for a change.’

      She looked wistfully out the window at that, as though miles away, that heart-shaped look she got in her black eyes whenever she was thinking about something, or someone, else.

      She was holding something back on him, and something important too; Jake would have staked his life on it.

      Another guy, maybe? Someone from her past who’d broken her heart to shards? No, somehow he didn’t think so. It just didn’t ring true for her. Eloise wasn’t the ‘crawl under a duvet with a large jar of Nutella and a bottle of Chardonnay to drown your troubles’ kind of gal.

      So what, he found himself dying to know, was she thinking right now? What was suddenly making her come over all wistful and far-away?

      Jake would have been very surprised, if he’d only had the guts to ask. Because as it happened, she was thinking about him. About how long it was since she’d been taken out, wined and dined, treated like a proper lady. All day long, she was surrounded by upper-class college graduates, all from impeccable backgrounds, with degrees and masters hanging out of their earlobes and they were nothing but rude, bitchy, bullying and on several occasions per day, downright vicious behind her back. And yet here she was, sitting across a table from a convicted criminal from the roughest part of the city, a man who never behaved like anything other than a perfect gentleman towards her.

      Could he even see how moved she’d been at the beautiful flowers he’d given her? Ridiculously expensive, she knew, and he could ill afford it, but somehow he felt she was worth it. Jake, she thought, taking another sip of wine, was lovely. That was the only word to describe him. Just lovely.

      Then her phone rang and of course it was the Post. Who else?

      ‘Let it go to voicemail,’ he told her sternly. ‘For God’s sake, just give yourself an hour off to eat and then get back to whoever it is. You’re surely allowed have a meal break? Jeez, even in prison we get those.’

      She looked up at him, thought for a second as though weighing it up, then gave him a happy grin, clicked her phone off and began to eat hungrily.

PART THREE

       Chapter Nine

      Good news. Lily, thanks be to God, Allah, Buddha, Santa – anyone up there who listened to me – has ended her obsession with going up to total strangers in parks and on buses and asking them if they’re her dad. Course the odd time she’ll still crawl into my bed early in the morning for a cuddle and a little chat, then completely out of left field, in her early morning croaky voice she’ll ask me, ‘have you found my daddy yet, Mama? You’ll find him weally soon, won’t you?’

      And I’ll pull her in tight to me, kiss her, tell her that Mama never makes promises she can’t keep and faithfully promise that one day she’ll get to meet him. One day.

      By the way, to great jubilation from every single one of my colleagues at work, I’ve now shifted our first editorial meeting of the morning to a far more civilised nine a.m. start, mainly so that Lily and I can get to share these precious mornings together. Sod the whole lot of them in work, I figure; I’m making more time for Lily and if they don’t like it then as Jake says, they can feck right off. Helen gets to spend the rest of the day with her, but early mornings are mine, all mine. And it happens far, far less often than it used to, but Lily still sometimes stuns me by letting something slip that shows just how clearly the whole dad subject weighs on her little mind.

      The other day being a case in point. Lily waddled into my bedroom just before seven, clambered up and snuggled into me, still warm and woozy from sleep and telling me all about a dream she had where she accidentally got locked into Smyths toy store for the night and had the best time of her life, till police came to rescue her the next morning and found her sleeping inside a Wendy house. Then, just as I was drowsily hauling myself out of bed and asking her if she’d like porridge or fresh fruit for brekkie while she was, as usual, demanding Coco Pops, suddenly she looked at me with those wise little eyes and out of nowhere said, ‘Mama, how come some kids have two daddies and I don’t have any?’

      Well, that woke me up. And when I got to the bottom of it, it turned out that a little girl called Daisy she’d befriended in the park has not only a biological dad but now thanks to her mum’s remarriage, a stepdad too. So I give Lily my first line of explanation about how all families are different then proudly tell her that yes, I can safely promise that someday we’ll find her dad. That she’ll get to meet him properly. Well her round blue eyes, eyes so like Jake’s it would nearly astonish you, instantly brightened at this as she flashed me that gorgeous, gappy little smile, then happily scrambled down to the kitchen with me for breakfast.

      You just wait, my little darling, I thought smugly to myself. You just wait till you see the rare gem that Mama is prepping for you. Because finally, finally, finally now my cunning masterplan is almost in place. Come the fine day, when I eventually think the time is right for Lily and Jake to meet, what’ll she find waiting for her? A tall, handsome, fair-haired, well-spoken teacher, with her exact size and shape eyes, same fair, freckly skin, same crinkly, slightly crooked smile. Someone Lily can be proud of and look up to, like all little girls’ dads should be.

      Like I say though, the ‘where’s my dad’ chats are happening with far less frequency now, mainly, giving credit where it’s due, down to Helen and the unbelievable way that she’s bonded with Lily ever since she first moved in here, all those weeks ago.

      Ah Helen. I feel churlish and mortified beyond belief at myself when I think back to how jealous I felt back then, listening to Lily excitedly rattle off all the fabulous, fun excursions she was having with her ‘new best fwiend, Auntie Helen’. Because now, with a hunk of burning humility in my gut, I have to admit, I was horrible to be so envious of her, and owe her nothing but the biggest debt of gratitude all round.

      Most astonishing of all to report though, over the past few weeks, Jake and I

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