Be My Baby (37 page)

But then why did Mollie not feel the same way?

It was all too confusing. And, until he could find a way to make it all work properly, it was better if he kept his distance—to protect Mollie, of course.

‘Not tonight,’ he said to his daughter, knowing he was about to lie. ‘Maybe tomorrow.’

She nodded sadly and left the room, leaving the door ajar. He got up to close it, to shut the guilt outside and keep it there, but before he reached it Jennie stepped inside.

‘She was really looking forward to reading that book with you,’ she said.

He backed away and sat down at his desk, made his face conform to something resembling disappointment. He used his hands to answer for him, indicating the papers hiding the surface of his desk.

Jennie looked as if she was going to say something but then changed her mind. Instead, she headed for the door. Alex breathed a silent sigh of relief. He didn’t want to talk to Jennie about this; he felt awful enough as it was. And he feared whatever disease he had
was spreading. Sometimes he looked at his amazing wife and he didn’t feel anything then, either.

A warm thought invaded his mind. Except, of course, after Mollie had gone to bed, and he and Jennie got to spend some adult time together. Those times in bed with Jennie were islands of sensation that he was becoming more and more dependent on. At least when he was with her in bed he knew he hadn’t turned to stone.

‘Are you going to be much longer?’ Jennie asked, eyeing his desk suspiciously.

He nodded, but then he got up, walked over to her and snatched a sweet, drugging kiss. ‘I’ll be finished before bedtime, I promise,’ he said, a hint of wickedness creeping into his tone.

Weeks ago, Jennie would have laughed her sweet, husky laugh and persuaded him she was ready to go upstairs right now, but this evening she just nodded and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Alex wandered back to his desk and sat down. He put his elbows on the desk, creasing a page of notes, and rested his chin on his fists. He had the horrible feeling things might be even worse than he’d thought.

What if this thing he had—this anaes
thesia—was catching? He didn’t want to believe that his vibrant, beautiful wife might fade away as he had, all the light seeping out of her, but he couldn’t ignore that things were different between them. Something must have happened, and he tried hard not to think that it was his fault, that he had infected her, too.

Almost another week went by before Jennie finally cracked. It was Saturday, and Alex was at his chambers—again. Instead of trying to talk to her about what was going on between them, he’d decided to make himself so busy that he always had a good excuse to stay late at work or disappear into his study when she looked as if she might be about to get deeper than
How was your day?
or
What do you want for dinner?

She knew he was struggling, and she was trying to be patient, but it had been a month since the DNA test results had come back and Alex was as distant and as…absent…as ever. She was at the end of her rope. So she was going to pack a bag and when Alex got home this evening she would tell him she was going to spend a few days in her flat up in town. She needed to give herself some breathing space, give herself time to think. Give Alex some time to think, too. Maybe he’d work out if he
really wanted her around or not. When he’d decided, he could come and get her.

She listlessly pulled a small case out of the cupboard, heaved it onto the bed and started opening drawers and piling stuff into it. Glittery stuff, sparkly stuff. Party stuff. While she was in London she was going to go out and have a good time. At least, that was what she told herself as she haphazardly filled the case. Better than admitting she was just going to sit in her old flat and cry.

The case was three-quarters full when she heard a noise behind her. She whipped around, clutching a shoe to her chest. Mollie had been playing in her room, but now she was standing in the doorway, her face a picture of horror.

‘Wh-what you…doing?’ Her lips trembled and her face was pale.

Jennie’s mouth moved. She didn’t want to tell Mollie. Tears started to run down the little girl’s face, and then she ran to Jennie, threw her arms round her middle and squeezed her breathlessly tight.

‘Don’t go!’ she sobbed into Jennie’s chest. ‘Don’t want you to.’

She was practically hysterical now. Jennie flung the shoe away and hugged Mollie just as hard back, then bent over and kissed
Mollie’s head. ‘Shh. Don’t cry.’ But it was no use. Mollie was in full flood, didn’t seem to be able to control herself. Jennie’s throat felt swollen and tight when she spoke. ‘Shh. I’m not going anywhere, darling. I promise I’m going to stay right here with you.’

Mollie gulped and pulled away just enough to lean back and look up at her. ‘B-but you…’ her face crumpled ‘…p-packing.’

Pain hit Jennie square in the chest. Mollie’s pain, not her own. This poor little girl had had too many empty spaces where love should have been in her life. Jennie didn’t have the heart to add herself to that number. Alex might not need her any more, but Mollie did. She wasn’t going to let her own selfish little tantrum upset the fragile equilibrium they’d established.

She tried to peel herself away from Mollie, but Mollie just starting screaming and clutching at her even harder. The noise went straight through Jennie’s ears and into her heart. She gave in, hugged Mollie, kissed Mollie, until she calmed down. When she relaxed her grip a little, Jennie lifted Mollie’s face so they were looking at each other.
Trust me
, she told Mollie with her eyes, then she moved away slowly.

The little girl looked as if she was about
to panic again, so Jennie acted quickly. She picked up her case, dumped the entire contents on the floor and threw the case back inside the cupboard. When she’d finished, she ran to Mollie. They clung to each other so hard that standing became difficult, so they crumpled onto the floor rather than let go, and Mollie ended up sitting across Jennie’s folded legs.

Jennie held her tight and stroked her hair, something she remembered her own mother doing when she’d been a little girl.

She felt this… this… fierce sense of protectiveness towards her stepdaughter, and it scared her. She felt as if she would rip anybody limb from limb who wanted to hurt her, and she wished she could just open her heart and pour the contents inside Mollie, so desperate was she for her to know how much she was loved. Jennie’s eyes were sticky and her nose threatened to drip. She hadn’t even been aware she’d been crying, too.

Eventually the crushing desperation lifted and they relaxed against each other, just breathing.

Was this what mothers felt like? It was nothing like the warm, cosy feeling she’d thought it would be. It was overpowering. Overwhelming. And very, very scary to love
something this much. The sort of thing you might be tempted to run away from if it all got too intense.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered into Mollie’s hair. ‘I didn’t meant to scare you. I was just…’

Running away from her problems.

Was that what she’d been about to do? She searched deep inside herself and realised that to be partly true. But she hadn’t been in the same kind of frenzy she’d been when she’d packed in Paris. This time it hadn’t been about wanting to be found, because she wasn’t even sure Alex would come. That kind of running away had been about hope. This time she’d been packing because she’d thought there was none.

She kissed the top of Mollie’s head again.

Well, she was staying, not leaving this time. Which meant she was in uncharted territory. And she was going to have to find a way to get through to Alex, because she’d been right about one thing: she couldn’t live like this any longer. She was going to have to fight for Alex. First things first, though.

She looked down at Mollie. ‘How about a picnic for lunch?’ The day had turned warm and sunny and it would be lovely to sit out in the garden and relax.

Mollie grinned at her. Her eyes were still pink and her face was still blotchy—hardcore crying really didn’t suit her pale colouring. ‘Can we have Marmite sandwiches?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘In the tree house?’

Jennie thought for a second, and then she shrugged. ‘Why not? It’ll be fun.’

Mollie cheered softly and clambered from her lap. ‘I’m going to tell Teddy!’ She ran across the room, but stopped at the threshold to look back. ‘Can Teddy have Marmite sandwiches, too?’ Before Jennie could agree, Mollie spoke from behind her hand in a loud stage whisper. ‘Teddy can’t really eat sandwiches. I have to help him.’

Jennie laughed. ‘Teddy can have a small one.’

Mollie ran off to break the good news to Teddy.

Jennie didn’t get up off the floor straight away. Instead, she hugged her knees to herself and rested her chin on them. She’d tried to fight for Alex already, she realised, but she’d used all the wrong weapons—the tried and trusted methods of her childhood. All that had done was leave a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t about getting what
she
wanted any
more, anyway. She needed to find a new way to fight for her marriage.

This was what people did when they’d made vows to each other—when one was weak and hurting, the other stepped in and was strong
for
them. And it felt good to be strong for Alex. Nobody had ever needed her to be the strong one before. She’d always been the one who ran to other people, begging them to bail her out of her latest mess.

Not fair, the child inside her screamed. Why should
you
have to be the one to make the first move, make all the sacrifices?

Because someone had to. Someone had to stop the slow drifting. Someone had to close the gap before it was too late. And, after watching Alex for the last few weeks, she realised he just wasn’t capable.

A
LEX
jerked awake. Another convoluted dream where he was chasing something. Or was it running from something? Or searching. Endlessly searching. The details were already muddled and fuzzy, retreating into his subconscious. He lay there in the dark, his breathing shallow.

He’d been having dreams like this for weeks now. Funnily enough, ever since that night when Mollie had found monsters in her cupboard. They hadn’t returned to bother her, and he had a hunch he knew why—they’d turned their attention to him.

Jennie was sleeping beside him. He could curl into her, leach some comfort from her warm, sleeping form, but he didn’t want to wake her. Not for any noble reason, merely because she’d want to know what was wrong, and he didn’t think he could handle any more of her kindness.

He knew he was failing her as a husband, but he couldn’t seem to do a damned thing about it. Maybe his brother Chris had been right. Maybe he
had
rushed headlong into another marriage before he’d been ready for it, but he didn’t want to think about that. He was scared enough of what he’d done to Jennie, what he was putting her through every day. He didn’t need any more guilt weighing him down.

He backed a little bit closer to her. She seemed a different person from the woman he’d met in Edward’s back garden. That was scaring him, too, not because he felt as if he didn’t know her any more, but because she was blooming on the outside into the wonderful woman he’d always known she was on the inside, whereas he was shrivelling into a dry husk.

Jennie rolled over and he held his breath, and then a long-fingered hand brushed his arm. His heart sank.

‘Hey,’ she said, her voice warm with sleep.

He couldn’t reply. He’d betray himself. So he just found her hand with his and squeezed it.

‘Dreaming again?’

How did she know? He hadn’t told her about his dreams. But she seemed to guess a lot of things about him these days. He didn’t
want her seeing inside him like this. It was dark in there—and empty. It must be. Because nothing light or happy ever came out of him. All the patience and joy and life Jennie gave him just got sucked in and were never seen again.

He just grunted, hoping the non-committal noise would be enough.

She sighed, and for a while he thought she was drifting back to sleep, but then the mattress shifted as she repositioned herself. ‘You’re not happy,’ she said. It wasn’t a question.

He felt sick. He didn’t want to agree with her, didn’t want to hurt her that way. She shuffled closer, spooned in behind him, stroked his arm and then hugged him tight, her chin resting in the crook of his shoulder.

‘I wanted to run from this, ignore this—anything but face it,’ she said. ‘But we can’t go on like this. You’ve got to let it all out, Alex. It’s eating you alive.’

He closed his eyes and fervently wished he could rewind time to back before their wedding, when everything had been fresh and uncomplicated. But then he wouldn’t know her the way he knew her now, and he loved her so much more for giving him her strength and
patience, her devotion—even when he didn’t deserve it.

‘I haven’t given up on you, Alex, but I need to know if you’ve given up on me.’

He opened his mouth, but she shushed him.

‘Let me finish… I know this is hard for you, but I need to tell you that I almost packed a bag and left you a couple of weeks ago.’