The Babysitter(45)

‘I’ll go,’ Mark said, dumping his glass on the coffee table. ‘You try and get some sleep.’

Jade caught his arm as he joined her in the hall. ‘I have her feed ready,’ she reminded him. ‘Go to Melissa.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘She might need you. And don’t worry, Mark, I’m not going to run at the first family hiccup. The children will need support too.’

Hearing her humming sweetly as he bypassed the nursery five minutes later, Mark couldn’t help but be in awe of her. How she had coped, losing her parents like that and yet remaining positive and cheerful, he really didn’t know.

He peered quickly into Poppy’s room. Hercules was alert, looking up at him when he popped his head in, as usual. Everything seemingly normal. Yet normality was slipping away. Again.

Climbing in beside Mel for a second time, Mark reached gently for her. He needed to feel the wholeness of her, to reassure her he was here, though he doubted she would wake, given her sleep patterns over the last few weeks and the alcohol in her system. Mark was pretty sure she must have been hitting the booze earlier that day. The few wines she’d had while they were at the restaurant wouldn’t have rendered her inebriated to the point of unconsciousness.

How long might she have been secretly drinking, he wondered. What might have precipitated it, caused her to reach for alcohol as a crutch, as she had done once before? He had no way of knowing. If only he’d been aware, been paying attention, then maybe, just maybe, he could have done something to help her.

Mel stirred a little in his arms. No more than that. Mark moved closer, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, and then dragging a hand across his face to wipe a salty tear from his own.





Thirty





JADE





For God’s sake! What now? Jade was halfway through a phone conversation with drippy Dylan, who was fretting about the girl, who apparently looked ‘sickly’, when she heard the commotion from the other end of the landing. Storming from her room, she only just managed to wipe the scowl from her face as Mark emerged from his bedroom. Looking worse for wear after his horrendous night out with his mental wife, followed by two sizeable whiskies, precious little sleep, and obviously panic-stricken, he hadn’t bothered pulling on anything but his tracksuit bottoms.

Appreciating the view, Jade turned the flash off on her phone and took a photo to inspect more thoroughly at leisure, and then bolted after him as Mark headed for Poppy’s room, where the child was howling like a banshee.

‘Poppy? What on earth?’ Mark faltered inside the bedroom door, clearly bewildered. Jade, one step behind – and contemplating poisoning the dog, who was emitting a low growl at the sight of her – could see why.

‘What’s happened, Poppy?’ Concerned, as obviously he would be, Mark walked over to where Poppy was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, cradling the goldfish bowl.

‘Nemo’s died,’ Poppy wailed, dragging an arm under her snotty nose as she looked up at him. ‘He’s floating on the water. He’s dead, Daddy. He’s dead!’

Little brat. She’d make her eat the fucking fish for breakfast. Seething quietly in the doorway, Jade noted the foul-smelling water had soaked through Poppy’s nightie and into the duvet beneath her, which would now have to be washed by yours truly, with Melissa about as much use as a fart in a spacesuit.

‘Hey, hey. Come on, Poppet.’ Mark joined her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her and kissing the top of her head. It was such a tender gesture, Jade couldn’t resist taking another photo. ‘Let me take a look,’ Mark gently cajoled her. ‘He might just be sleeping.’

‘He’s not sleeping!’ Fresh tears sprang from Poppy’s eyes. ‘He’s dead!’

Nodding understandingly, Mark squeezed her closer and then reached into the water.

Ugh. Jade recoiled as the slimy fish floated onto the palm of his hand. She watched in wonder as Mark blew softly on it. He really was the nicest, kindest person she’d ever known. He looked a bit crestfallen when it didn’t twitch so much as a fin, despite several attempts at resuscitation.

‘I think he might be, sweetheart,’ he eventually conceded, with a sympathetic sigh. ‘I’m guessing that means God must have wanted him for Baby Jesus’ aquarium.’

Mark looked down at Poppy, shrugging sadly.

Judging by the stubborn little crease in her forehead, though, Poppy wasn’t buying it. ‘But why does God want him for baby Jesus’ aquirum?’ She looked querulously up at him.

To feed the five thousand, thought Jade, mentally rolling her eyes – though she had to admire Mark’s ingenuity.

‘Because…’ Stopping, Mark furrowed his brow, clearly struggling for what to say next.

‘Because Baby Jesus’ aquarium is the ocean,’ Jade supplied, as he glanced helplessly in her direction.

Poppy looked towards her, blinking huge, hopeful eyes.

‘One of the walls of his nursery is made of glass,’ Jade went on, walking across to kneel in front of her, rather than perch on the side of the wet bed. ‘He watches over the fish to make sure all the lost little ones find their mummies and daddies and swim in fish heaven together forever.’

Poppy looked, awestruck, from Jade to Mark and back again. ‘Like Dory? She found her mummy and daddy,’ she whispered, and warming to the idea, judging by her expression.