The Babysitter(6)

‘He’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart,’ the woman assured her, gently coaxing her hand from her face. ‘I think he knows how terribly frightened my cat is, too, so he’s gone to try and rescue her. He’s a very brave man, isn’t he?’

Poppy surveyed the woman uncertainly for a second, then she sniffled and nodded over the thumb she’d plugged into her mouth. ‘He’s a policeman,’ she said shyly.

‘Is he?’ The woman widened her eyes, looking impressed for Poppy’s sake. ‘Well, he’s a very brave policeman indeed. I think he should have a medal, don’t you?’

Poppy nodded happily at that. ‘Yes,’ she said, settling more easily into the woman’s arms.

‘I’ll hold onto her, shall I?’ The woman smiled and nodded towards Melissa’s bundle. ‘You seem to have your hands full.’

Melissa followed her gaze, down to the content little miracle in her arms, who, amazingly, had slept through the cacophony of noise around them. ‘Thank you,’ she said again, looking back to the woman, who was actually not much more than a girl in her early twenties at most. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked her worriedly. Just a few short hours ago, Mark, having noticed the ominous orange glow through their bedroom window, had raced outside to find Monk’s Cottage thoroughly on fire and her sobbing in the lane.

‘Well, you know.’ Managing a tremulous smile, she shrugged. ‘I suppose there’s always a bright side. At least I’m alive.’

‘Mummy, when’s Daddy coming back?’ Poppy asked, as Melissa pondered the stupidity of her question. Of course she wouldn’t be all right, what with all her earthly possessions gone up in flames.

‘Soon, sweetie,’ Melissa promised, glancing from her daughter’s huge chocolate-brown eyes, which were so like her father’s, every emotion dancing therein, and then back towards the smoke-blackened cottage, praying that Mark hadn’t gone into the building. No, surely not. Distressed cat or not, he would be well aware of the dangers. Nevertheless, Melissa’s apprehension grew as she watched one of the fire officers heading that way after him.

‘I don’t know your name,’ the woman said, chatting to Poppy, trying to distract her. Melissa was grateful.

‘Poppy… What’s your name?’

‘I’m Jade. And I think your Daddy will be out very soon. Do you know how I know?’

Poppy furrowed her brow over the thumb she still had wedged in her mouth. ‘How?’

‘Listen.’ Jade cocked an ear. ‘What do you hear?’

Poppy tilted her head to one side, the little furrow in her brow deepening as she concentrated. Then, ‘The cat’s stopped meowing,’ she said delightedly.

‘That’s right. Which probably means your daddy’s found her, which means your daddy’s a hero.’

‘He is.’ Poppy nodded importantly. ‘He catches all the baddies and puts them in prison so we can all be safe.’

‘I bet he does.’ Jade exchanged a knowing glance with Melissa. ‘I bet he rescues all sorts of animals and people from all sorts of dangers, too.’

‘He does. And he shoos the scary bug monster from under my bed,’ Poppy informed her, her little face earnest. ‘I’m going to be a policeman when I grow up, aren’t I, Mummy?’

‘That’s right, sweetie.’ Melissa smiled distractedly, her gaze still fixed on the gate.

‘Daddy’s going to teach me, isn’t—’

‘Oh, thank God.’ Melissa blew out a sigh of relief as her husband finally reappeared, nursing the cat, which appeared to be subdued, miraculously. No doubt Mark had worked a little bit of his magic on it. The man was as soft as a brush when it came to animals and children. Melissa had no idea how he did the job he did, witnessing such despicable acts of cruelty sometimes, things that really could make a grown man cry. Mind you, she arranged her face into a suitably annoyed expression as he neared her.

Obviously sensing he might be in the doghouse, Mark did his usual trick, disarming her with that sheepish and far too winning smile of his, the look in his soulful brown eyes somewhere between contrite and teasing. DI Mark Cain obviously knew her too well, confident she would forgive him his sins – because she loved him, irrevocably. He was her rock, there for her when she’d been lost, gently helping her find the will to go on when depression had been a dark, cloying blanket threatening to suffocate her. She hadn’t wanted to go on after losing Jacob. Wouldn’t have, if not for Mark, whose heart had been quietly breaking too. Mark had loved their little baby boy, who’d been so outwardly perfect, but whose tiny lungs couldn’t function independently. It had been there in his all-telling eyes. He’d so wanted the family she couldn’t give him. The normal functional family that, with his awful, abusive childhood, he’d never had. He’d never made her feel inadequate, not with a look, not with a gesture, but she had felt inadequate. Especially after the miscarriages.

Mark had his flaws, a tendency to withdraw when he was immersed in some horrendous case, seemingly moody to those who didn’t know the caring man underneath, but from the first time she’d met him, forcing herself to report her previous boyfriend, a manipulative excuse of a man who’d eventually shown his true colours and hit her, she’d known Mark was one of the good guys. He’d handled the case sensitively, checked up on her afterwards, become her white knight. He’d been a catch. This much Melissa knew, because, having told him that much once, Mark had never missed an opportunity to remind her he was. He didn’t do a bad back massage either, she reminded herself, unable to stop her mouth curving into a reciprocal smile as he stopped in front of them.