Three Wishes(72)

She was standing with them on the sidewalk by Nate’s driver’s side door. When he put Natasha down, before she knew his intention, his arm shot out, hooked her waist and he pulled her to him.

She made a low noise of surprise which was muffled when his mouth slanted down on hers in a hard, but brief and unfortunately effective kiss.

“I want you here when I come back,” he told her when he’d stopped kissing her, still holding her against his hard body and she realised then he’d cottoned on to the Dodge Nate Plan.

She hesitated, trying not to look at Natasha who she knew was staring up at them gleefully.

Then she mumbled, “We’ll see.”

Apparently, that was good enough for him for he let her go, got in his expensive car and drove away.

“He’s the bomb,” Natasha said, using a term Maxine used frequently and watching her father go.

Lily stood looking at her daughter watching her father’s car disappear and she saw the years stretching before her. Years of Nate bringing Natasha home, dropping her off and then disappearing from her life again for days or weeks, only to come back into her life for brief periods of time. Then again her daughter would be forced to watch him go. And Lily asked herself, could she do that to Tash?

Lily crouched behind her beloved daughter, pulled her back to Lily’s front and she rested her chin against Tash’s shoulder.

“Happy, baby doll?”

Natasha was so happy, she couldn’t speak, she just nodded. It was the first time since Tash had uttered her first words that she’d been speechless.

Lily felt the emotion crawl up her throat, already knowing somewhere deep inside her what she should do but still incapable of allowing herself to do it.

Sunday, her new furniture was not only delivered and assembled but they went up to the top floor to where they’d stowed her belongings (the ones not tossed out by Nate) and returned them to her room so Lily didn’t have to do it.

The bed was enormous, she’d never seen a bed so huge. It was a sleigh bed made of heavy, shining oak. A massive wardrobe twice the size of her old one and intricately carved like the scrolls on the bed, stood against the wall. A thin, matching, six drawer, lingerie dresser, another, wider dresser and two beautiful bed stands were added. Gorgeous, delicate, lamps that matched the exquisite ceiling fixture stood on the bedside tables. Gossamer curtains, an even paler blue than the walls, drifted at the window with heavy, slightly-darker, blue drapes hanging outside, all of this on stunning, scrolled, wrought-iron curtain rods. The floor was covered by an intricately patterned, deep-pile, fringed rug that Lily was fairly certain by its sheen was made of silk and likely imported from Turkey (she became certain of this because Fazire told her, Fazire knew a thing or two about rugs from Turkey). Two pictures were affixed to the walls, ivory mattes in black frames with prints of fancifully drawn shoes that, on first sight, even Lily had to admit that she loved, they were so girlie and perfect, she couldn’t help herself. The bed was covered in a fluffy, ivory coverlet trimmed in the blues of the walls and curtains and there were two sets of three standard, downy pillows stacked side-by-side at the head of the bed encased in the varying blues and ivory in front of which stood gigantic European squares in soft cases that had a lovely swirl of all the colours as a pattern.

“It’s bee… you… tee… full,” Natasha breathed as she and her mother stood in the doorway staring at it.

It was more than beautiful, it was the kind of bedroom where dreams came true.

The room, however, was just the beginning.

Monday, she came home from the shop with Maxine who came over for dinner every Monday evening. Maxine knew that Fazire was a genie, Maxine was also addicted to Fazire’s tuna casserole and his equally adept hand at grilling a sausage and making the fluffiest mash potatoes in history. Maxine had also had an excited phone call from Tash and was eager to see Lily’s new bedroom.

Natasha, as was becoming a habit, tore out of the house at their arrival, her black hair streaming behind her, her face awash with joy.

Fazire, as was becoming a habit, stomped out of the house, his black hair a mess as if his hands had torn through it repeatedly and his face awash with fury.

Tash halted two feet away from her mother, lifted her arm and pointed at the street. “Look Mummy.”

Curious, both Maxine and Lily turned to look. Lily saw her Peugeot sitting there forlornly looking like it was begging to be put out of its misery and taken to the scrap yard.

“Isn’t it lush?” Tash asked.

Confused, Lily stared. The Peugeot, even if Lily had enough money to have it valeted, could never be described as “lush”.

“What are you talking about, sweetling?” Maxine asked.

“Can’t you see it? Look! Behind Mummy’s car. Daddy had it delivered today, it’s a present for Mummy. The keys are in the house.”

Lily’s eyes shifted behind her car and she saw a sleek, handsome, shining, sporty, blue Mercedes convertible.

“Dearie me,” Maxine exhaled in an unusual understatement.

Lily felt as if she’d been running for miles flat out then all of a sudden she slammed into a wall. Her breath, quite suddenly, had been knocked right out of her.

“Dearie me, dearie me, dearie me,” Tash sing-songed and danced to the car, threw her arms wide and then she actually hugged it. Just as quickly, she turned back to them and asked, “Isn’t Daddy the greatest?”