Beautiful Beast (Gypsy Heroes #3)(16)

‘Excuse me,’ Shane interrupts, ‘but you used to cry when you were his age too.’

‘I only cried for milk; he cries for everything.’

Both Shane and I crack up.

‘Are you Uncle Shane’s girlfriend?’ Liliana demands suddenly.

I look at Shane, but he just looks at me innocently.

I clear my throat. ‘I’m Uncle Shane’s friend,’ I say primly.

‘Don’t you want to be Uncle Shane’s girlfriend?’ she asks curiously.

I feel myself flush and Shane grins evilly. ‘Answer the child then.’

‘Well,’ I say.

‘I know what. You can marry him if you want and then you can kiss like mummies and daddies.’

Shane bursts out laughing, and even I have to smile.



The next hour is the best fun I’ve had in years. Shane and I prepare thick homemade fish fingers that Liliana’s mother has sent, shelled peas, and mashed potatoes. The kids are a barrel of laughs, but my first impression of Tommy as a helplessly little baby is quickly dispelled. He turns out to be the naughtiest little imp.

After lunch, Shane puts on the Whip/Nae Nae record and Liliana, who knows all the moves, starts dancing. Disgusted with the noise and activity, the cat retreats into the kitchen.

‘Again,’ Liliana cries when the track ends.

God knows how, but on the third run the bossy boots manages to make both Shane and I join in. I have been out of circulation for so long, I don’t know any of the steps, but Shane, like Liliana, knows them all. He looks real good doing it too.

We all stop when the phone rings.

‘Can I answer it, Uncle Shane?’ Liliana asks.

‘Go on. It’s probably your daddy anyway.’

She rushes to the phone, picks it up, and says, ‘Hello, Margarite Hum Loo speaking.’

‘Daddeeeeee,’ she squeals. She listens for a while, then asks, ‘What time are you coming? OK. Hi, Mummy. Yes, I was very, very good. Tommy wasn’t, though. He banged my head really hard. On purpose. I was very brave. There was a very big egg on my head, but it’s gone down now.’

I turn toward Shane with widened eyes at the lies she was telling.


‘Don’t worry, everybody knows what a terrible shit-stirrer she is,’ he whispers with a wink.

Her mother must have asked about lunch because she says, ‘Yes. Fish fingers, mashed potatoes, and peas.’ She swivels her eyes toward me. ‘No, but Uncle Shane’s girlfriend is here. Yeah. Yeah. I don’t know.’ She takes a big breath. ‘Mummy, did you buy anything nice for me? Yay! OK, see you soon. I love you, Mummy. Bye, bye.’ She puts the phone down and skips over to us.

‘Mummy and Daddy are coming.’

‘I guess I’d better go,’ I say.

‘You don’t have to,’ Shane says immediately.

‘No, I should go. It’s getting late.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, I’m sure,’ I say with a smile.

‘I’ll call you a cab.’

‘Thanks, Shane.’

In less than five minutes, the cab calls up that he is waiting downstairs.

‘I really enjoyed my time here,’ I say.

‘Hold on. We’ll all come down with you.’

So, all of us pile into the lift and go down. As Shane shuts the door of the taxi, I see a silver Bentley drive into the forecourt. I turn back to watch it, and I see a tall man with very similar coloring to Shane, and a beautiful woman with a slightly Oriental feel to her features get out of the car. The woman is holding a baby in her arms and Liliana is jumping up and down with excitement. As soon as Shane lets go of her little hand, she races to her father and throws herself at him. He catches her, lifts her high into the air, and whirls around while she squeals with delight.

Then the taxi turns into the road and I can no longer see them.





Nine


SNOW

It is nearly 7.00 p.m. and the light that fills my apartment is livid and deep, half storm-purple and half the fiery orange eyes of a hawk. I’ve been wandering aimlessly within these walls ever since I returned from Shane’s house. Hearing myself breathe. Jumping at the sound of the water in the pipes.

Feeling something. Dread and excitement.

A hot, damp wind pushes in through the window and I stop and gaze at my surroundings as if seeing it all for the first time. Everything is still and silent and bland. There are no cherished paintings, family photographs, or lovingly collected little objects of beauty. The walls are magnolia, the furniture is plain and brown, and it is all as clinically clean as an ICU unit in a hospital.

Which is strange considering that this place has been my salvation, my solace, and my sanctuary. My hiding place from the world outside. The world that is always waiting to hurt me. I listen to the silence, and it feels heavy and oppressive.

I turn my thoughts to little Liliana, the shit-stirrer.

‘Margarite Hum Loo,’ I whisper, and just saying her made-up name aloud in the stillness makes me chuckle.

I try to imagine her in her own home with her parents. It is clear that they adore her. The image that comes to my mind seems warm, bright, full of laughter, and infused with the smell of Liliana and her mother baking a new batch of cookies.

I think of Shane. Of course, he will not be at home now. He will probably be in Eden. I try to picture him walking around, talking, laughing, and I feel sad that I am not part of his life. I realize I miss his mischievous sense of humor, his handsome face, his wolfish grin, and his warm, sparkling eyes.