The Cuckoo Child (31 page)

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Authors: Katie Flynn

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas

BOOK: The Cuckoo Child
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They climbed aboard the tram and were soon descending and making their way to the park. They found a seat overlooking the lake and settled themselves, then Emma turned to her companion. ‘Business first, pleasure afterwards,’ she said gaily. ‘Fire ahead then, Nick; tell me what’s been happening.’
Nick began to explain to Emma about Butcher Rathbone’s locked – or unlocked – back gate. Emma nodded her understanding, so Nick went on to explain how he meant to make some sort of prop to hold up the church wall whilst he burrowed beneath it to recover the necklace. Emma looked doubtful. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ she said after some thought. ‘There must be a way to get the wretched necklace back, if only we could think of it. But right now, surely it’s more important to discover who Ollie is. He murdered my grandfather, so no matter if he’s the mayor of Liverpool, he’s got to pay the price.’
‘I quite agree, and that’s why we’ve got to put a stop to it as soon as we possibly can,’ Nick said. ‘I do believe we’re getting near him. If only Dot had thought of it last night, I’m sure she would have seen him and perhaps even been able to identify him,’ Nick said regretfully. ‘And now her aunt’s not only expecting twins, but also on crutches because of a sprained ankle, which makes her very reliant on Dot.’
When they left their seat and began to explore the park, they were delighted to find a small fun fair had set up its rides and stalls under some trees. Nick took Emma’s hand casually, almost absent-mindedly, and she felt the heat begin to rise in her cheeks. He started to play with her fingers, admiring the delicate little ring she wore on the third finger of her right hand. ‘It looks old; antique almost,’ he said. ‘And now I suppose you’ll tell me it was made no more than a year ago and make me feel an ignorant fool.’
Emma laughed. ‘No I shan’t, because you’re quite right. When my grandfather met the woman who was to become my grandmother, he said he knew at once that she was the only girl for him and that they would marry one day. He was apprenticed to a goldsmith at the time and he saved up every penny he could spare to buy gold and tiny sapphire chips. He worked on the ring whenever he was not actually doing anything for Mr Mitchell, and when he asked my grandmother to marry him he slipped the ring on her finger and told her the story of how he had started to think about it the very first time he had asked her out. Isn’t that romantic?’ She smiled up at him. ‘Gran always wore it. As my grandfather grew more and more successful he wanted to make her something larger and more elaborate, but she would never let him. When she died, she left it to me in her will and it’s never been off my finger since, except once, when I decided to have it made a little smaller so that it didn’t slip round and risk catching on something as I worked.’
‘That’s a lovely story,’ Nick said seriously. ‘My grandfather died some years ago but my grandmother is still very much alive and I’m extremely fond of her. She lives with my parents in a villa on Linden Park Road in Tunbridge Wells, just off the Pantiles, and keeps house for them because they both work.’ He answered Emma’s enquiring look with a grin. ‘I know it’s unusual, but my mother and father are both doctors. They have a surgery built on to the house and share the practice with my brother, Geoffrey, who’s also a doctor. Of course he doesn’t live in the house any more, because he married Penelope three years ago and they bought a house a bit further up the hill so he’s not too far away. They have a small daughter who’s almost eighteen months old. Penny used to act as receptionist, but of course she can’t do that any more now she’s got little Annabelle.’
‘Gracious!’ Emma said, trying to take in this potted history of the Randall family; she thought they sounded fascinating. ‘How do the patients know which Randall they’re going to get? And didn’t they want you to be a doctor, too?’
It was now Nick’s turn to laugh. ‘They’re known as Dr Bernard, Dr Lavinia, and Dr Geoffrey, of course, and as for wanting me to practise medicine, it would have made the surgery somewhat crowded, don’t you think? In fact, my parents are very modern and wanted us to choose our own careers. I expect they were thrilled when Geoff decided to do medicine, but I’m sure they were equally pleased when I took to journalism. They’ve always been very supportive and very loving to both of us. You’ll like them.’
Emma’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh? Are they likely to come and visit you whilst you’re in Liverpool, then?’
Nick shook his head. ‘No, they’re far too busy. But since I mean to start saving up for some gold and perhaps a nice little diamond, I dare say I might persuade you to come on a visit one of these days. Kent is a beautiful county, particularly at blossom time; you really should see it.’
Emma said nothing, but knew that the colour was rising in her face. If Nick meant what she thought he meant, then he really was serious. But I’m too young to start being serious, she told herself wildly, and knew she lied. Already, Nick was important to her, and he would grow more important as time passed. Love at first sight sounds like a fairy tale but I do believe it’s happened to me, she told herself, and it’s obviously happened to Nick if I read the signs aright.
Nick took her hand and squeezed her fingers gently, but held on firmly when she tried to pull away. ‘What’s the matter, Em? Don’t you want to see Kent at blossom time?’
‘I – I don’t know what I want,’ Emma said, still much flushed. ‘You’re going much too fast; we scarcely know one another. Why, we met for the first time less than a week ago.’
‘Ah, but I’m only following Grandfather Grieves’s example,’ Nick pointed out. ‘You’ve been studying jewellery design so you’ll have to teach me how to make a little ring like that one. I could buy it,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘but it would be much more romantic to make it myself, don’t you think?’
‘I think you’re being very silly,’ Emma said primly. ‘And now, if you please, I’d like to have a go on the hoop-la and talk about something different.’
Nick smiled and led her over to the hoop-la stall, beginning to tell her of the assignment he had been on when he had first met Corky. From this, the discussion led naturally to Dot, of whom Emma was clearly already very fond. ‘The Brewster family work her far too hard and don’t seem to realise how lucky they are to have her,’ she observed, just as her hoop fell over a small yellow teddy bear. She gave a crow of delight as she claimed her prize.
‘There’s a merry-go-round,’ she said, pointing. ‘Do let’s have a go on it, Nick! Oh, how I love a fair!’
He slipped a casual arm about her waist; she stiffened, then glanced up at him and relaxed. Why should she pretend an indifference which she did not feel? She liked him very much and, above all, felt both safe and comfortable in his company. ‘You’re obviously a fast worker, Nick Randall, and I wish I was a bit older and more experienced, but I’m not,’ she said. ‘I ought to warn you that I’m an old-fashioned girl and I don’t believe in kissing on a first date, or in hugging, either, so perhaps you’d better take your arm back where it belongs.’
‘I’m merely trying to keep us together and stop you from being jostled by the crowd,’ Nick said.
Emma gave a small gurgle of amusement for the park was almost empty and the fair by no means crowded, but she made no further effort to distance herself from her companion. He gave her waist a tiny squeeze and, after a moment, she slid her arm round him, though she felt a little self-conscious as she did so.
‘Oh, Emma, I’m so glad I decided to investigate the Church Street robberies, and so glad that dear little Dot let us into her secret, otherwise we might never have met. I know it’s only been a short time – and I’m not a fast worker whatever you may think, I promise you – but an hour in your company was enough for me to realise you were someone special. As for not kissing on the first date – well, that’s up to you. I’ll let you set the pace, provided you realise that I’m serious and want—’
Emma put a hand up and placed it softly across his mouth. ‘Be quiet,’ she said scoldingly. ‘I said earlier I wanted to change the subject and you’re cheating by going back to it again. You know Dot said the other day that she was the cuckoo in the nest and that all the Brewsters, except Aunt Myrtle, were trying to push her out? I’m sure if they succeeded, they would soon realise their mistake, but if they do – push her out, I mean – then I’d be very happy to take her on. I’ve got a spare bedroom, and in the school holidays she could help in the shop as well as keeping the flat tidy and giving me a hand with messages and so on. I nearly told her the other day that she could come to me if her aunt kicked her out, but the fact is, what with expecting twin babies and having an injured ankle, her aunt’s need is greater than mine right now. So for the time being the poor little cuckoo child had best put up with Lavender Court.’
‘Yes, you’re right. Except that I thought the cuckoo was the one who kicked the other birds out of the nest,’ Nick pointed out. ‘I fear you’ve got it wrong, darling Emma.’
Emma tutted. ‘There you go again, saying things you oughtn’t to say. As for the cuckoo chucking out the other birds, that depends which nest the mother leaves it in. Our poor little cuckoo child was left in a nest of vultures, and I don’t see even the most determined cuckoo getting far against nestlings like those, dear Nick.’
Nick gave a little chortle and squeezed her again. ‘You’re making progress, Nick Randall,’ he said. ‘
Softlee, softlee, catchee monkee
is an old saying but, I fancy, a true one. Would you like some fish and chips?’ he asked wistfully. ‘Mrs Cartwright’s cooking is abominable and I’m empty as a drum right now.’
Emma peered ahead and saw a fish van, drawn up by the trees. ‘I’d love some,’ she admitted. ‘It seems a long time since my supper, and that was only bread and cheese, and a slice of apple pie. Tell you what, we could buy the fish and chips and take them to the aviary to eat. There are seats there. Then we’ll walk back and have a go on the merry-go-round and swing boats. What do you say, Nick?’
‘I say hooray for Prince’s Park,’ Nick said, hurrying her towards the fried fish van. ‘We’re having a grand evening; it just gets better and better.’
By the time Emma and Nick left the park, Emma was so tired that she made no objection when Nick almost lifted her on to the tram and sat very close to her, an arm about her. She was happy to snuggle against him and lay her head in the hollow of his shoulder, for it seemed to her that they now knew each other as well as any two people could. They had whirled on the merry-go-round, rolled pennies down the chute, tried in vain to capture a prize with the automatic grab and had laughed and laughed in the hall of mirrors, moving back and forth so that one minute their heads were shaped like huge pears and their bodies reduced to doll size, whilst the next they were nine feet tall and thin as runner beans. Time had rushed past unnoticed by either of them, and only when they were soaring above the park in a swing boat had Emma glanced at her small wristwatch and realised it was getting late. The gas lamps were lit and she had promised herself an early night and was extremely tired. She had said as much to Nick, who had slowed the boat immediately and lifted her out of it.
And now here they were, heading for home as fast as the tram could carry them. When they disembarked, Emma told Nick she would be perfectly all right to walk home alone since it was only just after nine o’clock, but he scoffed at the idea and they strolled along comfortably together beneath the street lamps, Emma, at least, aware that their relationship had subtly changed. Nick had made it very clear that he was serious about her and she had admitted to similar feelings. Their first meetings had been unconventional, to say the least, but what did that matter, after all? The important thing was that they got on well, liked the same things and were growing increasingly fond of one another.
They reached the door of the stockroom and Emma unlocked it, inviting Nick in for a hot drink, but he shook his head, smiling gently down at her. ‘No, I won’t come in, Em, but thanks for the invitation, I really appreciate it,’ he said softly. ‘You’re very tired and you’ve got to get up to open the shop tomorrow, and I’ve got a fair walk ahead of me.’
‘I am very tired,’ Emma admitted, stifling a yawn. ‘Oh, we haven’t arranged another meeting . . . but I’m always in the shop, so you can pop in any time. Good night, Nick, and thanks for a lovely evening.’
She was turning away when she found herself being seized and kissed. It was a light kiss, and as soon as he felt her pull away he stepped back, saying ruefully: ‘Now tell me I shouldn’t have done that! I know I said you could set the pace, Emma, but you’re so beautiful . . . I just couldn’t resist.’
Emma’s heart was thudding and she could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers. She knew she should be outraged, tell him that he had overstepped the boundaries she had set, but instead she found herself smiling up at him. ‘It’s all right, Nick; I owe you a kiss for giving me such a nice time,’ she said lightly. ‘And – and to tell you the truth, it’s the first time I’ve been kissed and I liked it.’ Startled at her own boldness, she closed the door quickly and shot the bolts home, calling ‘Good night and thanks again’ as she did so. Then she ran up the stairs, hurried across the landing and hid behind the curtain in the living room, watching his tall, athletic figure stride away down Church Street.
She stayed there for a moment, simply gazing out into the lamplit street, and was about to turn away when another figure hove into view. It was Constable McNamara, treading his majestic beat, looking neither to right nor left but, she imagined, thinking wistfully of the cup of tea and corned beef sandwich which he would enjoy when he returned to the station to fill in his report on anything that had happened during the past few hours. She was tempted to open the window and hail him, but she knew that if she did so he would expect to be asked up for a drink or a chat, and she was far too tired, she decided. The constable often popped into the shop around elevenses time and always appreciated her home-made oatmeal biscuits, but he would have to give them a miss tonight.

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