saying that you’ve been able to make contact.’
‘Make contact?’ Nick stared, bemused. She was still furious and she looked really something when she was angry. As if there were sparks inside as well as out.
‘Yes. That you’ve been able to communicate with him and he’s showed signs of affection. Otherwise he risks being classified as autistic and we’ll get nowhere. He’ll be taken away from Wendy, and there’s no chance he’ll be considered for adoption with a label like that.’
‘Shanni, it’s…’
‘None of your business,’ she snapped, eyes flashing. ‘Like Bart isn’t my business. This is a small community here, Nick Daniels, and everyone cares for everybody. And even if it wasn’t a small community… Haven’t you ever heard the line “Any man’s
That floored him. For heaven’s sake… John Donne’s poetry being flung at him by angry kindergarten teachers…
‘Any man’s
But Nick wasn’t, he thought blankly. No way. He’d tried as hard as he could, for all of his life, to be exactly the opposite. As uninvolved in mankind as possible.
‘How can you not care?’ Shanni said hotly. ‘Nick, you’re the only hope he has.’
‘I…’
‘You don’t care for anyone. Of course you don’t. I can see that.’ She shook her blonde curls in fury. ‘So don’t do anything about it. See him locked in a psychiatric institution…’
‘Hey…’
‘If you care, then go and talk to Wendy.’
‘Wendy?’
‘Wendy,’ she said kindly, as if he was a sandwich short of a picnic. ‘The head of the children’s home he’s in. Bay Beach orphanage is split into five homes and Wendy’s in charge of Harry’s.’ She glared again. ‘So help her. If you have one ounce of decency in your body then it’s the least you can do.’
‘But you…’
‘And you needn’t worry. You won’t meet me there, so your reputation will remain untarnished. I’m going to a movie with my mother. Something about a runaway bride.’ She glowered. ‘Which will suit me down to the ground. Runaway bride? Ha! If all the men around her are as appalling as you and John, I can’t say I blame her for her choice.’
CHAPTER FIVE
GREAT!
He seemed to have sand everywhere. Nick took himself back up to his apartment, emptied his shoes, washed his face and poured himself a glass of wine. It didn’t work. He still felt gritty and unsettled.
And like a king-sized rat.
He made himself steak and salad, sat down to watch the news on TV and he still felt rat-like. Which was stupidly unfair.
Finally he showered and changed every piece of his sand-impregnated clothing, donning casual trousers and an open-necked shirt. Then he stared at himself in the mirror. See? he demanded of no one in particular-or the absent Shanni. He could be casual if he wanted to be.
The thought was so pathetic and inane he made himself grin.
His hair needed attention. He’d washed the sand out, and it was drying as its usual mop of unruly black curls. This wasn’t a judge-look at all. He grimaced, started to comb it flat and smooth-and then he stopped.
This was stupid, he conceded. Slick hairstyles for casual was stupid. He wasn’t dressing for anyone. He’d leave it be-just run a comb loosely through it and leave it. Just for tonight.
After all, he was only reading legal briefs tonight-wasn’t he? Hardly worth donning his city lawyer image for.
He read one legal brief and paused.
Harry… Psychiatric assessment tomorrow.
Harry…
It was nothing to do with him, he thought savagely-desperately. He couldn’t help.
But in his heart, maybe he knew he could.
He’d heard court cases before, submissions of social workers on why a child should be sent home to his parents or fostered or sent to a remand home.
Harry was only three years old and, if Shanni was right…if he
Nick was in a position to guess that attachment was possible if they found a home where there was a decent male parent. Harry just needed his dad, Nick thought.
As he had.
That had nothing to do with it, he thought savagely. His own background was irrelevant. Think of practicalities. He shook off the feeling of wanting to stay right out of this and let himself remember how Harry had felt holding him close. He’d hugged him all that long night of the hostage drama, and it hadn’t just been Harry who’d received comfort.
This was ridiculous!
Yes, but just talking to Wendy couldn’t hurt-telling Wendy if she wanted a statement then he was prepared to make it. It couldn’t hurt to do that much-and then steer clear. And…Shanni was at the movies.
It was only nine. Not too late. Decision made, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
With his hair still tousled.
‘If it’ll help then I’ll put that all in writing.’
‘It will.’ Wendy stared across the table at her visitor, her eyes troubled. ‘The only problem is…’
‘Mmm?’
‘You’re saying he shouldn’t be institutionalised because he’s capable of attachment. But you’re not willing to allow that attachment.’
‘I…no.’
‘Do you know about our big brother scheme?’
‘Shanni…Miss McDonald told me about it, yes.’
‘And you’re not willing to be a part of it?’
‘No.’
‘Hmm.’ She paused and regarded him across the table with knowing eyes. In silence.
Which Nick found vaguely unsettling. The woman was still relatively young, close to thirty, maybe, but Nick knew instinctively that she’d make a great house mother for troubled kids. She was sort of…comfortable. She had kindly eyes that crinkled from too much smiling-eyes that said she accepted all comers as she found them.
And she knew what she was seeing now. ‘You’ve had a tough time yourself,’ she said softly, and Nick stared.
‘How…?’
‘How do I know?’ She spread her hands. ‘You get to know the look. And Shanni told me.
‘What on earth does Shanni know?’
‘She sees as much as I do.’ Wendy smiled and pushed her fingers through her mass of dark curls. She’d tied them back into a knot but they were breaking free everywhere. ‘She’s quite a girl. If that’s all, then…’
‘Is Harry asleep?’ Now, why had he asked that?
‘I doubt it.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s hard to get him to sleep. He lies there for hours, just staring into the dark. But if you’re not willing to take this further then maybe it’s not such a good idea to prolong the agony.’
‘The agony?’
