A Child In Need

her husband with affection. ‘They’re always snapped up, by the most gorgeous of men. My Mike included.’

‘Mary…’

‘Take me, for instance,’ she said placidly. ‘I was married at nineteen and I could have been married a whole heap earlier if I hadn’t been very, very fussy.’ She motioned across to where Louise and her young man were building a sandcastle together. ‘I’m betting this little sister won’t be far behind-she and Alastair can’t keep their eyes off each other-and Hatty already has boyfriends even though she’s only fifteen. It’s only Shanni who’s slow on the uptake, and that’s because she can’t choose.’

‘I don’t…’

‘Eleven proposals,’ Mary said sagely, shaking her head at the wonder of it. ‘And that’s just the serious ones. It’s now starting all over again. Mum tells me, since the town found out John’s a thing of the past, the phone’s been running hot.’

‘Your sister’s very attractive,’ Nick said stiffly, and Mary chuckled.

‘She is and all.’

‘I don’t…’ he started, but she shook her head.

‘You do, so why not admit it?’ she said, rising and shaking the sand from her towel. ‘Ugh. I’m coated.’ And then she fixed Nick with a stern look. ‘But, whatever you do, do it fast. Because, as I said, there’s a queue.’

She would not go near him.

Shanni was aware of the eyes of her family on her-what had started out as a joke had them all so interested it was almost sickening. They were agog-and she wasn’t interested!

She wasn’t!

If only Nick wasn’t so…wasn’t so…

Different.

And that difference was impossible to define. In so many ways he was the same as other men she’d gone out with. He had a great grin-yes, it was wonderful. But other men had great grins. He was strong-he must have swum since toddlerhood-his lean figure had towed Harry effortlessly on his floating mat and he’d won every race with her various male cousins. But…other men were strong.

And tender… He was amazingly tender. The way he had lifted Harry, the way he had put sun lotion on the little boy and wiggled patterns down the child’s back, making him squeal in delight. The way he’d said something great about every kid’s sandcastle…

Other men were great with kids.

It was more than that. It was the way he just was. The way he was just…Nick.

She saw so much that she knew he didn’t want anyone to see: the way he looked at Harry, as if he couldn’t believe he was committing himself, the way he looked around at her family, as if he was hungering for something he’d never had, and yet wanted so badly, the way he looked at her…

The way she seemed to know what was right there in his heart.

It scared her rigid. And…all her family were watching.

She wasn’t interested. She wasn’t!

She avoided him like the plague.

It was almost dusk as they drove home. They’d eaten tea on the beach-Shanni’s grandpa had ordered pizzas, and one of the enduring images Nick would take home from this day was the pizza delivery boy hiking over sand- hills with a dozen or more boxes balanced precariously before him.

Then Shanni’s mum had produced a birthday cake, grandpa had blown out seventy candles, the birthday song had been bellowed by the entire family and the day had been declared officially over.

And it had left Nick feeling…empty? As if he’d been allowed to glimpse something that could never be his.

He’d half expected to go home alone with Harry, but as he’d put the little boy into the car-he was already fast asleep-Shanni had emerged from the crowd of her family and tossed her bag in beside him.

He was therefore deemed her chauffeur. According to Mary, he should feel honoured.

He didn’t. He just felt…more empty. As if he was being allowed more insight into what could never be his.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ She smiled at him as he started the engine. Her hair was escaping every which way from her crazy topknot, she was sand-coated, her nose was pink-tipped from too much sun-and he had an almost overwhelming urge to stop the car and kiss her.

He did no such thing. The emptiness was almost tangible. But emptiness was his life. It was what he was accustomed to, and he didn’t know how the heck to cope with anything else.

So he steered the car toward the town and he clenched his hands on the steering wheel and he said nothing.

For a few minutes she watched him in matching silence. ‘Nick, what’s wrong?’ she asked at last, and the teasing tone had become serious.

‘Nothing.’

‘When I say that to my kindergarten students and they say, “nothing,” it usually means they’ve just made a puddle.’

He grinned at that. ‘Miss McDonald, I can assure you that I haven’t made a puddle.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it.’ She looked at him for a long moment, questioning, and then gave a slight shrug and turned to look over her shoulder at the sleeping Harry. ‘He’s had a wonderful day,’ she said softly.

‘Yes,’

‘And you, Nick? You’ve had a good time?’

‘I…yes.’

‘I’m glad,’ she said warmly, probing no deeper. ‘My family think you’re great.’

‘Because I’m not John?’

‘There is that.’ She chuckled. ‘Oh, dear. I was a twit for thinking I could marry him.’

‘There’ll be other fish in the sea.’

‘I guess…’ Her voice faded. ‘Nick…’

‘Mmm?’

She looked across at him as if she was about to ask something, thought better of it and pressed her lips together. More silence. Then the town boundary came into view, and it was say something now or the opportunity would be over.

‘Will you see Harry again?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he said stiffly. ‘Not for a while.’

‘Because you’re busy,’ she agreed cordially. ‘I guess.’

‘I need to go to Melbourne next weekend.’

‘To change suits and ties? I hoped you’d kicked the habit.’

He grinned at that. ‘Yes, okay. I’ve kicked the habit. But I do have another life.’

‘You have a girlfriend in town?’

‘No.’

‘I see.’ She didn’t see at all. She stared ahead as the car turned into the street leading to the children’s home. Time was running out. It was now or never…

‘Nick, Harry’s dad took him to Melbourne every weekend,’ she said, her voice suddenly urgent. ‘He worked here in the timber mill, but every Friday night he and Harry headed for the city. Harry’s grandmother lived there.’

‘He has a grandmother?’

‘She died just before Peter did. But Harry still remembers going to the city.’

‘Are you suggesting,’ Nick said slowly, thinking this through, ‘that I take Harry to Melbourne?’

‘I don’t see why not. I think he’d love it.’

‘I can’t cope with a baby on my own.’

She thought about that and shook her head. ‘Of course you can.’ She was all decisive now, right back into the bossy mode Nick was starting to know and, he had to admit, enjoy. ‘You’re a clever, competent man, Nick Daniels, and Harry is one very small boy. You can cope if you want.’

‘Then I don’t want,’ he said bluntly. Harry in his favourite restaurants or with his sophisticated friends? No and no and no.