A Mother by Nature. Caroline Anderson

a fairly imminent departure, which would mean replacing her and settling the new girl in with the children while coping with the new job and trying to sort out the house.

      That in itself would be no mean feat. They’d only been able to afford it because it needed to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged, kicking and screaming, into the next century. The plumbing was ancient and suspect, the heating was intermittent and unreliable, the wiring was safe but woefully inadequate, and there wasn’t a single room that didn’t need decorating and a new carpet and curtains.

      Even on his new consultant’s salary he couldn’t afford to deal with it all at once, and he certainly couldn’t afford to pay anyone to do it for him. Catapulting restlessly out of the chair, he went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. His eyes scanned the room without the benefit of his earlier rose-tinted spectacles, and the enormity of what he’d taken on swamped him.

      It was the little things—the cupboard door that hung at a crazy angle because the top hinge had gone, the worktop that had a hole burned in it next to the cooker, the cracked and broken tiles, the broken sash cord that dangled from the window, taunting him.

      How many others were on the point of breaking? What else was wrong that he hadn’t noticed or worried about on the building society’s huge and extensive survey report? OK, structurally it was sound, but everything he looked at seemed to need some attention. The loo off the hall needed to have its door rehung because it smashed into the basin behind it if you opened it more than halfway, the fireplace in the dining room needed to be opened up and revealed—the list was endless.

      Endless, but cosmetic. Nothing time wouldn’t cure. Once he’d had time to deal with it, it would be warm and light and a wonderful family home.

      One day.

      Adam went back to the drawing room, threw another shovel full of coal on the fire, put on a CD and settled down in the chair with his eyes firmly shut against the list of chores awaiting him in that room.

      He didn’t want to see the crack across the corner of the ceiling, the wallpaper easing off the wall just below it, the chipped paint on the skirting board, the worn and frayed carpet begging to be replaced.

      There would be time for that later, once they were settled. In the meantime, he’d relax and try and get himself into the right frame of mind for tomorrow, and try not to think about Helle and the fact that she would probably disturb him coming back in the wee small hours of the night, doubtless utterly wasted after her evening in the pub, and would be hell to get up in the morning in time to get the children ready for school. Which meant he’d have to do it, yet again.

      He put it out of his mind. He’d deal with tomorrow when it came. One day at a time, he reminded himself. It had got him through the last two years since Lyn had left. It would get him through the next twenty.

      Please, God …

      Damn. He was going to be late. His first day in his new job and he was going to be late.

      ‘Daddy, I can’t find my shoes …’

      ‘Try under your coat on the floor in the dining room where you threw it last night. Jasper, eat your breakfast, please.’

      ‘Don’t like cornflakes.’

      ‘You did yesterday. Danny, have you found your shoes yet?’

      A mumble came from the dining room. It could just conceivably have been a yes. Then again …

      Adam rammed his hands through his short, dark hair and stared at the ceiling. Where was Helle? He’d called her three times.

      ‘Do we have to go to school? I hate it there. I want to go back to my old school.’

      Adam met Skye’s sad blue eyes, old beyond her almost six years, and wished he could hug her and make her better. He’d given up trying. She simply stood and let him hold her, then walked away as soon as he let go. The social worker had said give her time, but it had been nearly three years now, and although she was better, she was still light years from emotional security.

      And Lyn walking out on them hadn’t helped one damn bit.

      ‘Yes, darling, you do have to go,’ he told her gently. ‘You know that. I know it’s hard at first, but you’ll soon settle in and it’ll be much better for us here near Grannie and Grandpa. You’ll like seeing more of them, won’t you?’

      She shrugged noncommittally, and he stifled a sigh and went to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Helle?’ he yelled, and then remembered the neighbours through the party wall. Damn. At least the last house had been detached. Still, the people next door hadn’t complained about their new neighbours yet, and the teenage girls had been round already to introduce themselves and offer their services for babysitting.

      If Helle didn’t get out of bed soon, he might have to take them up on it!

      For what seemed like the millionth time, he wondered if he’d been quite mad to continue with the adoption when Lyn had left him. Maybe he should have let the kids go back instead of fighting to keep them. Maybe they would have been better off without him, with someone else instead. Two someones, preferably.

      Then Danny wandered out into the hall, tie crooked, shoes untied, hair spiking on top of his head and a grin to gladden the loneliest heart, and he reached out and hugged the boy to his side as they went together back into the kitchen.

      ‘Look—I made you a card at school.’

      He handed Adam a crumpled bit of sugar paper with spider writing on it, pencil on dark grey, almost impossible to decipher and yet the message quite clear. ‘I love you, Daddy. From Danny.’ There was a picture stuck on the front, of a house with a wonky chimney and a red front door just like theirs. Swallowing hard to shift the lump in his throat, he thanked Danny and stuck the card on the front of the fridge with a magnet.

      Skye, ever the mother, was coaxing Jasper to eat his now soggy cereal, and she looked up and gave Adam that steady, serious look that made him want to weep for her. ‘Is Helle coming?’ she asked, and he shook his head.

      ‘I’m going to have to get her up,’ he told them. ‘I have to leave you guys and go to work, and I can’t be late. Not today.’

      ‘Are you scared?’ Jasper asked, eyeing him curiously.

      ‘Don’t be stupid—course he’s not!’ Danny said patronisingly.

      He sat down. ‘Well, maybe a bit,’ he confessed. ‘Not scared exactly, but it’s never easy to meet new people and settle into a new place. It doesn’t matter if you’re old or young, it’s still a bit difficult at first.’

      ‘Even for you?’ Danny asked in amazement, gazing up at his hero with eyes like saucers.

      He grinned and ruffled the spiky brown hair. ‘Even for me, sport.’

      ‘It’ll be all right, you’ll see,’ Skye said seriously, neatly reversing their roles, and he felt a lump in his throat again.

      No. Whatever chaos and drama they’d brought to his life, he couldn’t imagine that life without them now. They belonged to each other, for better, for worse, and so on. They were a family and, like all families, they had good times and bad times.

      Mostly they were good, but if Helle didn’t get up soon, he had a feeling that today was going to be a bad one …

      Anna was feeling blue. She’d woken that morning wondering what it was all about, and two hours later she was still no nearer the answer. Wake up, get up, eat, go to work, go home, eat, go to bed, wake up—relentless routine, day after day, with nothing to brighten it.

      Was she just desperately ungrateful? She had a roof over her head—more than a roof, really, a lovely little house that she enjoyed and was proud of—great friends, and a wonderful job that she wouldn’t change for the world—except that this morning, for the first time she could remember, she really, really didn’t want to be here.

      So what was the matter with