Nanny Makes Three. Joan Kilby

it. You want Benny to be happy, don’t you?”

      “Yes.” She thought for a minute. “Is it like the resort Grandma Finch went to on the Gold Coast?”

      “Well…” Gregory began, then stalled.

      “A pig resort!” Eyes shining, Alice Ann paid no attention to her dad’s protest as she danced Piglet across her pink coverlet. “Benny’s going to a five-star pig resort.”

      “Wait a minute—”

      “I bet it’s beautiful,” she declared, rapidly embellishing. “A fancy chef will make his favorite slop. There will be green fields where he can lie in the sun—” with an elaborate sigh she sank blissfully into her pillow “—all day long.”

      “It sounds mighty fine,” Gregory said, smiling despite himself. “The weaners might like it so much they won’t want to come home.”

      “Not Benny.” Alice Ann shook her head solemnly. “He’s my extra specialest piggy. He’ll come back as soon as he can. And if he doesn’t, we’ll go get him, won’t we, Daddy?”

      “We’ll see.”

      “We will.” She nodded decisively, settling the matter.

      Gregory tucked the covers around her. “Time to sleep now.”

      She yawned. “I liked her dangly earrings, too.”

      Melissa again. Gregory recalled the way her earrings had cast feathery shadows over the soft skin and fragile bones at the base of her neck. Ridiculous bits of fluff and frivolity, totally out of place on a farm.

      “She has a tiny weeny space between her front teeth just like me.” Alice Ann bared her teeth to show him the gap.

      Gregory smiled. As if he didn’t know every freckle and hair on his daughter’s precious body. He’d noticed Melissa’s teeth, too, though. That kind of perception was unusual for him.

      “Mrs. Blundstone will make a wonderful nanny,” Gregory said. “She’ll bake cookies, play dress up and read you all the storybooks you want.”

      He stopped, realizing Mrs. Blundstone had said nothing about cookies and playing dress up. When he’d interviewed her, she’d talked about reading readiness and giving Alice Ann a head start on arithmetic. Which was good because that’s what he wanted in a nanny.

      “I’m tired, Daddy,” Alice Ann told him, yawning again. “Night-night…”

      “Sleep tight…” he replied, falling in with their nighttime ritual.

      “See you tomorrow…” Alice Ann’s eyes fell shut. In the lamplight her lashes were soft crescents against her rosy skin.

      “In the morning light,” Gregory finished softly. He touched the back of his finger to her cheek, but his baby was already fast asleep.

      MELISSA’S FLASHLIGHT illuminated a small lounge room packed with furniture. There were three couches plus one…two…three…four armchairs. There was an outdoor table and a kitchen table, both with chairs piled upside down on top. A narrow walkway next to the wall led around a breakfast bar to the galley kitchen. Cardboard boxes were piled in the far corner of the lounge room. To the right, a doorway presumably led to the bedrooms.

      “Diane?” she whispered again, “it’s me, Melissa.”

      A scuffling sound from a back room caught Melissa’s attention. Diane peered around the doorway, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand. Melissa turned the flashlight beam on herself. “It’s me,” she repeated.

      Diane whispered to her children to stay back, and came into the room. “What are you doing here?”

      Josh and Callie ignored her warning and crept after her, Callie clutching the hem of her mother’s blouse.

      “I brought you some food and blankets.” Melissa edged between the couches and the wall. She laid the blankets over the back of a couch and set the bags of food on the breakfast bar. From her shoulder bag she produced a large bottle of water she’d had in her car.

      “You shouldn’t have come.” Melissa could tell by the tense expression on Diane’s narrow face just how frightened she was. “Someone could have seen you or heard your car.”

      “I left my car on the road. No one saw me.” Melissa began unzipping the bags of food. “Are you hungry? My mother’s roast lamb is sensational. I couldn’t bring the gravy, but I’ve got salt and pepper. I didn’t even think about plates or cutlery. Is there some in the kitchen? There’s roast pumpkin and potatoes—” She broke off, realizing Diane and her children remained silent. “Don’t you like lamb?”

      “We love lamb.” Diane drew in a deep breath and blinked. “Don’t we, kids?”

      “All we’ve had today was crackers and cheese,” Callie said, “and apples.”

      Josh eyed the sliced meat and potatoes. “I’m starving.”

      “Come and eat,” Melissa urged, stepping back to make room for them.

      Diane went to the kitchen curtains and tugged them closer until they overlapped. “Someone might see your flashlight.” She helped Josh and Callie to a piece of meat and a potato each. “The cottage has been stripped of everything. There are no dishes. No water or electricity.”

      “How did you get in?” Melissa asked.

      “The door was open,” Diane said with a shrug. “Yesterday we arrived to stay with Constance next door. When she wasn’t home we didn’t have anyplace else to go. So we waited over there unitl it was dark, then snuck in here.”

      The explanation only sparked more questions, but food came first. The children ate ravenously, taking bites before they finished chewing the previous mouthful. Diane consumed her food with a refined yet single-minded intensity that was as revealing as if she’d gorged herself.

      When they finished eating, Diane wiped her hands on a tea towel Melissa had stuffed in the bag with the food, and handed the towel to Josh. She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “Thank you. The children will sleep better tonight just having a full stomach.”

      “You were on the news tonight.”

      Diane’s head came up sharply. “What did they say?”

      “That you’d disappeared from home, and the police aren’t ruling out foul play.”

      “What’s foul play, Mummy?” Callie asked.

      “It’s when the ball goes out of bounds,” Josh explained. “Now shush.”

      “Your husband is offering a reward.” Melissa watched Diane’s face. “He’s worried you might be hurt.”

      “Hurt! That’s a good joke,” Diane said bitterly. “And he’s a good actor. He ought to be, considering how much practice he gets.”

      “He said he won’t rest until he finds you and brings you home,” Melissa added.

      “Oh, he wants us back, all right. He’s short-listed for a seat on the Supreme Court. He’d lose all hope of that if his wife brought charges against him.” Now Diane was studying Melissa’s face. “I guess you’ve figured out that I’ve run away from him.”

      “We should go home,” Josh said suddenly. “Maybe he really does miss us and won’t be so angry from now on.”

      “I’m sorry, Josh, that’s not an option.” Diane put her arms around her children. “Everything will be all right once we get hold of Constance.”

      “Apparently she’s away,” Melissa said. “The farmer didn’t say where or for how long. I couldn’t ask too many questions. It would have seemed odd, since I more or less told him I was a friend of hers. Was she expecting you?”

      “No, but she