Meant-To-Be Mother. Ally Blake

at the sight of a bit of blood. Now, are you going to sit there with your head in the cupboard all day or will you just move over and let me do it?’

      She gave James a little shove on the shoulder and he duly stood and moved to the far side of the room. She then grabbed a bottle of familiar brown liquid, which Rick had preferred when Siena the tomboy had come inside crying after getting in the middle of scrappy fight with local boys.

      She felt the temperature in the room change as James moved to sit on the tiled edge of a neat oval spa bath—watching her.

      ‘If I drop a dollop on this perfect white floor,’ she said, not looking his way, ‘I’m scared that sirens will blast and water will stream from jets in the ceiling.’

      ‘Don’t panic,’ he said. ‘We have a cleaner.’

      ‘Oh, do we now?’ she asked, pulling a la-di-dah face at Kane. Kane grinned back at her, all too-big teeth and goofy dependence, and her stomach flutters coagulated back into that odd sensation of longing.

      ‘His name is Matt,’ Kane explained. ‘He comes in most days and vacuums and gardens and turns on the dishwasher.’

      ‘The dishwasher?’ she repeated, sneaking a look at James. ‘My, oh, my. Whatever would we do without him?’

      She was surprised to find that the engaging half-smile had not left James’s face. She looked determinedly away.

      ‘And he picks me up from school,’ Kane continued, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling about the small room. ‘And he stays on sometimes when Dad has a job to finish or has to go out to see clients.’

      ‘I see,’ she said, though she clearly didn’t. The image of tousled blonde hair came to mind and she wondered briefly what the sunshiny, piano-top woman in their lives did when James had to finish a ‘job’ or see clients.

      But that hardly mattered. She was feeling decidedly better about being in the house of teenage hell than she would ever have expected—and there was no point in pushing her luck.

      She picked up a cotton swab.

      ‘Ouch!’ Kane was already wincing before the swab was within a foot of his elbow.

      ‘You are making me feel mean, Kane!’

      ‘Matt did a first aid course because he used to be an ambulance driver,’ Kane, said, his eyes growing huge. ‘Why did you?’

      ‘I am a Cabin Director with MaxAir—you know the airline with the light blue planes? And I have to look after any people who become unwell whilst flying, so I do an extensive first aid course every year. Did you know that way back in the beginning, the first ever flight attendants were actually nurses?’

      Obviously Kane was not nearly as impressed with her qualifications as he was with Matt’s so she decided on another tack. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I have taken a zillion other courses too.’

      ‘Like what sort?’

      ‘I have taken lessons on fixing leaking taps, self-defence, I have a scuba licence and I can speak four languages.’

      ‘Four?’ Kane asked, his pale brown eyes growing large.

      ‘Yep. My parents were both born in Italy so I knew Italian before I knew English, but I can also speak conversational German and French.’ I can also juggle, even soft drink cans, which would have sent Jessica into a fit had she been told; I can do the splits and tango with the best of them, she thought, feeling a bit like a circus clown.

      Kane’s eyes all but popped out of his head.

      ‘Would you like me to teach you how to say one to ten in Italian?’ she asked.

      Kane nodded.

      ‘Excellent. Okay. Uno…’ Siena dabbed at the scrape with the soaked cotton wool, wiping away specks of dried blood and gravel and doing her dandiest to keep Kane’s eyes on her mouth as she spoke, not on her hands as she tended his stinging wound.

      ‘Due…’ Siena cleaned the scrape and patted it dry.

      ‘Tre…’ Siena unwound the child-proof lid of the top of the antiseptic bottle.

      ‘Quattro…’Siena tipped a healthy amount of antiseptic on to a fresh hunk of cotton wool.

      ‘Cinque…’Siena dabbed at the scrape, turning Kane’s arm a dull brown.

      ‘Sei…’ Siena put the lid back on to the bottle.

      ‘Sette…’ Siena tore a hunk of bandage.

      ‘Otto…’ Siena placed the bandage over Kane’s arm.

      ‘Nove…’ Siena ran a soft hand over the bandage, making sure it was in place.

      ‘Dieci! Well done! To the both of us. Now, can you remember them all?’

      He shook his head. ‘Tell me again.’

      Siena did so and had Kane repeat after her. Halfway through she felt a tingle on the back of her neck and she realised it was because James was watching her still. She glanced at him sideways. His half-smile had graduated into something not bigger but warmer and she felt a ridiculous flash of satisfaction.

      A few moments later Siena realised she was still staring, caught up in James’s complex gaze for so long that she now knew he had a ring of midnight-blue around his silvery pupils.

      James swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his strong throat, and Siena had the distinct feeling he would have been able to describe the exact colour of her eyes too.

      ‘Teach me another language!’ Kane insisted, shattering the extraordinary tension that had cocooned the room.

      ‘Not now,’ James said, as he took Kane by the hand and drew him off the seat. ‘I, for one, am in need of a drink.’

      And, by the gravel echoing in his voice, Siena had the feeling that if it were not for the presence of Kane, a gin and tonic would have suited him better than lemonade too.

      ‘Can I tempt you?’ he asked.

      She stood, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She knew he was talking about something as innocent as lemonade, but the implications of what it could have meant in a parallel universe resonated through her.

      ‘With lemonade?’ she qualified. ‘You bet.’

      ‘Yippee,’ Kane said. ‘Then I can show you my bedroom.’

      And, just like that, Siena’s breath was sapped from her lungs.