Savage Redemption (The Caraksay Brotherhood #10)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

R osie

“Hush, baby. Mummy’s here…” I hold Erin’s tiny body to my chest, rub soothing circles on her back, and pace the room in my quest to get her to sleep. She’s normally sweet-tempered and contented, but something seems to have unsettled her, and she’s been restless for the last couple of nights. Teething, probably, according to the baby clinic. Possibly a touch of croup.

Sleep deprivation is beginning to get to me, but I press on regardless. It’s a phase, right? It’s always a phase.

The door opens. I glance across and smile when I see my dad. He sets a cup of tea down on the low table in front of me, nudging aside the faded photograph in a wooden frame to make room for it.

“It’s okay, you can put that in the drawer,” I tell him.

He picks up the photo, wipes a smudge of dust from it with his sleeve, and places it on the mantelpiece. “She can keep an eye on things from there,” he replies. “I was just going out. Is there anything you need?”

“A full nine hours’ sleep would be nice,” I mutter.

He pauses. “I’m only driving over to the office to pick up some files. I could take Erin with me. She’ll probably fall asleep in the car, and you can get some rest yourself.”

I jump at the offer. “Are you sure?” I can’t remember when I last had a break. I dream of a long, leisurely bath, drowning in bubbles and breathing in the heady scent of aromatic oils. I might even run to a pedicure, now that I can see my feet again.

“Of course. I’d enjoy the company.” My dad has a way with Erin. He only has to look at her and she’s gurgling like a drain. She calms instantly and nestles in his arms when he wraps her in a soft shawl to go downstairs.

“She’s been fed. And changed,” I assure him.

“Don’t worry about us.” He scoops her up and exits with a cheery wave, leaving me to enjoy my tea in peace.

It’s like a slice of Heaven. I take my tea into the bathroom and sip it while the tub fills. I tip in oils, lotions, foaming liquid, and a sprinkle of scented crystals. I even light a candle or two before sinking into the depths with a soft sigh.

I lose track of time, or maybe I nod off. The next thing I know, my dad’s footsteps clatter up the stairs. “Rosie. We’re back.”

“Won’t be a sec,” I reply. “Just getting dressed.”

“No sweat. We’ll be downstairs.” His footsteps recede.

I’m tempted to slide further into the foaming water, but it’s starting to cool, and Mama guilt is setting in. I really should go down and relieve him. He’s done so much for me already…

Twenty minutes later, I present myself, dressed and hair sort of dried, in the kitchen. Erin is strapped into in her little baby seat, chuntering to herself and examining her tiny toes while my dad sits at the table with his tablet and a black coffee.

“Was she all right?” I ask.

“Good as gold. Coffee?”

“No, thanks.” I’ve not been fond of the stuff since Erin was born. “Maybe a herbal tea?”

“I’ll get it. Blackcurrant, apple and ginger, or jasmine?”

“Apple and ginger, please.” I take a seat and tickle Erin’s tummy. “She’s in a better mood,” I observe. “Grandad has the magic touch.”

“We understand one another.” He smiles at me across the kitchen as he brews the tea. “This was your mother’s favourite. You take after her.”

I shake my head. “I don’t even remember what she looked like. Well, I do. There are pictures everywhere, but she’s not in my head.”

“You were so tiny when she died. Only three.”

“I know, but…”

“I’m always happy to talk about her, you know. It’s right that we should. She loved you so very much.”

“Did I love her? I can’t remember.”

“You did. You certainly did.”

“I wish… I wish she hadn’t died. Well, not really, because then we wouldn’t have Eva…”

“It’s okay, princess. I know what you mean.”

“It’s just that, sometimes, especially now that I have Erin, I want to talk to her, show her my baby.”

“I get that.”

“You and Eva are fabulous. I don’t mean?—”

“A girl needs her mum. We do our best, but I do understand. That’s why I kept so many photographs of Louisa, so many of her things. So you’d have them, to remind you.”

I pause, turning it all over in my head, then, “Did you love her?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “Yes, I did.”

“Like you love Eva?”

Now he does hesitate. “Not in the same way. I loved your mother. I’m in love with Eva.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You’ll understand, one day. Louisa was my friend. I loved her, cared very deeply about her.”

“Enough to want to marry her?”

“Of course.”

“Were you there?” I blurt. “When she died?”

“Yes. We all were. Me, Grace, and you.”

“Me? I was there? I don’t remember it at all.”

“That’s probably just as well. It was a… difficult time. Harrowing.”

“She was ill, I know that.”

“She had breast cancer. It started when you were about eighteen months old. Louisa and I weren’t together then. But we were friends. I knew about her diagnosis, but I didn’t tend to see her that often, so I didn’t know how she was doing. How her treatment was going. She lived in South Leeds, in one of those high-rise blocks. One day I was near there on my way back from some site visit or other, so I decided to call in.”

“How did that go?”

His brow furrows. He gazes into the middle distance, remembering. “Not great. I hammered on the door of her flat but got no answer. I’d have given up and gone away, but I could hear a child crying inside. That turned out to be you. I was on the point of kicking the door in when she eventually opened it. I was shocked. She looked awful.”

“She’d got worse?”

“A lot worse. She’d had some chemo, and radiotherapy, but it hadn’t made much difference. The disease was aggressive and back with a vengeance. It was spreading fast. Christ, it was all happening so fast.” He halts, rakes his fingers through his hair. “She already appeared to be at death’s door, not fit to take care of herself let alone a lively toddler. I don’t think either of you had eaten for days. I’ve no idea how she survived to that point. I didn’t know what else to do, so I bundled the pair of you into my car and brought you back to my apartment at Clarence Dock.”

“The apartment we still have? The one we stay at when we go shopping in Leeds?”

“The very same. I lived there then. My city centre bachelor pad. It was before I bought this place. I put Louisa in the spare bedroom and did what I could to take care of her. And you. Obviously, Grace was a godsend.”

“Grace? My nana?” Grace Richardson was our housekeeper but always seemed much closer than that.

“Yes. She worked for me then, but not full-time. She did my cooking and a bit of cleaning, but she was fond of Louisa and wanted to help so she took on a lot more. I hired nurses, too, and Grace sort of supervised it all.”

“I didn’t realise…”

“Louisa had no one. Her parents were dead. Your father was long gone. She could have gone into a hospice, I suppose, and you’d have been fostered somewhere, but she didn’t want to lose you. She adored you. You were all she thought about in those final weeks. I couldn’t save her, much as I might have wanted to. But I could give her the end she wanted, with you at her side. So, that’s what I did.”

He pauses, takes a few moments to reflect, to think back to those traumatic days and weeks all those years ago.

“We knew how it would end, Grace and I. We asked Louisa if there was anyone we should contact, someone to take care of you after… after she’d gone. There was no one. Then, one day, she asked me to adopt you.”

“And you agreed?”

He meets my gaze and smiles. “Too right I agreed. I almost took her hand off at the elbow when she offered. I adored you, had from the very first time I saw you. You were always my little princess, even then. I was happy to agree, and we got the papers drawn up double-fast. I set my legal team on it. I was advised that it would be smoother if Louisa and I were married, so we did just that. The ceremony took place at her bedside, just you, me, Grace, a nurse, and the registrar. You had a pretty new dress. I think you still have it.”

“Yes. At the back of my wardrobe. White, with blue bows on.”

His smile is fond. “You were so cute. We signed the adoption papers the same day, all sealed and legal so there’d be no problems later. I was your stepfather, and your adopted father. Louisa was happy. She… she died just two weeks later.”

“Oh. So quick?

“Yes. That evening, we knew she had very little time left. She asked for you. You were tired, and too young to understand what was happening, but we got your pyjamas on, and I helped you up onto the bed so you could snuggle in, just as you always liked to. She put her arm around you. You fell asleep, and… so did she. She passed away holding you, just as she’d wanted.”

Tears are streaming down my cheeks. “I never realised… I mean, I knew she died of cancer when I was three, but not the details.”

“She was a lovely woman. A fantastic mother. And she fought right to the end. I was proud to know her, and to take on her beautiful daughter. You were her final gift to me. I was never certain that it was the right thing to do, to let you be there when she passed. Is there ever a right way to do something like that? You were so young… but it meant so much to Louisa in her final hours. As soon as it was… over, I took you and put you to bed in my room. By the time you woke up, the undertakers had been. Louisa was gone. Of course, you asked about her, but we explained she wasn’t here anymore, and you seemed to accept that. And we moved on. All of us, as you do. There was a funeral, a low-key affair, then a few months later we moved to Black Combe. My bachelor pad days were over, I needed a proper family home. Grace came with us, as you know. A few years later, Eva arrived, then Bella. I like to think we made a nice family, the four of us. Five, with Grace. But I never wanted you to lose touch with Louisa.”

“I don’t think I ever will, not as long as you tell me about her. And all the pictures. And her things still around.”

“She had lots of books, at her flat. I drove round there and collected them, and some jewellery. A stack of records, too. She was an ABBA fan. I kept it all, for you, if you want it.”

“I do.” I might not read the books, they’re classics mainly, not my sort of thing. But the jewellery is nice, and I don’t mind ABBA. It all helps to make a connection. “It was good of you to keep them all.”

“It seemed like the right thing to do.” He takes a sip of his coffee, grimaces. “Ugh, it’s cold. What about your tea?”

I try it. “Same. I’ll make us a refill. I think we could do with one.”