All I Want For Christmas Read Free

announced firmly, catching hold of Lauren’s hand and starting to run across the room.
    â€˜Her father will collect her at six,’ the woman called, turning to leave.
    â€˜Okay!’ Lauren called back.
    As the day wore on, she began to wonder whether she’d said the right thing to Zoe. The child never left her side. By the end of the afternoon, taught by her self-appointed little instructor, Lauren knew every child’s name and whether they were horrible or nice.
    â€˜You’re working wonders, Lauren, All Zoe’s ever done before is cry,’ Sarah commented, tucking one of the babies into a buggy, ready for collection. ‘She’s only been here a week. It just shows she’s been taking in everything, though. Quite a bright little thing, isn’t she?’
    Children had come and gone during the day, as their mothers came on or went off duty. By six o’clock there were only half-a-dozen left. Sarah and the other girls had them dressed in outdoor clothes, waiting. Those who were big enough helped. Others gathered up paintings and things they’d constructed to take home.
    By six-fifteen the room was empty of children—except for one. Zoe. Lauren looked at her watch. Helen was clearing up and preparing everything for the following morning. The other staff had already left.
    Zoe stood beside Lauren, gazing anxiously up at her every now and then. ‘Don’t go.’ The small voice was urgent.
    Lauren bent down. ‘Of course I won’t go, sweetheart. There’s no need to worry. Your Daddy will be here soon. Mummy said he’d collect you.’
    â€˜Mummy’s gone.’
    â€˜Only to work, sweetheart,’ Lauren explained.
    Zoe shook her head, sending her dark hair swirling round her face. ‘No! Gone! Gone! Gone!’ The words rose into a shriek.
    Lauren’s hands caught the child’s in her own. What an insecure little creature she was. What on earth could have made her like this?
    â€˜Of course your Mummy’s not gone, poppet. She’ll be at home right now. Making your tea, I expect. What do you think it will be?’
    Brown eyes gazed solemnly up at her. ‘No, Daddy makes our tea.’
Good for him,
Zoe thought.
But I wish he’d collect his daughter.
    â€˜That’s everything, Ms Mallory.’ Helen appeared, buttoning her jacket.
    â€˜Are you all right to stay on with Zoe? Dr Trevissick’s probably caught up in some emergency. He really has no idea of time.’
    It was six-thirty now.
This really is a bit much,
Lauren fumed, studying Zoe who sat, perched on a chair beside her, white-faced and anxious.
    â€˜Has my Daddy gone away, too?’
    â€˜No, sweetheart, I’m sure he’ll be here very soon,’ Lauren soothed.
    Didn’t her father realise how important it is to a child to be there when expected? Knowing how difficult it was for Zoe to settle into the crèche, surely he must know that this sort of behaviour would only make her more insecure.
If Dr Trevissick isn’t here in five minutes, I’ll have him paged, whatever he’s doing,
she raged.
    â€˜Daddy’s not coming.’ A tear brimmed over and slid down the tired little face, followed by another and another.
    â€˜He will be here soon, Zoe. I expect he’s busy making someone better.’ The little girl slowly shook her head.
    â€˜My Mummy didn’t come back,’ she wept, and Lauren could feel the tears wet against her own cheek as she held the child close.
    A myriad doubts were racing through her head. Why hadn’t Zoe’s mother collected her, if she knew her husband was likely to be late? Was she one of those Sarah had spoken about—a nurse working a split shift?
    Could she still be a nurse in that heavily pregnant state? It seemed doubtful. Lauren tried to remember whether the woman had been wearing a uniform under her coat. Perhaps she worked as a secretary or receptionist.
    Six