Crying Out Loud Read Free Page A

it. ‘What if she gets ill? Then what will you do?’
    â€˜That’s it – look on the bright side,’ I snapped.
    â€˜If anything went wrong, Sal, you’d be the one up for child neglect.’
    I stood up and paced away from the table. ‘Stop it. Listen, whoever it is must be in desperate straits.’ Outside a black bird on the fence looked warily from side to side then flew down to the grass, stabbing its beak into the ground.
    â€˜It might be trouble of their own making,’ he said. ‘You’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself into.’
    â€˜Why must you always look for the worst in people?’ I complained. ‘What sort of an attitude is that?’ I glared at him.
    â€˜I don’t,’ he retorted, stung. His nostrils flared, the edges whitening. ‘But when you set your mind on something you won’t listen to reason.’
    â€˜You don’t have the monopoly on reason. It makes perfect sense to me to look after the baby. Someone trusts me to do that. I’m not going to hand her over to the authorities.’ I could hear my voice rising, my words sharpening.
    â€˜And if you’ve heard nothing in a week, ten days? Then what?’ he demanded.
    I paused and thought about my answer. The atmosphere between us crackled with antagonism. ‘Then I think again,’ I said as calmly as I could.
    â€˜And what do we tell people?’ He still had that hard edge to his expression, his jaw muscle taut, but the question itself made me think he was coming round.
    â€˜Something simple. That I’m looking after her while her mum, an old friend, is in hospital. London: too far for visits. Surgery: a hysterectomy.’
    Ray gave a derisive snort.
    â€˜What? Not a hysterectomy?’ I asked. ‘A car crash? No – they’d want all the details. A hysterectomy’s better.’
    â€˜I never knew you were such a fluent liar.’
    I was unsettled, sensing an undertone to his remark. ‘I’m not, I’m rubbish. I can make them up but I can’t tell them without giving myself away.’
    â€˜But you must do that at work,’ he persisted.
    â€˜Not really. Not unless I’m undercover and I hate those jobs. Most of the time I just have to play things close to my chest.’
    He slowly closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said quietly. When he opened his eyes again I met his gaze, taking in the way his dark brown eyes had softened a little.
    â€˜I know.’ I moved to stand behind him and put my palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating, the warmth of him. He raised his hand and pulled mine to his lips. Kissed my knuckles. Again I experienced the tug of attraction that had put our lives in a spin over the last few months.
    â€˜How old do you think she is?’ I asked him. ‘She’s not rolling over yet.’
    â€˜Search me.’
    â€˜Maybe three months?’
    â€˜She reminds me of Tom,’ he said. ‘The hair.’
    The baby punk look. I hadn’t met Ray and Tom until Tom was eighteen months. By then he was already sporting the glossy black curls of the Italian side of the family, taking after Ray’s mum. Ray had answered my ad for a housemate. I was on my own with Maddie and looking for co-tenants who would be happy to share a spacious Victorian semi with a cranky two-year-old.
    We’d rubbed along as housemates for almost six years, sharing the chores and childcare and growing to love each other’s child, before passion had reared its head. I had been disturbed by a shocking tragedy at work and had turned to Ray for comfort. A hug led to a kiss, which pitched me into a state of uncertainty, confusion and desire, and then, after Ray had unceremoniously dropped his girlfriend Laura and set out to court me, to us being lovers. We were still adjusting to the change though Maddie and Tom took it in their stride. Nothing had