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Part of what he remembered was reality, part fantasy. He hadn’t wanted that night to end. To Ruby, he’d been just Alex. At that point in his life he’d been able to do that. But it had been the last night of his life to have that opportunity, and spending it with Ruby couldn’t have been more perfect. If only it had ended differently.
He looked down and shuffled the ever-growing mound of papers on his desk. All things that needed his signature. Emails were all very well, but some things still required a signature.
He picked up the phone and dialled the number of the clinic in Switzerland. It didn’t matter that he knew the doctors would phone him if they had any concerns. Or that he had a multitude of staff members to do it for him. After ten years, he still liked to keep a check of things on his own.
He moved the papers on the desk again, looking to find a letter for a foreign dignitary. Something fluttered to the floor. A photo. He picked it up and smiled. It was ten years old. Ruby, just the way he remembered her, taken by one of his security team on New Year’s Eve. He’d only found out about it a few months later, when he’d wanted to track her down. His Head of Security had admitted they had some photographs and had looked into her past—all to check her authenticity.
It was of the two of them, sitting at the table in that café next to the Four Seasons. They were laughing. Ruby had her head thrown back, her dark hair was glossy, and she was smiling from ear to ear. But the thing that had always struck him about that picture was the way they were looking at each other. Even though Ruby was laughing she was still looking at him, and he at her.
A little moment captured in time.
A million different possibilities. A million different futures.
If he’d turned a different corner that night he’d never have met Ruby Wetherspoon, and that thought made his stomach twist almost as much as the thought of what might have been.
Deep down he knew his father would never have accepted his fascination with an English healthcare worker. He’d never fully understood it himself.
But no one could deny the connection between them. This picture was everlasting proof of that.
When he had his darkest moments—when the nights just seemed to last for ever—it was thoughts of Ruby that gave him comfort. Thoughts of being twenty-four again and having the world at his feet.
He sighed and opened a drawer to put the photo inside. Ruby had never been a threat and his security staff had filed their paperwork away.
He just couldn’t do the same.
* * *
There it was again. That strange noise.
Ruby moved from the window seat, where she’d been watching the sun start to lower in the sky. Evenings could be long in the palace. Annabelle went to bed early and most of the time Ruby spent her time walking in the gardens, reading a book or talking to Polly on the phone.
Polly was still unimpressed.
The noise again. Was it a whimper?
She stood up quickly. Brigette, the nanny, had gone to bed earlier with a migraine. Could it be Annabelle?
Annabelle’s door had been left open earlier, so Ruby walked out into the corridor and hesitated, her hand above the door handle. Part of her was worried. Annabelle wasn’t that familiar with her yet. Maybe she would be scared if Ruby went into her room.
She took a deep breath as the whimper continued and pushed the door open. There was no way she could leave any child upset—whether they knew her or not.
The room was dark. Even though the sun hadn’t set yet there were blackout blinds at the window. It only took her a few seconds to realise the bed was empty.
She sucked in a breath and suppressed her impulse to shout. Instead she flicked on the light switch and had a quick look around. Annabelle might still be in the room.
But she wasn’t. Not under the bed. Not in the wardrobe—even though Ruby hadn’t really expected her to be. Not in any corner of the room.
Her heart started thudding as she walked back to the door and quickly along the corridor. The missing child would cause mayhem. The implications were tremendous—and terrifying. She had to take a few seconds to be sure before she called the alarm.
There. In front of her. At the top of the stairs.
A tiny staggering figure in pink pyjamas.
Her legs broke into a run.
‘Annabelle!’
She reached her seconds.
But Annabelle hadn’t responded to her voice. And it was clear why. She was sleepwalking.
Ruby didn’t have any experience with sleepwalking kids. She could vaguely remember something about not waking them up. But Annabelle was perilously close to the top of the staircase. She didn’t hesitate. She just swept her up into her arms.
Annabelle’s eyes were open, and the movement and embrace by Ruby seemed to give her a little start. Her whimpering stopped and she tucked her head into Ruby’s neck.
There was no one else about. Not a single person in the corridor.
She hesitated. What next? She walked back along the corridor and paused at Annabelle’s door. Her heart was still thudding after that horrible few seconds of thinking something might be wrong.
She couldn’t put Annabelle back into her bed and risk it happening again. She’d need to talk to Brigette and Alex in the morning to see if this was normal for Annabelle. No one had mentioned it, and she knew in some kids it was common, but she couldn’t risk Annabelle walking near the stairs again.
She walked back into her own room. There was plenty of space in her bed for both of them. At least then she’d know that Annabelle was safe.
Her eyes were still open. Ruby had no idea if it was just an automatic response in sleepwalking, or if on some level Annabelle was actually awake.
The little arms wound around her neck. Thank goodness for automatic reactions. Ruby just started to rock her.
Familiarity. That was what she needed for this little girl.
She kept her in her arms and walked next door, picking up Annabelle’s favourite movie and taking it with her.
Background noise. That was all it needed to be. Something familiar so that if Annabelle woke up she’d be comfortable.
Ruby reached her hand out, juggling the weight of Annabelle on the other arm as she opened the case and slid the DVD inside the player.
They settled back on the bed. Annabelle adjusted her position. She seemed comfortable in Ruby’s lap and made no attempt to move. Ruby piled the pillows around them. If they were here for the long haul they might as well be comfortable.
The screen lit up bright blue as the titles for Finding Nemo appeared. Her own ‘go to’ film as well as Annabelle’s favourite. She loved it just as much as any child, and had yet to meet a kid who wasn’t enthralled by it.
Annabelle seemed to settle back against her and that was when Ruby really started to listen. She’d already heard Annabelle whimper. She had no doubt that on a physical basis the little girl could form sounds. The diagnosis of selective mutism seemed the most appropriate. She wondered if Annabelle spoke in any situation.
She seemed a little more awake now, but she hadn’t made any sign to Ruby. Her head was definitely turned towards the TV screen, and she didn’t seem to have any objection to being in Ruby’s bed.
A new thought crossed her mind, completely unrelated to the sleepwalking. Company. This little girl wanted company.
And then it started. Little noises. Little sounds. Gasps when Nemo’s mother disappeared. Small, slow body movements along with the music, and then—eventually—a little hum. Ruby did nothing. She didn’t react at all. Just listened as Annabelle hummed along. A smile danced across the little girl’s face. She was enthralled—lost in the story. Perfect. Just perfect.
She was only three. Her speech wasn’t really too delayed. Maybe Annabelle needed a little encouragement
and coaching instead of assessing and prodding. She would have to choose her words carefully when she explained all this to Alex. There was no magic wand that she could wave here. Annabelle had to be allowed to develop at her own pace.
Ruby settled back against the pillows. Annabelle’s eyes were getting heavy. She would fall asleep soon—and then Ruby could think about this a little more...
* * *
‘Ruby!’
Her eyes shot open. The first thing that struck her was the crick in her neck. The second thing that struck her was the three people standing in the doorway—all of them staring at her.
She tried to push herself up, but Annabelle was still curled in her lap, sleeping. Ruby couldn’t even begin to imagine what she looked like—rumpled clothes, hair sticking up in every direction but the right one, and more than likely pillow creases on her face.
Brigette, Rufus and Alexander were standing in the doorway, three sets of eyes fixed on her. She tried to edge herself out from under Annabelle without disturbing her. The curtains were still drawn and the TV was flickering on the wall.
Alex rushed across the room. ‘What on earth is going on? Why is Annabelle in here?’ He seemed furious. ‘Have you any idea what I thought when I saw her bed was empty?’
He was shouting now, unable to contain his anger.
Of course. The same horrible thought she’d had for a few seconds last night, when she’d saw Annabelle’s empty bed. The horror. The worry.
