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‘Who is she? That niece of yours in Australia?’
Charlotte literally couldn’t answer because her vocal cords seemed to have seized up. Nor could she get to her feet and do something useful like snatch the photo from him. Not when her legs had turned to lead.
Nor did she have to, because as his question hung in the silence the sound of the doorbell was already answering his question.
‘Are you going to get that?’ He replaced the photo on the shelf, but remained standing where he was. ‘Might be someone important.’
Charlotte stood up shakily and looked at him.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure it will be…’
CHAPTER FIVE
GINA had been to the corner shop with Amy and her mum and had returned the proud owner of a very large bag of teeth-destroying sweets. Despite a daily diet of healthy foods, and stern chats about the horrors of eating sweets, she still saved her pocket money for her weekly sugar fix. For once, Charlotte didn’t frown, shake her head and tell her that there was no way she would be allowed to eat the lot in one go. In fact, she opened the door and stood there, looking at her beautiful daughter who bore such a stunning resemblance to the man sitting in her lounge.
‘Are you feeling sick, Mum?’ Gina frowned anxiously. ‘You could have one of my sweets, if you like,’ she said kindly. ‘But not any of the orange ones.’
‘Come in, baby.’
Gina looked at her mother in alarm. This was not the normal Saturday sweet-buying routine. She popped a Fruit Pastille nervously into her mouth and was even more alarmed when nothing was said. ‘I promise I’ll tidy my room right now,’ she declared.
‘There’s someone I think you need to meet, Gina.’
‘Is it Mr Forbes?’ Her eyes began to well up. ‘Because it wasn’t my fault that I forgot to do my homework!’
‘You forgot to do your homework?’ Charlotte was momentarily distracted, then she remembered Riccardo in the lounge and gave Gina a reassuring smile. ‘No, it’s not Mr Forbes.’ Very gently she helped her daughter out of her puffy black coat, then the black boots, until she was left just in her pair of jeans and long-sleeved black jumper. Charlotte had given up trying to coax her daughter into pink a long time ago.
‘Okay?’ Charlotte asked, and Gina nodded and slipped another sweet into her mouth which, pleasantly surprised, she got away with.
Charlotte was holding Gina’s hand as they walked into the lounge to find Riccardo standing by the window, arms folded. They both stopped by the door and, on a roll, Gina dipped her hand into the bag of sweets, only for Charlotte to relieve her of it and place it on a side table.
‘Riccardo, I’d like you to meet Gina.’
Gina stood stock still by her mother’s side and stared unblinkingly at the man looking at her.
‘That’s a pretty name,’ Riccardo said, for want of anything better. He had next to no experience of children. As an only child, there had been no nephews or nieces. ‘How old you are?’ he asked, discomfited by the silence that greeted his trite remark.
‘Gina’s eight,’ Charlotte said quickly, waiting to see if the penny would drop. But of course it didn’t. There was no reason for him to think that Gina was her daughter, and in the absence of that crucial piece of information she would just be a random kid to him.
She could feel tension clawing its way in her stomach, and she licked her lips and tightened her grip on Gina’s hand. Riccardo was beginning to look faintly bored. Didn’t he wonder at all what an eight-year-old child was doing in her house?
