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‘Sorry about that,’ Seve said, gently taking Karin’s hands to stop any more incessant prodding. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing.’
‘It’s no problem.’ Other than a slightly tilted head, there was nothing Raul could see physically atypical about the little girl. But something clearly wasn’t quite right.
Charley had stopped juggling and was now making balloon animals in the same slapstick manner that had most of the children, those who could, laughing. When she spoke it was in precise Spanish without any of the inhibitions she’d displayed when speaking the language to Vittore.
She finished her act with a bow, then Seve and two other workers took on the task of wheeling and walking the children into an adjoining room that looked, from where Raul sat, like a dining room, while Charley gathered her props together in a battered old suitcase.
She didn’t say a single word to him. If he hadn’t caught her eye during her little show, he would have thought she hadn’t noticed him.
Done packing, she picked up the suitcase and carried it off. Raul followed her out of the room and into the entrance hall, where she turned off down a connecting corridor and opened the door into a large storeroom.
‘I’m sorry, okay?’ she muttered, stacking the suitcase upright next to a shelving unit crammed with waterproof paints, non-toxic glues and all manner of child-friendly crafts.
For once, he was at a loss for what to say.
Charley pulled her red nose off, followed by the wig, which was making her scalp itch.
A part of her had known Raul would turn up. Never mind her defiance, borrowing his helicopter would have tipped him over the edge.
A part of her had wanted him to follow her, to see the children for himself, to understand how important the project was on a humane level.
As vain as she knew it to be, another part of her wished he had come when she hadn’t been dressed as a clown in pyjamas.
She wished he would say something.
She unzipped the yellow onesie and stepped out of it with relief. With no air conditioning in the building, it had been like wearing a portable sauna.
‘What is this place?’ he finally asked, his voice heavy.
‘I thought you said you’d read my letter,’ she said, deliberately keeping her tone breezy. She opened the cloth sack in the corner and folded the onesie into it, stuffing the wig and nose in its pockets.
However this conversation went, she would not allow it to affect her. The children were very sensitive to undercurrents of mood.
‘I read what I thought was enough.’
‘What did you think it was?’
‘A crèche.’
‘Really?’
His jaw tightened. ‘You look pleased.’
‘I am.’ She crossed her arms and gave him a rueful smile. ‘Your reaction is more forgivable if you thought this was an ordinary day care centre for ordinary kids from ordinary families.’
His lips tightened, his throat moving.
Unbelievably, she felt a pang of sorrow for him and his cynical view of her.
‘Do you understand why I had to be here today? If I hadn’t, the centre wouldn’t have opened. It’s a lifeline for their families as well as for the kids.’
‘Who are these children?’
‘Children who, whether by birth or accident, will never lead a normal life but who have enough awareness to want a normal life.’
She wished she could read his eyes and know what was happening in his brain.
‘Stay for a few hours.’ Reaching out, she brushed her fingers on his hand before placing them down her side. ‘See what we do here and what your money is saving.’
After a beat he said, quietly, ‘We’ll leave when you’re ready.’
Her heart lighter than it had felt in a very long time, she walked by his side back to the day room.
Lunch was in full swing so she went through to the dining room to help. As was usual, it looked as if a food war had broken out. She glanced at Raul, whose attention had been taken by a board with smiling pictures of all the staff.
‘You’re a volunteer?’
‘Yes.’
He nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing but not in a way that made her skin go cold. This time there was no contempt in that look, only contemplation. ‘What do you want me to do?’
She stared at his Armani suit and grinned. ‘Help the kids eat.’
A tug on her shorts had her lowering herself automatically to take Karin into her arms, whereby the little girl immediately prodded her then covered her face in sloppy kisses.
‘Come on, let’s get you fed,’ she said, carrying Karin to her own special seat at the table and opening her lunchbox for her.
She looked to where Raul had brought over a chair to help Ramon eat his dinner, quietly sniggering at what she knew would happen next. Ramon, possibly the messiest eater of them all, was eating a centre-cooked hot meal of carbonara.
