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‘Oh… does he have a very large house? I…’
‘Not the house, the little girl. Apparently he had quite a battle with the Social Services to convince them that he was the best person to take charge of her. There was a great deal of talk of placing her with foster parents. Of course, they’re bound to be jittery these days about the wisdom of placing any child, male or female, into sole male care, and I suspect he’s very conscious of the need to provide her with the right kind of female companionship and care.
‘I wouldn’t have recommended you for the job if I hadn’t genuinely thought you could do it,’ Elizabeth told her quietly.
Eleven years old and orphaned, both her parents lost to her, poor child; Philippa could all too easily imagine the pain and fear she must be suffering.
She had always wanted another child, a girl… a daughter… She grimaced at her own sentimentality.
This child would not be her child, her daughter… they might not even get on… The godfather might not even like or want her.
‘Do you want his number?’ Elizabeth asked.
Philippa’s mouth had gone dry.
‘Yes. Yes, please,’ she told her.
* * *
‘What are you looking so pleased about?’ Richard asked as he walked into the sitting-room and found his wife sitting in a chair with a very self-satisfied smile on her mouth.
‘Nothing… well, if you must know, I was just congratulating myself on being a wonderful judge of character,’ she told him, grinning at him.
‘Such modesty… Why? What have you done?’
‘You remember your new psychiatrist saying the other evening that he was looking for someone to take charge of his orphaned god-daughter…?’
‘Vaguely,’ Richard admitted.
‘Well, I’d thought of the perfect person, but, as I knew she would, she protested that she didn’t think she was up to the job, until I pointed out to her how much the little girl needed her.
‘She’s one of these women with too soft a heart for her own good. Securing her own financial future couldn’t sway her judgement, but believing that another human being needed her could and did.’
‘Didn’t that used to be called emotional blackmail?’ Richard asked her drily.
‘Not by me,’ Elizabeth assured him. ‘I look upon it more as finding the right piece for the right place in a particularly complicated jigsaw…’
She laughed as she heard Richard murmuring under his breath, ‘Egomaniac,’ as he left the room.
She didn’t normally indulge herself by playing Deus ex machina with other people’s lives—her training had taught her the dangers of doing that—but in this instance…
* * *
‘I’ve got an interview for a job… well, potentially at least,’ Philippa announced after Susie had picked up the phone.
She had dialled her friend’s number almost immediately she had finished speaking with Elizabeth, and now quickly she explained to her friend what had happened.
‘It sounds perfect for you,’ Susie told her enthusiastically. ‘Ring him up now, and if you don’t I’ll come round and stand over you until you do.’
Happily Philippa started to dial the number Elizabeth had given her, a rush of nervous anticipation singing through her body.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DEBORAH stared bleakly round the silent flat. It had been three weeks and even now sometimes she still forgot, still opened the door and expected to see Mark there, still thought she heard his footsteps… still thought she could smell him next to her in bed at night.
At work, of course, she had to pretend that she didn’t care, to smile dismissively when people asked her if she still heard from him or if she knew how he was getting on.
She was under no illusions about the reasons for their curiosity. The news of their split, so quickly followed by Mark’s departure from the partnership, had obviously been a subject of intense speculation and gossip.
