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‘Libby mentioned that you and Malachi are helping to build the place. I had to come and see for myself, and here you are, hauling bags of...’ she cocked her head to read the packaging that he still had hoisted on his shoulder ‘...plaster off a truck. Surely you have guys to do that for you?’
‘Every bit Mal and I do means more money saved for the centre itself.’
Plus, the physical labour of it somehow... fulfilled him.
‘I thought you were a millionaire playboy? You and your brother come from money. Isn’t that what the hospital grapevine says?’
He opened his mouth to make one of his typical, non-committal responses, but found he couldn’t. There was a new edge in her tone, almost as if she was testing him. But she couldn’t possibly know the truth, could she?
Something dark and unfamiliar loomed in the shadows of his mind. A lesser man might have mistaken it for shame at his past. But he refused to be that lesser man. Malachi was right: it was done. It was history. No need to rake up the humiliation of their childhood for anyone, especially the daughter of a Hollywood starlet who had no doubt enjoyed a charmed upbringing.
Except that wasn’t what the Hintons had said, was it?
He stuffed it down and forced himself to be upbeat.
‘Mal and I can donate all we want, but these centres need to exist for themselves, support themselves—that way they can keep going long after we’re gone. And if the model works then it can be replicated up and down the country.’
‘You want more Care to Play centres,’ she realised.
‘Right. One centre is good, two centres is even better, but what we want is a business model which can be extended nationally.’
‘I...didn’t think of that.’
‘Why would you?’ he asked. ‘Want a tour?’
Anouk looked surprised, before bouncing her Christmas pudding hat slowly and looking even more ridiculously cute.
‘Sure. Why not?’
‘So, what happened with that toddler who fell down the concrete steps?’ he asked as he turned and headed into the building as if it made no difference to him whether she had followed or not. It was only as he lowered the plaster bag and heard her boots clicking on the concrete floor that he knew she had.
Why did it give him another jolt of victory?
How had this woman managed to insinuate her way under his skin? It was sheer insanity and he should walk away now.
Sol had the oddest sensation that if he didn’t walk now, it would be too late.
And still he unlocked the padlock and unwound the heavy-link chain from around the temporary plywood doors.
‘The twenty-month-old?’ Anouk looked surprised.
‘Yeah. Rosie, right?’
‘Yes, Rosie. Believe it or not she was okay.’ Anouk grinned, the miraculous recovery of kids never failing to amaze her. ‘You knew there were no obvious signs of any breaks or fractures?’
‘I did, but there was that inter-cranial bleed that needed to be monitored.’
‘Yep, that’s it. She stayed in for two nights before being cleared. She was discharged yesterday.’
‘Lucky.’ He smiled.
‘Very.’
‘Anyway, welcome to our new Care to Play centre.’ He slid the chain through one door handle and pulled the other open to usher her inside. ‘We should be in by the new year.’
Anouk walked through what would soon be the reception area, stopping dead practically in the doorway of the new hall. Then she glanced around, silently taking it all in. From the expansive, hi-tech-looking space with its spaghetti junction of wires, evidently in preparation for any number of new gadgets for the kids, and the large heaters to dry the plaster.
It was inexplicable how buoyed up he felt, showing her around and watching her reaction—this unique, complicated woman who pulled at something deep inside him—and he didn’t know what name to put to it.
