His Miracle Bride

CHAPTER FIVE

SHANNI went to sleep in a skinny kid’s bed, with Wendy and Abby sleeping almost within touching distance.

She woke and the kids’ beds were empty. She could hear voices from downstairs.

The room was empty.

She lay and stared at the ceiling, watching early morning sunbeams flicker on the wooden beams of the ceiling. This was the loveliest old farmhouse. She could see why Pierce had wanted it. It was a home.

The home he’d never had.

But he didn’t want attachment. He didn’t want marriage. It was like he’d bought the place just so he could bring up stray kids.

Maureen must have been so relieved to find him.

Pierce.

A nice boy…

He was nice, she thought, still half asleep, drifting in the warmth and comfort of her tiny bed. He was really nice.

Yeah, and she’d thought Mike was nice, she told herself harshly as she realized where her thoughts were taking her. She needed to haul them right back under control. Her judgement in men was seriously flawed. She needed time out-at least a year or so before she’d even think about dipping a toe in the water again.

And there’d be no dipping of toes with someone like Pierce. He had five kids. It’d be like jumping over Niagara Falls.

Right. So stay sensible. She gave herself a mental shake and rolled onto her side, preliminary to getting out of bed.

Mistake.

Last night she’d had what she thought was a grazed shoulder. Now…Maybe it was a compound fracture. Plus gangrene. Or something worse.

She whimpered and rolled onto her back.

‘Ouch!’ said a voice from the door. She looked over, and there was Pierce. He had a couple of kids behind him. He was smiling.

He’d shaved, she thought inconsequentially. He was wearing linen pants and a green polo shirt with a little alligator icon on the chest. He looked like he’d stepped straight off the cover of Vogue.

He made her feel…

‘It’s nine o’clock,’ Wendy said from behind him. ‘Pierce said it’s time to wake you.’

‘I’ve made a doctor’s appointment for you in half an hour,’ Pierce said apologetically. ‘Or we would have let you sleep longer.’

‘A doctor’s appointment?’

‘The man from the garage brought a new tyre for Mum’s wagon,’ Bryce said. ‘So we can come with you.’

‘There’s a little seat in the back,’ Wendy added. ‘So it’s a seven-seater. Isn’t that lucky?’

‘Cos there’s seven of us,’ Abby added importantly. ‘You want to hear me count?’

‘How’s the arm?’ Pierce asked.

That was the only thing that she could make sense of. She lay back and looked at him, solidly looked at him, at his anxious face, at the amazing good looks of the man, at his worried frown and the way his brow just puckered at the edges.

‘I feel like I need painkillers,’ she confessed. ‘But then I already feel like I’ve taken them. Giddy.’

‘You do need to see a doctor.’

‘Maybe,’ she said cautiously.

‘Right, then. Will you stay in bed? I can carry you to the car.’

‘I’m getting up,’ she said indignantly.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you need help to get dressed?’

‘No.’ In fact-and she wasn’t admitting this for quids-she’d gone to sleep in her bra and knickers. It had hurt too much to take her bra off.

‘Wendy, stay and help her,’ Pierce ordered. ‘The rest of you, breakfast. Bryce is on toast duty. There’ll be half a ton toasted by the time you get down.’ He smiled at her, that heart-stopping smile that made her heart, well, not stop, but it was a near-run thing. ‘Take care of her, Wendy.’

‘I…’

‘Oh, and we’ve organized the beach,’ he added as if it was an afterthought. ‘Your offer of internet hunting was noted with gratitude, but we’ve found our own place.’

‘We’re going to a castle,’ Bryce said, sounding awed. ‘A castle at the beach. The castle at Dolphin Bay. So we’re having hot dogs today and beach tomorrow as soon as Pierce has found someone to take care of the farm.’

She felt like she was caught in a tidal wave, washing her along with a momentum that didn’t allow her time for breath. Not that she wanted to breathe. Her shoulder hurt. Boy, did it hurt. It hurt all the time she dressed and all the time she had breakfast, and it hurt as she walked out to the car.

She was aware of Pierce’s eyes on her every step of the way, so she fought it. She grinned at the antics of the kids-she tried to keep up with the backchat-but in the car she subsided into blessed silence. She didn’t speak again until they pulled up outside the doctor’s surgery.

Pierce was out of the car almost as soon as they stopped, hauling open the passenger door, helping her out, his expression grave.

‘Well done you,’ he said softly, and he put his finger under her chin in a gesture of reassurance. ‘We should have called the ambulance last night. What a hero.’

‘I’m not a hero,’ she managed, but she whished he wouldn’t do this. Look at her like this. Touch her…

She’d thought he was fabulous when he was fifteen. He’d grown…fabulouser?

‘Did you get any sleep at all?’

‘I was jet lagged,’ she managed. ‘I would have slept if I’d been on the rack.’

‘And that’s how you feel this morning? Like you spent the night on the rack?’

‘A bit.’ He was helping the kids out of the car now. ‘Um, where are you guys going?’

‘We’re coming to the doctor’s with you,’ Bryce explained.

‘You have to be kidding.’ She stared at them like they were out of their collective minds.

‘If you get an injection you need someone to hold your hand,’ Abby said, and put out her hand in offering.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Shanni said, backing away. What was she getting into?

‘Okay. We’ll fetch our mended tyre and do the supermarket shopping while we wait,’ Pierce told her, grinning. ‘But I want the truth about what the doctor says.’

There was no way Shanni was giving him the truth about what the doctor said. Because after a cursory glance at her arm-‘Badly bruised, lacerations, you’d expect it to be painful for a few days, I’ll prescribe painkillers.’-the doctor started in on a subject he cared about more than Shanni.

‘What the hell is that idiot about, letting cattle wander? The man’s a lunatic.’

There was such dislike in the doctor’s voice that she flinched. ‘The bolt to the paddock was cut,’ she said, confused. ‘It’s criminal negligence, or worse, but it’s not Pierce’s fault. Pierce should be calling in the police.’

‘It’s criminal negligence,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s not Mr MacLachlan who should be calling the police. It’s you. If he let bulls graze without protective barriers…’ He grimaced. ‘It’s the last straw. There’s no way I’m letting those children stay at risk.’ He reached for the phone.

Something was seriously screwy.

She put her hand firmly on the telephone, forcing him to replace it.

‘Indulge me,’ she said slowly. ‘Charge me for a long consultation if you must. But I’ve been employed as a nanny for Pierce’s children. I need you to be honest. As one professional to another, tell me why you think Pierce MacLachlan is a bad parent.’

Supermarket shopping was Pierce’s least favourite pastime. Not that these kids were ill behaved-on the contrary, they’d had such a hard time while their mother had been ill that every time he put anything but bread and pasta in the trolley it seemed an occasion for general rejoicing. But supermarkets in small country towns were full of small country people. That’s what they were, he thought, as he passed one matron after another with her nose raised in sniffy disapproval. Small minded and mean.

Where was the legendary country hospitality? Nowhere. It was a great idea of Shanni’s to go to the beach. Maybe he should move the whole lot of them there permanently.

Though wherever he went he’d probably get this level of disapproval, he thought. Single dad with a gaggle of disparate kids.

‘Can you tell me where the hot-dog rolls are?’ he asked a middle-aged woman stacking shelves, and she practically bristled.

‘Aisle ten,’ she snapped.

‘It’s aisle three.’ Shanni’s voice shocked them all. It was so loud it stopped everyone in their tracks.

He swivelled to see where the voice was coming from.

Shanni was at the end of their aisle, and she was holding a microphone. The mike was obviously the one used for messages such as, ‘Gimme a price on the broccoli.’

Shanni seemed to have purloined it for her personal use.

‘I can see bread from here,’ she boomed. ‘Hot-dog rolls in aisle three. The lady’s telling lies.’

‘I never-’ The shelf-stacking lady’s jaw dropped almost to her ankles.

‘There’s a lot of that happening,’ Shanni said conversationally, and then, as the girl at the checkout counter made a grab for her microphone, Shanni shook her head, smiled sweetly and stepped sideways.

‘I need it, there’s a pet,’ she said. ‘I have a very important announcement.’

‘What…?’ the girl demanded but she was too late. Shanni was in full flow. She was standing in front of the middle register, giving her a clear view of almost everyone in their various aisles. Which was a lot of people. This must be pay day or something, Pierce thought, bewildered. The supermarket was packed.

‘Many of you know Pierce MacLachlan,’ she said conversationally, and he had a frantic urge to surge forward and grab the microphone. But he couldn’t quite get his legs to work.

‘He bought a local farm,’ Shanni went on. ‘For those who don’t know, it’s a neat little farm with a fabulous farmhouse. Pierce is a city architect. I’m assuming he saw the farm advertised in a city paper. He made an appointment with the agent. He liked what he saw and he bought it. No problem. Except there was a corporation negotiating to buy it so they could set up a factory here. The factory then had to be built on a site near the next town, which means many of you now have to pay an additional cartage to get your milk there. Pierce is sorry about that, but it’s not his fault. He didn’t know. If you’re blaming him, then it’s totally unfair. Unchristian, really.’

There was absolute silence. Customers in Pierce’s aisle turned and stared at Pierce and his brood of kids. Everyone else stared at Shanni.

‘So Pierce moved in,’ she said. ‘And, while everyone was tuttutting in disapproval, he invited Maureen to stay. Maureen was Pierce’s foster sister. She had four kids and was pregnant with the fifth. She was also dying.’

There was a general intake of breath. An assistant manager-a guy of about nineteen wearing more grease than a fish shop-was striding towards Shanni looking as if he knew what to do with anyone who was interfering with his microphone. But an older woman grabbed him by the arm and held him back.

‘Leave her be, Dwayne.’

‘Mum, she can’t-’

‘Shush. I want to hear.’

‘Anyway,’ Shanni said, ignoring Dwayne as insignificant to her story, ‘Here was Maureen with her kids. In desperate trouble. Her background is irrelevant. I’m not asking you to judge Maureen. We can’t. For Maureen died eight months ago.’

‘We know this,’ someone called out.

‘Then if you do you should be ashamed of yourselves,’ Shanni snapped. ‘I gave you the benefit of the doubt, that you didn’t know the facts. So I’m repeating them. These kids…They’re fantastic kids. You can’t imagine. Wendy’s eleven. She’s held her brothers and sisters together like the little mother hen she is. All the kids-Wendy and Bryce and Donald and Abby and Bessy-every single one of them deserves a medal for the care they took of their mother and the care they’ve taken of each other. But of course, there are five of them. When Maureen was ill there was no one to look after them. Social Welfare knew Maureen was dying. They were rightly concerned. Maureen was terrified they’d be separated. She begged Pierce to help. Not being the children’s father, Pierce could do little. But Pierce has a big farm and a bigger heart. He thought if he was the kids’ stepdad then he might just be able to keep them together. So he and Maureen married.’

There was silence. The locals hadn’t figured this part of the story. They’d preferred juicier versions, Pierce thought. Various kids with various parents, kept for whatever nefarious purpose they might like to imagine.

‘Do you really think Social Welfare would let Pierce keep the children if they don’t think he has the best interests of the kids at heart?’ Shanni demanded, and there was even more silence.

‘You know, I was brought up in the city,’ Shanni said. ‘My mum got glandular fever when I was seven, and she was ill for months. I remember that time as scary, but you know what? My dad and I never had to cook. Our local community-city folk-used to turn up at our place with food. My school organized a roster. It makes me cry now, more than twenty years on, to think of all those big-hearted people.

‘But you,’ she said, lowering her voice. She didn’t have to worry about it so much now. She had the absolute attention of every single person in the supermarket. ‘These kids go to your kids’ school. You’ve known Pierce was in trouble. But all he gets from you, his community, is more and more reports forcing Social Welfare to keep on checking.’

She took a deep breath. ‘All these kids have had chicken pox. Now Bessy has it. I know, she’s in the supermarket when she shouldn’t be, but there’s no choice. Even with me helping. Yesterday Pierce stayed up all night with an ill child, but he had to take Bessy to the doctor. He was so tired, he went to sleep in his car while waiting for a prescription. The kids were safe at home with me, but he got reported. He got home to face yet another check. Then last night someone decided Welfare weren’t doing their job, the job someone here seems to want, which is running Pierce and the kids out of town. So they decided to help things along.’

‘Shanni,’ Pierce said and started forward, but Wendy grabbed his shirt and clung.

‘Let her say it, Dad,’ she said. ‘These people don’t like it.’

‘So someone let our bull into the garden,’ Shanni said. Her voice was strained now, like she was having trouble going on. ‘Not only that, but whoever it was stirred Clyde up, wounding him with a peashooter over and over again until he was vicious and uncontrolled. I guess whoever it was imagined that it’d be Pierce who went outside when he heard a bull in the garden, but we still have a sick baby. Pierce was upstairs with a howling Bessy. So Donald…’ she motioned to Donald ‘…our seven-year-old, who like every one of his siblings is brave and resolute and desperate to do the right thing, went out to tackle the bull on his own.’

There was a general gasp. Horror. But the lady who’d been stocking the shelves was looking at them differently. Appalled.

‘I’m an old friend of Pierce, and I’ve come to help. I heard Donald in the garden,’ Shanni said into the silence. ‘I got there just before the bull charged him.’ She motioned to the sling the doctor had put her arm in. ‘I ended up with a wounded shoulder. But if I hadn’t been there…’ She broke off.

‘But I was,’ she said softly.

‘Shanni, leave this,’ Pierce said. He put Wendy aside and started walking up the aisle towards her.

‘Oh, I’m leaving it,’ she said, and she managed to smile at him. ‘We’re all leaving. We’re going to the beach for a holiday. Pierce has had this place up to his ears, and I don’t blame him. But in a couple of weeks we’ll be back. To put the place on the market…’

‘Shanni?’

‘You can’t keep the farm if these people keep demonizing you,’ she said softly. ‘So all I’m doing is laying the facts before everyone.’ She took a deep breath and then beamed, switching channels. ‘Okay, everyone. Enough from me. You were in the middle of a riveting announcement of a red-hot special in laundry detergents. Dwayne, over to you.’ And she handed over the mike, just as Pierce reached her.

He stopped just before her. She was smiling, but her eyes were wary. Worried.

‘I had to do it, Pierce,’ she whispered. ‘When the doctor told me what scum you were, what everyone here thought, I damn near slapped him.’ Her smile firmed a little. ‘But then I would have had to slap everyone here, too, and I’d probably end up in jail, and I want to go to the beach. Can we still go to the beach, Pierce, or are you mad at me?’

‘I’m mad at you.’

‘How badly is your shoulder hurt, miss?’ It was Dwayne’s mother. She looked white-faced and frightened. There were a few white faces around, Pierce thought. How many people had been in on the Clyde plan?

‘It’s mostly just bruised,’ Shanni assured her.

‘When are you going to the beach?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘Then you’re not to cook tonight,’ the lady said, and suddenly she’d turned and grabbed the microphone from her son. ‘I’m on casserole tonight,’ she boomed into the microphone. ‘Dora, can you make one of your apple strudels?’

‘And I’ll make a hamper they can take with them,’ someone called.

‘We don’t need-’

‘I think we need,’ Dwayne’s mother told the supermarket grimly. ‘I think a whole lot of us need a lot more than you do.’

They drove home in silence, Shanni in the front passenger seat and the kids packed into the back. For the life of him Pierce couldn’t think of what to say. She’d blown him away. She’d been a virago, protecting her young with every ounce of her being.

She was a failed owner of an art gallery.

How could this woman fail at anything? For a moment he almost felt sorry for the stupid ex-boyfriend who’d betrayed her. Mike was lucky he’d only got a bucket of iced water.

He grinned.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘I was thinking of Mike.’

‘Of Mike?’

‘And iced water. And microphones. I’m thinking maybe we need to get you boxing lessons. Slugging might be easier.’

‘Not half as satisfying,’ she said, and she smiled back.

‘There is that.’ He hesitated. ‘Shanni, I’m really grateful.’

‘I know you are,’ she said smugly. ‘That’s why I did it.’ Her smile faded. ‘You know, it’s occurred to me that if you’re taking the kids to the beach then you don’t actually need me.’

‘Pardon?’

‘This castle. I asked the doctor about it. After I yelled at him he started being a sweetie. We looked Dolphin Bay castle up on the internet. It’s a refuge where disadvantaged kids get a holiday, and their carers do, too. There’s more than enough staff to take the kids off your hands while you get your work done. I could…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I could go find somewhere else to stay.’ But then she brightened. ‘Or I could stay at the farm by myself. I could paint. Someone has to babysit Clyde.’

‘But you have to come,’ said Donald from the back seat.

‘What if there are bulls?’ Abby demanded. ‘We need you to look after Donald.’

‘Yes,’ said Donald.

‘We certainly need you, and I’ve found a Clyde-sitter,’ Pierce said with a sidelong glance at his passenger. She was looking weary. It’d been a hell of a day yesterday. The bull’s attack must have taken its toll. Yet her behaviour in the supermarket…It had been amazing.

Ruby would have fought like that, he thought, and he smiled.

‘You keep having private jokes,’ Shanni complained, and he tried to stop smiling. But she sounded so righteous that he wanted to smile all over again.

‘You remind me of Ruby.’

‘I love my Aunty Ruby,’ she said warmly. But then she frowned. ‘But I told you-stop saying that. She’s short and dumpy.’

‘And you’re short and cuddly.’ It was out before he realized what he’d intended to say. He hadn’t intended to say it. Had he?

‘I don’t do cuddles,’ she said.

‘No?’

‘Why not?’ asked Wendy.

‘Cos I had a boyfriend who was a rat, and I’ve promised I’ll never cuddle anyone again.’

‘Our Mum said Pierce didn’t do cuddles,’ Abby piped up. ‘We had to teach him.’

‘Kids’ cuddles are different to adult cuddles.’ Pierce knew he sounded desperate but that was how he was feeling.

‘Why didn’t you do cuddles?’ Shanni asked, interested. Then she remembered something. ‘Ruby says all her boys are emotionally crippled.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

‘There’s one thing I can’t understand.’

‘What’s that?’ He sounded cautious, but who could blame him?

‘Why did you buy your farm?’

The question caught him unprepared. He had no answer.

‘You didn’t know about Maureen and the kids before you bought it, did you?’ she asked.

‘Um, no.’

‘You hadn’t heard and decided to be super-nice?’

‘I’m not super-nice.’

‘No?’ She screwed up her nose, deep in thought. ‘You were working in Sydney on your super architect projects that earn you megabucks. You decided you wanted a weekend getaway, so you looked around here. And lo-a five-bedroom farmhouse. Two living rooms. Three bathrooms. Three dog houses. Have you ever owned a dog?’

‘No.’

‘There you go, then. Do you have lots of friends and relations?’

He hesitated. ‘Only Ruby.’

‘And the boys. Your foster brothers. Ruby’s boys.’ She smiled a little at that. ‘Ruby thinks the world of you guys. Though you’ve blotted your copybook with the apartment.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Buying her a fabulous apartment that she can’t share. Whose cork-brained idea was that?’

‘Not mine,’ he admitted.

There was a lengthy silence. The kids didn’t understand where the conversation was going, but they were good kids. They were content to listen.

‘So,’ Shanni said at last. She sank back into her seat, and he had the feeling she would have crossed her arms if she didn’t have an arm in a sling. Judgement had been pronounced.

‘You sound like the secrets of the universe have been revealed.’

‘They have,’ she said in tones of satisfaction. ‘Aunty Ruby always said you were a nice boy.’

‘I bet she says that about us all.’

‘No. She had tags. I don’t know you all, but she has you categorized. The silent one. The dangerous one. The wild one. The deep one.’

‘And I’m just nice.’

‘She said it in the kindest way. She thinks the world of you.’ She hesitated. ‘Aunty Ruby says you see nothing of your own family.’

‘No.’ Short. Clipped. Brusque. Intended to give her a message which she clearly didn’t receive.

‘Okay.’ She looked sideways at him. ‘So, you bought your farm for Ruby?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘No, not specifically, cos she’d never have taken it. But if you had a great big farmhouse that was rattlingly empty, and Ruby knew it was there and some kid or other was in trouble, she’d have filled it up. I bet that’s what you were thinking. Only Maureen got in first and filled it before Ruby could.’

‘It wasn’t for Ruby.’ But he knew he didn’t sound convincing.

‘Maybe it was in your subconscious, but I bet it was there. But then the rest of the boys had their great idea about giving Ruby an apartment for herself. But you knew she’d hate it.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘Of course you did, because you’re the nice one. But you were stuck then, cos of course you couldn’t be the only one who wouldn’t give Ruby the apartment. And you’ve got five kids who you know Ruby would adore to have as pseudo-grandkids, but of course the rest of Ruby’s boys would think you were lower than the low if you foisted them on her.’

‘What’s “foist”?’ Bryce asked.

‘Let Ruby near you,’ Pierce said desperately. ‘I can’t.’

‘Which is why you told her you had one baby and only one. You knew she’d never be able to resist more.’

‘She couldn’t resist one. I had to practically straitjacket her to stop her coming. I didn’t want to tell her that much, but I needed my foster brother Blake to help with the legal stuff. We were staying with Ruby at the time and she overheard. She knew I was hiding something. So I told Ruby one baby.’

‘And you told Ruby you didn’t want her?’

‘This is too damned convoluted,’ he growled. ‘Plus it’s not your business.’

‘I don’t want to meet any more bulls,’ she explained. ‘No more unpleasant surprises. But, meanwhile, you don’t need me at Dolphin Bay.’

‘I do,’ he insisted.

‘Why?’

‘Because you need a damned good rest. Any fool can see that.’

‘I’m your employee,’ she said gently. ‘Not someone you have to fuss over.’

‘No, but you don’t have any place else to go.’

‘You could sign one of Ruby’s dumb visitor agreements and I could stay there. I could put up with the macramé.’

‘You’d tell her all about me.’

‘I might,’ she admitted. ‘Not that I’d want to, but no one can tell lies to Ruby. She sees right through you.’

‘So come to the castle. Maybe you can paint.’

‘Maybe I can,’ she said, cheering up. ‘I need to conquer cows’ legs.’

‘You studied art at university?’

‘I did and all,’ she said mournfully. ‘But it hasn’t fitted me very well for an alternative career. I can discuss with gravitas the powerful influences affecting post-modern gothic pastoralism on twentieth-century neoconservatist abstracts-but I can’t paint a cows’ leg. Wendy does a neater one. Maybe I should become the world’s best housekeeper and be done with it.’ She swivelled round and grinned at Wendy. ‘But I’m trying painting first. So it’s a contest. If I get to go to the beach, we’ll see who paints legs best at the end.’

‘We’ll paint fish at the beach,’ Abby said.

‘Fish legs, then.’

‘Mermaids,’ Wendy said, and giggled.

Wendy giggling?

It was such an astonishing sound that it almost had Pierce driving off the road. He hadn’t heard Wendy giggle since her mother had died.

This woman was…

A godsend. Nothing more, he told himself, suddenly finding he needed to give himself a stern reminder of barriers. She was great for the kids.

She was cuddly.

He didn’t do cuddly. He didn’t do relationships.

Except, maybe, with Ruby.

Ruby’s husband had been a foster kid himself, physically scarred from years of childhood neglect. When he’d died young Ruby had declared her life mission was to rescue boys. There were too many children in the world to take them all, she declared, so she restricted herself to gawky adolescent males, and she loved them to bits.

He’d spent three years of his life with Ruby. His mother never abandoned him completely, so his childhood was made up of intermittent placements. After he met Ruby she took him every time.

Shanni had Ruby’s grin. She had Ruby’s way of greeting life head on. That was the only reason he was reacting to her like he was, he told himself. Because she was like Ruby.

Yeah, right. She wasn’t the least bit like Ruby. She was Shanni.

They lapsed into silence. Pierce turned onto the gravel track leading to the farm, and realized that he didn’t want this journey to end. Which was weird. He who held his independence as his most important asset had found a short journey with five kids, a pile of supplies and a woman with a wounded wing great.

‘So we’re setting out tomorrow,’ Shanni said, and he thought, okay, they could keep this businesslike.

‘Yep.’

‘We didn’t go today because-’

‘Because you need time to recover.’

‘I’m supposed to help you, not the other way round.’

‘You saved Donald.’

She thought about that. ‘So I did,’ she said at last. ‘There’s a silver lining to every cloud. I might be stuck here…’

‘You think you’re stuck?’

‘Of course I do.’ She seemed astonished. ‘I mean-’ She caught herself. ‘I mean, you all seem very nice, but I’m an art curator. This is a career blip. I’m here to regroup and then I’m out of here. So if you find someone else, feel free to employ them.’

‘Thank you,’ he said gravely.

‘Only not tomorrow, cos even though I shouldn’t come it was my idea to go to the beach and I really, really want to stay in a castle.’

‘So do I,’ said Donald.

‘Me, too,’ said Wendy.

And, to a chorus of ‘me, toos’, he turned into the farm. With his temporary housekeeper. Temporary childminder. Temporary…relationship?

He didn’t do relationships. Even temporary ones.