Page 14 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
Noah looked doubtful. He’d been the foreman in this enterprise, and was afraid he would have to relinquish his position.
Liam grinned at him. “I’m good at digging. But you’ll have to tell me what to do.”
The little boy conceded a nod. “We have to start by making the moat. You can help to dig.”
“Right.”
The space was chosen — nice and flat, not too many pebbles. The outline was marked out, colourful plastic buckets and spades distributed and instructions given. All the children began to dig, chattering with excitement.
“Mummy, come and help,” Noah demanded.
Lisa shook her head. “I have to stay with the baby. But Auntie Cassie will help if you ask nicely.”
“Yes please, Auntie Cassie.”
Cassie laughed and levered herself to her feet. “Okay, I’m coming.”
Liam edged discreetly round to the far side of the excavation so there would be no risk of finding himself too close to her. But then he found himself opposite her.
He couldn’t quite prevent himself from watching as she hunkered down among the children, her eyes sparkling with fun as she took a yellow plastic spade and began to dig, as instructed by their small foreman.
She was wearing that bright orange swimsuit again, with a pair of shorts. She must have been in for a swim as the damp fabric clung to every curve of her body like a second skin . . .
No. He forced his gaze away. That was a path he didn’t want to tread.
Robyn’s curiosity had been drawn to this new person in her world. “Have you hurted your arm?” she asked, pointing at Cassie’s shoulder.
“No.” Cassie smiled down at her. “It’s a tattoo.”
“What’s a tappoo?”
“It’s a pattern drawn on your skin, like this. People have all sorts of them.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Of course.”
Robyn stroked the design tentatively with one finger. “It’s pretty.”
“Thank you.”
“Does it wash off when you go in the sea?”
“No, it never washes off. It’s there forever.”
“Can I have one?”
“You’d better ask your daddy.” She shot him a look that was brimful of teasing amusement.You deal with it,was the implication.
“Daddy, can I have a tappoo?”
“Absolutely not!” Dammit, in his anxiety he’d spoken more sharply than he’d intended. But a tattoo? What next? Piercings?
“Oh, Daddeee!”
As her little bottom lip wobbled, he recognised the start of a wail. Heavens, had he brought up a spoiled little girl who would throw a tantrum whenever she didn’t get her own way?
For a moment he thought she was going to throw down her spade and stalk off, but as he struggled to find a way to retrieve the situation before it got out of hand, Cassie came to his rescue.
