Page 95 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“And if Daddy got married I could have a proper mummy like Amy’s mummy and Noah’s mummy. I know I have Mummy Natalie, and she’ll always love me, but she isn’t here — she’s in heaven. And if he married Auntie Cassie, she’d be the best mummy ever, and she’d play with me and help me build sandcastles and read me stories and tuck me up in bed.”
He drew in a slow, silent breath. This was something he hadn’t anticipated. He pushed open the door.
“Oh!” Robyn dived under the duvet. “I was just going to sleep, Daddy. Truly.”
“That’s all right, sweetie.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, easing Hobo aside. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to read your bedtime story.”
“Nanna read it to me.”
“That’s good.” He paused, thinking what to say. “Robyn, do you want me to get married?”
“Yes. Yes, please.” Those angelic blue eyes were wide, gazing up into his. “If you married Auntie Cassie, she’d be my mummy and she’d really love me and I’d love her.”
Oh . . . The urgent pleading in his daughter’s voice struck right into his heart. And with it came a sudden thought. He’d assumed that Cassie would be leaving, but he hadn’t actually asked her to stay. And didn’t he know her well enough to trust that if she said she would stay, she would keep her word?
Edie Channing had said it — you only get one life. Don’t waste whatever chances you might have. It was a risk. If he asked her to stay, she might just throw it back in his face. But if he didn’t take this last chance, Edie would have called him a fool.
He smiled down at Robyn. “Well . . . we’ll see. You go to sleep now, eh? Do you want Hobo to stay here?”
“Yes please.”
“Okay.” He bent and kissed her rosy cheek, then tucked the duvet around her shoulders. “Night night then.”
“Night night, Daddy.”
Outside on the landing he stood for a moment, feeling the beat of his heart. Cassie . . . He loved her. He would be crazy to let her slip away without a word.
Huffing out a breath he hurried back down the landing and down the stairs. His mother looked up, startled, as he strode across the room. “You’re going out again? Another emergency?”
“Yes. An emergency.” Somehow he knew that it was urgent that he see her. “I’ll see you . . . later.”
“Hope it goes okay . . .”
It was still pouring with rain, but he hadn’t stopped to pick up his jacket. He ran down the lane, past the hotel and the Memorial Gardens, and along the Esplanade, the buffeting wind almost strong enough to knock him off his feet.
The sea was rough, white-capped waves rushing in from far out in the bay to thump against the sea wall and throw upfountains of spray. There was no one else around. Who would be daft enough to be out in this weather?
He raced up Cliff Road. There were lights on in the sitting room of number nineteen, and a light up in the dormer window that he knew was Cassie’s room.
His jumper was soaked, rain was dripping from his hair and trickling down his neck as he waited on the doorstep for someone to answer his urgent ring, but he didn’t care. Footsteps. Her mother opened the door.
“Ah. Hello, Liam.” If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it. She stood aside. “You know where to find her.”
“Thank you, Helen.”
He took the stairs two at a time, breathless as he reached the top. The door to Cassie’s room was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open. There was a backpack on the bed, half full, and she was folding a sweater ready to go in it.
She turned sharply, her green eyes wide and shocked when she saw him standing in the doorway. “What the fuck are you doing here?” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“I . . . You’re packing.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going back to Australia.”
“New Zealand.”
“Don’t go.”
