Page 27 of Just the Beginning

‘Plus, it seems as if what she looks like is important to you, that you want her looking a certain way, presenting a certain image.’

‘That makes me sound like I used her as an accessory.’

Davy shook his head. ‘No, that’s not what I meant, but you’ve always had a way about yourself ever since you were a kid and it’s natural that you want Freya to look nice too. I think all this nonsense with her clothes is her way of testing you. Her daddy’s gone, she’s lost her home, her friends, everything that was familiar to her, apart from you…’

‘You think she’s afraid she’ll lose me…’

‘All kids test boundaries.’ Davy shook his head. ‘The scrapes and nonsense I’ve seen two generations of Penrose boys go through as they tried to find their way in the world would turn your hair white.’ He pointed to his own shock of white curls for emphasis.

Anya’s eyes stung. The urge to drop everything and run as fast as she could to Ma and Pa’s and scoop Freya up was almost overwhelming. ‘So what can I do to make her feel more secure?’

Davy shrugged. ‘Just keep doing what you’re doing. Let her wear what she wants and don’t let her see that it bothers you. She’ll settle down in time once she understands that she’s a Penrose now and we look after our own.’

‘But we’re not, though, are we? Not by blood.’

He made a disgusting noise as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying. ‘You’re one of us in every way that matters, and so is that little girl.’

‘Oh Davy, that’s a lovely thing to say.’ Leaning her weight onone side, Anya fumbled in her pocket for a tissue to blow her nose.

‘None of that!’ Davy’s eyes widened as if horrified at the idea of her crying. ‘Stop blathering at me and get that sink sorted, we haven’t got all day.’

Smiling to herself, Anya returned to the task at hand. With much muttered swearing she eventually got the bolt about halfway undone when the hotel mobile phone began to ring. ‘Do you want to get that?’ she asked when Davy made no move to answer it.

‘I thought you were the assistant, not me.’

Anya sat up with a huff, only just managing to avoid banging her head on the underside of the sink. She made a threatening gesture towards Davy with the large wrench as she grabbed for the phone with her other hand. ‘Good morning. Penrose House Hotel.’

‘Hey, it’s Rick. Where are you guys? I just popped in to say hello and was surprised to find reception empty.’

Anya rolled her eyes. Everyone was a critic today. ‘We’re in Room 12 sorting out the sink. We won’t be long if you want to wait.’ They’d left a sign up asking visitors to call for assistance, the office was secure and no one could get past the reception area without knowing the code to the internal lock.

‘No, that’s fine.’ Rick hung up, leaving her to stare at the phone for a moment. Well, whatever he wanted it couldn’t have been important. She put the phone down, put him out of her mind and picked up the wrench once more.

A couple of moments later there was a tap at the door and Rick poked his head around the side. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

Anya glanced up at him in surprise. ‘How did you get in here?’

Rick shrugged. ‘I know the code, of course.’

Of course.

‘Now, what needs doing?’ As if the bathroom wasn’t small enough with her and Davy already in it, Rick decided to join the party, coming to crouch down beside her.

‘The sink’s backing up, so I’m taking off the pipe to see if I can clear whatever the problem is.’

He ducked his head under the sink, his broad chest all but blocking out the light. ‘Do you need a hand?’

Maybe twenty minutes ago when the damn bolt wouldn’t move. ‘It’s fine, thanks.’

‘She’s got it under control, boy.’

‘I’m just trying to help,’ Rick protested.

Resisting the urge to whack them both in the head with the wrench, Anya fixed first Rick then Davy with a steely glare. ‘Go away.’

Davy chuckled. ‘That’s us told. Come on, you can make yourself useful and stick the kettle on.’

Fifteen minutes later, Anya was tucking Davy’s massive toolbox back under the corner of the reception desk where it lived and trying not think too hard about the revolting hairball she’d fished out of the pipework. Her fingers itched with the need to wash her hands again, even though she’d scrubbed them twice after wrapping the mess in several layers of blue paper towels and disposing of it. The door to the office was closed, which was unusual. When she glanced through a crack in the blinds, Davy had a face like thunder. Rick was leaning against the opposite wall, his hands raised in a pleading gesture. Anya turned away. Whatever was going on between them, they wouldn’t thank her for snooping.

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