Page 53 of Gold Digger
She shook her head rapidly, clutching her pony tighter.
“Hmm, okay,” I muttered. Her eyes flicked to the Nutella and maple syrup I had in front of me. “I guess I’ll just have to eat some pancakes on my own then.” Her eyes lit at the word pancakes, and she shuffled a bit closer. “And I’ll have to eat this Nutella on my own.” I scooped out a big spoonful of Nutella and shoved it in my mouth. Hayley gasped in shock and then pointed at the spoon, shaking her head. I grinned. “Who says I’m not allowed? There’s no Nutella police to stop me.”
She frowned in disapproval but then started eyeing the Nutella with interest. I stretched over the island, putting a spoon in front of one of the kitchen stools, then leaned back. Shehesitated for a moment, then shuffled forward, put her pony up on the counter and then climbed up the stool so that she was sitting facing me with the spoon clutched in one hand. She gave a furtive look behind her, clearly checking for her sister, who I doubt condoned straight-up Nutella for breakfast, and then back at the Nutella jar, which I pushed over to her. She shoved the spoon in, took a big scoop and put it in her mouth. Then she grinned at me around the spoon, and my chest felt too tight.
Her smile was so like her sister’s, and I’d missed that smile way too much. I doubted that a spoonful of Nutella was going to be all it took to convince Lottie to smile at me again, though. Last night my brain had played its favourite new game with me, where it ran through all the different ways I’d been a dick to Lottie. It actually made me feel physically sick to think about it. Some of the things I said to her…
Well, I was a good negotiator. I’d pulled myself out of some sticky wickets in my time, and this would be no different.
Okay, so maybe I blackmailed her to come and live here with her sister, but I’d had to get them out of that shitty flat. It was totally unsafe.
Now, back to pancakes. I frowned.
“Hey, stowaway, you know how to make these things?” I asked and Hayley rolled her eyes as she took another spoonful and shoved it in her mouth. But she hopped off the stool and came over to me.
She took an egg out of the box and cracked it into the bowl. When she took another one, though, it slipped through her small fingers and smashed on the granite work surface. As soon as it happened, her whole demeanour changed. She shot me a terrified look, scuttled back before running around to the other side of the kitchen island and grabbing her pony.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said very softly.
The poor thing looked terrified. Her hand formed a fist at her chest, and she made a circular movement with it, obviously trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I need to learn some sign language – this was frustrating as hell.
“You’re not in trouble.” She didn’t seem to believe me, taking another step back and eyeing the door. I sighed. “You’ve still got to help me make the pancakes.”
Still just fear. Ah, fuck it. I grabbed an egg and chucked it onto the granite myself. I may have miscalculated the force required, however, and it splattered everywhere, covering me and most of the counter with egg.
“Happy now?” I asked as egg dripped down my forehead, a piece of shell sliding its way off my shirt. Her eyes were wide as she watched me; after a few beats of silence, the most wonderful sound filled the kitchen – an eight-year-old giggle. So, because I was totally addicted to that sound, andmaybebecause I’d never in my life had to clean up after myself anyway, I cracked another egg on the counter, grabbed the bag of flour, and stalked over to her. “You think that’s funny, do you?” I asked, and Hayley didn’t pause in her giggling to nod.
“What the bleeding hell is going on here?” Mrs H stormed over to me like the force of nature that she was. She went up on her tiptoes to clip me round the ear, but when she couldn’t quite reach, I leaned down for her to finish the job. “I told your mother that you’d end up spoiled rotten. Look at this mess!”
Hayley was wide-eyed as she watched me being chastised by this small but fierce woman. When Mrs H turned to her, however, her attitude changed completely. “Ah, hello there, lovie.” She bustled round to Hayley’s side of the counter to stroke the wild side of Hayley’s hair. “Goodness gracious, we’ve a job on our hands this morning to brush this out. You’re lucky to have such pretty, thick hair, mind.”
“Why are you being so nice to her and mean to me?” I grumbled. “She started it.”
Mrs H shot me a narrow-eyed look. “She didnot. And don’t be a tattletale. Now what on earth were you trying to make the child?”
With Mrs H’s help, we managed to make pancakes. I told Hayley that we were on a special mission to let her sister sleep this morning, which she seemed extremely invested in, tiptoeing past Lottie’s door to get dressed into the uniform that Lottie had laid out the night before. I cancelled my first two meetings and then dug through the files I had on Lottie and Hayley on my phone to find out the name of her school. I frowned when I saw the Ofsted rating, which was especially poor for children with special educational needs.
My mood nose-dived even further when we arrived at the school. I wasn’t allowed to walk Hayley in, which, from a security perspective, seemed like a pretty poor show. And the transformation from giggling Hayley to sombre,scaredHayley was even more worrying. She clutched her backpack in front of her as she shuffled across the playground with her little shoulders hunched defensively. And when some little bastard ran past her and bumped her shoulder before laughing and running off, I nearly lost my shit. I contented myself with shooting a short email to my assistant to research local private schools. Local tomyarea of London and not this shithole.
I realised my mistake when I arrived home, and Lottie came flying at me down the corridor, eyes wild and voice high-pitched with panic.
“Ollie, she’s gone,” she said as she grabbed the lapels of my suit jacket. “She’s not in her room and?—”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I said, taking the opportunity to wrap my arms around her and pull her close. It was a ruthless move. If Lottie wasn’t completely out of her mind with worry, she wouldnever have flown at me or put her hands on me, but I was happy to take advantage of the opportunity. “I’ve taken her to school. Mrs H made her pancakes. She’s fine.”
Lottie sagged against me with acute relief. “Thank God,” she breathed. “I thought she’d run away again.”
Shit. Her voice had a broken quality to it now, and I felt like a total dick for not leaving a note. I told Mrs H to let her know, but she must have been still cleaning up the bombsite in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said softly, tightening my arms around her and pulling her closer as I kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t mean to panic you. It’s just you looked so tired, Lottie. So, so tired. You needed to sleep.”
“I thought I set my alarm clock,” Lottie breathed. Her voice was steadier now, and she was clearly coming back to herself. I breathed in her hair, realising I probably only had this for a few more moments with her in my arms. I didn’t want to admit anything, but there were already too many lies between us. “But when I woke up my phone was gone and there was a laptop there in its place.”
“Imighthave taken it. And that laptop is yours.”
“You what?” Lottie stiffened and tried to pull back. “Why the Fraggle Rock would you do that? And you can’t give me a laptop.”
I smiled. The cute non-swearing was a good sign. It was like she’d given up the other day when she swore during her breakdown, and I’d hated it.
