A Child in Need (4 page)

She held her breath and waited.

And it wasn't just the pills she was waiting on…

 

It was strange, Nick decided. Surrealistic. For Nick, accustomed to living life at full speed, to be forced to lie and hold a child and listen to the exploits of a make-believe caterpillar… He'd never done such a thing in his life.

The whole world held its breath.

 

Over at the window, Shanni could sense Len was listening too. And waiting. She made her voice calm and warm and even and when Harry dropped off to sleep again she wasn't surprised.

What did surprise her was Nick. Gently he disengaged Harry's clutching fingers, let the little one slip sideways onto the pillows and then, with a questioning look at Shanni—a ‘help-me-with-this' look—he rose and crossed steadily to Len at the window. Shanni watched him every step of the way, her hand coming down to cradle Harry so he wouldn't notice Nick's absence.

‘Len?' Nick said softly.

His head jerked up. He was so close to sleep… ‘Yes?'

‘You're cold, boy.' He pushed the reading chair forward—the only comfortable chair in the kindergarten. It
was padded, with a high back, and he tossed a couple of cushions on for good measure. ‘It might take hours for the helicopter to arrive. If you're not comfortable your muscles might cramp up and you'll fall off your stool. Use this one.' He pushed the chair against the window. Then, as Len hesitated, he threw a couple of blankets on top.

‘Make yourself comfortable,' he suggested.

‘Why are you doing this?' Len's face was all suspicion.

‘If you fall off the stool, chances are that gun will go off,' Nick said bluntly. ‘Then you'll have every cop in the country storming in. Neither of us wants that.' And then he grinned. ‘And you let us have pancakes.'

His smile was beguiling—even Shanni was beguiled, for heaven's sake, and this man was a lawyer!—and it worked a treat. Len didn't answer—he glared—but he grudgingly moved from his hard stool to the comfortable chair. And when Nick offered blankets, he threw them over his knees and almost managed a smile of thanks.

‘It'll get better,' Nick said, and Shanni practically gaped in astonishment at the sympathy in his voice. ‘This isn't the end of the world, you know.'

‘What would you know about it?' Defiance—but also fear.

‘I know you haven't killed anyone. I know you're young and young offenders don't go to jail. They go to remand homes where, if they want, they can learn a trade. I know there's a heart under that tough exterior…'

‘I can't…'

‘And you love cars,' Nick said softly. ‘I can see that.' He motioned out of the window to where the smashed grey Mercedes lay between them and the police. ‘If you have to steal cars, at least you steal cars with class. It's taken a darn sight more skill to steal this baby than a cheaper job.'

His dark eyes twinkled down at Len and it wasn't just Len who was mesmerised. Shanni was speechless. This was
a whole new facet to the man. Up until now she hadn't been able to see past the smooth exterior, but now…there was a human being in there somewhere. ‘If you're willing to learn about mechanics while you're in remand school, I'd bet there'd be luxury car dealers who'd be prepared to take you on,' he said.

‘Yeah? Like who?'

‘Like my uncle,' Shanni interjected, smiling up at Nick as if he was talking absolute sense. ‘He runs a dealership. I know one of his lads has a police record, but my uncle doesn't care—as long as he keeps straight now and knows how to fix his engines.'

‘He wouldn't employ me.'

‘You'd have to do your time first,' Shanni said thoughtfully. ‘But if you put your time in the remand home to good use…'

‘I ain't going to remand school.'

‘Hey, Len, just think about it,' Nick urged gently. ‘While we sleep.'

‘Another story, I think,' Nick said as he returned to his mat. Shanni's eyes were wide with appreciation.

As were Nick's. This woman was extraordinary. As he'd made Len warm and comfortable and soothed his terror, she'd given Len what he most needed—hope. Len was dead tired, and, if Nick's guess was right, he was full of sleeping pills. Now all they had to do was set the mood—and Shanni was right onto that.

‘How about if I read
Goodnight, Goodnight
?' she suggested.

‘Harry's asleep already,' Nick said reluctantly. He'd lifted Harry into his arms again, unthinking, as if it was an instinctive movement. It was starting to feel as if the child belonged there.

‘He might wake up if I don't keep reading,' Shanni said softly. ‘If I keep my reading going I'll soothe him into sleeping for ever.'

Or who else might she soothe into sleep?

It was so…seductive.

Shanni had turned on the heater and the room was warm—almost over-warm. The huge breakfast had made Nick feel so sated he almost needed sleep again himself, even though it was only two hours since he'd woken. The child in his arms slept on and on, catching up on missed time.

Shanni's voice was low and sweet and melodic—soothing him toward rest.

If Nick hadn't been watching Len…

But he was. He was watching Len like a hawk. The gun was slowly slipping. It must be
so
heavy.

Please let those outside not use the loud hailer or try to contact him again, Nick thought, but if Shanni's brother had twigged as to why she wanted the hay fever tablets then they wouldn't be so stupid.

They weren't.

Shanni read and Nick watched Len—and Nick watched Shanni. He watched the gentle rise and fall of her breast, and he listened to the soft lilting of her voice. If I was three years old this is where I'd like to go to kindergarten, he thought dazedly, and had to shake himself. No one had ever read him stories. Not ever!

For heaven's sake, he was thirty-two years old. This was stupid. He was feeling like this just because it was a novelty. A situation like this…

A woman like Shanni…

He'd never met anyone like her.

And finally her voice fell away to nothing.

And she'd succeeded.

‘He's asleep,' she said softly. At the window, Len's face had fallen forward so his chin was resting on his chest. His gun had fallen to one side in the chair and his hands were lifeless. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

‘Len?' Shanni asked softly.

‘Leave him be for a bit,' Nick said. ‘We've worked on this. Let's not spoil it by hurrying.'

‘
We've
worked on this?'

He grinned at that, tension easing. ‘Okay, smartyboots.
You've
worked on it. How many tablets did you give him?'

‘Four at twenty-five milligrams.'

‘Enough to stop the worst sneezing.'

‘Even mine,' she said virtuously. She wrinkled her nose and her eyes danced. ‘See? Not even a sniffle.'

‘Miraculous. How many did you take?'

‘Hmm. Somewhere between zero and none. I can't quite remember.'

He smiled and they waited on, both knowing that once Len was deeply asleep they had nothing to fear. Ten minutes. Fifteen. It was strangely intimate: sitting in a pile of bedding holding the child in his arms with Shanni watching over them.

‘He has such huge problems,' she said out of the blue.

‘Who?' Were they talking about Len?

They weren't. ‘Harry, of course.' She sighed, placing a hand on Harry's mop of fair curls. ‘I'm so worried about him. They're threatening to put him into a home for psychologically disturbed children.'

‘Is he?'

‘Psychologically disturbed?' She shrugged. ‘Maybe. Wouldn't you be if your dad was dead and your mother and stepfather hated you?' And then she frowned at the look on Nick's face. ‘Why? What have I said?'

‘Nothing.' He somehow put aside shadows of past hurt and shook his head. ‘This has nothing to do with me. Or you, either, as far as I can see. He's just one of your students, isn't he? What do you get from taking the worries of the world onto your shoulders?'

‘Meaning you think I'm stupid for trying?'

‘Maybe.' He shrugged.

She gave him a long, measuring look. ‘No. You don't
mean that. For a lawyer, I thought you were pretty good to Len just then.'

‘I'm a magistrate. I have to learn niceties.'

‘Legal niceties. Not human niceties. But…you were nice just now. It wasn't all an act.'

How did she know that? She didn't!

‘So how about you, then?' he demanded, changing tack. Talking about him made him feel like running a mile. ‘Surely your family—your uncle with the car dealership—wouldn't seriously think about employing such a kid?'

‘There's no hope for him if someone doesn't,' she said sadly. ‘So maybe it's just as well there are people like my family in the world. People who care.'

‘People who'll get walked all over.'

‘Says you.' She shrugged. ‘The nice magistrate who tries so hard not to be. Nice, I mean.' And then she smiled, letting him off the hook where he was beginning to squirm. ‘Anyway, maybe…' She cast a long look across at Len—and another at Harry. ‘While we have both our children sound asleep, I think it's time we got ourselves out of here, don't you?'

‘I couldn't agree more. I'll get the gun.'

It was time to leave. But there was a part of him—a part which he didn't understand in the least—that didn't want to leave at all.

There was no choice. Move…

But when he went to hand over Harry, the child's arms tightened like a vice, and if Nick had tried to disengage him he would have woken and sobbed.

So when the kindergarten door opened and Shanni, Nick and Harry emerged, to the huge relief of the waiting constabulary, it was the new town magistrate who was holding the baby, and it was the kindergarten teacher who was holding the gun.

A
ND
after that it was over—sort of. Police officers surged into the building and emerged with one dazed sixteen-year-old who looked half asleep and as if he didn't know what was happening.

‘Please look after him,' Shanni said softly as he emerged, handcuffed and secured. ‘He's just a scared kid.'

But the police were taking no chances. He was taken away, sirens screaming, while Nick and Shanni blinked in the unaccustomed daylight and Harry stirred in Nick's arms and started to sob.

A woman—in her late twenties, dishevelled and fearful—emerged from the crowd and tried to take him from Nick's arms. ‘Harry. Oh, baby, we've been so worried. Come to Wendy.'

This, then, must be the woman in charge of Harry's home within the orphanage, but Harry was unimpressed. He clung desperately to Nick, and as she tried to take him he screamed.

But Nick had had enough. There was nothing more he could do. He unfastened the desperate fingers and placed the weeping bundle of baby into the woman's outstretched arms.

‘He's all yours.'

‘No! I want to stay. I want to stay with my Nick.'
Harry was screaming with desperation, and Shanni reached forward to hug him.

‘Harry, don't worry. Nick's staying here for two years. Maybe we can visit…'

He had no intention of travelling down that road. No way!

‘We can visit you, Nick?' Shanni asked, and something snapped.

‘I don't think so.'

‘Why ever not?' She sounded astounded.

This was blackmail, he thought desperately. He had to get out of here—fast! And it was kinder to be blunt.

‘See that mountain up there?' He'd had more than he needed of this emotional heart-pull. What a way to start a new life! ‘Harry, look at the mountain,' he told him. He raised his voice. ‘Now!'

He could still get through to him. Harry stopped sobbing for long enough to stare up to where Mount Borrowah towered over the town.

‘That's where I live,' Nick said flatly—definitely. ‘I'm sorry, mate, but visiting me's impossible.' He softened then, just a little. ‘But it was great to meet you. You be good for Wendy, now.'

And he turned away before he could see the child's face crumple into despair.

Then followed the police debriefing. Hours of it, with question after question. What had happened? What threats had been made? Nick and Shanni were interviewed together and separately, and by the time they were finished Nick conceded that the local police force knew their stuff. They'd get a solid conviction.

It was a major crime, he thought ruefully. Damn. There'd now been one major crime in Bay Beach but he couldn't be involved as magistrate because he was a witness. The committal proceedings would be heard somewhere else.

Which left him still with fishing licences and farm disputes to look forward to. Terrific!

Finally, with interviews complete and after knocking back offers of counselling and psychological help, he
emerged to find the police inspector waiting to greet him in his new capacity as magistrate.

‘Mr Daniels.' His hand was gripped in a massive paw. ‘Welcome to Bay Beach. I'm sorry your arrival turned into such a mess. This place isn't always so exciting.'

Great. He made himself say something polite and noncommittal while behind him, Shanni emerged from her own interview room. There were a dozen or so people waiting. They'd been silent as Nick had talked to the inspector but now they surged forward, engulfing Shanni in a sea of hugs and laughter and relief. When they finally released her, Nick was introduced to what must have been almost the entire population of the town.

Shanni looked exhausted. Since Nick's mention of the mountain to Harry, she'd been decidedly cool, but she was still in control enough to stay polite.

‘Nick, these are my parents. This is my brother, Rob—he's a senior constable here. Mary's my sister and she's your clerk of courts. Here's Sam, Hatty, Will and Louise—they're all my younger brothers and sisters. Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Merle…Uncle Simon—he's the one with the car yard. Uncle Simon, I want you to write a letter for me. Everybody, this is Nick Daniels, the town's new magistrate. He lives up on Borrowah Mountain. I don't think!'

They didn't understand that, but Nick was surged on, regardless, and his hand was wrung until it felt as if it would drop off.

‘We're so grateful you were here to take care of our Shanni,' Shanni's grandmother quavered and, to Nick's astonishment, Shanni's brothers and sisters hooted with laughter. He must have looked stunned, because Guy McDonald, Shanni's father, noticed.

‘Don't look like that, Nick.' The elderly farmer clapped Nick on the shoulder. ‘I'm sure you did well, boy, but we know Shanni isn't a shrinking violet. All last night, when
the rest of the town were worrying themselves sick about their kindergarten teacher, Shanni's mother and I were wondering whether the kid would get out of there alive.'

‘I was never going to shoot him,' Shanni said, affronted.

‘No, dear, but you could have talked him into shooting himself,' her mother said comfortably. ‘And when Rob rang and asked what Louise took for night-time hay fever…'

‘You mean…you don't get hay fever?' Nick demanded, staggered.

‘Louise does,' Shanni said blithely. ‘Didn't I sneeze well? When Louise has hay fever she blows us away, and the medicine she takes at night knocks her out so hard she snores the roof off.'

‘I do not!' Louise glared.

‘Do, too.' There was general laughter, and then the police station door burst open. A large young man came striding in, looking deeply anxious. He seemed every inch a farmer—open, weathered face with eyes creased by the sun, moleskins, flannelette shirt, wide-brimmed hat… It only needed a straw sticking out of the side of his mouth to complete the picture.

The man was in no mood for interruptions—or introductions. He was looking for his woman.

‘Shanni!' He walked straight to Shanni, gathered her into his arms and he held her as if there was no tomorrow. And she submitted to his embrace as if she belonged there.

Which made Nick feel…weird? But there was nothing he could do but watch and listen.

‘Shanni, love,' the stranger was saying, ‘I took cattle over to the sales at Warrbook and I've only just got back to hear this. Hell! Love, are you okay? I'll kill the…'

‘Hush.' She was being raised right off her feet as she was hugged. As she smiled down into the stranger's eyes,
Nick was aware of a sharp stab of something that might have been jealousy.

No. Ridiculous thought. There was nothing to be jealous of here, for heaven's sake.

‘I'm fine,' Shanni was saying, struggling to find her feet. She motioned to Nick. ‘Nick, this is John Blainey. John, Nick's our new magistrate. He was taken hostage, too.'

‘And you looked after my girl.' Nick's hand was seized and wrung again until his wrist felt broken. ‘You got her out of there. I owe you…'

‘I think you'll find Shanni got herself out of there,' Nick said wryly. ‘I just babysat.'

The man stared—and then he grinned. ‘You can still joke. That's fantastic.' He turned and held Shanni tight again. ‘That does it, sweetheart. We'll get married. I know I don't have the house built yet, but if you think I'm going to let you run yourself into danger again…'

‘By teaching kindergarten?'

‘By doing anything without me,' John said stolidly. ‘I know how to protect my own, and I'll protect you.'

He needed to get out of here, Nick decided. As, obviously, did the rest of Shanni's family. They were all watching the happy couple with expressions ranging from resigned to nauseous.

‘I'm off to collect my car,' Nick said, and Rob stepped forward with an expression that said he'd be glad to help—in fact he'd be glad to get out of there as fast as Nick wanted.

‘I'll give you a lift.'

But Shanni was breaking away, turning within John's hold.

‘Nick, thank you.'

‘For running you into danger? For scaring Len into the kindergarten?'

‘Oh, I've forgiven you for that,' she said blithely, and
grinned at his pained expression. ‘I know it wasn't your fault. I said it because I like to see lawyers wriggle, so I'm not even going to sue. But thank you anyway.'

‘It's me who should be thanking you.'

‘Yep,' she said happily and grinned. ‘And Louise. It was her tablets did the trick. But for Harry…'

‘I didn't do anything.'

‘You did,' she said urgently. ‘He hugged you. And you still can do something. You still can help. I know you said that stupid thing about the mountain but you were stressed. If we can keep that connection up…'

‘I'm not prepared to do that,' he said flatly, and she stared.

‘Why ever not?'

‘I told you. I don't like kids.'

‘You don't like Harry?'

‘Shanni, I have a new job here that's going to take all my time,' he said desperately, and she smiled.

‘Right. Magistrate at Bay Beach. Full-time job.'

‘Don't badger the man, Shanni,' her mother said mildly. ‘He's only just walked into the town. Give him at least a few days before you start involving him in any of your save the world missions.'

Shanni wrinkled her pert nose and her eyes twinkled. ‘A few days?'

‘At least,' her mother said.

Silence.

Then… ‘Okay, Nick Daniels,' she said at last. ‘You have a few days' grace and then we'll see what we can do to puncture that cool, calm exterior. Oh, and Nick…?'

‘Yes?'

‘Grandma here's a great seamstress.'

‘Pardon?' He was totally at sea.

‘You'll want to get those ties widened.' Her smile was gently teasing. ‘Magistrates in this town command a bit of
respect; they wear ties, and that's not a tie. That's a shoelace. Grandma, do you call that a tie?'

Her grandmother obediently inspected the slip of expensive Italian silk which was now tugged loose around Nick's open collar. ‘Hmm,' she said, disapproving, and Shanni nodded.

‘
Hmm
is right, Grandma. It'll have to be widened. Nick's yet to learn that the only impression designer labels give around here is that he doesn't belong.'

 

Shanni followed her mother's orders. Nick didn't see her for five days.

In those days life settled into the pattern he'd expected—and more so. He was given an apartment above the courthouse, which suited him fine—no garden to look after and the windows looked out over the sea almost all the way to Tasmania. He even had a balcony he could use to appreciate the view—which he didn't. He kept the door closed.

The courthouse was old and majestic and sleepy, as was everything about this town. Mary, Shanni's eldest sister, was his clerk of courts. Comfortably married to the local newsagent, with two little boys at school, she knew everything and everybody in Bay Beach, and Nick found himself thinking it would be easier for everyone concerned if Mary took over the running of the whole courthouse. She practically did anyway.

‘This is Red Barring. Red's up for abalone fishing without a licence,' she told him on his second case. ‘He'll plead that he only caught them for a family celebration, but he used that excuse the last time and the time before. Everyone knows he sells them on the black market.'

‘You're not supposed to tell me this,' Nick said faintly, and Mary grinned.

‘So you didn't hear me saying it. But it'd be a pity if you were taken in by Red's baby-blue eyes. He's a thief
and a bully, and he's poaching abalone that fishermen have paid big money for the licences to fish. And when Sam Netherfield's boat ran aground last month and he realised his insurance had lapsed, Red didn't put in a cent to the appeal. Not one cent! Even though Sam was a character witness for Red at his last trial.'

It was all totally improper—but when Red stood before the bench and faltered in a whiny voice that he'd just caught the few abalone for his wife's birthday and a tough fine would send him to the wall, it was sort of hard—if not impossible—for Nick to refrain from giving the police authority to look at the man's finances and report back to the court in a week.

And, at the ludicrous look of dismay on the man's face, he knew it would be stupid to ignore Mary entirely.

But her interference went beyond work.

‘What are you interested in?' she demanded on his third day at work.

‘Interested in?'

‘Mmm.' She beamed. ‘What are your hobbies? You must have some. All work and no play doesn't make for a nice, well-balanced magistrate.'

‘Did you know you're as bossy and interfering as your sister?'

‘I try,' she said smugly. ‘Actually I'm older than Shanni so I think I'm better at it. I've had more practice. Now, I'm in the local repertory and we need new members. Can you sing?'

‘No!'

It didn't faze her. ‘No matter. There's spots as extras. Or we need painters backstage.'

‘No!'

‘Okay.' She took the rebuff unabashed. ‘There's a sailing school on Saturdays, there's chess clubs, there's canoeing, there's angling, there's…'

‘Mary, I am not interested in joining clubs.'

‘Why ever not?' She was astonished.

‘I have plenty to do to keep me employed.'

‘Like what?' She fixed him with a look that was remarkably like her sister's. It was totally disconcerting. ‘Your work here is hardly
Go, Go, Go
. What else do you intend to do in this town?'

What else indeed? Nick took the case file he'd come out to retrieve, retreated to his office and glowered.

What?

In the city his work had been eighty hours a week plus. That was the way he liked it. He thrived on work. And his spare time? He filled it with restaurants, plays, films and art shows, all with different women…