Chapter 20

Chrissie went with Jessica and Jenni that evening. She wasn't surprised by the embrace and kiss Jessica gave her husband, though she did wonder that he looked rather older than his wife. She was surprised that Jenni flung her arms round his neck and kissed him on the lips; had she not been so anxious she might have been amused when he blushed.

"Dad," Jenni said emphatically, "this is Chrissie. She's had a rough time. Jessica and I think you've agreed to take her in like you did me. Are we wrong?"

He looked at Chrissie, then Jessica, then Jenni. Looking at his wife, he sighed deeply.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Yes, Dad," Jenni said quietly, "you have the same choice you had when you found me. Could you have left me curled up on the saltings?"

He smiled then, reminiscently. "In other words ... no, I don't have any choice." He took a couple of paces toward Chrissie and held out his hand. She, slowly, extended her hand and stepped forward to take his. "Welcome to our home, Chrissie. I hope these two haven't bullied you too badly."

She looked up at him, her lips twitched in a tenuous smile. "They've been very kind. It's all a bit overwhelming, though. A couple of days ago..."

Dave looked at Jessica. "Alison is still up and about. Do you want to give her a call?"

She nodded and left the room.

Jenni slipped her arm round Chrissie, "Will you be alright now? I'd like to go home to my husband – he's got an early start in the morning."

"Jenni ... how long did it take you to trust Dave?"

"The answer to that is complicated, but I never felt afraid of him even when we met and I learned to trust him very quickly."

"It's strange, but I think I know what you mean. I'll be alright. Do you think I'll be able to call Tom to say goodnight?"

She didn't notice the silent communication between Jenni and Dave, or her slight nod.

"As long as you use the house phone to call Amy's land-line, the calls are free. Just don't overdo it." Dave's tone was warm and friendly, and Chrissie felt a warm glow somewhere in her middle.

It was like ... it was a bit like ... when Tom held her hand. She suddenly realised she was still holding his hand; it was warm, a little calloused from physical work and very reassuring. The tenuous smile became a definite one, if still tremulous. He smiled in response and the glow intensified.

Jenni squeezed her waist and whispered in her ear, "Has an effect, doesn't he?"

Chrissie nodded again without taking her eyes from Dave's face and Jenni squeezed her again and walked away. Her voice was audible from the hall, talking to Jessica.

"Call me on my mobile if I'm needed to take her for a check-up. I'll be free by about nine once I've taken Marty to Ipswich wet-dock."

Chrissie suddenly realised she was standing fixed in place, gazing into Dave's eyes and holding his hand. She blushed hotly and tried to pull her hand away.

Dave smiled even more broadly and held onto her hand for a moment, then after a squeeze, let it go. "Don't be embarrassed," he said gently. "You're at home now until you leave. No one is going to hurt you or do anything to you you don't want. You might like to think of me as 'Grandfather'."

She nodded, but was thinking 'grandfather? Maybe, but I think 'Daddy' would be closer. Weird, or what? I've only just met him and I'm half in love with him. But then, I've only known Tom less than twenty-four hours and I can't imagine wanting to live if he wasn't around. Maybe it's because I've been round such shitty people up to last night. I wish I could sleep with Tom again tonight, though.'

"Daddy?" A different voice penetrated her reverie and she turned to see a young girl, maybe seven or eight years old, in jeans and a very faded 'Metallica' t-shirt. There was a pronounced resemblance to Jessica in her features, though her long hair was a lighter brown and she had her father's blue eyes.

"Sweetie! Come in here a minute ... this is Chrissie. Chrissie, this is my daughter Alison. Allie, could you take Chrissie and show her the guest-room? I think there's some things of Jenni's somewhere; perhaps you could ask your mother and help Chrissie go through them to see if there's anything she can use until we can go shopping for her?"

The girl looked enquiringly at Chrissie. "Are you going to be living here?"

"Um ... I don't know for sure..."

The girl cocked her head, looked at her father, then looked at Chrissie and nodded. "Yes ... I think you will be..." she said thoughtfully. "So ... it might be a good idea if we were friends. Let's go find you some clothes!"

In somewhat of a daze, Chrissie followed Alison out of the room. The girl had a murmured conversation with her mother before heading upstairs, Chrissie in tow.

As they left, Jessica joined Dave in the lounge.

"This is another fine mess you've got us into, Olly..." Dave said as she entered.

She looked at him steadily. "I'm sorry I didn't consult you, Dave. Are you saying you won't have her? We'd probably be able to shuffle her off onto Social Services in a few days."

"Dammit, Jess, you know me better than that. I could no more resist the look in those eyes than I could that spaniel your mother got last year."

"Any more than you could resist Jenni. Look how she's enhanced your life."

"I know. But this one ... Jenni had some spirit, some assertiveness. She is a survivor. This one ... is a mouse!"

"Maybe, though I think she might surprise us. But Dave, she's a person and she's worth saving, don't you think?"

Upstairs, Chrissie had seen the guest room and was entering Alison's room with her. "It's smaller," Alison was saying, "but it looks out over the river."

Chrissie's eyes were caught by a musical instrument propped at the end of the bed. "You play the guitar?"

"A little. I've only been learning a few months." She picked it up and strummed a couple of chords; both girls winced at the sour sound. "It needs tuning," Alison commented, "the piano's downstairs..."

"May I?" Chrissie held out her hand and Alison handed her the instrument. Chrissie perched on the bed and plucked strings and twisted tuning knobs, finally strumming a clean, pure chord. "It's in tune with itself, but a wee bit flat," she commented and began to play a piece of Bach, but faltered after a couple of bars and made a face. "I'm way out of practice ... I haven't held a guitar for months."

"But you're good... and you've got perfect pitch ... haven't you?"

"Well, yes ... but I was born with it. It's nothing to get excited about."

"Do you play anything else?"

"Piano ... the flute a bit. I like the guitar best."

"Me, too. Mummy insisted I start to learn the piano as well as the guitar. I like classic rock best."

"Mummy was right; it gives you a better understanding of the music, I think. I like rock, but other sorts too; Segovia, Williams, Capsberger ... I like folk music too. I'd like to learn the violin as well..." she struck a few chords, picking the tune, of 'With a Little Help From My Friends' and started to sing... "I just want someone to love ... Could it be anybody? I just want someone to love..." stopped abruptly and held out the guitar. "Thanks."