Five and a half years old. Luke couldn’t get his head around it. What despair and fear had she felt to see her mother lying lifeless on the floor. And how terrifying to be handed to the father who hadn’t been there for her for months on end.
His gut churned with anguish for her. For the senseless suffering she had endured because of the incompetent adults who should have been loving and protecting her.
Luke gently cradled her cheek, his eyes meshing with hers. ‘I’m so sorry you went through that. I can’t imagine how terrified you must have been.’
She gave him a flickering smile that seemed sad around the edges. ‘I don’t think about it much now. It was a long time ago and in some ways it feels like it happened to someone else, not me.’
‘Is that why you’ve not told Ella? Because you’ve rewritten your history to make it less painful?’
‘Less painful and less shameful,’ she said. ‘My father is in jail and has been since I was six. He almost killed someone on a drug deal that went sour. He was the one who got my mother on heroin, I’m sure of it. It came out much later he was the leader of a drug gang. But back then he made everyone think she was the one with the problem. He painted himself as the poor pushed-aside father of his child. And the authorities fell for it, for a time.’
‘Did you feel any connection with him when you went to live with him?’
Abby shook her head. ‘I hated him. He was bad-tempered and treated the new woman he was with like a slave. And he made her do most of the looking after of me, which of course she resented and took out on me. He only wanted me because he thought it would whitewash his reputation with the social worker who used to do visits. I felt uncomfortable with him and would always end up in floods of tears when the social worker came. He made it sound to the social worker that I was crying because I was upset at the thought of being taken away from him and put into permanent care. I was too frightened to tell them the truth because I was worried they mightn’t believe me over my father. He could be so convincing. And then, if they didn’t believe me and left me with him after I’d said something, I knew he would punish me for speaking out. I felt so powerless.’
Luke pulled her close as if he could somehow make up for the shocking way she had been treated. He might have some issues with his own father, but at least he had never been passed like a parcel between foster carers. He had always had his mother and felt secure in her love. He had his sister, who always did her best to make their fragmented family work as well as it possibly could.
But Abby had suffered for most, if not all, of her childhood. How could she have turned out to be such an open and warm and positive person? She deserved much better than she had received. Could he in some small way make up for all the heartache and despair she’d endured?
The thought started as a seed in his mind and then started to spread its roots, tunnelling its way into every closed-off corner of his brain like a rampant vine. He could take her on the island holiday. He could spoil her and treat her like a princess for a week. He hadn’t had a holiday in ages and it would be a good way of getting to know her even better. Besides, her flat was still uninhabitable and was likely to be for a few more days. This was a perfect solution.
A faint alarm bell sounded in the back of his mind, but he disregarded it. It was only for a week and they had both agreed on that. He wasn’t promising a future with her.
He couldn’t promise a future with anyone.
Luke picked up one of her wayward curls and wound it round his finger, holding her warm toffee-brown gaze. ‘It would be a shame to forfeit that holiday I won.’
A light came on in her eyes. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’
He gave her a slow smile. ‘I quite fancy a week in the sun. I’ll have to juggle a few things in my diary but—’
‘Oh, Luke, thank you, thank you, thank you.’ She pressed her mouth to his in a series of kisses, making his lips swell and tingle for more. ‘It’ll be so much fun. A whole island to ourselves.’
‘How soon can you pack?’
Her face suddenly fell. ‘But what about my flat? I can’t get to my clothes and I don’t feel comfortable wearing—’
‘No problem,’ Luke said. ‘I’ll go and buy you something you can wear so we can go and get the rest. My treat.’
Her teeth worried her bottom lip and her eyes didn’t quite meet his. ‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable with you buying me stuff.’
He tipped up her chin so she met his gaze. ‘Listen to me. I want to spoil you. I’ll probably enjoy it more than you, so why not allow me this little bit of pleasure in my boring and stuffy workaholic life?’