The wailing continued. Jack set everything to rights in the bedroom, then carried the capsule out to the living room. There was still the cleaning up to do in the kitchen. The kid was demanding more attention. Jack recognised the conflict of interests and decided it had to be nipped in the bud.
“Listen up, kid,” he addressed his demanding daughter in the voice of paternal authority. “You and I need to come to an accommodation.”
It got through to her. She stopped wailing and gave him her attention.
“The human race rubs along best if people consider each other,” Jack explained. “I’m not going to have your mother come back to dirty dishes in the sink. You’ve had your time quota from me. It’s your mum’s turn now. So quit being selfish.”
A spit-and-splutter raspberry.
Jack wagged his finger at her. “No more lip from you, young lady. I’ll put on some music. We can both listen to it while I do the work. That’s it. Your dad has spoken.”
A satisfactory silence followed this little homily. Jack hummed happily to himself as he selected the Beatles anthology album from Nina’s collection and slid it into her disk player. Proper instruction and education.
That was the trick, he decided. He turned the volume down low on the sound system, considering delicate eardrums, and started off Charlie girl’s musical education with a gentle blast from the past.
“How’s that, kid?” he asked on his way to the kitchenette.
No reply. Totally enthralled with the new experience.
Jack congratulated himself. He was wise to the baby game. Kids could dominate a relationship in no time flat. They looked helpless and cute, but they were really dyed-in-the-wool tyrants, given free rein. Things had to be kept in proportion. There had to be respect, discipline, an understanding of limits.
It was really quite simple to handle, once one appreciated the power game being played. As the old saying went, it was the hand that rocked the cradle that ruled the world. Anyone who let the kid in the cradle do the ruling was asking for trouble.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“IT WILL be done first thing in the morning,” Nina assured Juliette Hardwick for the umpteenth time, barely restraining herself from pushing the bride-to-be out the door.
“Don’t worry, Juliette,” Sally chimed in, having joined them to do her public relations priming of the client. Sally never missed a trick in delivering the dream. “I’ll bring you the dress myself tomorrow evening. You’ll look absolutely perfect on your wedding day.”
“You don’t think I’ve got too thin, do you?” came the anxious question.
More lingering, Nina thought in exasperation, desperately eager to get back to Jack and Charlotte. Jack must have coped somehow, since he hadn’t come looking for assistance, but it could be pride holding him back. Nina was full of trepidation at what she would find when she returned to her flat.
Sally soothed and flattered, and finally Juliette bid them good night and left. The door had barely closed behind her when Sally grabbed Nina’s arm, detaining her from dashing away on the instant. Her bright hazel eyes gleamed with the need to know.
“Obliging attitude?” she queried, her eyebrows waggling madly in the direction of the granny flat.
“He offered to mind Charlotte. I didn’t have to ask.” Nina rushed the words out.
“Great attitude!”
“He said he’d had nappy-changing practice.” Incredulity was still bombarding her mind.
“Fantastic attitude!”
“And Charlotte was working up to dirtying her nappy when I left.”
Sally laughed in delight. “That’ll test him.”
Nina was too concerned about the outcome to laugh. She pulled out of Sally’s hold. “I’ve got to go. I’ll collect the wedding dress in the morning.”
“Don’t forget the reward,” Sally called after her and merrily started trilling her favourite song, Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March”.
Which was certainly jumping the gun, in Nina’s opinion. Even if Jack had managed to get through tonight’s testing ground without major damage to the attitude he’d adopted, it was only a start in the right direction. Nina couldn’t blind herself to the consequences of making a wrong decision with him, no matter how much she wanted everything to turn out well.
Hope and desire were traps. When Jack was with her, Nina found it impossible not to respond to him. He tapped so many feelings in her it was all too easy to fall into those traps. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself making excuses and compromises instead of facing up to realities.
A panicky tension gripped her as she reached the door to the flat. With her fingers grasping the handle, she paused and forced herself to take a long, deep breath. To appear in an emotional flap would give the wrong signals. Jack had asked her to trust him. She had to assume everything was fine.