Stranger Child by Rachel Abbott Page B

blanket to put over Ollie. Shoving her feet into a pair of wellingtons, she went back into the kitchen and tucked the blanket around her son.
    ‘Stay under there, poppet. We’re not going to be out for long.’
    Kicking the door wide with the heel of her left foot, she manoeuvred Ollie through the porch and down the back steps.
    Running as fast as she could, she made her way along the side path by the impenetrable high hedge that bordered a narrow track into the fields beyond. They were halfway along the path when she heard a voice from the far side of the hedge. She heard four words.
    ‘It wasn’t my fault.’
    She stopped to listen. It was Tasha’s voice. She desperately wanted to hear what else was said, but Ollie heard the voice too.
    ‘Ay, ay, Tassa,’ he called at the top of his little voice.
    The talking stopped, and Emma started to run. She wanted to know who the hell was with Tasha. She raced along the path, Ollie bumping up and down in his buggy. But as she reached the side gate, Natasha came into view wearing Emma’s fleece, her face red, her eyes shining – but whether from anger or unshed tears, Emma couldn’t tell.
    ‘Who were you talking to, Natasha?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone as level as possible.
    ‘What?’ Natasha answered rudely, avoiding Emma’s eyes. ‘You must be hearing things.’
    Emma left Ollie in his buggy and walked towards Natasha, aiming to get past her to check for herself. But Natasha leaned back against the gate, both elbows resting nonchalantly on the top.
    ‘Move,’ Emma said. Natasha’s mouth settled into a hard line and she shook her head.
    ‘Move
, Natasha,’ Emma repeated. The girl stared defiantly back at her.
    Pushing Ollie to one side, where she could keep him in view, Emma ran along the path at the front of the house, down the drive and through the gate, never letting Ollie out of her sight. By the time she was in the lane, it was empty. There was nobody there.
    She heard a mirthless laugh behind her.
    ‘Come on, Ollie,’ Natasha said, grabbing the buggy and turning it back towards the house. ‘Let’s go in.’
    ‘Leave him!’ Emma shouted. ‘Don’t touch him.’
    Emma stopped dead.
Why had she said that?
She didn’t know, she didn’t care. But all of a sudden, she didn’t want Natasha to be alone with her baby.

19
    ‘Why did you let her out of your sight? You know how vulnerable she is right now. What were you
thinking
?’ David was pacing the kitchen floor, one hand repeatedly scraping the hair back off his forehead.
    ‘For God’s sake, David, she’s thirteen years old. She’s not a small child who’s going to wander out onto a busy road, and I would have thought the last thing she would want is to be treated like a prisoner. We don’t know how she’s been treated in the past, but that would seem to me to be counterproductive if we want to bring her into this family.’
    ‘What do you mean,
if
we want to bring her into this family. She
is
in this family.’ David had stopped pacing and was glaring at Emma. She silently cursed herself.
    ‘Sorry. That was a bad choice of words. Of course she’s part of this family, but I meant that if we want her to
accept
that she’s part of this family.’
    ‘Well maybe if you stopped treating her like a stranger it would help,’ he said, his voice petulant.
    Emma was about to launch into her own defence when her frustration evaporated. Irritating and irrational as David was being, she couldn’t imagine how he must feel at the moment. And she couldn’t in all honesty ignore her own negative feelings – however fleeting – about her stepdaughter.
    She took two steps towards him and reached out her hand for his.
    ‘Let’s stop this, and we should try to keep our voices down. Ollie’s asleep,’ she said, turning to look at her son. ‘He was so upset by all the shouting. It’s taken nearly the full hour since I phoned you to get him settled.’ To Emma, even in sleep Ollie looked