Matilda Next Door - Kelly Hunter Page 0,34

fit to come home, and we all know that’s going to take some time, maybe months. Meanwhile, the farm needs seeing to and I’d appreciate your help with that.’ He was looking at Henry as he spoke. ‘Least for a while. Unless you’re looking to return to London.’

‘Not yet.’

Tilly didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath. She tried to let it out gently, but Joe might have caught her in the act. ‘I gave away all the food perishables before I left. Switched off at the power point anything that didn’t need ongoing electricity.’ His place would be okay without him for a while.

Henry looked at her, his expression guarded. ‘We could all drive back together. You, me and Rowan.’

What harm could it do? Spend a few more hours in his company, an afternoon at most, and then she would be free of him. No more sweet baby girl to cuddle and help with. No more watching Henry’s confidence with his daughter grow and grow. He’d been awkward at first, a little clumsy when handling her, and tentative when feeding her. That was fading and in its place was a tenderness that had always been at the very heart of him, even if he’d rarely let it show.

She loved that about him.

Loved to watch Henry Church’s daughter crack him open.

She’d still see them if they stayed in Wirralong. She was Tilly next door and always had been. Reliable, sturdy, silly Tilly next door, with a crush on Henry that just wouldn’t go away.

What would he say if she simply told him her dilemma?

I like you too much to spend any more time with you, Henry.

He’d probably try and tell her that made no sense at all.

I’m becoming attached to your daughter and that’s not helping at all.

I know I’m going to hurt like hell when you up and leave. And you will.

He was waiting for her reply. ‘Head back to Wirralong with you and get you to drop me home?’ She dug deep for calm and slapped on a smile. ‘Sure.’

Chapter Eight

The trouble with returning to Wirralong, decided Henry as he nudged open the front door of the farm house with his shoulder, while balancing Rowan in his other arm, was that for the first time since all this began, there was no other adult to step in and help if he needed a hand. Not that he did need a hand, because he had fatherhood under control, thank you very much. Long as he kept young Rowan Aurelia Church fed, watered and dry, she didn’t fuss much. Long as he got enough sleep to stay functional, he didn’t get resentful of her presence.

She was a bright baby, or so he thought. And even if she looked nothing like him, she might be his. The paperwork said she was his. Wasn’t as if he needed to take a paternity test.

‘Hey, little girl. We’re here.’

He’d dropped Tilly at the Moore homestead yesterday and kept the car, promising to bring it over to her in the morning.

Tilly had told him she’d run him off her daddy’s property if he dared, and with her next breath told him to call her if he needed anything. Sweet, generous Tilly with the golden hair and the smiling eyes and a fondness for feeding people.

‘Look, Rowan.’ He hefted the baby a little higher. ‘This is Red Hill Station. Come and let’s find you a bedroom. I’ll even let you choose.’ The homestead had half a dozen of them, but the one closest to his room would probably be the most practical. ‘Okay, I lied. You don’t get to choose until you’re older, and by then we could be living anywhere. How about this one? No? You’re right. Hot as hell in here this afternoon. Let’s head north-east.’

The room he chose for her was across the hall from his. Set up as a visitor’s bedroom, it had a small double bed and one of his grandmother’s ‘good’ sheet sets and bedspread on it, but there was room near the window for a cot, and the bed could double as a change table if he used the portable plastic thing with buffered edges that Tilly had told him was essential.

It took an age to unload the car, primarily because he did it all one handed while carrying the baby with the other. He’d packed the pram first and therefore it was the last thing out of the vehicle, and he was never going to make that mistake again.

‘Oh,