Free A Nanny for Christmas by Sara Craven

choose.'

Tara gave her a long look. 'Will you come back and play tomorrow?'
    'I can't promise that. But it will be soon. Only you must have your bath now, and go to bed.'
    'When I'm in bed, will you read me a story?' Tara wheedled.
    'Just one,' Phoebe said severely.
    'The one about Winnie the Pooh and the Heffalump?' Tara asked hopefully. 'The book's on my special shelf.'
    Phoebe smiled at her. 'Mine, too.'
    In the end, seeing how stiffly Carrie bent to turn off the taps, she found herself joining in with Tara's bath- time too. It was a wet and messy affair, featuring a green-spotted rubber frog which leapt out of the water after being firmly held down, showering everyone within range.
    'And just who is supposed to be the grown-up out of the pair of you?' Carrie enquired with mock severity.
    Phoebe calmed proceedings down by showing Tara how to lather her hands and blow wobbly, multicoloured bubbles through her fingers.
    'That was the best bathtime ever,' Tara told her solemnly as Carrie enveloped her in a big towel. 'Cindy always used to say "Hurriupforcrysake".'
    'Well, I expect she had a lot of work to do after you were in bed,' Phoebe returned noncommittally. This nanny business, she thought uneasily, is a minefield.
    'One story,' she said, finding the place in the book. 'Then you must go to sleep.'
    Tara shook her head. 'I have to wait for Daddy to say good night to me.'
    Phoebe bit her lip. 'The thing is, chicken, Daddy's gone out for the evening, and may not be back until very late.'
    'Why?'
    'Because when you're having fun you don't always want to come home straight away. You know that.'
    'But Daddy knows I wait for him.'
    'Yes,' Phoebe agreed carefully, 'and that's marvellous for him. But he does have a life that isn't—just in this house with you.'
    'Doesn't he want me?' It was the most desolate question Phoebe had ever heard. She put a gentle arm round the little figure.
    'Of course he does.'
    'Mummy didn't want me,' Tara said woefully. 'Bridget's mummy said so.'
    Phoebe's hands fastened, in her imagination, round the throat of Bridget's mummy.
    'And I heard Cindy say,' went on the little voice, 'that Mummy had to choose between me and a man she was seeing, and she chose him.'
    Phoebe found herself at a loss for words. 'I'm sure it wasn't that simple,' she managed eventually.
    There was a silence. Then Tara added, 'What will happen if a lady that Daddy's seeing says he has to choose, and he picks her instead of me?'
    'That,' Phoebe said steadily, 'will not happen. Because your father's already made his choice, and nothing will change that.'
    'How do you know?'
    'Because he loves you, and he would never break his word to someone he loved.' Phoebe could hardly believe she'd just said that. That she was actually defending Dominic Ashton, the monster who'd ruined six years of- her life.
    She took a breath. 'You see, he decided, with your mother, that it would be better for you to stay here than go to Hollywood. And that's all there is to it.'
    'I'd have liked Hollywood,' Tara said indignantly. 'Mummy said I'd be called Tara Vane, and she'd get me a part in a film. And I could have my ears pierced,' she added with a sigh.
    In spite of her concern, Phoebe felt her lips twitch.
    'Well, I expect Daddy will let you too—in about ten years' time. Now, am I going to read you this story?'
    'Ooh, yes.' Tara wriggled down in the bed.
    Phoebe kept her voice deliberately low, and, gradually, the magic that a man had created for his own small son seventy years ago had its special effect. Before Pooh and Piglet had discovered the truth about Heffalumps, Tara's eyelids were drowsy. And as the story ended she was on the edge of sleep.
    As Phoebe gently shut the book a small hand reached out and took hers.
    'Don't go,' Tara murmured, and her eyes closed.
    This, Phoebe thought fiercely, staring into space, just isn't fair. I don't need it. Any of it.
    But she stayed where she was, all the same, watching the child's relaxed face and