Roxy's Baby Read Online Free PDF

whisper. ‘We’ve got a table over there.’ Roxy followed her glance to a dark corner of the cafe, beside a side entrance. All she could see at the table were a pair of chubby hands folded together. The rest was hidden by the wall. ‘You go and sit down with Mr Dyce. I’ll get us some tea. Is tea OK?’ Her voice never rose above a whisper. There was something reassuring in that.
    As Roxy drew closer to the far table the hands grew into arms and then a body and a face. Whatever she was expecting, she certainly wasn’t expecting this. She was looking into the face of Santa Claus. Round, with apple-red cheeks and a trim white beard.
    â€˜Is it you, my dear? Is Mrs Dyce bringing the teas?’ He looked beyond her to the counter. ‘Come, sit down.’ He patted the seat beside him. Roxy sat down nervously.
    â€˜I’m Mr Dyce,’ Santa Claus said. ‘I don’t really like this place. It’s frequented by some very strange people.’
    None stranger than you, Roxy was thinking.
    He leaned towards her. ‘I don’t suppose Rosemary’syour real name, but you’ll tell us when you’re ready. Ah, here comes Mrs Dyce with the tea.’
    He looked vaguely excited at the prospect. Not just tea, but scones too. Hot and oozing with butter.
    â€˜You had them warmed up, dear?’ Mr Dyce sounded delighted, as if his wife had just discovered penicillin. Mrs Dyce lifted one of the scones and put it on his plate. She even cut it in half for him. He beamed at her, and she beamed back at him. Love’s young dream, thought Roxy, feeling sick.
    Then Mrs Dyce turned to Roxy. ‘Now, my girl, tell us all about yourself and let’s see if we can help you.’
    The lies flowed easier this time. She told them of the hard time she’d had at home. The classic evil stepfather – she almost made Paul sound like a dangerous psychopath. That was a joke. She remembered the first time Paul had tried to dig in the garden. He’d come in, terrified after ten minutes, because there were ‘too many bees. I’ll get stung out there.’
    This time Roxy added an extra dimension which she thought was rather clever.
    â€˜He brought his own daughter into the house too … and they prefer her to me.’
    They listened quietly. Well, not quite quietly. She’dnever heard anyone eat as noisily as Mr Dyce did. Or make so much mess. He spluttered scone all over the table and Roxy couldn’t take her eyes off the currants lodged in his beard.
    â€˜Delicious scones. Who would have thought it in a place like this?’ He sounded so pleased with himself that Roxy found herself smiling at him.
    She still felt sick. The scones didn’t taste so delicious to her, or the tea. Everything tasted funny just now.
    His wife only tutted. ‘Look at the mess you’re in.’ And she began picking the currants out of his beard and placing them on his plate. Roxy was disgusted. She’d never love anybody that much. When Mrs Dyce was finished she squeezed his cheeks with her fingers and grinned at him.
    They’re acting like teenagers, Roxy was thinking, and yet there was something touching about the obvious affection they had for each other.
    It reminded her suddenly of her dad, and the way he would wink at her whenever Mum would moan at him over something he’d done. A secret wink, just between them.
    â€˜Look at the mess you’ve made of my kitchen!’ Mum would shout whenever he’d try his hand at somecooking. And Dad would wink and grin, just the way Mr Dyce did.
    Roxy felt her eyes fill with tears. It was so stupid to feel like this. It wasn’t like her.
    Mrs Dyce saw the tears and reached out and touched her face. ‘Doreen told us some of the things about you. But I don’t know what she told you about us.’ She raised an eyebrow and Roxy noticed that one long hair trailed from her eyebrow to her cheek.
    â€˜She