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skin.’
    Giggling again, she stuck out a chocolate-coated tongue at him and tried to rub at her face.
    ‘Here, let me do that.’ Taking hold of a serviette he tried to dab at her mouth. ‘You know, this is really a job for mums.’
    ‘What about dads? Can they wipe faces?’
    He finished wiping her clean and leant back in his chair, using the time to consider his reply. He had to admit that the simple question had him momentarily flummoxed, not a feeling he was used to. ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied cautiously. ‘I’ve never been one so I don’t really know.’
    ‘I don’t know either. I don’t have a dad.’
    Okay, so how was he supposed to reply to that one?
    ‘My friends all have a dad,’ Sally was continuing, saving him having to work out a reply, ‘but they don’t seem to do much. They go out to work mainly.’
    ‘Yes, that’s what dads do, I guess,’ he agreed, his brain desperately trying to find another, less stressful, topic.
    ‘My mum has to work because I don’t have a dad.’
    ‘Well, a lot of mums work anyway, even if there is a dad.’ He figured Megan would be pleased with his answer to that one.
    ‘I guess they do.’ Sally looked solemnly into his eyes. ‘When I get older I’m going to work so Mum doesn’t have to.’
    Oh, crikey. At the sincerity of her words, and the sentiment behind them, he felt his chest tighten. Hastily he grabbed for his coffee and took a sip. ‘What job do you want to do?’ he asked, moving the conversation on to safer ground.
    She licked the final remnants of ice cream off her spoon. ‘I want to catch the bad people, like Mum does.’ Then she cocked her head to one side and considered him. ‘Or maybe I’ll be a lawyer, like you.’
    He almost choked on the coffee. So much for safer ground. Talking to kids was like walking across a tightrope. Just when you thought you’d got your balance, a gust of wind came along and knocked you off. ‘I’m not so sure your mother would approve of you becoming a lawyer,’ he muttered under his breath, gulping down the rest of his drink. He could just imagine the conversation back at home when Sally told Megan she wanted to be like him.
    ‘Why not?’
    Utterly charmed by her, he struggled to hold back his laughter. There was no doubt about it, she was damned good with the questions. In fact, she had all the hallmarks of an excellent lawyer. ‘Perhaps you should ask your mum that,’ he replied evasively, then swiftly changed the subject. Again. ‘So, what do you want to do now? We can go over to the court and wait on the steps, or stay here and have another drink.’ He eyed her speculatively. ‘Maybe if we ask the waitress nicely, she’ll find us some paper and we can do some drawing.’
    ‘Will Mum know where we are?’
    He nodded. ‘Yes, she told me she’d come here when she was finished.’
    ‘I want to stay and draw then.’ She pushed out her bottom lip. ‘I’m not very good though.’
    ‘Well, that’s okay, I can teach you.’
    ‘Really?’
    The wide-eyed, interested look was back in her eyes, which was a blessed relief. ‘Yes, really. I’m pretty good at drawing.’
    ‘Mum says it’s bad manners to tell people how good you are. To blow … something, I can’t remember.’
    Laughing he called the waitress over. ‘To blow your own trumpet.’ He quickly ordered two soft drinks and some paper and pencils. ‘Yes, that’s true, but you tell your mum that when you’re as good as I am, it’s hard not to.’

 
    Chapter Four
     
    Megan hurried out of court as quickly as she could. Today the trial had run behind schedule. Of course it had. Why hurry things up, just because Sally was being looked after by a man her mother didn’t like enough to go out with, but whom she’d just left in sole charge of her daughter? God knows what she’d been thinking. No doubt poor Sally would be bored out of her mind by now. That was the best-case scenario. Worst-case: she was having a tantrum and causing