Flower, who had no decent woman-figure in her life, save Jemma and Sibyl, threw herself in Sibyl’s arms for a quick, embarrassed hug and then ran from the room.
The three other girls followed, trailing giggles.
Sibyl watched them go and wanted to take that opportunity to shove Colin out the door and scream at him at the top of her lungs but her torture was not complete.
“Come here, young man. I have a few things to ask you,” Mrs. Griffith demanded imperiously.
“Don’t do it,” Sibyl hissed under her breath, straightening, but Colin simply cocked his head, regarding her with eyes filled with amusement and something warm and tender, something she had never seen before. Something that made her bones feel like jelly.
And then he totally ignored her demand and strode toward Mrs. Griffith.
Sibyl counted to ten. Then she went up to twenty for good measure.
“Yes?” he said to older woman, looking down at her.
Mrs. Griffith looked up at him.
“You’re tall,” Mrs. Griffith announced, wanting him to crouch at her side but too proud to ask.
He didn’t crouch and he also didn’t reply. There was no need, she was stating the obvious.
Even though she didn’t get her way, Mrs. Griffith persevered and she did this by snapping, “Do you have a good job?”
“I believe so, yes,” Colin answered without hesitation
“Do you have a healthy diet?” Mrs. Griffith fired off and Sibyl’s eyes searched the ceiling, praying for deliverance.
“Not really, no,” Colin replied.
Mrs. Griffith gave a short harrumph of displeasure at Colin’s answer.
“When you go out, who pays for dinner, you or Sibyl?” she demanded to know.
“Me.”
“Always?” she went on.
“Of course.”
“Do you work hard?” Mrs. Griffith carried on with her mini-interrogation, undaunted by his short, uninformative answers.
“My mother thinks I do,” Colin returned.
This was apparently a good response and, lightning quick, Mrs. Griffith made up her mind and turned to Sibyl saying, “He’ll do.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Griffith,” Sibyl muttered, wanting a hole to open up in the floor and swallow her.
Colin was smiling one of his killer, white-flash smiles at Sibyl made all the worse by a hint of smugness.
When Mrs. Griffith turned back to him and caught his smile, she announced, “He’ll definitely do.”
And that was when Sibyl had had enough. She grabbed Colin’s hand and started marching toward her office.
Surprisingly, he followed.
The Mistress of Luck was not smiling on her that day because as they passed Annie’s chair, Annie’s hand shot out as if guided by a mystical tractor beam because surely she couldn’t see them and she caught Colin’s forearm.
“Sibyl’s my daughter,” she announced in a very loud voice when Colin stopped and looked back at her.
He turned fully to the old lady, his brows rising. He was now holding Sibyl’s hand (rather than the other way around, in other words, she couldn’t get away) and he pulled her back to Annie.
“Is she?” Colin asked politely.
Annie didn’t respond and Colin stood patiently watching her.
“She’s mostly deaf,” Sibyl whispered with a tug on his hand which he ignored.
“Is she?” Colin asked, in a louder timbre but not exactly a loud voice.
“I’m Annie,” she told him.
“I’m Colin,” he returned.
“Children take care of you,” Annie was on a roll but not making any sense whatsoever.
“Annie –” Sibyl began by shouting her name.
“That’s why you’re my daughter,” Annie said to some point over Sibyl’s shoulder. Then she guesstimated (badly) where Colin might be and declared dramatically, “I’m starting legal proceedings to adopt her. Tomorrow, I think, I haven’t decided. She’s going to be my adopted daughter because she takes care of me.”
Sibyl’s already racing heart started its rocket thrusters. Colin didn’t need to know this. Colin knew too much already.
Way too much.
“Oh Annie...” she murmured, half with her heart in her throat, half horrified.
This time Colin crouched next to Annie.
“What does she do?” Colin asked, his voice still vibrating strongly enough for Annie to hear and Sibyl wished she could pull him up and away, but she couldn’t.
“She talks to me,” Annie explained. “And she cleans my house and she gets me my favourite kind of custard. Then, when she puts things in the refrigerator, she always takes me there and puts my hand on everything so I’ll know where to find it when I need something and I don’t knock it on the floor, like I used to.”
Colin was still holding Sibyl’s hand and his seemed to contract spasmodically then it gentled.
Annie wasn’t finished. “I never had children but children are supposed to take care of you. That’s why I’m going to adopt Sibyl. I can’t adopt Jemma because she already has parents.” Then she leaned forward conspiratorially. “Though I’d like to, she’s a very nice girl too.”
Tina came to the rescue by announcing the minibus was going to be there in five minutes and those who rode it would have to be ready.
Therefore Annie immediately lost interest in Colin in her haste to get prepared. The minibus driver didn’t dally and he had no patience (the screaming jerk).
Sibyl took seized her opportunity to drag Colin to her office and, once there, she closed the door.
When she did, she whirled on him only to find him staring around with an expression that could only be described as extreme distaste.
“You work here?” he muttered, his voice mimicking his expression.
She ignored his question. She wasn’t in a good mood and she had bigger fish to fry.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped angrily and his eyes cut to her.
“Sibyl –” he began, his voice patient.
“Don’t you ‘Sibyl’ me. What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He came toward her but she backed away and he halted.
“This isn’t your place, this is my place,” she informed him hotly. “You aren’t supposed to be here. How did you find out about this?”
Before he could answer a knock came at the door and Kyle poked his head in.
He looked at Sibyl then at Colin then said, “All right, mate?”
Colin inclined his head.