far-away look in her eyes. Her cheeks were pale and the skin beneath her eyes was shadowed, as if she wasnât sleeping well. And she was far too quiet, as she so often was these days.
Tension ripped through him.
Could he have changed things? Could he have done things differently?
âHave you made a list? Iâve made my list.âAggie danced on the spot, her hand curled tightly around the piece of paper sheâd been clutching since heâd collected her from school. âItâs a bit long but Iâvebeen good this year.â She peeped cautiously up at her father. âSort ofâ¦a lot of the timeâ¦â
Christian lifted an eyebrow. âYou mean, if I ignore the flooded bathroom, the fire in the kitchen and the ketchup stains on your bedroom carpet?â
âThey were accidents .â
âI know they were accidents.â And heâd been working. He shuddered when he thought how much worse the âaccidentsâ could have been. âIt doesnât matter, sweetheart.â
âIt wasnât exactly my fault, was it?â Aggie frowned. âShe should have been keeping an eye on me. Nanny TV.â
âNanny asleep-on-the-sofa,â Chloe murmured, and Christian felt the tension increase dramatically.
Nanny TV. It was only after his daughters had started using that nickname that heâd realised just what the nanny had been doing all day. And it hadnât been looking after his children.
âSheâs gone,â he said grimly, a flash of anger exploding through his body. âThe new nanny starts tomorrow.â
âAnother nanny?â Aggie glanced at her sister. âWhat if she doesnât like us?â
âOf course sheâll like you.â Christian frowned. âAll nannies like children. Thatâs why theyâre nannies.â
âNanny TV didnât like children. She told me that I was more trouble than I was worth.â Aggie smoothed her coat. âDo we have to have another nanny? Weâre at school all day. Canât we just come home with you in the evening?â
Chloe shook her head. âYou know we canât do that. Daddy has to work. He has a very important job. He canât always leave at the same time every day. And then there are the nights and the holidays and all the things to be done around the house, like picking up the clothes you drop everywhere.â
Christian let out a long breath. âChloeâs right, sweetheart. And, at the moment, my work is very busy.â He didnât even want to think about it. Even taking two hours off to take his daughters to see Father Christmas pricked at his conscience. His colleagues in the emergency department would be stretched to breaking point. But there was no way he was disappointing his children.
Theyâd had the year from hell.
He glanced at his watch again and then at the queue, which just didnât seem to be moving.
Aggie tilted her head to one side. âAre there lots of broken people at the moment?â
Christian blinked at her description. âYesâI suppose so. People have accidentsââ
âAnd you stick them back together again.âAggie gave an understanding smile. âI know. I know youâre very clever. And you need to work, otherwise we wouldnât have any money. Would we have to go to the workhouse?â
âThe workhouse?â
âWeâre learning about it in history. In Victorian times poor children sometimes went into the workhouse. I hope we donât do that. I really like our new house and I love my bedroom. Will we be able to unpack soon?â
Christian opened his mouth and closed it again. Keeping up with the speed of his daughterâs conversation required a decent nightâs sleep and he hadnât had one of those for months. âWeâre not poor, Aggie, and you wonât go into the workhouse. Workhouses were abolished a long time