Torn by Gilli Allan Page A

face, at first serious, broke into a grin. Again that zap of electricity.
    â€˜Is it a problem?’
    â€˜Danny, I’m over thirty!’
    â€˜So? What’s age got to do with anything? If you like someone you like them. I hadn’t even thought about your age.’
    â€˜I’d never have guessed.’ Jess spoke as if to herself, still lost in contemplation of his face. ‘Danny? How long have you been back from the Forest?’
    â€˜Coupl’a days.’
    â€˜And did your friends recognise you?’
    â€˜When they came to collect me for the party they were a bit surprised.’
    â€˜Yesterday was the first time they’d seen you?’
    He nodded. ‘But it was the boss who completely blanked me. Ordered me off his land. Even though he apologised after. I was a bit miffed seeing it was him told me to get my lousy hair cut in the first place!’
    â€˜He what? Employers can’t lay down the law about hair-styles. Not unless you’re dealing with the public.’
    â€˜P’raps. But it’s not like I could afford to stand up to him, particularly when he was accusing me of infecting his daughter.’ Her heart missed a beat, but apparently unaware of how this remark could be interpreted Danny continued. ‘She shows me her books. We sit on the steps … and look at them, you know, heads together. And she got nits.’
    Head lice! Phew! ‘So, he really did mean “lousy”?’
    â€˜I was a bit insulted. It’s not like I didn’t wash my hair ever!’
    â€˜Is this the daughter with asthma?’
    â€˜You can understand him losing his rag. She’s not four yet and his only child.’
    â€˜Are you sure it was your fault?’
    â€˜After Dad cut my hair I got him to go through it, and there they were, the little devils. I could hardly get on my high horse about your flea powder last night when I’ve been reg’l’y washing my own hair in some foul chemical brew.’ He looked suddenly uncertain. ‘Now you’ll not want any more to do with me?’
    Already disarmed by his honesty, Jess was further surprised by this last unguarded comment, which suggested he did indeed have expectations of the relationship.
    â€˜Danny, head lice prefer clean hair, or so I’ve heard. You could just as easily have caught them from her as she from you. It’s rife in nurseries, and primary schools. If you’d looked more carefully at the contents of my bathroom cabinet last night, you’d probably have spotted the same shampoo. I’m always having to check Rory’s hair.’ To demonstrate she had no qualms about his cleanliness Jess circled the table. From behind his chair she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the top of his fair head. ‘A friend said recently that I might have felt pressurised to have my own hair cut, but that it’s a great success.’
    Danny turned to look up at her. ‘It is. It’s really cool.’
    â€˜Well so is yours, and I’m the beneficiary.’
    â€˜You’re the …?’
    â€˜I scooped you up first, before anyone else had a chance to.’
    â€˜Hang on! Who scooped who?’
    â€˜Whatever. But aren’t I the lucky one?’
    Danny looked mystified, but pleased. His eyes dropped and she was suddenly aware of the gaping neck of her blue silk dressing gown.
    â€˜This won’t do,’ she said, straightening and pulling the gown together. ‘So, what are your plans for today?’
    He gazed up at her again, wide eyed, then took a long breath. It seemed he was waiting for her cue.
    â€˜I mean …’ She looked at her watch. ‘Do you need a lift home soon? Are you working?’ At the shake of his head she went on. ‘Perhaps we could get the papers? Hang on … it feels like a Sunday but it’s not, is it? We could just slob out, listen to some