Chapter Eight

Molly looked around to check where Freddie had gotten to. He was sitting in a sand pit in the little outdoor courtyard reserved for younger children, sharing the facilities with two other little ones about his age and all three were being watched over by two young girls. Molly wondered whether these were older sisters, cousins or perhaps the mothers of the other two toddlers. They looked barely old enough to be the latter but she was not naïve enough to rule it out entirely.

As she watched the interaction between her youngest son and his new friends, Sherlock appeared by her side, accompanied by the young MC of the day and a very pregnant young lady.

'Molly,' he began, looking a little embarrassed, 'this is my friend Ru'e and his wife, Maria, who is Rocky's sister. Ru'e, Maria, this is my wife, Molly.'

Molly beamed at the young couple. It warmed her heart to hear Sherlock describe people as 'friends', since it was not so long ago that he declared that he had no friends. It also gave her such a frisson when he introduced her as his wife. Despite everything they had gone through together over the past few years, she was still secretly amazed to be sharing her life with this wonderful, beautiful man. It felt like a dream and a very happy one.

With Sherlock's assistance as interpreter, she thanked them both for the magnificent reception and Ru'e for his moving speech. She then asked Maria about her pregnancy. How far along was she? Did she hope for a girl or a boy? Did they have everything they needed for the baby, when he or she arrived? Maria replied coyly, holding Ru'e hand and wearing a shy smile. She declared that as long as the baby was born alive and healthy, she would be happy with whatever she got. The fervent wish of all expectant mothers the world over, Molly agreed.

Eventually, it was time for the guests of honour to depart and allow the Centre to get on with business as usual. The staff and children all lined up again to wave goodbye and the band performed a reprise of their welcoming fanfare. As the car pulled off and negotiated its way back onto the highway, Molly felt an overwhelming wave of sadness. Tears pricked her eyes as she gave way to the emotions that had beset her since they had arrived at the Children's Centre. William noticed the change in her demeanour, immediately.

'Mummy, what's the matter?' he implored, concern evident in his voice and expression.

Sherlock turned from staring out of the window and took in Molly's trembling lips and the progress of a tear that trickled down her cheek only to be brushed away, impatiently, as she realised that she was busted.

'Oh, I'm sorry, William. I'm just a bit sad for all those children who don't have anyone to love them.' That declaration pretty much opened the floodgates and her cheeks were suddenly drenched, her body wracked with sobs.

Sherlock put a comforting arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his chest.

'They're not alone, Molly. They are a family. Believe me, as someone who mostly grew up in a British public school, I can see clear parallels between their experience and mine. Even though I was not particularly happy at school nor even well liked, there was still a sense of camaraderie, a feeling of belonging. They have that too. I could see it in their eyes. Most of the boys in my house – and the beaks for that matter – hated my guts but they always turned out to hear me debate and brought the roof down when I destroyed the opposition, which was pretty much every time.'

He thought for a moment, then went on.

'The definition of the word 'family' can be very broad. The time I spent in that tin hut with Rocky and the other kids, that felt like being part of a real family. It was my first proper experience of family life, outside of school.'

He brushed the salt tears from Molly's cheeks with his thumb and gave a rueful shrug.

'And now I've got you and William and Freddie. And those children have each other. Their lives are not perfect but they aren't tragic either. I find them rather inspirational – which is something I never imagined myself saying in a million years!' He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. 'You've bewitched me, Molly, turned me into a new man.'

She shook her head.

'No, you did that all by yourself. I just stood on the side lines and cheered. It's alright, William. I was just having a Mummy Moment. I'm a bit prone to them,' she reassured her son who, now placated, went back to mentally assessing the degree of force required to bounce a ball and keep it in the air for the longest amount of time, and the most efficient pattern to apply to the collecting of pebbles within the time allowed.

ooOoo

Molly was quite looking forward to her shopping trip with Caro, not least because she was dying to ask the other lady about Sherlock's mother, Violet. Sherlock had decided he would take the boys back to the day centre, where they could play safely while he talked to the staff about the practical day to day problems of running the programme of DNA collection and analysis. Molly had explained to him Caro's plan to turn them loose on her potential benefactors. He was not particularly keen on the idea of doing this but he could see the logic in it so he wanted to be sure he could quote all the figures and be able to talk knowledgeably about current and future projects. To him, this was like researching for a school debate – know your facts so you can counter or inform any argument.

The next morning, Caro arrived at ten o'clock and advised Molly that they would be driven to Shopping Leblon, Rio's newest and most exclusive shopping mall, on Avenida Afrânio de Melo Franco, after which Sherlock and the boys would have the use of her car and driver for as long as they needed it. Molly kissed her boys – all three of them – and went with Caro down to the waiting limo.

It didn't take long to drive to the shopping mall, which was in the Leblon district, very close to Copacabana. It consisted of five floors of shops, with the entire top floor given over to restaurants and other food outlets – from the classy The Fifties, Batata Inglesa, Bibi Sucos and Chez Michu to the more down to earth Viena Express, Vivenda do Camarao and Bob's.

All the big high street brands were here, such as Benetton, Next and Zara, but also many designer names, such as Emporio Armani, Chanel, Calvin Klein, Ellus and Cantao. And there were, it transpired, some very exclusive little boutiques run by local designers, to sell their own creations. It was to one of these that Caro eventually brought Molly, after spending the first hour or so just browsing and taking in the futuristic ambiance of the place.

When they entered the shop, it became obvious that Caro was a regular and much valued client. They were given a very warm welcome and then her guide and host introduced Molly and explained what she was looking for. At this point, Molly realised she was to be given the film star treatment. She and Caro were seated on an elegant sofa and offered a choice of coffees, teas or champagne. Molly accepted the coffee, Caro the camomile tea and they both agreed they might indulge in a glass of champagne a little later.

Then a range of outfits was modelled for them by the house model. Molly looked at the clothes paraded before her and her heart began to sink. They all looked absolutely amazing on the tall, slender, stately model but Molly felt certain that, should she put them on, she would look like a little girl dressed in her mother's clothes. Caro quickly realised that Molly was not enjoying the experience as much as she had hoped she would.

'What is it, dear? What's troubling you,' she asked, during a break while the model was changing.

Molly swallowed hard, not wishing to offend her hostess who had gone to such a lot of trouble to arrange this day. Eventually, she found the right words.

'This is all very wonderful, Caro, but it just isn't me. I couldn't wear these clothes. I wouldn't feel right. I'm just not that brave when it comes to clothes.'

Caro pursed her lips and gave Molly a very appraising look then seemed to come to a decision.

'You are absolutely correct, my dear. How foolish of me. I think I know the very thing for you.'

She called the shop manageress over and spoke to her in Portuguese as they both looked at Molly, nodded a lot and smiled even more, then the manageress disappeared into the studio area behind the main shop floor. Molly gave her companion a furtive glance, wondering what they had been discussing.

'I'm really sorry about this, Caro,' Molly whispered, feeling embarrassed, guilty and very ungrateful. But the other lady looked at her askance.

'Why are you sorry, Molly? You have nothing to apologise for. It's I who should be apologising. I should have seen it myself. You are a very unique and individual young woman with a style all your own. You require an individual approach. We've been going about this the wrong way. Instead of trying to fit you to the clothes, we need to fit the clothes to you.'

Even as she spoke, the manageress returned with another, younger lady, who Caro introduced to Molly.

'This is Rachelle. She is the designer of all these lovely clothes we've been looking at today. She's going to design something just for you. It will be an original – a one-off – the only one of its kind.'

Molly's mouth formed a round 'o' as she was invited to stand and Rachelle walked around her, looking very thoughtful for what felt like a very long time. Just as Molly thought she would die from self-conscious embarrassment, the designer began to talk very fast in Portuguese. The manageress wrote furiously on a pad, as the other woman gave instructions, then disappeared into the studio again. In the meantime, Rachelle began to sketch, with broad, deft strokes, on her own large pad.

'Caro, what did she say? What is she doing?' Molly asked, desperately.

'She says you have a classic 1950's figure and would look absolutely stunning in a vintage style dress. She has sent her assistant to bring some colour swatches to compare with your natural colouring and for you to choose the one you like and she is drawing her design for you to look at.'

'But the garden party is this Sunday,' Molly gasped. 'How will it be ready in time?'

'Oh, it will be ready for the first fitting tomorrow and ready to wear the day after that.'

Rachelle turned to Molly with a huge smile and angled the sketch pad for her to see the drawing. The sketch was that of a classic 1950's dress, with cap sleeves, a shawl collar which came together in a V-shape at the front, gathered under the bust, with a little bow at the point of the V and pinched in at the waist, with a full skirt that reached down to just below the knee. It was finished with a slim belt and a little pancake hat.

Molly gazed at it in amazement. It was the most exquisite thing she had ever seen.

'Oh, my goodness! It's beautiful!' she gasped. Rachelle smiled and nodded her agreement. Just at that moment, the assistant returned with a bundle of swatches which Rachelle proceeded to hold up to Molly's shoulder, studying the effect with intensity. She eventually selected three and laid them out for Molly to look at. The first was a delicate, pale green; the second a soft, pastel pink and the third a subtle blend of grey and blue, with tiny white polka dots. The fabric itself was a light cotton crepe, which felt soft to the touch and flowed, delightfully, when moved from side to side.

'Do you like any of these colours, Molly?' Caro asked.

She pointed to the blue one. It reminded her of the colour of Sherlock's eyes. There was just one thing left to do. The assistant whisked Molly off to a changing room and took all her measurements, an appointment was made for her to return the next afternoon for a fitting and then she and Caro left the shop. Molly was in a bit of a daze.

'Are you alright, dear?' Caro enquired.

'Oh, Caro, what if it looks awful, after all this effort and expense?' she blurted out.

'Molly, my dear, it will look absolutely perfect! Trust Rachelle. She has designed clothes for royalty. She has never been wrong yet. And as for the expense, Sherlock told me specifically, yesterday, that you were to spend as much or as little as you wished. No limit. So no more excuses. You are having a new outfit, whether you like it or not!'

Molly had to smile. Caro had her number. She hated spending any time, effort or money on herself. And, to assuage her guilt, she spent the next hour choosing some lovely clothes for the two boys. Then they went upstairs to The Fifties restaurant, which seemed very appropriate, for lunch. Having finished the meal, Caro had one more surprise for Molly.

'I have booked us both into the spa at your hotel for a Pamper Afternoon,' Caro informed her.

'I don't know what to say. You've been so kind. How can I thank you enough?'

'Don't thank me. It was Sherlock's idea.'

Molly was really dumbfounded now. She didn't think Sherlock even knew what a Pamper Afternoon was.

'He asked what sort of thing ladies like to do in their free time. He said you never do anything just for yourself and he wanted you to have a treat. I told him I'd take care of it. He doesn't know what I had in mind. So it will be a surprise for him, too.'

ooOoo