A Family of His Own Read online

  ‘Maybe he was.’ No smile. ‘Why didn’t you?’

  ‘Good question. I guess you had to be there.’ Then, ‘It was all over in a moment.’ A long moment. One of those moments that seemed to go on forever.

  ‘There are moments. And then again there are moments,’ Amy said, with that uncanny knack she had for knowing exactly what she was thinking at any given time. ‘He probably doesn’t know why he’s offering you work.’

  It was too late to wish she hadn’t said anything. She’d thought that if anyone would understand, Amy would. ‘And you do?’

  ‘It doesn’t take a genius, Kay.’ Then, ‘You’re not seriously thinking of taking it?’

  Actually, she hadn’t been. All day she’d been working through the pros and cons. There were a lot of “pros” but she had, reluctantly, come down on the side of the “cons”, basically for the same objections that Amy was raising now. But it was one thing to make a decision for yourself; it was quite another to have someone tell you what you should be doing. Questioning your judgement before they’d even heard you out. Just lately Amy had been doing that a lot. Always there, every time she turned around. Always offering advice as if she knew what was best. For her. For Polly. Especially for Polly.

  Good advice, even if it was well meant, had a tendency to become irritating.

  ‘He wouldn’t take no for an answer,’ she said, refusing to commit herself to an outright yes or no. ‘I told him I’d think about it. And that he should do the same.’

  ‘OK, so think about it. And then say no.’

  And more than a little patronising.

  ‘That’s a bit harsh, Amy.’

  ‘I’m thinking of you, Kay. He’s an attractive man, but one who clearly needs help. Grief counselling at the very least.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that for myself.’ She had been going to say more, but stopped herself.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Forget it.’

  ‘What?’ Amy repeated.

  She shrugged. ‘Do you remember saying to me once—when I tried to thank you for all you’d done for me—that one day I’d see someone who needed me?’

  ‘And you think Dominic Ravenscar is that person?’

  ‘He needs someone.’

  There was a thoughtful pause, then Amy said, ‘That must have been some kiss.’

  She felt her cheeks flush hot. This morning she’d given the whole thing the most careful consideration, thought of her reputation, remembered how hard it had been to get local people to accept her. And she’d made her decision based on reason and common sense.

  But she’d had a whole day—without the distraction of a lively little girl to keep her mind from wandering—for that kiss to do its seductive work on her mind, to stir up feelings that she’d buried deep. Now, confronted by Amy’s unexpectedly judgemental response, all that yearning need bubbled over into anger. She’d proved herself a good mother, a good friend and a good member of the community. She didn’t have to pay for what she’d done for the rest of her life. Did she?

  ‘You don’t think I’m up to it, is that it? That I should just keep my head down and stick to mowing lawns for the OAPs—’

  Amy put a hand on her arm, stopping her in full flow. ‘I’m sorry, Kay. I didn’t mean to put you down. You’ve turned your life around and your compassion does you credit. I’m just surprised that you can’t see the danger.’

  ‘Danger?’ she demanded. ‘What danger?’ As if she hadn’t been thinking about it all day. If she hadn’t seen the danger, she wouldn’t have hesitated, she’d have grabbed the job with both hands. ‘I’m going to be weeding his borders…’ Even as she said the words, she realised she’d been fooling herself with her reasoned arguments. Of course she was going to take the job.

  ‘You’re going to make me spell it out for you?’

  ‘I think you’d better.’ She heard herself say the words and, horrified, wanted to call them back. This was getting out of hand. OK, her pride was at stake here, but Amy was her friend, her mentor, but now they were on the brink of the kind of argument that could shatter the strongest relationship.

  ‘It’s been six years, Kay. You haven’t even looked at a man in all that time, but you’re young and healthy and suddenly this dark stranger waltzes out of the morning mist and kisses you to within an inch of your life. Putting your hormones in a spin. Reminding you what you’ve been missing all these years. It would be enough to turn the head of even the most level-headed woman.’

  ‘And I’m not level-headed?’

  ‘I think that right now you’re as confused as he is—’

  ‘I’m nearly twenty-five years old, Amy,’ she cut in, raising her voice. ‘Believe me, I know the difference between fantasy and reality. I’ve been—’

  ‘—and I would strongly advise staying well clear of a man who’ll give you nothing but grief.’

  Amy didn’t think she knew that? She’d been battling with it all day. Common sense versus a need to stretch herself, prove to herself that she was healed. That she wasn’t an emotional cripple who would always need a prop. The fact that she’d been there, too, meant that in reaching out a helping hand she could offer more than compassion.

  Someone had to do it.

  ‘He’s asked me to fix his garden,’ she said, stubbornly. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘But you think you can fix his heart, too.’

  There was no fooling Amy Hallam. ‘You fixed mine.’

  ‘I guess the proof of that is the fact that you’re prepared to risk it again.’ Amy leaned forward, put her arm around Kay and kissed her. ‘Thank you for loaning me Polly for the day. It was a joy. But right now I have to go home and soak my aching limbs. I’ll have one of the boys bring our little girl home when they’ve finished letting off steam.’

  Polly could barely keep her eyes open in the bath and she was asleep before Kay had picked up the big book of stories and poems that they shared at bedtime.

  She tucked her in, kissed her goodnight, but didn’t leave her for a long time. Instead she knelt by the bed, watching her, gently stroking the golden down on her cheek, needing to touch her. Reassure herself that she was there. Real.

  She’d been so ashamed of what she’d done, so grateful for a second chance, and she was in no doubt that she owed all she had to Amy Hallam. But today, just for a moment, she’d been made to feel like a child herself. Incapable of making her own decisions. And even though she’d stepped back from the brink of an argument with her usual tact and grace, the resentment lingered.

  Kay crossed to the window, looked out at the high-walled garden of Linden Lodge. Maybe Amy did know best. Maybe her warning was wise. It was undoubtedly well-meant. But she needed to break free, not spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, checking that her mentor approved before she took a step into the unknown.

  She couldn’t rely on a support structure built on the Hallams’ charity for the rest of her life. Living in Amy’s cottage. Playing at being a businesswoman as and when it fitted in with the rest of her life. Sharing Polly with the woman who’d reunited them. When had deferring to her, instead of relying on her own judgement, ceased to be a lack of confidence in her own judgement and simply become a habit?

  Too long ago, and it was a habit she needed to break. It was long past time she stood on her own two feet. It was a terrifying thought, yet her heart beat a little faster at the prospect and despite the argument she found herself smiling. Amy was right—as always. That must have been some kiss. It had, without doubt, jarred something loose in her brain.

  Not before time.

  ‘Penny for them,’ Jake said as he lay back in bed, watching Amy as she brushed out her hair.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your thoughts. You’ve been lost in them ever since you called in on Kay.’

  ‘Dominic Ravenscar is home,’ she said, putting down the brush and swivelling on the stool to face him. ‘He’s asked Kay to do some work on the garden for him.’

  ‘
Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?’

  ‘I handled it very badly. We very nearly had a row about it.’

  Jake didn’t ask what about. He knew his wife well enough to understand that if she was concerned, there was something to be concerned about.

  ‘Nearly?’

  ‘I was insensitive. She got all prickly.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like either of you.’

  ‘No. I suddenly found myself remembering that time when George wanted you to take the training wheels off his bike.’

  ‘And you said he’d fall off and hurt himself.’

  ‘I was right. He did.’

  ‘Freedom, independence, comes at a price.’

  ‘She’s going to do more than graze her knee, bang her elbow, Jake. He’s going to break her heart.’

  ‘Ravenscar? Why would he do that?’

  ‘Oh, not deliberately. But he’s still grieving and she thinks it’s her duty to help him. Because we helped her.’

  ‘Maybe she needs to prove something to herself. Or to you.’

  ‘There’s only one way a woman can help a man in such pain. He won’t be able to resist that kind of giving, but afterwards he’ll hate himself for it. Then he’ll hate her.’

  ‘Do you remember what people said when we looked for Kay? Brought her home?’

  ‘That we were fools,’ she said. ‘That she wouldn’t thank us—and she didn’t. That we’d be sorry.’ She palmed a tear from her cheek. ‘There were times, Jake…’

  ‘I know.’ He got up, lifted her from the stool and held her close. ‘I know, sweetheart,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘But you stuck with it and you did a good job. Don’t underestimate her ability to survive. And don’t underestimate yourself. If she’s prepared to go out on a limb for him, it’s only because you’ve made her strong enough to take the risk.’

  She lifted her head to look up at him. ‘What you’re saying is that all I can do now is stand back and wait for the crash? Be ready to pick up the pieces? Again.’

  ‘What I’m saying is that you should come to bed. It’s been a long day and you’ve got a board meeting tomorrow…’

  She waved that away as unimportant. ‘You don’t understand, Jake. What about Polly? She’s the one who’ll suffer—’

  ‘Kay lives for Polly.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘She’s her daughter. Her responsibility.’

  ‘No—’

  ‘Yes, Amy!’ Then more gently, as she collapsed against his shoulder, ‘I’m sorry, my love. I know how much you wanted a little girl of your own.’

  ‘I’ve got three wonderful boys. I’ve got you.’ She blinked back a tear, found a smile from somewhere. ‘I think there’s probably a rule that no one should have everything they want. That it’s bad for us, or something…’

  ‘Maybe it is. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stop striving for it.’ He bent to kiss her softly on the mouth, then said, ‘Come to bed.’

  Kay stood in front of the door set into Dominic Ravenscar’s garden wall, feeling even more nervous than the first time she’d breached his defences. Which was ridiculous. This wasn’t some clandestine raid on his blackberries. Nor was she standing here in some blind response to over-active hormones, as Amy had implied. This was just a job.

  No. Scratch that. It wasn’t just a job. It was a seriously well-paying one. And, having spent most of the night with a calculator, confronting the realities of life in the real world, she had better stow the nerves and get on with it.

  This time she was expected. Invited. Commanded, even.

  Unless, of course, he’d done what she advised—slept on his offer and sensibly changed his mind, was even now consulting with one of the big landscape-gardening companies in Maybridge. She couldn’t believe how much she hoped he wasn’t doing that. How important this job had become to her. What kind of an idiot was she to even suggest he do such a thing?

  She wiped clammy palms down the seat of her work trousers and seized the handle. The only certainty was that she wouldn’t learn what he’d decided to do out here in the lane.

  She opened the gate, half expecting to see him standing there, waiting for her with that careful, unreadable expression blanking every emotion, every feeling from his face. She braced herself for him to be standing there, with what she hoped was a businesslike expression on her face. Whatever that was.

  But the garden was empty.

  The only indication that Ravenscar had ever been there was the For Sale sign lying face down in the grass, which presumably meant that he was serious about taking the house off the market.

  Which was good, she told herself, burying the tiny flicker of disappointment deep. He wasn’t here. He’d implied he might not be. Said that she should just start work. Fine. She swallowed. Fine. Then she grinned. If he wasn’t here, it meant he hadn’t changed his mind!

  ‘Yes!’ she said. Then, louder, ‘Yes!’

  And it would be a lot easier to get on with it without him standing at her shoulder, watching her every move. What she needed was a plan of action. A programme of work. And, using the only tools she’d brought with her, she began to tour the garden, making sketches, notes.

  Dominic watched her from the first-floor window as she moved about the garden, making notes in a small loose-leaf notebook. She hadn’t brought any tools, but it would appear that she’d decided to take the job if it was still on offer.

  She’d advised him to sleep on it. Well, he hadn’t slept much—he’d got out of the habit—but instead had spent a restless night wondering if she was right and he was making a huge mistake in persuading her to take on the garden. Not because he didn’t believe she was the right person for the job, he knew she was. He just wasn’t sure he could cope with her presence.

  But it was all right. Today he had no trouble in separating fact from fantasy. What truly amazed him was that he’d ever been fooled.

  ‘What are you doing, Miss Lovell? Or do you prefer Ms?’

  ‘Miss is fine.’ Kay, every nerve strained to catch a sound out of place, hadn’t been fooled by the rustle of dead grass a second time. She glanced up from her notebook. ‘And, since you asked me to bring my tools and start work straight away, Mr Ravenscar, that’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘I had something rather more practical in mind.’

  ‘Not all gardening is done with the spade. I’m making a rough plan of the garden. Working out what needs to be done and in what order. When I get home I’ll be able to sort out a schedule of work.’ She couldn’t help adding, ‘On my computer.’

  ‘I don’t need a pen, or a computer, to tell you that the first job is to get the grass cut back.’

  So much for congratulating herself that she wasn’t going to get any interference.

  ‘The mower is in the shed,’ he added, as if she didn’t know.

  ‘I found it, thanks.’

  He lifted a brow. ‘Are you telling me that you broke that lock, too?’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.”

  William Shakespeare

  KAY REGARDED him dispassionately. It wasn’t easy. He had the kind of cheek bones, well-defined jaw that turned men into movie idols. The fact that the flesh was pared to the bone and a touch of silver was threaded through his dark hair did absolutely nothing to lessen his appeal. ‘The lock was hanging off the door. I’ll bring a new padlock tomorrow, but you might want to give some thought to upgrading your security.’

  ‘What is this? You break into my garden and then sell me locks?’

  ‘I’m the local neighbourhood-watch coordinator. I’ll get the crime-prevention officer to call in and talk to you. Meantime,’ she said, firmly changing the subject, ‘I’ve called the local agents for your mower. They’re going to pick it up in the morning and take it in for a service. And whatever else needs doing. Don’t worry about waiting for them. I’ll see them in. I can fix the lock at the same time.’

 
‘You won’t be working in the village shop?’

  ‘Monday, Thursday and Friday mornings,’ she said.

  ‘Then—’

  ‘No need to thank me,’ she said, briskly, before he could finish. ‘It’s all part of the job. I’d do the same for you if you’d been lying in a damp shed for six years and were covered with dust and cobwebs.’ She suddenly found herself unable to meet his gaze. It sounded too much like her original plan. Dust him off, rub him down, apply oil and he’d soon be ticking over nicely. She tried very hard not to think about applying the oil…

  It wasn’t going to be that easy.

  Besides, this job was too important to her to risk messing it up by getting emotionally involved. She might not have liked what Amy had to say, but it didn’t mean she hadn’t taken the message aboard.

  ‘Not that we’ll be able to use it on this,’ she went on, quickly covering an overlong silence and pointing her pen at the long, matted grass. ‘I’ll have Jim Bates call round with his scythe and take it down.’

  ‘Jim Bates?’

  ‘The verger. He keeps the churchyard tidy, bless him, and since handling a scythe is a skill I haven’t yet mastered—’ largely because she was scared witless that she’d chop her own feet off ‘—he does the odd job for me. Actually, I’ll have him dig over the vegetable garden, too. He’s steady, but he’ll do a good job. Don’t worry about paying him. I’ll invoice you for his time. At cost,’ she added, quickly in case he thought she would be making a profit on the deal. ‘Well, maybe you could buy him a pint when you see him in the pub. I know he’d appreciate that.’

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Only when the silence had lasted a full thirty seconds did he say, ‘Is that it? You’ve finished?’

  ‘Yes.’ Then, ‘I’m so sorry. You were going to say something when I interrupted. Maybe you have a better idea?’

  He glared at her. ‘Just get on with it.’