A House Divided: An Easterleigh Hall Novel (42 page)

Tim sprang to his feet and moved to one side. The chair looked too fragile to take Potty's weight, but it did, though it creaked.

‘Now, let's think of a plan, dear hearts. Perhaps one does feel that an illness is imminent, Ant. So, let's pop you into a nice little nursing home with a heart attack, and then a gentle cruise in warm climes. However, sadly, you will be left with fragile health, and not up to belting across the continent to Germany, or working in the Foreign Office. What d'you think, old fella my lad?'

Tim knew his mouth hung open. Potty turned to him. ‘As for you, old laddie, I do feel that a little billet-doux to the old folk in Berlin is necessary, explaining that work in the office is pressing, and you now have a lady love, so you will be seeing your ghastly mother at some stage, but you know not when. Off you go then, Tim, for dear Ant and I have many ends to tie. Incidentally, Tim, we have traced that little matter that concerns Marburg. So, we can now stick our great size nines in the door belonging to an important booted person, can we not, whenever we choose.' It
wasn't a question. He was waving Tim away. ‘Put the plug in the hole on your way out, dear heart.'

Tim turned to go, but Potty called him back. ‘You might notice a baker's van outside, Tim, dear heart. Stop, tap on the rear doors – not for a doughnut, you understand, just to let them be on their way. I won't be needing a lift. I'm sure Ant will sort me out.' He put up his hand. ‘No, no, on second thoughts, I'll see you out.'

Potty heaved his great girth from the chair, which sighed, probably with relief. Tim was hustled out of the door and Potty clapped him on the shoulder, whispering, ‘We, or rather Bauer, suspected Heine's nasty little game, but we needed confirmation. One would like to imagine your mother knew nothing of it.'

He continued, ‘We'll keep you in dear old Blighty, for now, at least. I doubt Herr Heine Weber would have “disappeared” you while you had the original of the letter, and certainly he won't now that we have his parental details. You are safe, Tim. Let's not, however, share that with Sir Anthony. Best all round if he thinks he was saving your life. Off on your trusty steed with you.' He shut the door firmly in Tim's face.

Tim rode back, but stopped first and tapped at the rear doors of the van plastered with the legend: ‘
Bread from Fred's finest flour'
. A startled face appeared in the window. The man grinned when he saw Tim,
and opened the door. ‘We're to go, I imagine. Thanks, Tim. Interesting, I bet? Dare say he'll fill us in.'

Tim rode on, thinking how bloody much he still had to learn, just when he was thinking he was a professional and had got it all sorted. Throughout the ride to Easterleigh Hall, he tried, but failed, to rid himself of Heine's face, his voice, his devious, cold mind, and he knew Potty was wrong. Heine would have ‘disappeared' him with the greatest of pleasure, but perhaps he would have waited until he had finally located the original of the letter.

He refused to even think of his mother; it was pointless. Instead he thought of poor, generous, noble Sir Anthony, who had suffered soundlessly because of him.

He didn't even bother to look for Bridie, knowing he'd have to go and knock on the kitchen door again, and haul her out and make her see that they were made for one another. What's more, he was starving, and could eat one of her lunches. His thoughts were dwelling on inanities because he could not bear to remind himself of the people his mother and her husband were, and neither could he bear to hear Bridie say, ‘I hate you,' even one more time. Perhaps he would go straight to Newcastle after all.

Bridie watched from the tree as he drew up near the steps of the hotel, dismounted, and ripped off his goggles. When he removed his helmet, she was shocked at how drawn his face looked. She ran now,
across the grass and the gravel. At the noise he looked up, paused, then threw his helmet down and waited, bracing himself.

She called, ‘I love you. Whatever you do, whoever you are, I love you, Tim Forbes, or whoever you are today.'

He paused again, and then opened his arms.

She threw herself into them. ‘I love you,' she said yet again, holding his face. ‘I love you, I always have, and I always will. I will trust you till the day I die.'

He pulled her to him, and kissed her. Her hands were in his hair, pulling him down to her. She broke away, so happy she thought her heart would burst.

He said, ‘Then you will trust me for millions of years, because you'll never die, Bridie Brampton. You will marry me, cook haute cuisine, have our children, and I will adore you, and tell you every truth in my life. Trust me, my love, the essence of you will remain in the world forever.'

She knew she was already home, but it felt better, much better, with Tim here too. Soon the others would see that, though they'd never know the whole truth. James would guess, though, because he was part of the three of them.

‘I love you,' she said again.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Epub ISBN: 9781473518902

Version 1.0

Published by Arrow Books 2016

1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

Copyright © Margaret Graham, 2016

Margaret Graham has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

First published in Great Britain in 2016 by Arrow Books

Arrow Books
The Random House Group Limited
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road, London, SW1V 2SA

www.penguin.co.uk

Arrow Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at
global.penguinrandomhouse.com

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 9781784751043