Winds of Change (17 page)

She hadn't told anyone what she was doing, not even Darren. Well, her husband had enough on his plate surviving in Afghanistan without her adding to his worries. He'd understand. He always did.

She drove into town, narrowly missing running into another car at some traffic lights, which brought her sharply to her senses. Heart still thudding, concentrating on her driving now and keeping her unruly thoughts at bay, she found a parking place and edged the car into it gently.

He was early, far too early. Brody Lanigan paced up and down outside the pub, wondering if his daughter would be early, or if she'd even turn up today. She hadn't sounded enthusiastic about them meeting, very cool, in fact. He couldn't remember being so nervous since he'd grown up, but then nothing had been as important as this for a long time, nothing.

A woman came walking along towards the pub and his heart nearly stopped. Her hair colour was rather like his, except for those blonde streaks, but her features were so like her mother's that he would have accosted her in the street and asked who she was if he'd seen her before now.

He moved forward, taking care not to crowd her too closely. ‘Katie?'

She stopped and stared at him. ‘Mr Lanigan?'

‘Yes.' He held back the impulse to ask her to use his first name at least, and gestured. ‘Shall we go inside?'

She hesitated, studying him. ‘We could go and sit in the park instead, if you like. It'd be . . . more private. I'm not really hungry.'

‘Neither am I. Too excited about meeting you.'

She didn't respond to that one, just stood and waited.

The resemblance wasn't as close to her mother when she spoke, he decided, because her own personality took over, but he didn't need DNA testing to prove who she was. He realized she was waiting for a reply. ‘That's fine with me. I don't know the town, so you'll have to show me the way.'

She turned and he followed, not sure what to say, staying silent when she didn't try to make small talk either, worrying already that this wasn't going as well as he'd hoped.

The park was a public garden, with plenty of people walking about and aluminium benches to sit on. She chose one in a corner, in full view of people, but with no other benches nearby.

He sat down, carefully keeping a distance, but not enough to let someone come and sit between them.

‘How did you find me?' she asked.

‘I've had a private investigator working on the case for a while.'

She looked surprised, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘Why would you go to that length?'

‘Because when you were born, I wasn't allowed near you. You were taken away and never heard of again. I found out you'd been adopted, but I was too young then, and too poor, to do anything about it. But I always wanted to find you – and I'm sure I have done. You're so like your mother, I'm having trouble handling this.'

‘My birth mother,' she corrected.

He nodded and repeated obediently, ‘Birth mother.'

She swallowed hard and began to fiddle with her handbag. ‘I'd have to have proof. Maybe we should get our DNA tested.'

He felt in his pocket. ‘Or maybe this will convince you.' He offered her the photo. ‘This is your mother. That's me.'

She stared at it and her mouth began to wobble. ‘She is very like me.'

‘Could be your twin.'

Tears began to roll down her face and she fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief, but didn't seem to be finding one.

He thrust his at her. ‘Here.'

She mopped her eyes and tried to speak, then the tears started again. ‘I'm sorry.'

He risked squeezing her hand. ‘Don't be. It's a big thing.' He found she was clinging to his hand, sobbing openly, and pulled her into his arms, shushing her gently and patting her back till she stopped crying so hard.

As she drew away, he released her instantly.

‘Sorry.'

‘Don't be.' He blinked because his own eyes were suspiciously moist. ‘Can I borrow the handkerchief for a moment?'

She gave a shaky laugh and shared it with him, but needed to take it back again. ‘I don't know what to do.'

‘Whatever you feel comfortable with. I don't want to disrupt your life or upset your adoptive parents.'

‘Dad's dead.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Me too. He was a great father.'

‘I'm glad for you.' And he
was
pleased about it, but jealous too. ‘And your adoptive mother? Is she still alive?'

‘Yes. She remarried last year and she's living in Cornwall. I'm married myself but my husband's in the army, in Afghanistan. We have a son.'

He nodded. ‘So my PI told me.'

‘What happened to my birth mother?'

‘I don't know. Her family whisked her away and she wasn't seen or heard of for a couple of years. They'd always insisted on having the baby adopted and she must have given in. She got word to my family just once, a couple of years later, that we'd had a daughter. She gave me your date of birth. That's how I knew about you.'

‘She didn't want me?'

Here was the million dollar question. ‘I don't know. Her family was very . . . dominating. They had money, contacts. They made sure I couldn't get a job easily, so I had to move to another town, and I'm pretty sure they got me chucked out of my flat, too.'

‘Where were you living then?'

‘Western Australia. Perth.'

‘My parents lived in Australia for a while. Near Sydney. But they came back here after I was born.'

Silence fell again and he steeled himself to ask the question. ‘Would you like to stay in touch? Get to know one another?'

She looked at him with a troubled expression. ‘I think so. I'll have to talk to my husband about letting you meet Ned, though.'

‘I can give you character references and get a police clearance. You'll want to check up on me and I don't mind that at all. In fact, I'd prefer it if you did.'

Her face cleared. ‘That'd be good. I have to be careful, for Ned's sake.'

‘That's your son?'

She smiled, suddenly beautiful. ‘Yes. He's five, a real handful, in his first year at school.'

‘How about that coffee now?'

‘Does it show that I've been crying?'

It was his turn to study her. ‘I'm afraid it does. Your mother had the same delicate skin.'

‘Tell me about her.'

‘I can only tell you what she was like then. I haven't seen her, not once, since her family found out about the baby.' But he'd thought about her often, dreamed about her occasionally, still, much to his annoyance.

Half an hour later she looked at her watch. ‘I have to go now and pick up Ned from school. I'll give you my mobile number.'

He didn't say that he knew exactly where she and her son lived, even had a photo of the boy. He didn't want to frighten her. ‘I'll give you my mobile number as well. I'd really like to get to know you and meet my grandson, but it's your call when and where.'

‘I'll be in touch.'

He watched her walk away, kept his calm as he went to find his car and drive home, but once he was safely out of sight of the world, he wept nearly as hard as she had done. He'd been hunting for her for a while, thinking about her since he'd heard from her mother – who could go to hell and fry there for keeping him from raising his only child!

Why had she done that to him? He'd never understood. He'd wanted to marry her, wanted to very much. She'd said she loved him.

She must have loved her family more.

Miranda hummed as she got herself a bowl of muesli. She was feeling happier than she had for years. Living in such comfort, with others to do the hard work, spending her days with an intelligent man, having time for herself – life didn't get much better. Well, hers never had, anyway.

She knew it couldn't go on for ever, but it was the respite she'd desperately needed and she did think Lou was enjoying them living together, too.

The lift whirred and a minute later he came rolling into the kitchen. ‘You look well.'

‘I feel well.'

‘It's great getting up and seeing your smiling face.' He waved a paper at her. ‘I had trouble sleeping and I think I've found you somewhere to live. Here. I printed out the details.'

As she reached out to take it from him, he stiffened and clutched his chest, groaning. ‘No! Not yet. Not—' His eyes rolled up and he slumped in the chair.

‘Lou!'

But she'd seen that same look on her father's face, a sudden absence of life and expression, like a wax model of the person who'd once inhabited the body. Dropping the piece of paper she forced herself to feel for a pulse but found nothing.

No resuscitation, he'd said, and it had indeed been an easy death.

Fighting back tears, she murmured, ‘Goodbye, Lou.' She bent to kiss his cheek and then stood up, trying to work out what to do. Her brain didn't seem to be functioning properly, so she walked out into the hall and yelled, ‘Jack! Jack, come quickly!' There was no answer and she nearly panicked, then realized she could have used the little com-unit Lou had, so went back to press the emergency button on that.

He might have stipulated no resuscitation, but he'd not wanted to die quite yet, she'd seen that for herself. She'd have given months of her own life to buy him a little more time. He certainly deserved it, had so wanted to finish his last work – remaking Minnie Fox into a better person.

Could she carry on his task and do that on her own? She didn't know, but since she owed so much to him, she vowed to try with every fibre of her being. ‘I won't let you down, Lou.'

Jack came rushing into the kitchen, took in the situation at a glance and, as she had done, felt for a pulse. He looked at her across the body. ‘He's dead.'

‘Yes. It was . . . quick and easy.' Her voice broke on the last word.

‘I think you'd better sit down, Ms Fox. You're very pale.'

‘Am I?' As if that mattered. She let him guide her to a chair, but her eyes kept going back to Lou. Oh, she was going to miss him so much! She realized Jack had been speaking and made an effort to concentrate. ‘Sorry. What did you say?'

‘I said: he's made all the arrangements, so if you'll leave it to me, I'll do what's necessary.'

‘The funeral?'

‘All arranged. He didn't want his niece making the decisions about that.' He glanced back at the body. ‘I think you'd be better sitting somewhere else because we're supposed to leave him as we found him till a doctor's been to see him.'

‘The housekeeper will be arriving soon.'

‘I'll deal with Tania. Perhaps you could wait in the small sitting room?'

She let him guide her there, wondering why she wasn't in tears. She'd nearly started weeping when it happened, but now she felt as if her emotions had been locked away.

She went to stand by the window, which looked out on to the patio he'd loved so much. Poor Lou had only had a few weeks in this house, but at least he'd loved being here. And so had she.

She supposed she'd better ring his niece, but she couldn't face doing that yet, so sat down and thanked whatever kind fate had led her to Lou Rayne. He'd given her so much.

And she
wouldn't
let him down. She would not!

Once the doctor had left and undertakers had taken the body away, Jack came to find her. ‘Are you all right?'

Was she? ‘I feel a bit numb.'

‘Shock. It happened so suddenly. Even I thought he'd live for months longer. Um . . . Mr Rayne told me you should contact Sally Patel if he died.'

‘I suppose so.'

He hesitated. ‘Are you sure you're up to it? Shall I get her on the phone for you?'

That hit home. No, she wasn't sure she was up to anything, but she was very sure she was going to try. ‘I'll be fine. I'll do it straight away.'

She rang Sally's office, wondering if such a busy lawyer would have time for her. But when she explained, the receptionist said, ‘I'll put you through to Ms Patel, Ms Fox.'

Miranda took a deep breath and began her explanation.

‘Oh, damn!'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Lou was coming in today to sign a revised will. I'd better come and see you so that I can explain how things stand before his niece arrives.'

‘
You
are coming to see
me
? Shouldn't I come to your rooms?'

Sally gave a snort that was almost a laugh. ‘He wasn't just a client, Miranda, he was a very dear friend. I'll miss him as much as you will. Now, I can't get there till just after eleven, so hold off on informing people he's dead, especially that brother of yours. In fact, don't let Sebastian Fox into the house.'

‘I think Lou's manservant has already told his niece.'

‘Hmm. Well, in case she comes straight round, remember that the tenancy of that house is in your name not hers, so she can't throw you out.'

‘Throw me out?'

‘Yes. You must have noticed the way she looks at you. She's been terrified you'd cut her out of Lou's will. I bet you she tries to get rid of you today.'

Miranda couldn't believe anyone would be so heartless. ‘I'm sure she won't. But surely the contents of the house are hers.'

‘Some of them, if I remember correctly. She can't take anything till after we get probate, though. Remember that.'

As Miranda put the phone down the doorbell rang. She sighed. She didn't want to deal with people. What she really wanted was to go and sit quietly on the patio, in the place Lou had loved so much. She walked out into the hall and met Tania on her way to answer the door. ‘I'll see to that.'

‘Very well, Ms Fox.'

When Miranda opened the door, Hilary Rayne walked in without waiting for an invitation.