Part 7 (1/2)

'David explained to me that your van had broken down, and I thought I'd better drive round and check that you had everything you need.'

More like drive round and check up on me, Heather thought wryly.

'Yes, I'm fine, thanks. Please, do come in.' She had learned from her father how to deal with the most difficult kind of clients, and she used that knowledge to good effect now, putting aside her own feelings and a.s.suming a mantle of cool good humour.

'Your father's in hospital, I understand,' Vera commented once they were both sitting down with mugs of coffee.

'Yes. He's undergoing surgery this morning. Naturally, we're all very concerned about him.'

'Mmm... And you and Kyle were virtually brought up together?' Vera's questions were beginning to ruffle Heather's a.s.sumed calm.

'My parents fostered Kyle, and he lived with us for a considerable number of years.'

'Mmm... so there isn't any actual blood tie between you, then? I must say I was surprised when I learned that you were coming to stay with him, but then I suppose your parents must know what they're doing. He certainly isn't the kind of man I'd want any daughter of mine to move in with.'

Before she knew how it had happened, Heather found that she was standing up, her whole body trembling with anger and resentment as she faced the other woman.

'I'm not exactly sure what you're trying to imply, Mrs Hartley,' she heard herself saying in an angrily tight voice, 'but quite frankly I think it's time you left, before I say something I might regret.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the woman that, whatever Kyle's faults, he at least had never left a woman alone to bear his child, but just in time she caught the hasty impulse back.

She knew from the way Vera Hartley glared at her as she left that she had made a lifelong enemy, but she didn't care. She was still trembling in the aftermath of her shock at her own daring, and it was only when the other woman had actually driven away that Heather realised exactly what she had done.

It was ironic, really, that she of all people should have leapt too quickly to Kyle's defence. The woman hadn't accused him of anything worse than Heather herself had thought about him at one time or another, and yet the resentment and fury she had felt at hearing someone else run him down and been so intense and real that they might almost have been as close as any true brother and sister.

Although she didn't want to stray too far from the house in case the phone rang, Heather spent a brief half-hour exploring what she could of the lovely formal Elizabethan gardens, the box hedges now covered thickly in crisp white snow. In the summer these gardens must be lovely. She caught herself up just as she found herself wis.h.i.+ng she might be here to see it.

She had fallen in love with the house and its setting, she admitted as she went back inside. There was something so warm and homely about it, an air of having been well loved and lived in, that lingered almost as noticeably as the mingled scents of potpourri and beeswax that permeated the air.

It was gone three in the afternoon before she received the long-awaited call, and Heather knew the moment she heard her mother's voice that the operation had been a success. Her mother cried and so did Heather; tears of thankfulness and grat.i.tude.

'The specialist says that, with luck, your father should be able to fly out to Portugal within a week. He's still very woozy at the moment, and I'm going back to the guest house now, so I'll see you later, after you've picked up Kyle.'

They chatted for a few more moments, Heather telling her mother how lovely Kyle's home was, and putting her mother's rather obvious distraction down to the relief of knowing that her father's operation was at last over. Even so, she would have expected her mother to express rather more interest in Kyle's home; as it was, she seemed almost uninterested, almost as though Heather wasn't telling her anything she didn't already know.

It was half-past three when she put down the receiver, and almost immediately the phone rang again.

It caught her off guard to hear Kyle's voice. Knowing that he was returning home so soon, she hadn't expected to hear from him.

'Your father?' he questioned her tautly, without preamble. 'Is the operation...?'

'Over and successful,' Heather responded, her own voice shaky as she recognised again how deep Kyle's love for her parents was.

'Thank G.o.d.'

He was only echoing her own thoughts, and yet for some reason the deep resonance of his voice made her eyes sting with tears.

'You'll be at the airport to meet me?'

'Yes, and then we can go straight to the hospital.'

Heather didn't want to drive Kyle's car for the first time in the dark, so after she had replaced the receiver she used the last half-hour of light in which to practise controlling the vehicle. It was an easy car to drive; light and responsive, and by the time she had driven up and down the drive several times, and neatly managed to reverse, she felt confident enough to turn off the engine and go back inside.

Oddly enough, her favourite downstairs room was the one Kyle had shown her, the one he used as his own study-c.u.m-library, and it was in here that she lit the fire and settled down to flip through the daily paper, which so far she had left unread. In addition to this room, the house had four other downstairs rooms, including a very lovely, south-facing drawing-room, decorated in soft peaches and blues, and a large formal dining-room.

The other two, best described as a sitting-room and a snuggery, were equally delightful, but it was in here, where she only had to close her eyes to imagine Kyle sitting opposite her, that Heather felt most at home.

Without being aware of it, her eyelids dropped, and the paper slid from her lap. It was the chiming of the grandfather clock outside in the hall that woke her, her shocked discovery that it was six o'clock making her rush upstairs to wash and change, before hurrying down again to have something to eat.

The very last thing she wanted was to be late for Kyle flight. Hastily gulping down her hot coffee, she rang the airport to check that there were no delays. The paper was forecasting more snow, and it might be that Kyle's flight would have to be diverted. Luckily, it seemed that so far Heathrow was clear of any fresh falls of snow.

The Jaguar had such an efficient heating system that Heather suspected she would be more than warm enough simply wearing the soft cream silk s.h.i.+rt and the straight navy wool skirt she had changed into, but just in case the flight was delayed and she had a long wait at Heathrow she added a toning navy jumper, embroidered with panthers' heads in a subtle silk-weave thread. The outfit had been an expensive one, but well worth every penny. She knew the navy contrasted well with the richness of the satin s.h.i.+rt, and that both threw into relief the l.u.s.tre of her deep russet hair.

She had taken more care than usual over her make-up, and the image reflected by her mirror was rather more sophisticated than she was used to seeing. Her high heels made her taller than ever, but not tall enough to match Kyle, she admitted wryly.

She suspected that once she was working for him he would not look too kindly on her normal working 'uniform' of a tatty old track suit, and told herself that it was with this in mind that she was taking care with her appearance this evening, and nothing more.

It was snowing again as she left the house, large, fluffy flakes that floated majestically down to earth. Luckily, by the time she reached the motorway, it had stopped.

The temptation to drive faster than normal was something she subdued as she concentrated on controlling the powerful car, but even so she found that she reached London far sooner than she had expected. At Heathrow, it took her some time to park the car, and she told herself that the nervous b.u.t.terflies dancing in her stomach were the result of this complicated manoeuvre and had nothing to do with the fact that she was here to meet Kyle.

After checking the Arrivals board, she bought herself a cup of coffee and sat down to wait.

The moment she saw him, her heart turned over in her chest. It was an illuminating and shocking sensation, and one that held her rigid at the side of the barrier, her mouth dry with shocked fear, her body taut with the information that her mind refused to accept.

He came closer and she closed her eyes, willing the sensation of aching intensity to disappear. She could not feel like this about him, she would not allow herself to feel like this! She opened her eyes and, almost as though by magic, the feeling was gone. He was just Kyle, Kyle whom she had known for almost half her lifetime.

'Heather, what is it? Your father...?'

The harshness of his voice, the fierce way he gripped her shoulders, brought her back down to earth.

'He's fine,' she a.s.sured him, pus.h.i.+ng away from him. 'How... how was your flight?'

'Fine.' He brushed her polite query aside impatiently. 'Then what the h.e.l.l is wrong? You looked so white, I thought you were about to pa.s.s out.'

'Nothing's wrong.' Temper edged up under her voice. 'I've always been pale-skinned.'

She dreaded him pressing her any further. How on earth could she explain to him, or to anyone, in fact, that just for a moment as she'd looked at him, she had seen not the man she disliked and resented but instead a man whom she could very easily have loved? A man who aroused within her sensations she had never experienced for anyone else, sensations that were alien to her, and yet at the same time strangely familiar, as though in some past life she had known such a strength of feeling, and as though, too, Kyle himself was part of that shadowy, dim past.

Sheer imagination, she told herself, scoffing at the fantasy of her thoughts, as she directed Kyle to where she had parked his car.

It was only when his luggage was stowed in the boot and they were both inside it that she realised he expected her to drive. In the soft interior light of the car his face looked shadowed and drawn. Probably the result of too many late nights with the husky-voiced woman she had heard over the phone.

He leaned back in his seat as she started the car, his head turned away from her, as though he wished to ignore her presence, and so, stubbornly, Heather refused to break the silence.

It started to snow again as they reached the motorway, and she automatically dropped her speed. She felt Kyle turn to look at her and s.h.i.+ft restlessly in his seat, and half expected him to demand that she stop the car so that he could take over.