rom the moment she had met Robin Ainsley, Evan had felt perfectly at ease with him. She realized this was because he had treated her in such a warm and friendly way that all of her nervousness had instantly evaporated.

And he had continued to be natural, outgoing, and very open with her, spoke to her as if she were his only confidante. And perhaps she was. Certainly he unburdened himself to her from time to time, and she had understood for months how important she was in his life. She was his granddaughter and he treated her as such, and she did the same, having adjusted her thinking. He was her biological grandfather and she loved him, but it did not make her love Richard Hughes any the less. He had been her grandfather as well, and for her entire life until he died.

Now as she sat on the terrace at Lackland Priory, waiting for Robin to come back outside, she experienced a little rush of sadness that her parents had decided to go back to the States earlier than planned. She had hoped to inveigle them to Yorkshire, to stay at Pennistone Royal with Paula, and to meet Robin when they were here. But that idea would not work anymore.

The terrorist attacks on New York and Washington four days ago had made them realize how much they wanted to be at home, ‘to help in any way we can’, her mother had explained yesterday. And Evan understood their sense of patriotism, felt the same way they did. But she had responsibilities here, and crucial matters to deal with in the next few weeks. There was a lot at stake.

They’ll meet Robin another time, she thought; they’ll have to come back for my wedding, won’t they? If it ever happens, she then added to herself glumly. Gideon had been difficult lately; they had not seen each other all week and so they had not been able to settle certain differences between them. She had been busy with the remodelling of the Leeds store, and he had had his hands full in London with the breaking news on the terrorist attacks.

Even though it was Saturday, he had chosen to stay in London for the weekend, and although she understood why, she was, nonetheless, disappointed not to be with him. But the newspapers came first, she had long known that. All of the Hartes put business first, for the most part anyway.

Lifting the silver coffee pot, Evan poured herself another cup, added milk and a sweetener, sat sipping it, enjoying the lovely September day. It was unusually warm, a pretty day with a blue sky and bright sunshine. A very clear day. No mists creeping down from the moors this morning.

She heard Robin’s step and glanced over her shoulder, smiling at him.

He smiled in return, and came and sat down next to her. ‘I’m sorry I was so long, but my sister Edwina needed to discuss a bit of business with me, and she doesn’t take no for an answer.’ He chuckled, added, ‘She’s in her nineties, as you know, but nobody would ever guess it.’

‘So I’ve heard,’ Evan replied. ‘India and Tessa talk about her as if she’s a bright young thing. Their age.’

Robin laughed again. ‘She thinks she is, I can tell you that.’

‘Robin, there’s something I want to tell you,’ Evan said, leaning closer, looking at him squarely. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to bring my parents up to Yorkshire, as I’d planned. They’re going back to America sometime next week. They feel they must, because of the terrorist attacks.’

Disappointment instantly flickered in his eyes, but he nodded, and told her, ‘I do understand. I think I’d feel the way they do if this country were attacked like that. An act of war was perpetrated on the United States on Tuesday. Without a declaration of war being in effect. Thousands of innocent people have been killed in the most unconscionable way. Your mother and father have the genuine need to be at home, I realize that, and it’s only natural.’ He gave her a loving smile. ‘But they’ll come back to England, I’m sure, and anyway hadn’t we once decided that it might be better if your father didn’t know who I am?’

She nodded. ‘We did, but I’m ambivalent about it now. I know Gideon feels Dad ought to know the truth, and my mother, too, now that Gideon and I are engaged.’

‘More than likely, but I can meet Owen another time. So don’t fret yourself about it, Evan.’

‘Thank you for being so understanding, always so kind to me, Robin.’

‘I love you, my dear, and you are my only grandchild.’ After refilling his cup with coffee, adding sugar, he continued carefully, ‘Evan, I have something to explain to you but it must remain absolutely confidential…just between us.’

‘I understand. You know I would never betray a confidence.’

‘Of course I do. But what I am about to tell you must remain a secret, because I would not want Jonathan ever to find out about it. Do you understand?’

‘Yes,’ Evan said quietly, feeling suddenly cold as she always did when she heard that name.

Reaching into the pocket of his old tweed jacket, Robin took out a small white postcard and handed it to her. ‘I have created a trust for you. All of the details are on the card. It’s been handled in such a way that it can never be traced to me. But just to be certain, please don’t discuss it with anyone, not even Gideon. All right?’

‘I give you my promise,’ she answered and went on quickly, ‘But this wasn’t necessary. I’ve told you before, I don’t want anything from you, Robin. Only your affection.’

‘I know, I know,’ he said, sounding slightly impatient. ‘However, I have a lot of investments and interests my son knows nothing about, and which cannot be traced back to me. I have transferred part of them to you.’

‘But Robin–’

He shook a finger at her, looking stern. ‘No buts, Evan. I don’t want to hear another word about this. Put the card in your handbag, study it properly later, digest it, and then file it away somewhere safe.’

She did as he told her, then putting her bag on the flagstones again, she reached over and took hold of his hand. ‘Thank you, Robin, you’re very generous,’ she said softly, genuinely touched by his gesture.

‘It’s my pleasure, my dear. Now, tell me, how’s Paula? I know she’s been upset about Shane getting caught up in the terrorist attacks in New York. Daisy told me.’

‘She’s feeling much better, I heard. She was exhausted on Wednesday, all that tension and anxiety got to her, Linnet told me. She and I had breakfast together this morning, before I drove over here, and Linnet sends her love, by the way. Anyway, JFK is open again, and Shane’s coming back to London tomorrow morning. On Concorde, and the company plane will be waiting to fly him to the airport at Yeadon.’ Evan gave him a shy smile, and finished, ‘It must be wonderful to have their kind of marriage. Linnet says they’re still in love after all these years.’

Robin looked at her keenly as he murmured, ‘Indeed it must. But you sound wistful, Evan. Are things not going right with you and Gideon?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine…’ Evan bit her lip, and then went on, ‘It’s just that…well, I think he’s still miffed because I hadn’t told my parents we’d got engaged.’

Robin sighed, and shook his head. ‘Men are such fools at times. I know. I’m a man, and I’ve been a fool myself many times in my life. I wish Gideon would just move on from this situation. You’re engaged, everyone knows it, including your parents. Now you and he should be planning your marriage, setting a date, not quarrelling.’

‘We’re not really quarrelling,’ Evan explained. ‘He’s just…snippy with me. And remote sometimes, distant. And quiet.’

‘Is he in Yorkshire this weekend?’

‘No. He felt he had to stay in London with his father and Toby. He said there’d be a lot of news breaking.’

‘Oh yes, he’s a true Harte, Gideon is, totally dedicated to his work, and that’s not a bad thing, I suppose. He’s a newspaperman through and through, of course, like Winston and my uncles.’

The two of them sat talking for a short while longer, and then finally Evan said, ‘I’m sorry about not being able to have lunch with you today, Robin, but Linnet and I are in the throes of planning her wedding, and I promised I’d work with her this afternoon.’

He smiled, and they both stood up. Robin took her arm, and they walked around the terrace to the area at the back of the house where she had parked her car. ‘I hope we can have lunch next weekend instead? When are you off to London?’

‘On Tuesday morning. To be with my parents for a couple of days before they go home. I’m coming back to work with India early on Friday, and I’ll be at the Leeds store on Saturday. How about lunch next Sunday?’

‘That’s splendid!’ he exclaimed, instantly looking more cheerful.

When they came to her car, he hugged her and kissed her cheek. ‘Perhaps Gideon can be induced to join us for lunch?’

‘Absolutely. I’ll make sure he comes.’ Opening the car door, she got in, rolled down the window. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured softly. ‘See you next weekend.’

‘It’s a date, my dear.’

Evan turned on the ignition and immediately frowned, puzzled, when the car did not start. She tried again with no success, and Robin looked in the car window and said, ‘Do you think you’ve flooded it?’

Evan shook her head. ‘No. It was flat.’

‘It’s more than likely the battery. This is one of Paula’s old cars, isn’t it? One of her ancient run-arounds she calls them.’

‘Yes, she always lets me use it. But I think it needs to go in for an overhaul.’

‘I tend to agree. Well, there’s no problem. You can borrow my Rover. It’s a perfectly good car.’

‘But won’t you need it?’ Evan asked, getting out of Paula’s slightly dilapidated Jaguar.

‘I have my favourite jalopy in the garage.’

‘Oh yes, your beautiful old Bentley Continental Drop Head Coupé. Circa 1960.’

‘Ah, so you do remember what I told you,’ he laughed, looking pleased.

‘I do. And you told me it has a fluid fly wheel and that’s why it has that special gearshift. I remember everything you tell me, Robin.’

‘But it’s not often girls commit to memory things about cars,’ he shot back, laughing again as he led her towards the garage.

Within seconds she had driven the Rover out onto the gravel driveway. ‘This is great, Robin!’ she exclaimed, leaning out of the window. ‘Thanks so much. I’ll return it tomorrow. Linnet or India will come in another car to take me back.’

‘There’s no problem at all,’ he called, waving as she slid forward towards the iron gates. ‘’Bye, my dear.’

Evan liked the feel of the Rover. It was solid, a substantial car and she found it easy to drive. It rolled along smoothly as she headed out of the tall gates of Lackland Priory and turned left on the road which led to the small hamlet of Lackland; beyond Lackland was the main road to Pennistone Royal. She sat back, enjoying the car, deciding she really liked these old models. There was something about them that was different. Maybe it was the sense of luxury, of times long gone that appealed. She really wasn’t sure what it was, but Paula felt the same way. They had once had a discussion about it, and Paula had told her that everyone in the family hung onto their old models. ‘Maybe out of a sense of thrift,’ Paula had said and had added, with a dry laugh, ‘but I doubt that.’ Even India drove an ancient Aston Martin that every male in the family drooled over and coveted. And Gideon had raved about Robin’s forty-year-old Bentley Continental.

When she came to the rim of the hill, Evan automatically put her foot on the brake gently. The hill was steep and the car had weight, and she felt the instant pull of gravity as she began to roll down, pressed her foot harder on the brake.

Nothing happened. Immediately she knew there was something wrong with the car. The brakes didn’t work! The car went hurtling down the hill, gathering speed, faster and faster; there was no way she could stop it.

Halfway to the bottom she saw the horse and cart come rumbling out of a side lane. Evan hit the horn hard.

The man sitting on the cart looked up the hill, saw her coming, but seemed unable to move. He was frozen in place in the middle of the hill.

Evan immediately understood that she had to swerve to avoid hitting the horse and cart, possibly even killing the man and the animal at the high speed she was going. Frantically, she pulled the wheel around with all of her strength, gritting her teeth, veering off to the right in a straight line. She saw the drystone wall too late. As it loomed up in front of her she knew she was doomed, that she would hurtle into the wall head-on. There was nothing she could do now to avert an accident.

Had somebody tampered with the brakes? she suddenly wondered. It was the last thing she thought.

Billy Ramsbotham sat on the cart, staring at the smashed-up car for only a split second, then he flicked the reins, made a clicking noise with his tongue, and went off down the rest of the hill hell for leather, heading for Lackland to get help.

But before he got there he saw Frazy Gilliger coming towards him on his bicycle and he flagged him down.

‘What’s up, Billy? You’re going licketysplit! Summat wrong?’ Frazy asked, noting the old man’s agitation.

‘Aye, there is. Up yonder, near bottom of t’hill, there’s a lass in a smashed-up car. It b’aint hard ter see it’s a Rover. Aye, it looks like Mr Ainsley’s Rover she’s gone and bunged up. And she’s in a right bad way, she is, poor lass.’

‘Oh my God, it must be Miss Evan!’ Frazy cried, and without another word to Billy he began pedalling up the hill towards Lackland Priory as hard as he could.

He was out of breath and panting as he cycled through the gates and around the back of the house. He leapt off the bicycle, threw it down haphazardly, and burst into the kitchen loudly and unceremoniously.

Bolton, the butler, was standing talking to Mrs Pickering, the cook, and he swung around, looking startled at the noise. ‘Good heavens, Frazy, what’s wrong, bursting in like this?’

‘It’s Miss Evan. She’s crashed the Rover. I saw it out of t’corner of me eye, but I didn’t stop ter look. I knew I had ter get here as quick as I could. Billy Ramsbotham saw her hit yon drystone wall, he’s sure she’s in a right bad way. Best phone for t’ambulance, Percy.’

‘Oh my God, yes!’ He turned to the cook. ‘Can you make the phone call, Maude? I’d best go and speak to Mr Ainsley. And ring the hospital in Ripon, not Harrogate. It’s closer and they’ve got an ambulance and paramedics. They’ll be able to treat her. If not, they’ll move her to Harrogate.’

‘I’ll do that right away, Percy,’ Cook said and hurried to the phone.

Bolton moved across the kitchen with great speed, and headed for the library. Within seconds he was relating Frazy’s story to Robin Ainsley.

Robin was standing near the window, and he reached out, held onto the back of the wingchair as he listened to the butler. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, and he thought his legs might buckle under him. He needed the support of the chair to steady himself.

‘Is she alive?’ he finally managed to ask.

‘I don’t know, sir. I’m going to nip down there right now. Cook is calling Ripon hospital for an ambulance.’

‘I’ll come with you, Bolton,’ Robin said.

‘Very well, sir.’ Bolton turned around and rushed off, followed by Robin, who thought his world had just been torn asunder. To lose this girl now when he had just found her was inconceivable. And for her to lose her life would be a tragedy, she who was so young and lovely and vital. He prayed she was not dead, prayed she was not badly hurt. Evan had everything to live for, a whole future ahead of her: a life with Gideon, a career at Harte’s, children…

As he followed his butler into the backyard Robin asked himself if someone had tampered with the car, the car he used more regularly than the Bentley. He knew Evan was an excellent driver and careful. So what had gone wrong? Why had she crashed on the hill?

It suddenly struck him that if the car had been tampered with, whoever had done it had been gunning for him, not her. He pushed these thoughts away, dreaded conjuring up the name that lingered at the back of his mind. No, he thought, he wouldn’t do that, surely not. Why would he try to kill me?

It took Bolton only a couple of minutes to drive to the scene of the accident. He wouldn’t allow Robin to alight, insisted he remained in the Bentley.

‘Let me go, Mr Ainsley,’ he said gently. ‘Please, sir.’

‘All right then,’ Robin reluctantly agreed.

Bolton hurried over to the mangled Rover and peered in through the open window. He saw at once that Evan lay across the steering wheel at a strange angle, but her seat-belt was on, and this brought him a little comfort. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive, and then he heard her moaning, and his heart lifted. Turning, he ran back to give this news to Robin.

‘Miss Evan’s alive, sir!’ Bolton exclaimed. ‘I heard her moaning. I daren’t touch her, Mr Ainsley. We’ll just have to wait for the ambulance men to arrive to know more. They have the proper experience.’

‘Thank God she’s not dead,’ Robin responded, a great weight lifting. ‘And you’re right, I know it’s best not to move an injured person; damage can be done so easily by those who aren’t trained medics.’

Robin sat back against the car seat and began to breathe more normally. He closed his eyes and offered up a silent prayer to the God he had long ago ceased to believe in, understanding, suddenly, how comforting this was in an overwhelming crisis. Believing in a higher omnipotent power could work miracles, somehow offered hope. He prayed for Evan’s recovery.

Bolton had gone back to the crash site near the wall, and he hovered about on the hill, returning to the car several times to check on Evan. He didn’t hear any more sounds from her and his belief that she was still alive began to waver. All was silent in the crashed Rover. He avoided Robin Ainsley, not wishing to be questioned by his employer. And then he suddenly heard sirens. He listened hard and his relief knew no bounds. A few minutes later the ambulance was speeding towards him.

Once the ambulance was parked, two ambulance men and a paramedic took over. After speaking to Bolton perfunctorily they began to study Evan and the car. Once they had discussed the problems, assessed the situation, she was lifted out carefully, put on a stretcher and taken to the ambulance.

‘Who is she?’ the driver who had remained behind now asked Bolton.

‘Evan Hughes, Mr Robin Ainsley’s granddaughter,’ he explained.

‘Of Lackland Priory?’

‘Yes, that’s correct. Is she alive?’

The driver nodded. ‘Yes, she is. But we’ve got to get her to the hospital. At once. We can’t tell what condition she’s in.’

‘Thank God she’s not left us. We’ll follow you to Ripon.’

‘See you there,’ the driver replied, and ran back to the ambulance.

It was Bolton who drove the Bentley to the hospital; once he had parked the car, he accompanied Robin into the waiting room, and refused to leave him alone. They sat together, not saying anything, waiting for the news from the doctor. After a few minutes had passed, Robin realized he must let Linnet know what had happened to Evan, since she had been expected back to lunch.

‘Do you have the mobile phone, Bolton?’ he asked, turning to the butler.

‘I do, sir, yes. Here it is.’

Robin dialled Pennistone Royal, and it was Linnet herself who answered. After telling her what had transpired, he added swiftly, ‘But Evan is alive, Linnet. However, we don’t know the extent of her injuries at the moment.’

‘I shall drive right over, Uncle Robin.’

‘No, no, it’s not necessary. You can’t do anything, and I’ll stay in touch with you, I promise.’

‘I don’t want you to be alone,’ Linnet told him firmly. ‘I’m coming, so don’t try to stop me. I’ll let Mummy know. She’s at the Harrogate store. See you in about half an hour.’

‘All right then,’ he acquiesced, knowing it was futile to argue with her. If anyone was like his mother it was Linnet. She was another Emma, and once she’d made up her mind to do something there was no stopping her.

Half an hour after this conversation, Dr Gibson came out to see Robin, and much to his relief he noted a smile on the doctor’s face.

‘Good morning, Mr Ainsley,’ the doctor said. ‘I’ve examined Miss Hughes, and she’s going to be all right. She’s suffering from shock, of course, and she has a broken rib, a broken ankle, and a lot of bruising to her arms and legs. But as far as I can ascertain, there are no internal injuries. And I know you’ll be relieved to hear she hasn’t lost the baby. She’s a very lucky young woman: her injuries could have been much worse. She could have so easily miscarried. It’s a miracle she didn’t.’

Robin was an old man now and hardly anything ever shocked him. But he had to admit to himself that he was surprised to hear Evan was pregnant. He had judged her as being practical and cautious, and he wondered how she had allowed this to happen before marriage to Gideon. And then, with a quick intake of breath, it struck him that she might have done it on purpose. To bring the situation with Gideon to a head? He just wasn’t sure. He didn’t think of her as devious, not at all. All he knew was that he loved this young woman and he was delighted she was pregnant, that she was carrying his great-grandchild.

The doctor opened the door, showed Robin into a small private room, and disappeared. Evan was lying propped up, wearing a white hospital gown. She looked pale, exhausted, and was still slightly dazed, coming out of shock. There was a large bruise on her cheek, and he realized she was in pain when she tried to move her body, and instantly winced.

As Robin walked over to her, she muttered in a faltering, strained voice, ‘I’m sorry about the car.’

‘That doesn’t matter, Evan dear. All that matters is that you are alive. You could have been killed, you know.’ Leaning over her he kissed her forehead, then took her hand in his. ‘Are you able to tell me what happened? Or is that too much of an effort?’

‘The brakes failed…on the hill. No control of the car.’ She took a breath and added weakly, ‘The horse and cart appeared. Swerved to avoid them.’

Robin was silent for a moment, and then he gave her a questioning look, asked, ‘Do you think the brakes simply failed because the car is old? Or because they’d been tampered with?’

‘I don’t know…’

He shook his head, a grim look tightening his mouth as he said in a low voice, ‘The Rover is kept in good condition. I’ll have my garage check the brakes, but perhaps the police might want to do that themselves.’

Evan sighed, looked at him, but remained silent, not wanting to mention the name hovering in the back of her mind.

‘I telephoned Linnet,’ Robin went on. ‘She’s driving over.’ Pulling a chair over to the side of the bed, he explained, ‘They’re going to throw me out of here in a moment, they’ve got to put a cast on your leg. It must be painful, isn’t it?’

She nodded, feeling suddenly weak.

He said quietly, ‘Evan, the baby’s perfectly all right. Dr Gibson told me.’

Taken aback, she gaped at him, and colour rose from her neck to fill her cheeks with a bright pink blush. She finally said in a low voice, ‘Please don’t tell anyone I’m pregnant.’

‘Of course I won’t. How does Gideon feel about the baby?’

‘He doesn’t know.’

‘Why haven’t you told him?’

‘Don’t want it to influence him…about our future.’

‘I understand. Whether you two marry or not is your business, my dear, but I just want you to know that I will be there for you and my great-grandchild no matter what.’

Evan’s eyes brightened and she gave him a faint smile. ‘Thank you.’

There was a sudden loud knocking on the door, and Robin called ‘Come in.’

A moment later Linnet was hurrying over to the bed, exclaiming, ‘I’ve been scared to death all the way over here, Evan! Whatever happened?’ She took Evan’s hand in hers, staring at her in concern.

‘The brakes failed,’ Robin explained. ‘It was nice of you to come, Linnet. Thank you.’

Linnet smiled at Robin, and turned back to Evan. Pushing back thoughts of Jonathan Ainsley and his dangerous vendetta against them all, she said, ‘Are your injuries very bad?’

‘Broken rib, broken ankle,’ Evan whispered. ‘Getting a cast.’

‘Thank God it’s nothing worse,’ Linnet said.

Dusty Rhodes stepped out of the lift onto the fifth floor of Harte’s department store in Leeds. He glanced around, understanding immediately why India Standish’s secretary had told him to be careful, that the floor was undergoing remodelling. And indeed it was. The floor was roped off, and he had to walk around the roped-off area to find a way to get to India.

He could see her in the distance, in the middle of the floor, dressed in beige cotton trousers and a beige cotton blouse, clipboard in hand, tortoise-shell glasses pushed up on top of her bright blonde head. Normally casually chic in the latest styles, she was much more workmanlike this afternoon in her understated outfit. But he understood how practical it was, and she was nothing if not practical. There were piles of rubble everywhere and obviously a minor demolition job was in progress.

India was talking to two workmen, looking concerned, and for a split second he hesitated. He had not seen her for several weeks and he needed to speak to her. Having parted on a sour note he was certain she would not take his phone call, so he had come here instead.

After a moment he decided to brave it, to plunge ahead, and so he stepped over a pile of planks, avoided a wheelbarrow and buckets of plaster and moved towards her.

It was one of the workmen who spotted him first, and his face lit up. ‘Hey, Dusty, how’re yer?’ the man asked, his smile wide, his light green eyes suddenly sparkling. ‘Long time no see, mate.’

Before Dusty could answer, India swung around to face him, surprise flickering on her face, but only momentarily. She was good at hiding her feelings, and instantly became poker-faced again.

‘Hello India,’ he said.

‘Dusty,’ she answered, inclining her head.

Looking past her, he addressed the workman. ‘It’s Jackie Pickles, isn’t it?’

The man grinned. ‘Yer’ve got that right, Dusty. So yer remember our old school, do yer?’

Nodding, Dusty laughed. ‘I do indeed. Christ Church C of E, in Theaker Lane, Upper Armley.’

‘Lotta water under t’bridge since then,’ Jackie said. And glancing at the man next to him, he added, ‘I bet yer don’t remember Harry Thwaites, do yer, Dusty?’

‘I certainly do. Hello, Harry, last time I saw you was at West Leeds High School, right?’

Harry Thwaites smiled. ‘Long time ago, Dusty. I’m a married man now. With a couple of kids.’

India, who had been paying great attention to this little exchange between the three men, now said, ‘You wanted to talk to me, Dusty, didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’ But again looking past her he said to Jackie, ‘What’s the problem here? Those steel girders, I’ll bet.’

‘Correct. Lady India’s sketches for this area don’t show them. Because we didn’t know they were there. We found ’em when we knocked a wall down. It’s a problem.’

‘Show me the sketches, India, please,’ Dusty said, glancing at her. ‘I studied architecture.’

Handing him the sketches, she said, ‘Yes, I know. I’d like them to be removed.’

Dusty stared at the sketches, walked over to the floor-to-ceiling beams, looked around the area, and then he said, ‘I’ll bet my bottom dollar these steel pillars are supporting the ceiling, which is also the floor above.’

Harry Thwaites said, ‘That’s what we thought…they can’t be removed.’

Gazing at India, Dusty explained, ‘Take these out, your ceiling will fall down and the floor above will be weakened. You’ll have to incorporate them into your new scheme somehow. There’s no other way.’

The two workmen were beaming at him.

India looked annoyed with him, and then suddenly a resigned expression settled on her face. ‘Okay then, that’s it.’ Turning to the two men, she said, ‘Please excuse me for a few minutes. I’ll be back shortly. Maybe you want to take your tea break?’

‘Thanks, Lady India,’ they said in unison as they gave Dusty another grin and moved away.

‘You’re sure I can’t move the beams?’

‘Well, you can move them,’ Dusty replied, ‘but I wouldn’t. It’ll be a disaster.’

‘I understand,’ she replied, and glanced up at him, added, ‘This is a surprise. Why did you come looking for me?’

Running into the two men he had gone to school with, having the discussion with them about the beams, had somehow broken the ice, and Dusty felt quite relaxed as he answered, ‘First to apologize and secondly to try and explain…about Melinda and Atlanta.’

‘Let’s go up to my office, we can talk there for a while.’

‘Thanks, India.’

They rode up to the seventh floor in silence.

When they came to her office, India opened the door, and said in a very brisk, cold tone, ‘Well, come in. Let’s talk. But I haven’t got long.’

‘This won’t take long.’ Dusty closed the door behind him, knowing she was not going to be very forgiving.

India went and stood behind her desk. His arrival had startled her, thrown her off balance, but the chit-chat between her carpenters and Dusty had given her time to recover her equilibrium. Much to her surprise she discovered she was now calm. And she had to admit to herself that she had missed him, had longed to go to him. She was still in love with him; he haunted her days.

Dusty looked well, she decided, but there were dark rings under his eyes. He was tired. She suddenly understood that he had more than likely buried himself in his painting to counterbalance his unhappiness about her, and her defection.

Hovering in front of her desk, Dusty exclaimed heatedly, ‘Look, I admit I was pretty bloody stupid. I should have told you about my child when I came out of hospital, when I explained who Melinda was. I was embarrassed, though, and in a blue funk. Also, I’m not used to discussing my private life with anyone.’

‘I know that,’ India said. She sat down in the chair, motioning for him to be seated also.

He took the chair on the other side of her desk, and continued. ‘I never confide in anyone. I’m a loner, independent, you know that. I’ve never ever made a commitment to anyone, I mean to a woman, and I vowed long ago never to get married. To be honest, until you walked out on me that day, I actually didn’t understand how I really felt about you.’

She gave him a long hard stare and snapped, ‘At least you’re honest. What you’re saying, Dusty, is that I was just another woman passing through your life, that you saw no reason to share your past with me. Correct?’

‘In a way, I suppose. But not quite…You see, I did know I was hooked on you, although perhaps I didn’t understand how much. I respected you, India, and I looked up to you. I realized all those things that afternoon, but I was also confused, self-conscious and I didn’t know how to explain that she and I had a child.’

‘I would have understood, and that’s why I was so upset. You underestimated me, and you didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry for that. I’m an idiot.’

‘Well, it was nice of you to come and apologize.’ She stood up. ‘I’ve got to get back to–’

‘India, there’s something else I need to tell you,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘I have always supported Melinda, her mother Mrs Caldwell, and Atlanta. And I pay Melinda’s medical bills.’

She nodded, began to edge around the desk, anxious to return to work.

‘I just wanted you to know this.’

‘Why didn’t you two get married?’ India asked, suddenly wanting now to know more.

‘I wasn’t in love with her. Actually, we broke up before she knew she was pregnant.’

‘I see.’

Dusty walked towards the door, realizing there was no point continuing the discussion. He felt depleted, worn out. He had told her the truth about Melinda, and there was nothing else to say. She was not in the mood to hear his pleas, his declarations of love.

India said, ‘When did she get hooked on drugs?’

‘Just after Atlanta was born. Thank God for that at least.’ He opened the door, turned around, gave her a faint smile. ‘Well, that’s it, I guess–’ His throat felt constricted, and he was amazed when he realized he was choked up, on the verge of tears. How stupid he was.

India felt herself growing panicky as Dusty walked out. She couldn’t let him go. She loved him so much. Now was her chance to make everything right between them. Moving around the desk, she exclaimed, ‘Dusty, wait! Please don’t leave!’

He swung around, stood staring at her, his eyes widening when he saw the look on her face. It was one of absolute love.

He came into the office, closed the door, walked towards her, saying as he did, ‘What is it, India?’

‘I love you,’ she said, ‘I’ve always loved you. And I just wanted you to know that before you left.’

‘Do you want me to stay?’

‘Oh yes. Yes.’

He moved close, put his arms around her, held her tightly. ‘I love you too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me?’

She looked up at him, her silvery eyes glazed with tears. ‘Is this a proposal of marriage, by any chance?’

‘It is. I love you. I want you to be my wife.’ ‘And I want you to be my husband,’ she whispered, and standing on tiptoe she kissed him on the mouth.