he moment Glynnis walked into the office Emma felt as though she had never left. In an instant, a decade fell away, and for a moment Emma was back in the past, in the war years. Memories came at her in full flood, bringing a lump to her throat.

Rising, she hurried across the floor of her office, and the two women embraced affectionately. Standing away from her former secretary, Emma looked into her face, and smiled. ‘Glynnis, you’ve hardly changed!’ she exclaimed. ‘You look just the same, perhaps a tiny bit thinner, but as lovely as you always were.’

‘I’m a few years older now, Mrs Harte, but thank you. And you never get a day older, I must say.’

Emma chuckled as the two of them walked over to the seating arrangement at one end of her office in the London store. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ Emma confided as they sat down opposite each other. ‘I was sixty this past April, not that I feel it, mind you. Actually, I still feel like a young woman inside.’

‘And that’s how you look,’ Glynnis answered, meaning it.

‘I did want to take you to lunch, Glynnis dear, but you said you preferred to have tea, and you mentioned a problem when we spoke on the phone. Is there something the matter?’

‘Oh no, Mrs Harte. It’s just that…well, you see, I brought Owen with me to England. My parents haven’t seen him since he was a baby, and he’s with me now, in London. He does like his lunch, it’s his favourite meal. That’s the only reason I suggested tea.’

Emma shook her head, suddenly laughing. ‘He could have come to lunch with us, you know. And let’s not forget, he’s my grandson, too. I’m so glad he’s here, I haven’t seen him since he was a toddler.’

‘He’s a nice boy, I’m proud of him.’ Glynnis hesitated, then went on in a lowered voice, ‘He looks like Robin.’

‘Does he really?’ Emma responded, her vivid green eyes lighting up with interest. Leaning forward, she asked, ‘And where is Owen now?’

‘With my cousin Gwyneth. She’s taken him to the zoo. She’s married now and lives in Hampstead, but it’s only a small flat, so I decided it was better for us to go to a hotel. That’s why we’re at the Hyde Park.’

‘I understand. And she’s well, is she? Your cousin, I mean.’

‘Oh yes. No children yet, but she’s very happily married…’ Glynnis let her sentence trail off.

There was a little silence.

Emma sat back on the sofa, scrutinizing Glynnis Hughes intently, her mind full of questions, some of which she decided not to ask. But she couldn’t help wondering if Glynnis were happy in her marriage to Richard Hughes, if it had worked, still was working. Although Glynnis continued to write to her on a regular basis she never said much about Richard or referred to her domestic life.

Becoming aware of Emma’s fixed gaze, Glynnis cleared her throat. ‘You’re staring at me, Mrs Harte. Now it’s my turn to ask if something’s wrong.’

‘Not at all, Glynnis. I was just wondering if your marriage had worked out all right? You never really reveal anything in your letters. At least about Richard. But I always thought he was such a nice young man.’

‘He is, and it’s fine, I mean everything’s good. The marriage is sound, and he does love Owen so very much. Richard’s treated him like his own child since the day he was born, but then you know that. And he’s never asked me who the father was. He’s a good man, and kind.’

‘Then my judgement of him was correct. I never doubted him, Glynnis, and I’m glad you have him. By the way, why didn’t he come with you?’

‘To tell you the truth he didn’t want to come. You see, in the past year his business has grown in leaps and bounds. He’s doing really well with his antique shop in Manhattan, and he’s even done some interior design for a couple of clients who collect English Georgian furniture. He’s an expert in that field. Anyway, he has a couple of big jobs at the moment and nothing ever interferes with his business.’ A smile suddenly played around Glynnis’s mouth. ‘He’s like you in that way, Mrs Harte. I’m sure that’s why I understand him so well, because I worked for you.’

They both laughed in a conspiratorial way, and then a moment later there was a sudden knock on the door and it opened. Alice, Emma’s secretary, popped her head around it, and asked, ‘Shall I bring the tea in now, Mrs Harte?’

‘Yes, thank you, Alice.’ Looking across at Glynnis, Emma asked, ‘What are your plans for the weekend?’

Glynnis gave a little shrug. ‘I don’t really have any. I thought I’d take Owen to Hampton Court, do a few jaunts like that. I want him to know his other country…my country.’

‘How about showing him Yorkshire?’ Emma suggested, raising an auburn brow. Seeing the surprise crossing Glynnis’s face, she continued, ‘I think you ought to bring Owen to Yorkshire, to stay at Pennistone Royal with me. For the weekend. I’m leaving tonight, and if you travel up tomorrow you can spend Friday night, Saturday and Sunday. I’m sure he’d enjoy it, my dear.’

‘Oh Mrs Harte, that would be lovely, but are you sure?’ Glynnis’s blue eyes sparkled.

‘Absolutely positive, and I would love to get to know Owen. In a way, I feel as if I do already, because your letters are very enlightening, but having the boy around me in the flesh, so to speak, would be…well, it would make me very happy.’

‘There’s just one thing.’ Glynnis paused, her face changing. She gave Emma a worried look. ‘He won’t be around, will he? I wouldn’t want to run into him.’

‘No, no. Robin always calls if he’s going to pop in to see me, but usually he stays in London all the time these days. He’s made a success of being a Member of Parliament, made a success of politics.’

Glynnis merely nodded, not trusting herself to say his name or ask any questions.

Alice came in with the tea tray and put it down on the coffee table between them, then smiling at Emma, she hurried out.

After pouring the tea and passing a cup to Glynnis, Emma said, ‘Tomkins is driving me to Yorkshire later, but I’ll arrange a car and driver for you, Glynnis. For tomorrow morning.’

‘No, no, I don’t want you to do that, Mrs Harte! It’s kind of you, but we can come on the train to Harrogate. Really, that’ll be–’

‘I think you’d better come by car,’ Emma cut in. ‘The trains can be slow, and often late. However, if you prefer to drive yourself, then you can borrow my Riley, that’s no problem at all.’

‘If you’re sure, Mrs Harte,’ Glynnis began, nodding. ‘I think I’d like that, and certainly it’s a chance for Owen to see the English countryside.’

‘So it’s settled then,’ Emma said, beaming at her former secretary. ‘I’m looking forward to our weekend. The three of us will have fun.’

‘We’ve now become the biggest newspaper proprietors in the north,’ Emma said, gazing at her brother Winston across the desk. ‘But I want to expand further, I want to own…a national.’

Winston stared back at her, as usual taking everything in his stride. Long ago he had ceased to be surprised by Emma. She was a wonder to him, a wonder to them all, and she had expanded her business empire enormously since the end of the war. And he knew she had done it all by using a combination of determination, sheer nerve and hard work. She was a genuine tycoon now.

‘You’re not saying anything, Winston.’

‘I was just thinking…thinking that there’re no newspapers for sale at the moment, our Emm, as far as I know, anyway. National dailies I’m talking about.’

‘I know that. And I’ve been thinking too…perhaps we ought to start one of our own. From scratch.’

‘Good God, Emma, that’ll cost a fortune!’

‘And buying one wouldn’t? Come on, you know I’d have to pay through the nose if I attempted to buy an existing newspaper. It might even be cheaper, starting one.’

‘Well, let’s not rush in. Remember what Henry Rossiter always says. Fools–’

‘Rush in where angels fear to tread,’ Emma interrupted him, ‘but I’ve always done that all my life. So I guess I’m a fool,’ she laughed, her eyes full of spirit.

‘Nobody could call you that. Many other things, but not a fool,’ Winston declared.

‘Let’s at least think about it, Winston,’ she said, her tone a shade lighter. ‘Also, when I saw Blackie last Friday I asked him about the land which we looked at last week, that bombed-out building site. He thinks we should buy it, since it is a commercial property site, and it could become very valuable.’

Winston nodded. ‘To tell you the truth, it is already, Emma. Very valuable, in fact, and I was going to suggest we put in a bid for it on Monday.’

‘Yes, do it, Winston, because Blackie said we can’t go wrong.’

Emma stood up, walked over to the big window in the upstairs parlour, glancing out. The weather was still very sunny and warm, as it had been for the past week. Her gardens were beginning to look truly beautiful, and she made a mental note to tell Mr Ramsbotham, the head gardener, how pleased she was. And she would also give a word of praise to Wiggs, his nephew, who would take over from him one day. They had done a wonderful job with the parterres which looked better than they ever had.

Finally swinging around to face Winston again, she said, ‘You’ll never guess who I had tea with in London yesterday.’

‘I’m sure I won’t, you know so many people. So why don’t you tell me?’

‘Glynnis…the lovely Glynnis Jenkins from Wales.’

‘Good Lord, is she here from New York?’ He grinned. ‘Well, of course she is, that’s a daft question. How long is she staying? I’d like to see her again.’

‘Several weeks I think. I invited her up to Yorkshire for a couple of days, with her little boy, Owen.’

‘How old is he now?’ Winston asked.

‘He’s six, and apparently quite a smart little lad, from what she’s said. Anyway, she was thrilled to be invited, and she’s arriving today. I was always very fond of Glynnis.’

‘Weren’t we all,’ Winston murmured, and looked off into the distance.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked swiftly, detecting a strange note in her brother’s voice.

‘I didn’t mean anything, actually, except that she was always tremendously popular, and she was such a lovely person I think we were all a little bit infatuated with her. Not only the men but you too, our Emma, and some of the other women at Harte’s. Glynnis had the knack of making everyone love her, and she was very beautiful.’

‘She still is,’ Emma remarked. ‘A little thinner, but there’s an aura of glamour to her that will never fade, I don’t suppose. It comes from inside, glamour, although not everyone understands that. It’s nothing to do with the length of one’s hair or the colour of one’s eyes.’

Hovering near the fireplace, Emma continued after a moment, ‘I thought you and Charlotte might like to come to lunch tomorrow, or on Sunday. Or perhaps supper tomorrow evening. If you’re free, that is. It’s up to you. I can ask Blackie, too, he’s always at a loose end.’

‘We’d enjoy that. Charlotte likes Glynnis, she always thought she was the best secretary I’d ever had. I’ll ask her when we can come over for a meal. Anyway, I thought Blackie always came on Fridays for supper.’

‘He does, but he can come on Saturday as well, can’t he?’

Winston chuckled. ‘You and Blackie might as well tie the knot, you’re always together.’

Emma gaped at him, her surprise apparent.

‘Don’t look like that, lass. Blackie adores you, he always has. You just went off and married other men, that’s what you did.’

‘I love Blackie. I always have, for as long as I’ve known him; he’s my best friend. But I don’t want to get married again.’

‘Not even to that handsome American major?’ Winston teased, his eyes full of mischief.

Emma gave him a long, blank stare, and asked haughtily, ‘Which American major?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know who I mean…the one you met at our brother’s house,’ Winston shot back.

‘Oh him…I thought you were referring to my American major, my nice pilot whom I used to entertain here during the war.’

‘I never knew about that,’ Winston replied, looking at her in astonishment.

‘Well, I don’t have to tell you everything, you know.’

‘Who was he?’

‘He still is, Winston, he didn’t get killed or die.

His name’s James Thompson, and he’s been to see me several times since the end of the war. He’s a good friend.’

‘How did you meet him?’

‘He was stationed at Topcliffe. I used to give Fourth of July parties, and I had them over often…James and the whole crew.’

‘I see.’ Winston looked at her carefully, and wondered, suddenly, about Emma. He’d never known her to be secretive, but certainly she had been about this major. Was she involved with him in a romantic way? ‘Don’t you ever feel lonely, our Emm?’ he blurted out before he could stop himself.

‘How could I ever feel lonely, Winston dear, with you lot always running in and out and looking over my shoulder? And Blackie, too. I’m always surrounded.’

Emma knew exactly what Glynnis had meant when she had said Owen looked like Robin. The six-year-old boy was a small replica of her favourite son, with the same dark hair and those beautiful vivid blue eyes that were one of Robin’s best features. Even the shape of the child’s face was the same, and when he grew up he would be tall and slender, as was Robin.

As he stood in front of her the boy gave her a tentative smile and put out his hand. ‘I’m Owen Hughes,’ he said, scrupulously polite.

Emma gave him a wide smile and took his small hand in hers. ‘My name’s Emma Harte. Welcome to Pennistone Royal.’

‘Thank you, and I’m pleased to meet you.’

‘We actually know each other, Owen. We met long ago, but I’m afraid you won’t remember. You were just a little baby and then later a toddler.’

He frowned and looked up at Glynnis, his vivid, intelligent eyes full of questions.

Bending over him, Glynnis explained, ‘It’s true, Owen. Mrs Harte did know you when you were a baby, but we left England when you were quite small, and we haven’t seen Mrs Harte since then.’

‘And more’s the pity,’ Emma murmured, moving across the terrace, sitting down. ‘I’ve missed watching you grow up, Owen, and I’m sorry about that. You’re quite a tall boy for six, aren’t you?’

‘Like my father,’ he explained solemnly. ‘Dad’s tall. And dark and handsome, Mom says. And it’s true.’

Emma chuckled, and even Glynnis smiled, and said, ‘It’s so nice of you to have us for the weekend. I’ve always loved this house, it’s so beautiful, so tranquil. It’s such a treat to be here.’

‘I’m glad you could come. It is indeed quiet but I get a great deal of joy out of it, Glynnis. Now, Owen, come and sit next to me on this little seat. We can have a chat until Hilda brings the tea. Do you like strawberries and cream?’

He nodded, his eyes focused entirely on her, as he decided he liked her. His mother had told him she had once worked for Mrs Harte.

‘Good. Because that’s what we’re going to have. There’s nothing like strawberries and cream on a warm June day in Yorkshire. Now tell me about your journey.’

‘Mom drove here, and I saw a lot of sheep and cows in the fields. Do you have any cows?’

‘Certainly,’ Emma replied. ‘And later you can go with Tommy, the farm lad, he’ll take you to see them. Do you like animals?’

‘Yes, but I don’t want to be a farmer. I’m going to be the President of the United States.’

‘Are you now, Owen? Well, that’s a truly wonderful ambition!’

‘Dad says anybody can be President if they’re clever, and work hard. And if they’re good. I can work and Dad says Pm clever.’ Owen nodded his head, looked across at Glynnis and asked, ‘I am good, aren’t I, Mom?’

‘You’re the best boy in the whole world, and–’ Glynnis stopped speaking and she felt all of the strength draining out of her, as she stared at the man walking along the terrace towards them. She couldn’t take her eyes off him and she felt her chest tightening. It was Robin Ainsley. The last person in the world she wanted to see. She was gripped by an internal shaking and her mouth was dry.

Robin lost all of his colour when he saw Glynnis, and then the child. His child. Oh my God, he thought, wondering why he had come here to see his mother, today of all days. He should have phoned first, he usually did. There was no way he could retreat. How could he turn and run like a scared rabbit? But he was frightened…of her, and of himself most of all. He had never stopped loving her or thinking about her or dreaming about holding her in his arms and making love to her. Theirs had been such an all-consuming passion: together they had soared…

And oh how lovely and desirable she looked this afternoon. She was wearing a blue silk frock, the exact colour of the sky, the exact colour of her eyes. And her face was ravishing in its beauty and voluptuousness. She was around thirty now, just as he was, and these few additional years truly became her. Her hair was worn in the same soft pageboy he remembered, and it was luxuriant, a deep chestnut colour touched with natural streaks of gold. God, how he wanted her again. But he couldn’t have her. He had renounced her and he knew within himself how much he had hurt her. She could never want him, not ever again. And she was forbidden to him anyway, he understood that. But he could dream, couldn’t he?

As Robin came to a stop, he looked across at his mother. Emma’s face was inscrutable. He hurried over to her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Hello, Ma.’

‘Hello, Robin, darling,’ she murmured, and then hissed against his ear, ‘Why didn’t you phone?’ Drawing herself up, Emma then added in a normal voice, ‘You remember Glynnis, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ he managed, and had no option but to walk across to the only woman he had ever truly loved. His legs felt unexpectedly weak and he was startled. ‘Hello, Glynnis,’ he said and was relieved his voice sounded so normal. Robin offered her his hand.

‘Robin,’ she answered in a low throaty voice and reluctantly took his outstretched hand.

He discovered her hand was icy in his, and he wanted to hold onto it, to warm it, but he realized he could not. He let it go. Reluctantly. Turning around, he looked down at her little boy, his little boy, and said, ‘I’m Robin…hello.’

‘I’m Owen, and I’m pleased to meet you.’ He was very solemn.

‘Mind if I join you all, old chap?’ Robin asked, smiling warmly.

‘Oh no. That’s all right. Isn’t it, Mom?’

All Glynnis could do was nod.

Emma explained, ‘Robin is my son, Owen, just as you are your mother’s son.’

And mine, Robin thought, as he sat down in one of the wrought-iron garden chairs. He had an overwhelming need to hug this boy, hold him close. This was their love child. His and Glynnis’s.

Suddenly Emma said, ‘Oh Robin, I’m sorry to disturb you, but would you please go and ask Hilda to bring another cup and saucer for you?’

Robin stood up, excused himself, and went through the French windows into the library.

Glynnis looked across at Emma mutely, unable to speak and especially in Owen’s presence.

At once Emma recognized the look in her eyes. It was one of pure terror. Leaning closer to Owen, Emma said to him, ‘Do me a little favour, run after Robin. He’s gone to the kitchen. You’ll find it, just through those doors and across the big Stone Hall. Ask him to please bring me a glass of water.’

‘Will I find the kitchen?’ Owen asked, a bit nervously, staring at her.

‘You’re a clever boy, of course you will,’ she reassured him.

Once they were alone, Emma explained in a quick low voice, ‘This is all an accident, Glynnis, truly it is, my dear. Robin always telephones me if he’s coming, to make sure I’m here. For some reason he didn’t today.’

Glynnis could not speak. Tears filled her eyes. All she could do was nod. Oh how she loved him. She had never stopped loving him. Robin. The name she could barely say…except when she was alone and wept into her pillow and said his name over and over and over again. Robin Ainsley. Her one true love. The only man she had ever loved…would ever love. Oh, to have him hold her in his arms once more; what she would give to have that. Nothing else. Just that. To be in his arms for a few brief moments.

As if from a distance she heard Emma saying, ‘You mustn’t see him, Glynnis. You mustn’t see him alone.’