Winds of Change (22 page)

‘I told you, you didn't need to stay,' she said. ‘I can manage. I'm sure you've got more important things to do.'

‘I can't think of anything half as important as this. Please let me stay with you. I may be able to help, if it's only to bring you cups of tea.'

She hesitated, then gestured to the chair next to hers. ‘They've taken him up to the operating theatre. They think his appendix may have burst. That can be . . . quite dangerous.' Her voice wobbled on the last word.

‘Oh, my dear!' He put one arm round her and though she stiffened at first, she suddenly collapsed against him, sobbing.

‘I don't know what I'll do if I lose him! I haven't been able to get pregnant again.'

He patted her back and made soothing noises, trying to hide his own fears and work out the best way to help this stranger-daughter of his. He'd never been good at people and relationships, not since he'd had to leave Perth, hating the world, and taking refuge in computers. His brief marriage hadn't changed his opinion about that. Even his son from that marriage seemed more like a stranger.

Once Katie had stopped weeping and settled down to wait, he said gently, ‘Tell me about Ned. I've been dying to meet him.'

‘You have?'

‘Yes. Of course I have. He's my grandson. I can't tell you how happy it made me to find out I had one.'

‘I wasn't sure what you wanted from us. You never insisted or asked for much, not about anything.'

He could only offer her the truth. ‘I didn't dare insist. I've been terrified of you rejecting me.'

She clung to him, fingers digging in. ‘I lost the best father on this planet to cancer, and Ned lost his grandfather. No one can ever replace Dad. But because of him, I'd like to try to get to know you. I know how rewarding a father-daughter relationship can be.'

He found he was stroking her hair, found that his own cheeks were moist, and he didn't care if the other people in the room were staring at them. ‘I'll try my hardest to live up to your Dad,' he murmured and felt her nod against him.

The day of the antiques auction was rainy, with storms forecast later. Miranda got there early. She wanted to see what happened to her furniture and would be sad to lose some of the pieces, particularly the chest of drawers that was apparently so much more valuable than the other things. She'd loved it for its grace and beauty, not its value.

When she got to the auction rooms, she found Dorothy waiting there, and wasn't surprised. As a lawyer, Sebastian wouldn't breach the order to stay away from her, but he'd sent his wife in his place. Miranda couldn't help hoping the furniture would sell at top prices, not just for the money but to show him she wasn't totally dependent on his goodwill as her trustee.

She had a sudden image of him as a huge black spider spinning its web and trapping her, as her father had trapped her before. Only she wasn't going to let that happen a second time.

She went to sit down at the other side of the room and when Dorothy got up and came across to ask if it was all right to join her, she just shrugged. She was too tense to play games and pretend they were two friends meeting by chance. ‘Be sure to take notes for him.'

Dorothy nodded, the bland half-smile with which she usually faced the world not slipping at all.

This was like no auction Miranda had ever seen before. It had been advertised as a fine and rare antiques furniture auction and the on-line catalogue had displayed one beautiful piece of furniture after another, including all of Miranda's pieces. The people here today were, on the whole, exquisitely dressed and spoke in soft, educated voices.

‘You're selling all your antiques, aren't you?' Dorothy said abruptly.

‘I don't want to but I've got no choice. The trust won't allow me to do anything but live on a pittance in that horrible little flat. I'd suffocate there.'

Dorothy was silent, then said suddenly, ‘I'll deny I said it, but you go for it, Miranda. Get as far away from him as you can, like our sons did!'

Miranda looked at her sister-in-law in surprise. ‘I thought you were here to keep an eye on me and report back to Sebastian, not to encourage me to rebel.'

‘That's why he asked me to come, but I do have my own views, you know.' A bitter expression flitted across Dorothy's face as she said that. ‘I just don't think it worthwhile broadcasting them.'

‘Why did you say something today, then?'

She shrugged. ‘In case you needed encouragement now that nice man is dead.'

‘Oh.'

The auction started just then. Miranda got out her pencil, ready to note the prices in the catalogue, and noticed Dorothy doing the same.

When the first of her items came up for sale, she felt quite sick with apprehension. To her astonishment, it sold for considerably more than the reserve. She'd memorized every single reserve price. Closing her eyes for a moment she felt relief sweep through her, then wrote the price down. Of course she'd be paying a commission on that, but still, it was very cheering to know you had some money coming to you.

One by one, her pieces sold well. Only one didn't go higher than its reserve price. She heard someone nearby say that this was a ‘good buying crowd not like last time' and thanked whatever fate had helped her to sell now.

‘He'll hate this,' Dorothy murmured.

She'd spoken so softly that Miranda wasn't sure whether the remark was meant for her, so didn't respond.

Two hours later the last of the items came up for sale, the chest of drawers. The price went up and up, and soon passed the first reserve price that had been suggested, then the higher reserve price they'd settled on. It sold for twenty thousand dollars.

Dorothy was looking at her in amazement. ‘I'd no idea they were so valuable. They've just been sitting around your father's house, being used all the time. They could have got damaged.'

‘They were quite safe. I was there to take care of them, and Father wasn't the sort to damage anything.'

‘He might have had a fall and knocked one flying. Did
you
know how much they were worth?'

‘I had no idea. My aunt always said she had some nice pieces, so I knew they'd fetch something, but not how much.' She might have escaped from her father sooner if she'd known. Or perhaps not. She'd retreated into herself, she knew, thankful for the Internet. It had needed both the unfair will and Lou to push her out of retreat mode.

She stood up. ‘I'm going home now.'

‘Thanks for not being nasty today.'

She turned to Dorothy. ‘I'm not the sort. I never was. Perhaps I'd have had a better life if I had fought back.'

‘And perhaps you wouldn't be the same person if you had. I envy you.'

‘Envy
me
?'

‘Yes.'

‘Whatever for?'

‘Being yourself. Not hurting other people. I bet
you
sleep well at night.' On that she walked off.

Miranda was baffled by this. Did Dorothy not sleep well at night? Why ever not?

Regina went to sit in her favourite place, the recliner chair, putting up the footrest with a tired sigh. She waited until Nikki was curled up on the sofa, then took a deep breath.

‘I've not quite told you the truth about your father.'

‘Oh?'

‘He's not dead. At least, I think he isn't. I don't know where he is, though.'

‘
What?
'

‘And I understand perfectly well what you're going through at the moment because I was never married. Your father just . . . didn't hang around once he found I was pregnant – and even if he had, I'd not have married him.' She paused, looking at her daughter. ‘It was hard, managing on my own in a country where I knew no one. But it was better than going back and letting Dad take over, as he had done with Miranda. I'd have done anything rather than run back to him.'

She took a big slurp of wine. ‘When she first came out of hospital, he treated Miranda like a slave, and a half-witted one at that. And Sebastian was equally nasty.' She explained in some detail about Miranda's baby.

‘That's why—' Nikki broke off.

‘Why what?'

‘Why she rang me up and told me to keep the baby if I wanted. She offered to help, too.'

‘She's changing. She became so quiet and . . . and colourless after having the baby. I was glad I was able to come and work in England, be away from them all. I liked it here. I still do. My mother was English like Miranda's – Father seemed to go for English wives, after the first one – and I had a British passport, so I could come and settle here. I saw my mother a couple of times when she came to Europe on holiday, but she had a new husband younger than her and wasn't interested in presenting him with a stepdaughter of my age.'

Nikki was watching her open-mouthed. ‘I can't believe what I'm hearing!'

‘It's the truth.'

‘Who was my father?'

‘A guy I met. He was from New Zealand but working in London. He was fun, but definitely not husband material. When he found out I was pregnant, he vanished overnight. Literally. He needn't have bothered to run away. I'd not have been stupid enough to marry him.'

‘Did you never try to trace him? I mean, you could have claimed maintenance, at least.'

‘Then
he
would have had rights. He was a no-hoper.'

‘Why did you go out with him then?'

‘I was lonely and he was fun, I'll give him that. Great in bed, too.' She saw her daughter blush at that. The young always seemed to think parents didn't do sex any more. ‘I do understand what you're going through, Nikki. And I'm sorry, but I still can't face a baby living here. There isn't room and I'd have no privacy.'

‘You've always guarded your privacy very jealously.'

‘Yes. I know. I'm sorry if that's hurt you. It's how I am. I can't take people non-stop, have to have regular peace and quiet. But I will help you financially and I'll even babysit for you from time to time.'

Nikki looked at her very solemnly, in the way that had been so endearing when she was a small child, then gave her a faint smile. ‘I do understand, Mum. After living with Tim for a few weeks, I'm longing for some privacy myself. Only I can't afford it.'

‘Why don't you stay here tonight? It's Saturday tomorrow. You don't have to rush off to school and I don't have to rush off to work.'

She watched as Nikki closed her eyes and let a few tears leak out. ‘Oh, darling!' She moved quickly across to take her daughter in her arms. ‘Don't cry. We'll find some way of coping, and you definitely don't have to marry Tim. In fact, I hope you won't. Not because I don't like him, I do. He seems a really nice guy. But because you're too young to tie yourself down.'

‘I've come to that conclusion myself.'

She gave Nikki another hug then stepped back. ‘I've got some ice cream in the freezer.'

‘Chocolate toffee chip?'

‘Yes. Our favourite. If ever we needed comfort food, it's now.'

When a nurse came to the waiting room door and called, ‘Mrs Parrish', Katie hurried forward. Brody followed more slowly.

‘Your son's just been brought back to the ward, Mrs Parrish. Perhaps you'd like to sit next to him and be there when he wakes up properly?'

‘Yes. Oh, yes.'

‘Can I come too?' Brody asked.

The nurse frowned.

‘He's Ned's grandfather,' Katie explained, ‘and as my husband is overseas he's . . . supporting me.'

‘That's all right, then.'

The figure on the bed looked so tiny, Brody's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. He let Katie take a seat by the bed and pulled a chair up beside hers, staring down at his grandson. ‘He's got my family's red hair; a bit darker, perhaps.'

‘Yes.' She took hold of the child's hand and bent to kiss his cheek. ‘I'm here with you, Ned darling. You're in hospital.'

His eyes fluttered open for a moment but there was no real comprehension in them.

She kept hold of his hand, her eyes fixed on the child's face, as if she was willing him to get better.

Time passed slowly. Brody usually hated being inactive, but somehow today, it felt right simply to sit there with his daughter. Together. After an hour or so, he whispered, ‘How about I fetch you something to eat?'

‘Just a coffee. Black, no sugar.'

He came back to find her talking to a very drowsy child and when he stood at the foot of the bed, he was stunned by their resemblance to one another – and to Miranda. Same eyes, same facial structure. His genes seemed to be taking a back seat when it came to the physical looks of his descendants, except for the hair. Well, the child looked like the Miranda he had known as a young woman. He didn't know what she looked like now, and didn't want to, either.

‘This man is a new friend,' she told her son. ‘Brody's been helping me. See. He's just brought me some coffee.'

The boy's eyes lingered on Brody for a minute, then fluttered shut.

‘He seems all right.'

She beamed at him. ‘Yes. The surgeon popped in to tell me they'd got the appendix out in the nick of time. I'd love that coffee now.'

He realized he was still clutching it to his chest and smiled as he passed it to her.

‘I'm going to be staying the night,' she said, ‘just to be sure he's all right. I have to go home and get my things first, though.'

‘I'll drive you.'

‘You can take me back to my car, but I won't impose on you any longer.'

‘It's not imposing. I want to help in any way I can.'

She gave him a long, solemn look. ‘You have. But now I know Ned's all right, I'll be fine driving my car, I promise. I'll give you our address. Once he's home, you must come and have tea with us. I'll tell him who you are tomorrow. He'll be excited, because he doesn't have any grandfathers and all his friends do.'