end of the day.
She would hate to sell it, but if it came to that she supposed she would have to. Such as it was, it was the only luxury she had left.
Kissing Beth goodnight, she made her way downstairs and quickly washed the dishes, then tidied up the sitting-room and ran upstairs again to change.
It was seven forty-five, so there was no time for a bath before Jake arrived. Knowing Jake, he wouldn’t be late, so she wanted to be ready on time.
She opened her wardrobe doors and sighed. What could she wear? Not that it mattered, but she did want—— Silly girl. Why should it matter what impression she created? She tutted at herself, pulled a clean pair of jeans and an oversized sweater out of the drawer, and then sat down at the dressing-table and cleansed her face before reapplying her make-up.
She wore only the minimum for work, but tonight she stroked a soft, smoky green on to her lids to bring out the hazel of her eyes, and a touch of mascara to lengthen her lashes—not that she could hope to compete with Jake when it came to eyelashes.
A sudden thump from next door made her start. She glared accusingly at the dividing wall, then wiped the mascara off her cheek and peered out of the window. There was light spilling out on to the front garden, and a car on the drive—a BMW by the look of it. Must be a new consultant moved in over the weekend, she mused, and, on the way out of the room, looked at herself critically in the mirror.
Too short, too slight, her figure such as it was shot to bits by childbirth, her hair mousy, her face about as arresting as a blank wall—she turned away from the mirror in resignation, not seeing the gracefulness in her slender body, the appeal of her figure softened by maturity to a gentle womanliness, or the wistful, expressive quality of her large, green-gold eyes above her neat, delicate features framed by soft glossy hair the colour of polished hazelnuts.
Instead, convinced of her bland lack of appeal, she moved quietly through life, content to take a back seat and allow others to enjoy the limelight.
Sometimes she wondered sadly if that was all there was to be to life, but usually she was too busy to consider herself.
Tonight, though—tonight, she had to deal with Jake, and she needed a coat of armour to hide behind, never mind a dash of lipstick!
It was a few minutes before eight, and as she straightened the cushions in the sitting-room and turned up the control on the gas fire in a last vain attempt to make the bleak surroundings homely, she heard little footsteps on the stairs.
Oh, no, not now, she thought desperately.
‘Mummy?’
‘In here, darling.’
Beth’s little face appeared round the door. ‘I don’t really hate you,’ she said seriously.
‘Oh, Beth, I know you don’t!’ Anne held out her arms to her small daughter, and hugged her tight.
‘I missed you, Mummy.’
‘I know—I missed you, too. Still, it won’t be long before I don’t have to work so many weekends, and then we can be together.’
‘If it snows this weekend, can we build a snowman for my birthday?’ Beth asked, her wide eyes doubtful.
‘If it snows, then yes, of course. Now come on, you’ve got school tomorrow—run along up to bed, there’s a good girl.’
Beth lifted up her face for a kiss, and blinked.
‘You’ve got make-up on!’
Anne laughed a little awkwardly. ‘I usually have make-up on.’
Beth shook her head. ‘This is different make-up. You look—prettier.’
Anne blushed slightly.
‘Thank you, darling.’
‘Are you going out?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve got a friend coming to see me——’
‘Is it Auntie Jo?’
‘No, she’s——’
‘Auntie Maggie?’
‘No, I——’
They both started slightly as a door slammed next door, and then seconds later their front doorbell rang.
‘I’ll get it!’ Beth yelled.
‘Beth, no!’ Anne wailed, but the child was already down the hall, fumbling with the catch.
Perhaps it’s the new next-door neighbours, Anne thought hopefully, but as the door swung open her worst fears were realised.
‘Oh!’ Beth said with characteristic lack of diplomacy as she eyed the big man lounging in the porch. ‘Are you Mummy’s friend? I thought you’d be a lady—Mummy doesn’t have men friends.’
Jake grinned lazily and shouldered himself away from the wall, shooting Anne a teasing glance over the child’s head. ‘Doesn’t she, now?’
‘Not usually—come in, you’ll let all the heat out and we can’t afford to heat the garden,’ Beth told him solemnly, parroting Anne’s frequent plea.
He laughed, and Beth laughed too, her head tipped back, her face alive with humour, the thick black lashes framing the dark chocolate eyes that sparkled with mischief.
And then it happened.
Jake looked at Beth, then looked again, and emotions one after the other chased across his face. Disbelief, and incredulous joy, and a terrible, fierce anger.
‘What’s your name?’ Beth asked him, her head cocked slightly to one side in a mannerism so familiar that Anne knew he would see it.
He looked across the child at her, his face still wearing a smile for Beth, but his eyes like cold steel, slashing through her.
‘Yes, aren’t you going to introduce me to your daughter?’ he said pointedly, only the slightest hint of a tremor betraying the emotions she could feel ripping through him.
She closed her eyes and counted to five.
‘Darling, this is Mr Hunter. He’s doing Auntie Jo’s work while she’s on holiday. Jake, this is—Elizabeth. We call her Beth.’
He held out his hand.
‘How do you do, Beth?’ he said gently, and a spasm crossed his face as Beth placed her hand trustingly in his and smiled.
‘How do you do, Mr Hunter?’ she echoed, and then giggled.
He almost glared at Anne above the slightly fixed smile. ‘I think Mr Hunter’s going a bit far, don’t you? I tell you what, Beth.’ He dropped to one knee conspiratorially. ‘Why don’t we make it Jake for now, eh? Since we’re going to be neighbours as well?’
‘Neighbours?’ Anne croaked.
He
