‘Rumour has it he’s about to become engaged to his chairman’s daughter. An astute career move, that! He’s at the top of his particular tree at the moment; marriage to Stephanie Wright will cement him there permanently.’
‘Perhaps they’re madly in love with each other,’ Zoe said, remembering his awesome good looks, and with a slightly repressive note in her voice because, although all the staff at Halraike Hopkins were properly discreet when with outsiders, gossip tended to get a bit rife internally and she couldn’t approve of that.
And Luke drawled back, letting her know just how dull he thought she was, ‘Wise up, Zoe. Steph Wright’s a first-class bitch. A man would have to be a fool to fall for her. And Cade’s far from that.’
Drying her hands, Zoe wondered why she felt so disappointed. A man as charismatic, as obviously intelligent and authoritative as James Cade didn’t need to marry for such sordid reasons. He could get wherever he wanted to get under his own steam. But it was none of her business and she didn’t care how he conducted his life, of course she didn’t. The only thing that could possibly concern her was his lack of recognition of her.
Luke followed her out, locking the communicating door behind him, and as she gathered her bag he suggested, a little too studiously offhand, ‘How about a spot of lunch to celebrate? Cade wouldn’t have asked for this meeting if he hadn’t already gone through our records with a fine-tooth comb and a magnifying glass and decided to use us, we knew that. But it’s nice to have everything tied up. It won’t hurt for once if you’re late getting out to the cottage.’
No wonder his wife never quite knew when to expect him, Zoe decided as she declined his offer coolly.
‘I’ll have to pass on that. I’m not visiting this weekend. Dad’s got a reunion on and Petra’s away so he’s bringing the twins to me.’ She glanced at her plain, serviceable wristwatch. Because of this morning’s meeting she wouldn’t have been able to get out to the Kent borders in time for her father to set out for Birmingham for the Korean Veterans reunion he looked forward to attending each year. So she would have to cope with the boys here in London. And move her gear into the basement. It was going to be a trying weekend.
She was already later than she’d expected to be and she walked quickly to the door, shaking her head as Luke offered, ‘I’ll give you a lift, shall I?’
The offer was tempting. It would save time. But if she went to the Elephant and Castle by Underground and then on by bus, she shouldn’t keep Dad hanging around for too long. And her new sympathy for Luke’s wife wouldn’t let her be so selfish so she urged, ‘There’s really no need, thanks. Get back to Julie and the kids; there’s still plenty of weekend left if you don’t waste it.’
But the look on his face told her that a celebratory lunch with a colleague would have been more to his liking than mowing the lawn or taking his family shopping. And it reinforced her long-held opinion that going solo was much safer than pairing up. You could always rely on yourself but rarely on anyone else. Anyone else could lose interest, grow away. Or just plain die. Or let you believe things that simply weren’t true.
In the event she wasn’t late at all and was hurrying as best she could down the street when she saw her father’s ancient Ford estate pull up in front of the house she shared.
Suddenly overwhelmed by fondness for him, she swallowed the lump in her throat and put her feeling of vulnerability down to the traumas and mortifications of last night and this morning. It wasn’t like her to get needlessly tearful, or sentimental, but she couldn’t help thinking that he deserved better from life than what he had.
They had been such a close and happy family, her father, mother, Petra and herself. And Rufus, the dog. All squashed together in the two-bedroomed cottage just inside Kent and loving it, not yearning for anything bigger and better because they all had each other and nothing else really counted.
Until fourteen years ago when her mother had died and the light had gone out of everything. Zoe had felt betrayed. It had seemed, for a time, as if her whole world was falling apart, but her father had made sure it hadn’t.
He had said goodbye to his hopes of a headship and had taught part-time so he could be with his daughters, until his voluntary retirement two years ago. Which had meant, of course, that money had been in short supply and he’d had to make sacrifices most other men would have refused to do.
He had adored his wife and he’d never got over her early death and, although he’d always done his best to disguise his pain, to make their home life as happy and normal as possible, he hadn’t been able to hide the hurt in his eyes, at least not from Zoe.
And because Petra had only just turned eight when their mother had died Zoe had gallantly tried to take her place, becoming responsible and preternaturally sensible in her efforts to help her father carry on as if everything was all right.
Forcing the bleak and thankfully rare mood of introspection away, she pinned on a smile and went to give her father a hug as he tugged the bags of baby impedimenta out of the boot. A big-boned man, he was beginning to stoop, and the hair which had turned grey in the months following the death of his devotedly loved wife was going thin on top. Swallowing an inner pang, she made her smile wider.
‘You look very smart, Dad.’ And he did. The grey flannels he wore were immaculately pressed and his old regimental badge looked impressive on his dark blazer. ‘I’m sorry you had to go to the trouble of bringing the babies out here.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ His kind eyes smiled down into hers as he turned from stacking the last bag neatly on the pavement. ‘You had a meeting and your career’s more important than my trip to Birmingham.’
She wanted to tell him it wasn’t, not really, that he had more than earned just one weekend for himself out of fifty-two. But she didn’t because he simply wouldn’t see it that way. Ever since the death of his wife his daughters had come first, their happiness and emotional security his prime concern.
Which was why, two years ago when the twins had been a few months old, he had taken early retirement in order to help look after them because Petra had been busy pushing herself through her Open University course. And, if he hadn’t been unable to stop loving his wife, grieving for her, then he would have remarried at some stage, concentrating on his career and handing over the responsibility of caring for his two daughters and, later, his small grandsons.
But now wasn’t the time to stand around as if she were in a dream, allowing her mind to backtrack through the years. Dad had a long drive ahead of him.
Gathering herself, she opened the rear car door and Bill Kilgerran said, ‘Gently. They’re both asleep.’
But just beginning to wake, she noted, going gooey as always when they were like this: two identical boneless blond puddings, long lashes fluttering over flushed cheeks. Blessedly quiet, just for the moment!
They each unstrapped a twin from an identical car seat and just before small chubby arms put a stranglehold on her neck Zoe saw hers was Robin. He had a brown fleck in the iris of one of his big blue eyes. Rickie didn’t, which was kind of Mother Nature as it stopped them getting muddled up completely.
The little boy nuzzled his cheek against hers and she gave herself a moment of auntly joy as she cuddled him back and then got into brisk and sensible mode, reached for one of the lined-up bags with her free hand and went carefully up the steps and into the house.
The long narrow hall already seemed to be full of luggage—suitcases,
