it certainly is,’ Amber agreed bleakly.
‘I don’t understand.’ Rose frowned. ‘If you weren’t expecting him—what on earth is he doing here?’
‘Don’t ask!’ she groaned. ‘It’s all to do with the sale of the house. But everything has become so compli-cated—’ Amber broke off, looking nervously back over her shoulder. ‘I...I’ll give you a ring tomorrow...explain everything,’ she added, quickly bending down to kiss Emily goodbye, before dashing swiftly back to the sitting room.
Unfortunately, on her return, she discovered that even those few minutes’ absence had proved to be fatal.
‘...of course, Lucy’s a very clever little girl,’ her mother was saying. ‘I’m hoping that she’ll be clever enough to get into the local grammar school. But, as she’s only seven years old, there’s still a few years to go yet,’ she added, smiling she patted the glossy, dark curls of the child sitting on her lap.
‘But I’m going to be eight years old in June,’ Lucy added quickly, jumping to her feet and running over to the tall man leaning elegantly against the mantelpiece. ‘How old are you?’
‘I’m as old as my face—and just a little older than my teeth,’ Max retorted, waving aside her grandmother’s protest as he smiled idly down at the small girl.
‘That’s a very clever answer!’ Lucy grinned up at the man towering over her small figure. ‘Are you going to be staying with us for a while?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ he murmured, his dark brows creasing into a puzzled frown as he gazed down at the little girl.
‘That’s a pity, because I really like riddles. My friend, Emily, told me a new one today—and I bet Granny won’t know the answer,’ she confided, before turning to skip back across the carpet to where Violet was sitting. ‘When is a pony not a pony?’
The older woman smiled and shook her head.
‘When it’s turned into a field!’ Lucy shouted before collapsing into a fit of giggles.
Standing frozen in the open doorway, Amber felt as if she were viewing the curtain rise on the last act of a Greek tragedy. Numbly waiting for nemesis to strike, she watched as Max turned his head to look into the large mirror over the mantelpiece. She saw his body becoming taut and rigid, his eyes narrowing to dark points of hard steel as he stared first at himself, and then at the reflection of the small girl on the other side of the room.
Paralysed by panic, and helplessly unable to prevent her whole world from crashing down about her head, Amber’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as Max continued to stare blindly into the mirror, his expression grim and forbidding. And then, as if coming to a decision, he turned to cross the room. Murmuring a polite farewell to Violet Grant, he glanced down intently at Lucy for a moment, before striding swiftly towards where she stood in the doorway. Grasping Amber’s arm in an iron grip, he barely halted his swift progress as he dragged her after him into the hall, then slammed the door shut behind them.
‘My God!’ he exploded, the sound of his angry voice reverberating loudly in the large, vaulted space of the hall. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Tell you what?’ she muttered, helplessly aware that she’d never been any good at telling lies as she felt the hot colour flooding over her pale cheeks. ‘I...I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, yes, you damn well do!’ he retorted harshly, his fingers tightening cruelly on her arm. ‘That little girl is obviously my daughter—for Heaven’s sake!’
‘No! No, you’re quite...er...quite wrong....’ she whispered, desperately tried to evade his fierce gaze.
‘I’m not prepared to listen to any stupid lies, Amber,’ he ground out threateningly, before swearing violently under his breath as he glanced down at the slim gold watch on his wrist. ‘Unfortunately, I’m already late for another appointment. But if you thought you’d seen the last of me eight years ago—you were very much mistaken!’ he growled, the icy-cold menace in his voice sending shivers of fright and terror running down her spine. ‘Because, I’ll be back just as soon as I can. And that’s not a threat—it’s a promise!’
* * *
And she had absolutely no doubt that he would be back, Amber told herself, shivering with cold and nervous exhaustion. Max had very clearly stated his firm intention of seeking her out once again. And there was nothing she could do, but wait with ever-mounting despair for his return.
It had seemed, during the past two weeks, as though she was existing in the midst of a living nightmare, never knowing from one moment to the next when or how he would turn up to cast an evil shadow over her life. And while she was normally very busy at this time of year, she’d hardly been able to concentrate on even the simplest task. In fact, with Max’s sudden reappearance in her life, she was finding it almost impossible to focus on the present when her mind was so completely filled with memories of the past.
‘Mummy...? Where are you?’
‘Over here,’ Amber called out as her small daughter appeared on the other side of the old walled garden.
‘Do hurry up!’ Lucy begged, running down the gravel path towards her. ‘If we don’t go soon, I’ll miss my riding lesson.’
Amber grimaced as she glanced down at her watch. ‘Sorry, darling, I completely forgot the time.’
‘I hope you’re going to change out of those old clothes,’ Lucy told her, critically viewing her mother’s slim figure, clothed in a scruffy pair of jeans beneath a windproof jacket, which had clearly seen better days. ‘And you’ve got some leaves stuck in your hair.’
‘Hey—relax! It’s Saturday, remember? No one has to get all dressed up at the weekend,’ Amber laughed, bending down to allow the little girl to remove the greenery from her thick, golden brown hair.
‘I thought you were going to do some Christmas shopping.’
‘Oh, yes, you’re right. I’d completely forgotten. OK, you win,’ she grinned through her hair at her daughter. ‘I’ll try and find something smarter to wear.’
A self-appointed arbiter of her mother’s wardrobe, Lucy had very strong views on what was, and what wasn’t, suitable attire for various social functions. However, not having any spare money to spend on clothes, Amber had quite cheerfully stopped worrying about the dictates of fashion a long time ago.
‘What are you going to wear?’ Lucy demanded as she finished removing the straw from her mother’s hair.
‘Oh, I’ll think of something.’
‘All my friends say that you’re very pretty. When I’m grown up, I’m going to buy you lots and lots of lovely clothes,’ Lucy told her solemnly.
‘Thank you, darling!’ Amber grinned down at her daughter. Although she was only twenty-six and still—if Philip Jackson was to be believed—an attractive woman, she knew that she’d never been half as pretty as Lucy. With her cloud of black curly hair and large, clear blue eyes, the little girl was the spitting image of her father. Which was yet another problem to be faced. Because it wasn’t just the threat of Max’s
