frowned. ‘You’re really not looking forward to this, are you?’
‘No, I’m really not.’
‘Because your old man snowed you?’
‘Because he lied to me, yes.’ Helen hadn’t the energy to go any further. She picked up her handbag and rummaged for her comb. ‘Do I look all right?’
Melissa gave her a grudging once-over. ‘Not bad for an older woman,’ she conceded. ‘Milos thinks you’re cool, anyway.’
Helen flushed. ‘Oh, right,’ she said, even though the girl’s words had given her a cheap forbidden thrill. ‘Let’s go before I lose my nerve.’
B EFORE Helen could reach for the door handle, however, someone knocked from outside, and her stomach took a nosedive.
‘Who is it?’ she called faintly, but Melissa simply took the initiative and opened the door.
The man who stood outside was instantly recognisable. Tall and lean, with gaunt features and thick grey-streaked sandy hair, her father looked almost as apprehensive as she did. ‘Helen,’ he said thickly, making no attempt to step into the room. ‘Dammit, I should have gone to meet you myself, instead of getting Milos to do it. I’ve waited so long for this moment. Can you forgive me for being scared I’d f—mess it up?’
Helen couldn’t move. Now that he was here, actually standing in front of her, all the years between them seemed like so much wasted space.
‘Well, say something,’ he exclaimed raggedly, and she realised he’d mistaken her silence for withdrawal.
As if growing impatient with both of them, Melissa stepped forward. ‘Hi,’ she said, regarding him with critical dark eyes. ‘I’m Melissa Shaw; your granddaughter.’ She paused, glancing at Helen. ‘Don’t mind Mum. She’s having a hard time remembering who you are.’
‘That’s not true,’ began Helen quickly, desperate not to antagonise him before they’d had a chance to get to know one another again.
But Sam Campbell didn’t let her finish. ‘I wouldn’t blame her if she was,’ he said gruffly. ‘Goodness knows, I’m not proud of the way I’ve let things drift.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s so good to see you again—to see both of you. I’ve been a fool to let Sheila call the shots all these years.’
Helen hesitated. ‘It’s not all your fault,’ she said, ignoring the rolling-eyed look Melissa gave her. ‘I was too stubborn, I guess. I wasn’t prepared to listen to you.’
‘And now you are?’
Helen made a helpless gesture. ‘I’m—older,’ she said obliquely. And then, because she couldn’t ignore the reasons that had brought her here, ‘When you said you were ill…’
Hectic colour flooded his cheeks. ‘That wasn’t true—’
‘I know that now.’
‘Milos told you?’
‘No. Maya.’ Helen saw the way his mouth tightened at the news. ‘I don’t think she wants us here.’
Sam shook his head, his impatience evident now. ‘It’s not her call,’ he said. ‘This is my house, not hers.’ He pushed nervous hands deep into the pockets of his cotton trousers. ‘I have to ask: does my deception make a difference?’
Helen lifted slim shoulders. ‘It does, of course. But I don’t know how I feel.’ She saw Melissa watching her and went on carefully, ‘Perhaps we ought to take one day at a time.’
‘Would you have come if I hadn’t pretended to be ill?’ he demanded fiercely and Helen had to admit that the answer was probably no. And, as if he was able to read her thoughts, he went on, ‘So now you know why I did it.’
‘I suppose so.’
He took a deep breath then, glancing up and down the hall outside. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’re tired. You’d like a rest.’ He frowned. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘We had some coffee.’
‘But nothing to eat?’ Her father nodded and glanced at his watch. ‘Okay. It’s nearly half past ten. Why don’t I have Sofia bring you some rolls and some fresh coffee? Then you can relax until lunchtime.’
‘That sounds good to me.’ Helen glanced at Melissa. ‘What do you think?’
‘Well, I don’t want to rest,’ said Melissa with her usual perversity. She looked at her grandfather. ‘Can’t I go with you?’
‘Melissa!’
Helen was about to object when Sam Campbell said, ‘Why not?’ A smile warmed his rather austere features. ‘If your mother doesn’t mind.’
Helen could think of no reason why Melissa shouldn’t go with him. ‘Um—no,’ she murmured. And then another thought occurred to her. ‘Is Milos still here?’
Melissa rolled her eyes again at this, but thankfully her grandfather didn’t see her. ‘No, he’s gone,’ he said, suddenly more cheerful. ‘Okay, Melissa, I’ll give you the guided tour, eh? And introduce you to Alex.’
‘Alex?’
Both Helen and her daughter spoke in unison and once again a momentary hesitation crossed his face. ‘Alex. Alex Campbell,’ he said with some reluctance. ‘Maya’s son.’
Melissa came back before lunch, full of herself and of the things she’d seen.
‘This is some place, Mum,’ she exclaimed, flinging herself onto Helen’s bed with a complete disregard for the silk coverlet. ‘Did you know they make wine here as well as grow the grapes?’
Helen hadn’t known that but she was quite content to let Melissa tell her all about it. Having spent the morning unpacking both her suitcase and Melissa’s backpack and taking a shower, she felt much more optimistic about the trip. If it helped to show her daughter there was more to life than skipping school and hanging about on street corners with kids whose main pastimes were smoking pot and shoplifting, she’d be more than happy.
A vain hope, perhaps, but at least it was a beginning and Melissa seemed to have enjoyed herself.
‘He took me down to the mill,’ she said, tugging on the rings that circled her ear with a careless finger. ‘It was good. He let me taste some of the wine they’d made last year.’
‘Really?’ Helen restrained herself from saying that drinking wine at her age and at this hour of the morning wasn’t very sensible. ‘So what was it like?’
‘The wine? Okay, I guess.’ Melissa didn’t sound impressed. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be an alcoholic.’
Helen breathed a little easier. ‘That’s a relief.’
