Isobel paid towards her mother’s expenses, ensured that there was little change at the end of the month. But she knew there were others far less comfortable than themselves.
Lady Hannah’s illness, however, had made a severe dent in her income—and her confidence. Isobel had had no idea where she would find the money to pay for her mother’s treatment. The idea of the old lady having to wait to have her operation in a National Health hospital had not been an option. The doctor had admitted that Lady Hannah might die before the life-saving surgery was performed, and there’d been no way Isobel could allow that to happen.
She suspected Jake might have loaned her the money if she’d asked him. But she’d had no desire to involve him, no desire to precipitate exactly what had happened the night before. So she’d sold her car, and what little jewellery she’d possessed, and cut their expenses to the bone to pay back the mortgage she’d raised on the apartment.
Of course, she hadn’t anticipated that Jake might want to see her, that her mother might be taken ill on the very afternoon he was due to arrive. It was years since there’d been any serious contact between them. If he needed to speak to her, he usually phoned, and she’d actually begun to believe that Emily might be a young woman before Isobel had to confess her part in Jake’s estrangement from his family.
But that was before Marcie Duncan came on the scene. Marcie, who was young and beautiful, who didn’t just want an affair, who wanted a husband.
Isobel’s husband.
‘Am I really not—not his daughter?’ Emily asked suddenly, as Isobel was wondering what she was going to tell her mother when she visited her this evening, and she turned to look at the child. She’d been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn’t noticed that Emily had put down her cereal spoon and was regarding her now with wide, troubled eyes.
‘No, you are his daughter.’ Isobel was adamant. She didn’t care if she aggravated Jake; she wasn’t going to lie to the child. ‘We talked about this last night, Em, and I told you not to worry about it. Whatever—Daddy—says, however painful his words may be, you are his daughter. You’re our daughter. And—I love you very much.’
‘He doesn’t.’ Emily was dogged, and she pushed her untouched bowl aside. Then, cautiously, ‘Why doesn’t he believe us?’
Isobel stifled a groan. ‘I—your father has never forgiven me for something I did before you were born,’ she admitted at last. ‘It’s my fault, not his.’
Emily frowned. ‘What did you do?’
But that was beyond even Isobel’s abilities to explain. ‘It’s not important now,’ she said, getting up from the breakfast bar and carrying her coffee cup to the sink. ‘Go on, eat your cornflakes. We’ve got to leave in ten minutes and I want to phone the hospital first.’
‘The hospital?’ To Isobel’s relief, Emily was distracted, and although she didn’t make any attempt to eat her cereal, she was obviously concerned. ‘How long is Granny going to be in hospital?’
‘I don’t know.’ Anxiety clogged Isobel’s throat for a moment. Although the events of the night before had served to divert her thoughts from her mother’s relapse, the reality of the situation was suddenly almost too much to bear. She and Lady Hannah hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, and there’d been times when Isobel had thought the old lady was going out of her way to cause trouble for her. But she was her mother, her only living relative apart from Emily, and if anything happened to her she’d be completely devastated. On top of everything else it just seemed too much.
‘Is she going to die?’
Emily’s voice betrayed the panic that Isobel was trying so hard to hide, and in an effort to reassure the child she gave a short laugh.
‘Of course not!’ she exclaimed, pointing at Emily’s dish again. ‘You can come with me to see her this evening. Now, eat your breakfast. I don’t want you falling ill, too.’
To her relief, Emily picked up her spoon and made a gallant attempt to swallow her cereal. But she was still upset, and Isobel wondered again if she ought to send her to school in this state.
But she didn’t have a lot of choice. Without her mother to call on she was severely limited in the arrangements she could make. There was always Sarah Daniels, of course, but although her friend had always professed herself willing to act as babysitter, she had three children of her own to care for.
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