them.’
It was a relief to step outside. At this hour of the afternoon the sun’s rays were muted by the fronds of the willow tree that trailed in a corner of the garden. There were stripes of sun and shadow across the wrought-iron table, where Jaime set the tray, and the warm air was scented with the perfume of the flowers.
Jaime pushed the tray towards her mother, and then flopped into the chair opposite. But if she had hoped that by escaping from the house she had escaped thinking about Ben Russell she was mistaken.
‘Does he know?’
The question was oblique, but Jaime knew exactly what it meant. ‘He thinks he does.’
‘What does that mean?’ Mrs Fenner stared at her daughter with wide eyes. ‘Did you tell him?’
‘I didn’t have to,’ replied Jaime wearily. ‘He’d seen Tom. He guessed.’
‘But—Tom doesn’t look like the Russells.’
‘Apparently, he does. Ben’s father, anyway. Besides, when you see them together, the likeness is unmistakable. It’s not so much in appearance. It’s more to do with their personality, their character.’
‘Well, I hope Tom doesn’t have his father’s weaknesses!’ exclaimed Mrs Fenner shortly. ‘Honestly, Jaime, I thought all that was behind us!’
‘Do you think I didn’t?’
There was a suspicious brightness to Jaime’s eyes as she looked at her mother, and Mrs Fenner clicked her tongue in sympathy. ‘You should have rung and told us. I wondered why I hadn’t heard from you.’
Jaime sniffed, and determinedly straightened her spine. ‘Is that why you came?’
‘No.’ Mrs Fenner pulled a rueful face as she poured two cups of tea, and passed one over to her daughter. ‘Actually—–’ She glanced towards the house to assure herself that Tom wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation, and then continued, ‘Actually, I came to warn you, that—that he’d moved into the Priory.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Jaime heaved a sigh, and took a determined mouthful of her tea. ‘And Tom stole your thunder.’
‘Well, it wasn’t quite like that,’ retorted her mother drily. ‘Although, I must admit, I’m disappointed that you didn’t feel we had a right to know what was happening. For heaven’s sake, Jaime, this could cause all sorts of complications.’
‘I know.’
‘I gather he didn’t tell Tom.’
Jaime put down her cup. ‘No.’
‘And you haven’t?’
Jaime made a sound of impatience. ‘Is that likely?’
Mrs Fenner bit her lip. ‘Well, what’s he going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Jaime felt desperate, and sounded it. ‘He—he suggests we just—play it by ear.’
Mrs Fenner blinked. ‘Well, I must say he’s taking it rather coolly, isn’t he? I don’t know that I’d have his presence of mind.’
Jaime shrugged. ‘The Russells aren’t like us, are they?’
‘Even so…’ Her mother frowned. ‘I gather you managed to speak to him alone.’
‘Well—yes.’ Jaime shifted a little uncomfortably. ‘I—I had lunch with him on Monday.’
‘You’ve been out with him!’
Her mother sounded quite scandalised now, and Jaime hurried to reassure her. ‘It wasn’t my idea. He came to the office. On Monday lunchtime,’ she explained. ‘Obviously, he couldn’t say anything while—while Tom was around, and—well, I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter.’
‘It didn’t occur to him that Tom might be Philip’s son, not his?’ her mother queried doubtfully, and Jaime uttered a tired sigh.
‘Yes,’ she said, resting her elbows on the table, closing her eyes and sliding slim fingers into the damp hair at her temples. ‘Of course, that was what he thought at first.’
‘But you disabused him?’
‘No, Mum. He guessed. I told you.’ Jaime’s head was beginning to throb, and she felt that if she heard one more word about Ben Russell she’d scream. She opened her eyes again, and looked hollowly at her mother. ‘Now, can we talk about something else?’
Mrs Fenner frowned. ‘You can’t expect me not to be curious, Jaime. For heaven’s sake, the man comes back to Kingsmere, after all these years, and the first person he comes to see is you!’ She paused. ‘You must admit, it was a coincidence.’
‘It’s not a coincidence at all.’ Jaime looked away towards the roses, which were espaliered against the wall that divided her garden from the one next door. ‘He’d heard I was living here. I suppose he thought it was only polite to make contact.’
‘Rubbish!’ Mrs Fenner spoke disparagingly. ‘If your relationship with that man had been a normal one, I might have believed you. But after what he did to you—–’
‘Oh, Mum, shut up, will you?’ Jaime didn’t think she could take any more, and she cast an anxious glance at the open kitchen door. ‘Don’t you think I have enough to worry about?’ she exclaimed, her eyes darting pointedly towards the house. ‘I don’t need you to tell me what I already know.’
‘Well, I’m sorry.’ Her mother shrugged somewhat huffily. ‘But I worry about you, Jaime. And I wonder what he’ll do, that’s all. I mean, he’s not well, is he?’
Jaime’s drifting attention focused on her mother’s face. ‘Not well?’
‘No. That’s why he came back to England, isn’t it? For treatment. Didn’t you know?’
Jaime tried to remember what Tom had told her. He had said that Ben had been ill, and that that was why he had come back to England. But she hadn’t paid much attention to Tom’s explanations, deciding they had been offered as a sop to Tom’s pride rather than a true representation of the facts. Oh, she had seen for herself how Ben had changed, and she was quite prepared to accept that living in a war zone must be tough, but she had not allowed herself to feel any sympathy for him. Now, however…
‘You didn’t know?’ Mrs Fenner sounded surprised. ‘Well, it seems my journey hasn’t been entirely wasted. Yes, according to what I’ve heard he has some kind of liver problem.’
Jaime’s stomach heaved, and she got abruptly to her feet. A liver problem! she thought sickly. Oh, God! Liver problems could be terminal, couldn’t they? Surely that wasn’t why he had come back to England—to die?
‘Where are you going?’
Her mother’s voice reaching her from across the courtyard made Jaime realise she had started almost involuntarily towards the house, and she came to an uncertain stop. But her initial instincts had been to find out if it was true, by whatever
