assumption that she’d jump at the chance of an evening with him at the snap of his fingers. Alasdair had always been utterly sure of himself, socially and academically, and in that respect he obviously hadn’t changed in the slightest. But she had. Her eyes narrowed to a dangerous gleam. He would find that Kate Dysart was very different these days from the worshipful little student of the past.
‘Miss Dysart?’ called a hesitant voice, and Kate jerked out of her reverie and hurried from the room to find her little guest at the foot of the stairs.
‘Sorry to be so long, Abby, I’ve been chatting to my mother on the phone.’
‘Could I go to the loo, please?’
Kate ushered Abby up to the tiny bathroom hurriedly. ‘Sorry about that,’ she apologised when her guest came downstairs. ‘I’ll have a very quick bath, then I’ll make us some supper.’
‘I’ll get on with some of the reading you’ve given us for half-term, then.’
‘Good girl. I shan’t be long,’ Kate ran upstairs and stripped off her serviceable navy sweater and skirt, wishing she could lie in a hot bath for hours instead of a scant five minutes before starting on her hair. Afterwards, in jeans, sneakers and sweatshirt, Kate draped a towel round her shoulders under her wet hair and went down to join Abby, who gazed at her in astonishment.
‘You look ever so different with your hair down, Miss Dysart!’
Kate smiled. ‘Our secret, OK? Right, then, Abby, I know you’re a whiz at reading, but how’s your cooking?’
‘I help Mummy sometimes.’ A smile transformed the sober little face.
‘Good girl. Do you like pasta?’
‘I love it! Can I grate the cheese?’
Tim Cartwright rang while they were occupied, to report that things were going along satisfactorily enough, but it would be hours before the actual birth. He thanked her fervently, requested a talk with his daughter, and afterwards Abby handed the phone back to Kate with a sigh.
‘The baby won’t be here for a long time yet,’ she said despondently, then brightened. ‘But Daddy said Mummy’s fine and she’s sent me a kiss and told me to thank you for being so kind.’
‘How nice of her, especially when she’s so busy,’ said Kate, eyes twinkling, and gave Abby a wooden spoon to stir the tomato sauce. ‘Have a taste—very carefully—and tell me what you think.’
There was no space for any activity other than cooking in Kate’s kitchen, which meant that supper was eaten from trays on their knees in the sitting room, to Abby’s delight.
‘This is yummy,’ she said, tasting the pasta. ‘Just like Mummy’s.’
Kate smiled, accepting this for the supreme accolade it was. ‘Thank you, Abby. Eat it all, because I’m afraid there’s only fruit or cheese afterwards.’
‘I don’t mind,’ declared Abby, and, with the obvious intention of being a good guest, by way of polite conversation asked if Miss Dysart was going away for the holiday.
Touched, Kate explained that she was going home to Stavely for the week. ‘In time for my new little nephew’s christening,’ she explained. ‘My brother’s baby. He’s six weeks old and I’m his godmother, so I’ll be the one holding him when the vicar splashes water on his forehead.’
‘Gosh,’ said Abby, impressed. ‘I expect he’ll cry.’
‘If so I shall hastily hand him back to his mummy!’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Henry Thomas, after both his grandfathers, but known as Hal, his grandma tells me.’
‘Have you seen him yet?’
‘No. Which is why my brother arranged the christening for half-term, so I could be there.’
Not that she couldn’t have driven home to Friars Wood for a fleeting visit before now. But running home at every possible opportunity was an indulgence Kate had made herself crack down on a long time ago.
After supper Abby helped wash up and clear away, by which time Kate’s mane of dark hair was dry, and curling down her back in glossy profusion, much to Abby’s admiration. As they worked together Kate encouraged her to talk, drawing her out about her life in London before coming to Foychurch, and learned that Abby missed her schoolfriends there, but loved her new home in the country.
‘Miss Dysart,’ said Abby after a pause, her voice so forlorn Kate’s heart was wrung, ‘can I ask you something?’
Kate braced herself. ‘Ask away.’
‘Do you think Mummy will still love me the same when she’s got a new baby?’
‘I can assure you that she will, Abby,’ said Kate, thinking on her feet. ‘I’ve got three sisters and a brother, and my mother loves us all. But in a special way for each of us, because we’re all different people.’ A bit sentimental, she thought wryly, but it was worth it to see the strain fade from the worried little face.
Deciding a dose of mundane television was the best diversion for a while, Kate tuned in to an innocuous game show, and half an hour passed without more heart-searching because Abby, to her great triumph, gave some correct answers to the questions put to the contestants. Before the show ended there was a knock on the door, and Kate opened it to a man with shaggy fair hair, massive shoulders, and a rugged face with laughter lines raying from eyes which looked down at her in blank astonishment.
‘Good evening, Does Miss Dysart live here?’
‘I’m Katharine Dysart—’ But Kate got no further before a small figure hurtled past her and flung itself into the man’s arms.
‘Uncle Jack, Uncle Jack—you came!’
Abby’s uncle swept her up into a bear hug. ‘Of course I came, muggins. Sorry I’m late.’ He smiled at Kate over the fair head burrowing against his shoulder. ‘Jack Spencer. We spoke on the phone.’
‘How do you do? Please come in.’
‘Down you go, sweetheart.’ Abby’s uncle set his burden down, his smile warm for Kate. ‘My mother’s deeply grateful to you, Miss Dysart. She apologises for not coming on with me, but she was feeling rough after the flight, so I dropped her off with my father at Hope House first. My parents send their thanks.’
‘It was no trouble at all,’ Kate assured him. ‘We’ve had a very nice evening, haven’t we, Abby?’
The little girl nodded fervently. ‘I helped make supper, Uncle Jack, and we ate it in here because Miss Dysart doesn’t have a table, and we watched television, and Daddy rang, but the baby still hasn’t come—’
‘Whoa!’ said her uncle, laughing. ‘You’ve obviously had a ball, chatterbox. Now, let’s get you home to bed.’
While Abby made a trip to the bathroom before the ride home, Kate seized the chance of a private word. ‘Mr Spencer, when Abby’s father reports next will you tell him she’s afraid Mummy won’t love
