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  Mia shook her head again. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “I’m going to ask.”

  Kate stood up and was at the foot of the stairs before Mia could stop her. She protested, “No, don’t, love, he’s had enough.” But she was too late.

  Gerry was hunched over, watching his goods train as it pulled into the station siding. He switched it off, and as Kate looked on he pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose.

  “Thanks for telling me, Dad.”

  “Oh! It’s you.” As though he’d never broken off the conversation he continued by saying, “She was lovely looking, was your mum. That’s where you get it from, certainly not from me.”

  Trying to keep it light, Kate joked, “Oh! I don’t know. You’re not that bad looking. I think I’ve got your nose.”

  “For your sake I hope you haven’t. She made a big mistake, did your mum. She should never have taken up with me.”

  “Don’t underrate yourself.”

  “I’m not. I’m speaking the truth. I don’t like to say too much in front of Mia; it wouldn’t be right. But your mother, though full of good intentions, should never have taken up with me. I was blessedly grateful for her, but more so because she gave me you. At least I had you to cling to when she’d gone. You to get up for, you to bathe, you to feed, you to support. Without you I’d have gone under. There’d have been no point in living but for you.”

  “She didn’t like me, did she?”

  Quickly Gerry denied this. “It wasn’t like that at all. She couldn’t cope with being tied every hour of the day.”

  “But she could have found someone to care for me while she went to work. She would be earning enough to do that as a solicitor. But she didn’t.”

  Gerry hadn’t an answer to that. “Don’t let it get to you what she did. You’ve got Mia and she’s been worth twenty of your mum to you.” Her dad took her hand in both his and muttered, “Worth twenty, she’s been. A real lifesaver, for you and for me. So don’t you go upsetting her talking to her about your mum, wanting to see her and that.” He looked up at Kate to see how she’d taken what he’d said.

  “I shan’t. I’m not daft. It’s just that it’s important to me to know who I am. You haven’t got a photo of her, have you?”

  Gerry dropped her hand abruptly, swung back to his train layout and said emphatically, “No. I have not. I burned it all. Every last bit.”

  Kate went to the window to look out. “You know Zoe at the practice? Well, she’s got her baby, like I said, and she isn’t ever going to tell the father about the baby, nor the baby about his father. To me that’s terribly wrong. You need to know. You really do. Believe me.”

  “Well, now you do know. So that’s that. Go downstairs and keep Mia company, because she cherishes you more than life itself and that’s something for anyone, rich or poor, to be very, very grateful for.”

  It was on the tip of Kate’s tongue to ask if her dad loved Mia as he’d loved her own mother, but she changed her mind. Perhaps it would be best not to know the answer to that.

  Chapter

  • 6 •

  Kate was glad she wasn’t working the following morning, because she was still feeling confused by all she’d learned from her father the previous night. She lay in bed, staring at the chinks of light creeping round the edges of her curtains and thinking about her mother. It would have been so good to have seen a photograph of her. Even a faded one, just to have some idea of what one half of Kate Howard actually came from. It seemed odd that fifty percent of herself was derived from someone she’d never seen or really known anything about.

  She took a hand out from under the duvet and examined it in the half-light, and wondered if she’d inherited her mother’s hands because they certainly weren’t the square, solid hands of her dad. A solicitor. Just think, she could have wanted to be one and not realized she was being led by her genes. Or did it work that way? Whatever. Tessa. Tessa Fenton. Kate flung herself on her other side and contemplated leaving her own two-week-old baby, and knew she couldn’t, not even if they’d had to go and live together in a cardboard box somewhere. A baby was part of you. How could any mother have walked away and never bothered again? But Tessa had done just that, and for the callousness that illustrated Kate decided she wouldn’t want to know her, ever, and she wasn’t going to waste any more of her time thinking about her and what she was and what she looked like. And she’d never search for her. Never ever.

  Mia shouted from downstairs, “Kate, phone for you.”

  “OK.” Kate ran downstairs and took the receiver. “Hello, Kate Howard speaking.”

  “Dan here, Kate. Sorry for interrupting your day off.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “Kate, I’ve had a rather surprising card this morning inviting me and your good self to afternoon tea at Applegate Farm, today. At four.”

  “Afternoon tea! Are you sure?”

  “I am. As you know them, I thought you wouldn’t say no. I’m going anyway. I’ve an idea there’s a surprise in store for us.”

  “I bet there is. Food poisoning.”

  “Well, that too. Do you fancy going?”

  “I suppose I do.”

  “If you’ve nothing else on.”

  “OK. But if I’m off work tomorrow, I shall blame you. What on earth can it be about?”

  “I’ve said I think they might have a surprise in store.”

  “What kind of a surprise?”

  “Wait and see. I don’t want to let them down.”

  “Of course not. Yes, I’ll go. Curiosity is getting the better of me.”

  “I’ll pick you up if I may; would that be all right?”

  “Yes.” Kate gave him instructions about how to find her house and saying “See you at half past three, then. Bye,” put down the receiver.

  • • •

  THEY were halfway to Applegate Farm when Kate burst out with “Do you remember me saying I wished I knew about my mother?”

  Dan nodded.

  “Well, my dad told me last night. About me being born and that.”

  “I’m glad. Are you glad?”

  “Yes, I am. He didn’t tell me much, but enough. Last night I wanted to see a picture of her, but this morning I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t forgive her for abandoning me.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t think I’m right.”

  “It’s not up to me.”

  “I’d like to know if you think I’m right, Dan.”

  Keeping his eyes on the road, Dan said tentatively, “What you mustn’t do is harbor resentment toward her, because it will fester. Either forget all about her and get on with your life, or forgive her. But don’t have resentment hovering about in your mind, niggling away.”

  “It’s a very hard thing to forgive anyone for.”

  “It is, I agree.”

  “Mia’s worth twenty of her, like Dad said, and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”

  “We’re almost there. Prepare yourself, my child.”

  Kate had to laugh. “You know what this is all about, don’t you?” A suspicion gathered in her mind. “Did you really get an invitation?”

  He applied the brake and dipped his hand into his top pocket. “See for yourself.” Dan gave her a piece of bright pink card. On it was written:

  Blossom and Phil Parsons Cordaly invite Dan Brown and Cate To Afternone Tea In the Barn Tea room At four on Thursday (today). Pleas come.

  “In the barn tearoom? Oh, God! What have we let ourselves in for? I don’t know which is worse, the house or the barn.”

  Dan looked across at the farm buildings and said, “Take a look.”

  There was red, white and blue bunting, dusty and crumpled, strung over the door to Sunny Boy’s stall. Sitting in the doorway was little Scott with a small Union Jack tied round her neck. Then Kate saw Blossom appear in the doorway, waving.

  “Here goes.” Dan waved enthusiastically
through the open window. Still smiling at Blossom, he muttered to Kate that he had stomach tubing with him if need be.

  He put on his boots, waited for Kate to do the same, then they both got out and marched cheerfully toward Sunny Boy’s stall. The bunting appeared grubbier the nearer they got, but the welcome was enthusiastic and they cheered up enormously.

  Blossom had decked herself out in the skimpiest of leather skirts. Despite the winter wind blowing, her top half was clothed in a short-sleeved pink sweater the color of the invitation card and in her hair was silver tinsel, a precursor of Christmas. “Come in! Come in!” She placed a goose-pimpled arm through Dan’s and hastened him in. Kate followed.

  The transformation of the barn was breathtaking. Dan looked round with amazement.

  “It was all Phil’s idea. Isn’t it great?” Blossom squeezed his arm and waited eagerly for his reaction. “Phil’s heard your car and he’s gone to get the champagne from the dairy. It’s cold in there. Well?”

  “Mrs. Parsons …”

  Blossom giggled. “Not Mrs. Parsons! It’s Blossom to you. You’re a friend. Isn’t he, Kate?”

  Kate nodded. “Such a transformation! It’s splendid.”

  Dan looked at the glowing black beams, the horse brasses nailed like guardsmen on parade along the length of each beam, at the burnished brass catch on the door to Sunny Boy’s stall, the newly painted feeding trough, the snow-white walls and the purple wheelie bins lined up against the far wall.

  “I can see you like the bins. It was my idea to paint them purple, royal purple for a royal bull, and do you like the silver stars? That was Hamish’s idea. He stuck them on.”

  “I am just gobsmacked. Truly gobsmacked. It is magnificent.”

  “Phil’s thrilled to bits.”

  “It’s so tidy, so smart, so different. Even the loose stones cemented in.”

  Phil came in carrying a chrome tray with glasses and champagne on it, followed by a tall, gangling teenage boy with a head of the reddest hair either Kate or Dan had ever seen. He had the pale-blue eyes and the fair, heavily freckled skin which so often go with real red hair; even his eyelashes were red.

  Phil put the tray down carefully on a small side table they’d brought in from the house, saying, “This is Hamish. Come to live with us. He’s helped with this, haven’t you, Hamish?”

  Blossom beamed at Hamish and added, “If it hadn’t been for him, we’d never have got finished, would we, Hamish?”

  Hamish simply grinned in agreement. But it was a beautiful grin, which lit up the whole of his face and was expressive of his pleasure at their approval.

  Behind his back Blossom silently mouthed, “He can’t talk.”

  Dan released himself from Blossom’s clutching arm and went to shake Hamish’s hand. “This is a big thank you from me to you for getting all this done. Wonderful job. No one could be more pleased.” He clapped Hamish on the shoulder and smiled at him. “Brilliant!” Hamish grinned his appreciation.

  “Now!” Phil took the champagne bottle and began the removal of the cork. “I’ve left Sunny Boy out of here until we’re ready to drink the toast. Thought the cork shooting out might upset him.”

  The cork shot out, hitting the window with a loud ping.

  Blossom dissolved into laughter. “God, Phil! Don’t break that bloody window. It took ages to get it clean and painted.”

  “Right, Hamish, bring him in. He’s got to be here when we drink the toast.” Phil put down the bottle and proudly opened the newly painted gate to the stall.

  “Will Sunny Boy let…” Dan nodded his head toward the open door.

  “Of course. They’re buddies, they are.”

  “Where’s he from?”

  “Tell yer later. Here he comes.”

  They stood aside to make space for Hamish to lead Sunny Boy into the stall. Round the bull’s neck was tied a Union Jack ten sizes larger than Scott’s; he was brushed and combed, and spruced up well enough to compete at the Royal Show. The restraint of the rope through his nose ring made him anxious and caused him to toss his head from side to side, and Kate shrank back against the wall, fearful of those great hooves of his. Hamish calmly secured his head rope to a ring in the wall and carefully shut the gate behind him. If Phil had declared he was a champion pedigree bull, no one would have challenged him. He looked magnificent in his newly refurbished quarters.

  “A toast!” called Phil. He refilled all their glasses and raised his, saying “To Sunny Boy, to his new quarters and to Hamish, who did all the work!”

  They all clinked glasses and drank the toast. Kate studied Hamish for a moment and wondered about him. It was obvious Phil Parsons didn’t want to explain while he was there. But why couldn’t he talk? Didn’t he want to or couldn’t he talk at all?

  “Right then. Tea. Come on, Hamish, go and give Blossom a hand, if you please.”

  Hamish shuffled off after Blossom, she small and dainty, he large and shambling. Phil dipped his fingers in his champagne and, leaning over into the stall, pushed them into Sunny Boy’s great mouth. “He’s got to share in the celebrations, hasn’t he? Come on then, have a drop more.”

  Dan had to ask: “Who is he, Phil? That Hamish.”

  “He’s the one who left the ball that day, the one that Sunny Boy tried to swallow. From the caravan site, he is, been staying there with a group of lads from a home. Came back to get it after you’d gone and wouldn’t leave. Just hung about, not saying anything. I tried to get him to go, but he wouldn’t. Blossom thought he was hungry so she gave him some food and then told him to go, but he wouldn’t and it’s a bit difficult making a big chap like him scat. He just wouldn’t. So, desperate, Blossom said go down and tell ’em. So I did. Well, he went back to the site when they came to get him. They left the next day, and two days later he was back here. He’d hopped it at a motorway service station and walked till he got ’ere.”

  “How could he tell you that?”

  “Showed me a receipt from a place on the M4 and waved his arms about a bit. That’s what Blossom says happened anyway. He won’t go. I’ve tried, so I thought I’d put him to good use. Blossom’s made a bed up for him and, well, here he is.”

  “Shouldn’t someone be told?” Kate asked.

  “And send him back to where he doesn’t want to be? He’s no trouble and it does Blossom good to have someone to fuss over. She says love is all he wants, someone who cares, and she’s good at that. We asked about his mum and dad, and he started shaking and went to bed, and wouldn’t come out for a day and a night. Not till Blossom sat on his bed and told him he could stay and we wouldn’t say a word to the authorities. Terrified, he was.” Phil shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps one day he’ll speak and tell us. He eats like he’s never eaten in years, straight down, whatever it is, and never has an ache or a pain, even though he reg’lar has two full plates of dinner at a sitting.”

  Phil’s last sentence reminded Kate about food poisoning and she sent up a little prayer that she’d have as strong a stomach as Hamish apparently had. They heard Blossom’s heels tapping along the yard, accompanied by the solid tread of Hamish’s big feet, and through the door she came with a heavily loaded tray that she placed on the table Hamish had carried in for her.

  “Hasn’t she done us proud?”

  Dan ate heartily, Kate sparingly, but enough not to give offense. Blossom had certainly done them proud, as Phil had said. Hamish ate as much as the four of them put together with an enthusiasm none of them could match.

  They shook hands with Blossom, Phil and Hamish, and thanked them profusely for their hospitality as they left, especially Hamish for all his help with the improvements. He grinned and gave them a thumbs-up.

  As Dan turned the Land Rover round in the lane Kate said, “There appear to be a lot of people around with either no parents or only one original one. Me and Oscar and now Hamish. It’s not right, is it, for no one to know where Hamish is?”

  Dan thought for a moment and didn’t answer until t
hey were well down the lane close to the main road. “He wouldn’t have done a runner if he’d been happy where he was, and he is happy with Blossom and Phil, isn’t he?”

  Kate had to admit he was.

  “So I think that adds up to you and me keeping quiet about him and leaving him in peace. He obviously knows exactly what’s being said to him and understands perfectly, so perhaps the talking will come if he has a chance to feel safe.”

  “Mm. You’re wiser than you look. It’s funny this thing about one’s roots. When he told me about my mother, my dad gave me the identification band I’d had round my wrist in the hospital, you know, when I was newborn, and suddenly I felt real, as though I’d come from somewhere and hadn’t simply materialized. I felt I had roots, and identity, kind of. Silly isn’t it?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  The answer had come crisply and with a finality in the tone of his voice that brooked no further mention of the subject, leaving Kate wondering what lay at the heart of Dan—so full of wisdom and understanding one minute and then up went a blank wall and he’d gone behind it.

  In truth, one half of his mind was controlling his driving and the other half was far away on the U. S. eastern seaboard, and he was lying on his back on the sand, watching seabirds swirling in the breeze below a shimmering blue sky, unsuccessfully trying to come to terms with the idea of never seeing Rose again in this life. His world had splintered into a thousand myriad pieces. He’d spoken, then, to himself of his roots. His roots and his need for home. That was when he’d decided to come home to England. Rose. Rose.

  He braked heavily as a red traffic light brought him back to reality. “Sorry about that.”

  Kate lurched forward, saved only by the tug of her seat belt.

  “Very sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  “That’s all right, happens to the best of us.” While they waited for the lights to change, she said, “Have you ever wondered how Phil Parsons makes a living from that farm? Because for the life of me I can’t see how he can.”

  “Neither can I.”

  “He must have some other source of income, mustn’t he?”