by Anna Jacobs
She sighed and began to fiddle with the corner of the letter, folding it carefully at ninety degrees, then unfolding it and doing the same to the other corners.
She was, she decided suddenly, going to reply and ask this B. Lanigan for further information. She’d never be able to forget this now.
Eight
Miranda spent the next two weeks in a whirl of activity, encouraged and often accompanied by Lou.
At Sally’s prompting, Sebastian had signed an agreement to pay her what seemed a substantial sum every month.
‘I don’t think we can squeeze any more out of him,’ Lou said regretfully.
‘It’s far more than I’ve ever had before.’
‘But the trust is generating a lot more income than they’re giving you, so you ought to be living more comfortably. If anything happens to you, the capital will go to your nieces and nephews.’
The words slipped out before she could prevent them. ‘Unless I can trace my daughter.’
‘Have you never tried to do that? There are places where you can register to say you want to contact your child.’
‘I know. But it didn’t seem fair while she was growing up and then, well, there was Dad getting grumpier by the day. I have looked on line but the Family Tracing Service here doesn’t seem to do much if you don’t have certain information. I don’t even know the date the baby was handed over, or which adoption service they used. I haven’t been able to find anything out.’
His voice was very gentle. ‘We could hire a private investigator.’ He gave her one of his wry smiles. ‘I know a guy who can work miracles when it comes to getting hold of information. He’s saved my bacon a few times.’
She didn’t trust her voice not to quaver, because the thought of actually finding her daughter made her feel as if she was standing on a precipice, so nodded breathlessly.
‘Right then.’ He pulled out his notebook. ‘Who handled the adoption?’
‘My father.’ She explained about the years in a mental hospital and saw horror on his face, but he didn’t withdraw from her.
‘Your own father had you committed.’
‘Yes. And the drugs they forced on me made it feel like being in prison in your own body. It took me a while to recover, even after I came out of that place.’ She brushed away a tear. ‘He must have forged my signature on the adoption papers and it was all finished with by the time I realized what was happening. I only saw my baby once.’
Breath whistled into his mouth. ‘He played dirty.’
‘Yes. He always boasted that he played to win, whatever it took. Sebastian’s the same.’
‘I’ll get my guy on to it. We want to speed this up.’
‘I can see to all that later, Lou. Just leave me with some pointers.’
‘Let me help you now. If you could get in touch with your daughter, I’d not be leaving you on your own and that’d make me very happy.’ He held out one hand to her. ‘You’re the gentlest, kindest person I’ve ever met, Miranda. I wish I’d known you before.’
She wasn’t used to compliments, could feel herself blushing. His skin felt warm against hers, and beneath it there was strength, even now. It was a long time since she’d held a man’s hand. She’d forgotten how good that felt.
He gave her hand a squeeze then let it drop. ‘Change of subject before we get too maudlin. I don’t want to spoil the mood, but I’m afraid there’s something else we need to talk about.’
‘Oh?’
‘If I die suddenly, I don’t want any attempts at resuscitation.’
All her joy fled. She hated the way he kept reminding her that he had only a limited amount of time to live.
‘I’ve made a living will, with Sally’s help, and given copies to my doctor and Jack. I’ve got one for you as well. I mean it, Miranda. No resuscitation attempts. If I go suddenly, that’s it. It’ll save me a lot of pain and is infinitely preferable to a slow exit.’
‘Are you . . . in more pain these days?’
‘A bit. I’m coping, but I can see that I’ll have to start using stronger drugs soon to control it. I hate having my head messed around, which painkillers always do. I’d not be me if I were all doped up.’
‘What did the oncologist say last time you saw him?’
‘That I’m doing well, better than expected.’
‘That’s good . . . isn’t it? Means you may live longer than predicted.’
‘Yes.’ He lost his solemn look and gave her one of his boyish grins. ‘I’ll do my best, I promise you. I’m enjoying life so much, thanks mainly to you.’ He waved one arm at their surroundings. ‘This is a great place to live and you’re great company. I’m just trying to cover all eventualities with this no resuscitation stuff. Being prepared is a good way to face life. So . . . let’s get cracking on finding your daughter. And on making plans for what you’ll do after I go.’
‘You don’t need to worry about that.’
‘Humour me. I want to be sure you’ll continue to build a new life for yourself without your damned brother intervening.’
‘I won’t let him take over again, I promise.’
He looked at her gravely. ‘No. I don’t think you will. But he won’t make it easy, so it might be good to get clean away from him. How about moving to England?’
‘Regina suggested that, too.’
‘I don’t want you under her control, either, mind.’
She chuckled. ‘Regina’s not at all interested in controlling me. She has her own life. And she’s not in Sebastian’s league for control; she isn’t even managing her own daughter very well. Nikki’s left home and is living in a bedsitter with the father of her coming baby. She emails me sometimes. Poor kid. She’s finding it hard living in such cramped conditions.’
‘You’re a rather dysfunctional family, aren’t you? Not together emotionally at all.’
‘We all have different mothers and there are several years between each of us, so we didn’t play together or anything. And it’s different, I think, having a much older father. Dad had some very old-fashioned ideas about bringing up children. But Sebastian’s happily married.’ She remembered Dorothy’s bland expressions and added, ‘Well, I think he is.’
‘You don’t sound sure. Are there visible signs of affection between him and his wife? You know, smiles, touches, that sort of thing.’
‘We’re not a demonstrative family.’
He held out his hand to her again and she took it. ‘See. You touch me without hesitation, and you pat me sometimes when you’re helping me. I think you are a touchy-feely person, Miranda – or you could be.’
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been . . . intrusive.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Intrusive-shmoosive! It’s normal for human beings to touch one another. I like it. They call it skin hunger when you don’t get touched by other people who care about you. I’ve felt that for a while.’
She realized she still had hold of his hand and tried to pull away, but his grasp tightened.
Her thoughts must have shown in her face because he let go of her abruptly.
‘No! We’re not going there, Miranda. You can’t change the facts, you can only change how you deal with them. If you get too fond of me, I’ll throw you out. I can’t cope with that. Not now.’
His voice was so harsh she knew she’d really upset him. But he was right. ‘I’m sorry. I won’t . . . annoy you again.’
She’d expected him to smile and return to his old easy tone of voice, but he didn’t. Grim-faced was the only way to describe him. Her heart began to pound. What would she do if he threw her out? She might be on her way to independence but she wasn’t nearly there yet, needed his help to move on.
‘I need a rest now, Miranda. Go and . . . do something.’
When she’d left, he stared blindly at the swimming pool outside. As the flickers of sunlight blurred and ran into one, he raised his hand to flick away the tears but more kept coming. He could so easily have loved her, made a life with her. He’d neve
r met anyone quite like her: soft, utterly soft and feminine, completely without guile . . . Life was cruel.
It was a while before the tears stopped. Only then did he ring for Jack.
‘I’m tired. I think I’ll have a lie-down for a bit.’
Lou could see from Jack’s expression that it was obvious he’d been crying. But Jack was a near-perfect carer and he made no comment, just walked along in front of the wheelchair and opened the lift door.
Pity the man was gay, Lou mused. It’d have been great to find someone for Miranda. No, there wasn’t time for that. He must just focus on setting her up to succeed and then trust she’d find her own way in life and perhaps a man to share the future with. He was pretty sure she would. She didn’t realize how attractive her gentleness was.
Three days later there was a message from the private investigator now tracing the adoption. Lou called to Miranda to come quickly, so she went hurrying into his computer room, a lavish home office, fitted out in style with the furniture he’d brought out of storage.
‘He’s found her.’
‘Found who?’
‘Halliday has found your daughter.’
All the air suddenly vanished from the room and Miranda clutched the nearest thing, which was Lou’s shoulder. When things came into focus again, she looked down at him. ‘Is she registered with one of the family tracing services? Does she . . . want to contact me?’
He shook his head. ‘Not sure. She may be registered. We didn’t go that route.’
‘Then how . . . ?’
‘Halliday traced her through a few unorthodox channels. We know where she lives, but she doesn’t know yet that you’re looking for her.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment seared through Miranda. ‘Then she might not want to meet me.’
‘No. She might not. That was always on the cards. It’s up to you to contact her.’
‘She’ll be twenty-six now. Is she married?’
‘Yes. And has a child, a son.’
Joy blazed through her. ‘I’m a grandmother?’ Her life wasn’t a dead end, then. Something of her would carry on, whatever came of this. Strange, how important that was. Tears of happiness welled in her eyes, but she smiled through them. ‘That’s such wonderful news.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Think about it, work out the best way to contact her, perhaps take advice about that.’
His voice was as gentle as his smile. ‘I’ll forward you the information he emailed to me.’
‘Thank you.’ She bent to kiss his cheek. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Lou. Would you mind if I went and sat in my room now? I need to get my head around this.’
‘Do whatever you wish.’
But before she did anything else, she switched on her computer and opened up the file Lou had just sent her, studying it with wonder in her heart. Wiltshire. Her daughter and grandson lived in Wiltshire. She had been called Katie Brooke, but was now married to a Darren Parrish. Katie. Such a pretty name. At least her adoptive parents hadn’t saddled her with old-fashioned, pretentious names like Miranda and Regina. And Katie’s son was called Ned.
Miranda swallowed hard. Even to know this much made her feel elated – and apprehensive. What if Katie didn’t want to meet her?
The following day was scorchingly hot and Lou said he didn’t want to go out in such weather, even in an air-conditioned car. ‘Why don’t we go house hunting on the Internet instead, to while away an hour or two?’
‘House hunting? But we’ve got this place.’
‘We can look at houses in England, for you.’
He was looking tired and she guessed he wanted an excuse for company, so she pulled a chair across to stare with him at the images on the computer screen. After a while, she said thoughtfully, ‘Let’s look at rentals instead.’
‘Humour me and look at houses for sale. Much nicer to have a home of your own.’
‘But I can’t afford to buy one. It’ll just make me feel envious.’
He gave her one of his cocky looks. ‘No, but I could buy one for you.’
She didn’t even have to think about that. ‘No!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it wouldn’t be right. I’ll ask the trust, plead with them to sell that dreadful flat and . . .’ She couldn’t finish, because no way could she see Sebastian allowing that to happen.
Lou laid one hand on hers. ‘You’ll not get anywhere with that brother of yours and we both know it. He’s got his hands clamped tightly around your money and he won’t let go unless the law forces him to. And since contesting a will takes time, years probably, I’ll buy you a house so that you can escape there as soon as . . . as you need to.’
‘Lou, I can’t let you do that.’
He grinned. ‘How can you stop me?’
She stared at him in shock then said quietly, ‘I don’t need to, because I know you’d never force something on me.’ She saw the light go out of his eyes and took both his hands. ‘Lou, you’ve given me so much already. I can’t go on taking. It’s enough, truly it is. Besides, buying a house would cost a fortune. Your remaining money should go to your family.’
He took her hand. ‘Would you let me buy it if you knew I was a billionaire and it would give me enormous pleasure?’
She grew very still, feeling shocked. ‘Are you really so rich?’
He shook his head. ‘Not quite a billionaire, but a multimillionaire, yes. Even Hilary doesn’t know how rich I really am. Don’t worry. There will be plenty to leave to my niece. Let me give you a house, Miranda. Please?’
She sat down on the floor beside his wheelchair, arms clasped around her knees, trying to come to terms with this development. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Think about it, at least.’
She stared down at the expensive new skirt, crumpled now. ‘I shouldn’t be sitting on the floor in such beautiful clothes.’
‘You can scrub the floor with them if you want! From now on, Miranda, don’t do what you think you ought to do. Do what you want, do what will give you pleasure, or give other people pleasure. I’ve lived all my life for business. I was married once, but I cared more about money in those days and she wanted a real family. When I found I had inoperable cancer, I knew she’d been right and I’d been wrong. But I’ve been doing something useful with my money for the past few weeks: spending it, giving it to charities I approve of. And I’ve enjoyed that very much.’
‘And I’m another of your charities, aren’t I?’ She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. People dreamed of having a fairy godmother to bestow gifts upon them, but the gifts she wanted weren’t money. She ached for confidence and independence, preferably won through her own efforts. She was coming to see that, now she’d time to think about her own needs.
‘You’re not a charity. I was rather hoping you were a friend, a very dear friend.’
She looked sideways and found him staring at her with that wise, other-worldly look. ‘Yes, I am. I’ve never had such a good friend as you, Lou.’
‘So you’ll allow me to buy you a house?’
She sighed, knowing she couldn’t refuse him. ‘A small one, then. And I’ll pay for the furniture myself by selling those antiques. I can’t just take and take.’
He nodded. ‘All right.’
As she was getting to her feet, she saw the intense satisfaction on his face. She knew then that she was doing the right thing. For him, anyway.
But was she doing the right thing for herself? Or was she once again letting someone else rule her life?
As Regina walked into the school, she felt nervous. Ridiculous to be nervous of meeting her own daughter, but she was. She’d phoned Nikki, trying to persuade her to come home and talk, but her daughter had refused point-blank.
The counsellor came out to meet her with what Regina considered a professional smile – the same sort of smile she used with customers.
‘Do come in.’
She looked round. Nikki wasn�
��t there. ‘Where’s my daughter?’
‘I thought we could have a few words first, Ms Fox.’
‘Softening me up? I’m not going to attack her, you know.’
‘She’s very nervous about this meeting. Thinks you’ll try to get her to change her mind.’
‘Well, I haven’t changed my mind. She has the whole of her life before her and to get lumbered with a child before she’s even got her qualifications is crazy. But I can hardly force her into having an abortion.’
‘And refusing to accept her wishes gracefully could drive a wedge between yourself and your daughter. Do you really want that?’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘Treat her gently, Ms Fox. She’s not feeling well, which makes her very vulnerable.’
‘What’s wrong?’
The counsellor gave her another of those meaningless smiles. ‘The doctor told her it’s just pregnancy sickness. Some women sail through the nine months; others are sick a lot of the time and she’s one of them.’
‘She’s not . . . at risk?’
‘She says not.’
‘She says? Haven’t you checked directly with the doctor?’
‘No. Your daughter is legally an adult, so she can do what she wants.’
‘She may be legally an adult, but she’s still a child in many ways. All she knows is school and—’
The counsellor leaned back. ‘She’ll be here in a minute. Please, calm down and go easy on her. If I think you’re upsetting her too much, I’ll have to end the meeting.’
Regina bit back a protest, recognizing a brick wall when she met one. They sat for a couple of minutes in silence and she caught herself drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair. She’d rather have asked a few more questions but the counsellor was staring out of the window, presumably having said what she wanted to.
There was a knock on the door and Nikki came in. She looked pale and had lost weight, but what shocked Regina rigid was that her face had changed. It had a different expression on it, a woman’s face now. She was suddenly so afraid of losing her daughter that she stood up, holding out her arms. ‘Don’t I get a hug any more?’
