Frankie's Manor
Page 27
Rose looked at Mary, as if for permission, and Mary, with a trace of her old self, said grudgingly, ‘Well, sit down, then, you soppy git, before you go arse over tit.’
Laughing with relief, Jack lowered himself down beside the stout body, his eyes meeting Rose’s across the table. Then she smiled and, suddenly, Jack knew it would be all right. Hugging the boy close to his chest, Jack recalled what Frankie had said to him that last night before the hanging.
It had been late, and both men had been tired.
Frankie, with no sign of his usual flamboyance, had said quietly, ‘Look after Rosie and me kids, will you, Jack? She’ll be worth a few bob when I’m gone, an’ I don’t want some slimy fortune hunter latching on to her.’ When he had noticed Jack’s surprise, Frankie had raised his eyebrows nonchalantly, saying, ‘Well, you’re gonna chance your luck with Rosie as soon as you think it’s decent, so I might as well give me approval ’cos there’s bugger all I can do about it where I’m going… Oh, an’ don’t worry too much about Mary. The old trout’ll come round in the end. Just give it a few months.’
Now, as he held Buchannon’s son, Jack found himself trying hard to wipe what felt uncomfortably like a smirk from his face.
Catching hold of a passing waiter he said quickly, ‘A whisky, please.’ Then, catching sight of his daughter’s scowling face, the daughter he would never be able to acknowledge openly, he added hastily, ‘Make it a large one.’
He was going to need it.
First published in the United Kingdom in 1998 by Little, Brown and Company
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by
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Copyright © Anna King, 1998
The moral right of Anna King to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788630610
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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