Looking back now, she could only shake her head in sorry amazement that she had been such a fool as ever to believe that he was cut out for marriage. Her only excuse was that she had been young, and Jeremy had seemed able to offer her something from which she had felt excluded ever since her parents had died—a sense of family, of being part of a world of warmth and brightness and laughter, of belonging…
And it hadn’t all been a disaster, she mused reminiscently. There had been some happy times, especially at the beginning. And she had her son. A small smile curved her soft mouth. No, she couldn’t regret everything about her marriage.
A new set of traffic lights had been installed at the crossroads, and she drew the car to a halt, pulling on the handbrake and tucking her thick wheat-blonde hair back behind one ear in a characteristic gesture. She wore it now in a neat jaw-length bob; it had been one of the first things she had had done when she had decided to leave Jeremy—to have her hair cut. It had amused her since to learn that most women did exactly the same thing when they were asserting their independence for the first time.
And she was independent, she reflected with some pride. The modest little house in Whythenshaw that she had managed to buy last year might not be Hadley Park, but she owed not one penny to the Ratcliffes. It was quite a struggle to keep up with the hefty repayments on the mortgage, but she had known from the start that she wouldn’t be able to rely on any regular maintenance from Jeremy.
Besides, she preferred to manage alone, however difficult it was—Jeremy’s family had never made any secret of their belief that she had married him for his money, and it was good to be proving them wrong. And she had discovered shortly after leaving him that she did have a marketable talent after all—arranging children’s parties.
It had begun when she had put on a very small party for Jamie’s third birthday, to help him make new friends in the playgroup he had just joined. It had been such a success that one of the other mums, who worked full-time, had asked her to do her little girl’s birthday party as well. After that it had snowballed, and then she had been asked to do grown-up parties too—even weddings. She was kept very busy, but she loved every minute of it—who wouldn’t, being paid to help people enjoy themselves?
The traffic lights changed to green and she turned left, driving on carefully through the village. Little had changed here, at least, she mused—the post office had closed, its windows boarded up, and the old-fashioned grocery had adapted itself grudgingly to the supermarket era, but after the cosmopolitan bustle of Manchester it had the air of having been locked in a timewarp for the past three decades.
The high stone wall that surrounded Hadley Park started just beyond the edge of the village. The massive wrought-iron gates stood open—in fact it looked as if the hinges were too rusted to allow them to close, she noticed as she drove through. There were more weeds and pot-holes in the drive than there used to be, too.
And then through the trees she caught her first glimpse of the house, and slowed the car to get a better look. She had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, set against a backdrop of rolling green hills that led up to the high, rugged tors of the Peak District in the far misty distance. Built in the reign of the first Elizabeth, the golden stone of its walls had been mellowed by centuries, and its roof-line was a jumble of gables and twisted chimneypots against the crisp blue and white of the February sky.
Jamie glanced up from his game. “Oh, we’re there,” he remarked, with the philistine unconcern of a seven-year-old for the magnificent heritage which had now passed into his small hands. “Great—I’m starving!”
Maddy laughed, and, putting the elderly car in gear again, she rolled it forward, bringing it to a halt beside the wide stone steps that led up to the front door. Jamie, sure of his welcome, scrambled out, skipping up the steps as the door was opened by a matronly woman in a flowered cotton overall, who greeted him with a warm hug.
Maddy followed him a little more diffidently, glad of her leather shoulder-bag to clutch on to. But as she climbed the steps the housekeeper looked up, her kindly face wreathed in smiles. “Why, Mrs Ratcliffe! I wouldn’t hardly have known you with your hair short like that! Come in, come in.” She held the front door wide open, ushering Maddy inside. “Such a nasty shock it’s been…Oh—I’m sorry…” She stopped herself awkwardly, glancing at Jamie, her eyebrows lifted in unspoken enquiry.
“It’s all right, Mrs Harris—he knows,” Maddy assured her quietly. “Thank you—it must have been an awful shock for you too.” The housekeeper’s eyes were still noticeably red, and she was clutching a rolled-up clump of damp paper tissue in her hand; she had known Jeremy since he had been Jamie’s age.
“It was.” Mrs Harris dabbed at her eyes. “I still can’t quite make myself believe it—though I know there hasn’t been any mistake. Well, young man,” she added, turning to Jamie and pinning a bright smile in place. “Guess what I’m going to do you for lunch. Your favourite—Welsh rarebit. I didn’t know what time you might get down,” she told Maddy. “And what with all the upset…”
“Of course,” Maddy assured her quickly. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble—Welsh rarebit will suit me fine.”
“Mum, can I go down to the kitchen with Auntie Peggy?” Jamie demanded eagerly. “I want to see Mrs Tiggywinkle’s kittens.”
“Oh, there’s only one left o’them now,” Mrs Harris told him. “The rest we found homes for.”
A frown of disappointment crossed the small face, but it quickly brightened. “Which one did you keep?” he asked. “Was it the black one?”
“Of course—he’s yours.”
That news brought immediate delight. “I’m going to call him Sooty. Daddy said—” He stopped abruptly, remembering. “Daddy said it was a good name,” he finished, the wistful note in his voice tugging at Maddy’s heartstrings.
“It’s an excellent name,” she assured him gently—though mentally noting that she would have appreciated it if Jeremy had consulted her before bestowing the gift on their son. “Why don’t you run downstairs and find him? I haven’t seen him yet, and I’d love to meet him.”
“I rather think,” a dry voice spoke behind her, “this is the animal you’re looking for.”
Maddy turned sharply, catching her breath. “Leo…Oh, hello,” she managed, struggling to recover before anyone should notice the slip in her composure. “I…wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
She found herself subjected to a mocking survey from a pair of deep-set agate eyes—the same colour as Jeremy’s, she couldn’t help remembering, but lacking his openness and warmth.
“Hello, Maddy—nice to see you again. It’s been a long time,” he remarked, pointedly failing to mention that since he had passed her on the road, and his car was parked outside, she could have reasonably assumed that he was in the house. “You’d better come into the library—we have things to discuss. Jamie, take this little pest downstairs where he belongs,” he added, un-hooking the tiny kitten’s claws from the front of his shirt and holding him out to the boy. “He doesn’t seem to understand that I haven’t come here exclusively to provide him with entertainment.”
Jamie gurgled with laughter, not at all intimidated. “Thanks, Uncle Leo. Sorry if he’s been bothering you. I’ll take him down to the kitchen and give him a saucer of milk.” He took the kitten with care. “Look, Mum—what do you think of him?” he added excitedly.
“He’s cute.” She tickled the little creature’s ear, and he rubbed his head against her finger before opening his tiny pink mouth in a wide yawn. “But I think he’s tired now. Take him down and give him his milk, and then put him down to sleep for a while.”
The child nodded solemnly, cradling his precious bundle in his arms as he bore it away.
“Two coffees, please, Peggy,” Leo requested as he stood aside