Tangled Emotions
Catherine George
Catherine George was born in Wales, and early on developed a passion for reading, which eventually fuelled her compulsion to write. Marriage to an engineer led to nine years in Brazil, but on his later travels the education of her son and daughter kept her in the U.K. Instead of constant reading to pass her lonely evenings, she began to write the first of her romantic novels. When not writing and reading she loves to cook, listen to opera and browse in antiques shops.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER ONE
SOMEONE was following her. The narrow street was deserted, and the light at the end still broken, which meant a plunge into total darkness before she was safe behind a locked door. Determined not to look round, she lengthened her stride, wishing she’d waited for a taxi. The starless night was hot and humid, but for the first time in her life she felt a cold stab of fear. She dismissed it scornfully: once she reached the house, whoever was following would just walk past. Then found herself proved horribly wrong when two skinny figures in cartoon masks appeared on either side of her, jostling her to a standstill.
‘Give us money and you won’t get hurt,’ squeaked one of them, grabbing her arm.
‘Not a chance!’ she hissed, and, fired by fear and rage and sheer incredulity that this could actually be happening to her, she rammed an elbow into her young assailant’s ribs and prepared to do battle.
After a two-hour drive on the motorway, diversion signs were leading Joe Tregenna all round the town, and he was in no mood to get involved when his headlamps picked up a knot of youths in a brawl. Then he saw that one of them was a girl, struggling with two figures in masks. With a muttered curse he braked to a stop and jumped from the car just as one youth doubled up in a crumpled heap on the ground and the other took to his heels and raced off, sobbing, in the darkness.
‘Are you all right?’ Joe asked the girl urgently. ‘Are you hurt?’
She shook her head, thrusting her hair behind her ears. ‘No,’ she panted. ‘Just livid. But he’s not so good.’ She glared at the gasping, writhing figure on the ground. ‘I’d better ring the police.’
At the dreaded word the boy shot to his feet, but Joe grabbed him by his collar. ‘Oh, no, you don’t, sunshine.’
‘We wasn’t hurting her,’ the boy choked. ‘We was only asking for change.’
‘In masks?’ said Joe grimly. ‘I don’t think so.’ He turned to the girl. ‘You’re shivering. Are you sure you’re all right?’
She nodded brusquely. ‘Angry, not cold.’
Joe reached one-handed for the cellphone on his belt. ‘Ring the police on this.’
‘No!’ The boy burst into tears, shaking like a leaf in Joe’s grasp. ‘Please don’t turn me in, miss. We got the masks at the garage with some sweets, so when we saw you come out of the pub we followed you for a dare—got the idea from the telly,’ he sobbed. ‘My mum’ll kill me.’
She surveyed him in silence for a moment, arms folded. ‘Let him go,’ she said at last.
Joe stared at her incredulously. ‘You can’t let him get away with it!’
She moved towards the boy, who shrank away in fright. ‘You just listen to me,’ she said militantly. ‘Here’s the deal. I’ll leave the police out of it if you swear you won’t do this again. Ever.’
He nodded feverishly. ‘I won’t. Nor Dean won’t, neither.’
‘Is Dean your friend?’ she asked.
He shook his head, sniffing hard. ‘Kid brother. He didn’t want to come. He was scared.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Robbie.’
‘Right, then, Robbie,’ she said brusquely. ‘No more stupid stunts like this.’ She bent to pick up the fallen mask. ‘But I’ll keep Batman here. It’ll have your DNA on it, remember. Is your mother at home?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s a nurse at the General—on nights this week.’
‘She leaves you on your own at night?’ said Joe, frowning.
‘No, never!’ The boy knuckled tears from his eyes. ‘Our stepdad’s home in bed. We climbed out the bedroom window once he was snoring.’
‘Are you in the habit of this?’
He gulped. ‘No, honest. We never done it before.’
‘And you’d better be sure you never do it again, like the lady said,’ ordered Joe. ‘I’m sure you’ve been warned about lifts from strangers, so we’ll walk you home and hand you over to your stepfather,’ he added, sending the boy into hysterics again.
‘Are you afraid of him?’ said the girl sharply.
‘No! He’s a good bloke. But he’ll grass on me to Mum!’
When the boy pleaded to climb back through his bedroom window instead of waking his stepfather, Joe raised an eyebrow at the tall, watchful figure of the girl. ‘OK with you? I’ll walk you home afterwards.’
The girl nodded. ‘Fine. Come on, then, Robbie. Let’s go.’
When they arrived at the address Robbie gave them, the boy gave a sigh of relief when he saw a face peering round a curtain at an upstairs window.
‘Dean’s back! He run straight home like I said.’
‘Sensible chap,’ said Joe, and turned a stern look on the boy. ‘Now, just you remember, my lad,’ he said with deliberate menace. ‘I know where you live.’
Robbie nodded feverishly, then ran up the path, swarmed up a drainpipe as nimbly as a monkey, and disappeared head-first through the open window.
Joe waited until he was sure the boy was safe inside, then gave a wry glance at his companion as they began the walk back. ‘Hello, at last. My name’s Joe Tregenna.’
She smiled briefly. ‘Fen Dysart. Thanks for your help.’
‘When I spotted a fight I was going to drive on by, or call the police at the very most,’ he said frankly. ‘But when I saw two lads to one girl I thought I’d better wade in. But I was superfluous. You’d sorted them before I could even get out of the car.’
‘No big deal with a pair of kids. I’m a head taller than either of them, for a start.’ She shrugged. ‘It was just reflex. I lashed out at them in sheer temper.’
‘Which could have been dangerous with a couple of real criminals,’ he pointed out. ‘Lucky for you it was a pair of kids behind those masks.’
‘Which is why I laid into them,’ she said curtly, then frowned. ‘How old do you think Robbie is?’
‘Hard to say. Old enough to know better, certainly. Where do you live? Can I drive you there?’
‘No need. I’m just down the road from my adventure, in Farthing Street.