‘Does that really matter?’
‘What questions did you ask?’ Kit persisted.
‘Your surname was enough to tell me all that I needed to know.’ Her grandmother’s top lip turned back scornfully.
‘And yet you said nothing?’ Kit said incredulously.
Catherine Grainger’s eyes narrowed icily. ‘What was there for me to say? So you’re the daughter of Heather and that man—’
‘That man is my father!’ Kit interjected. ‘And he has a name. Tom McGuire,’ she announced proudly.
Her grandmother’s mouth thinned. ‘He’s old enough to be Heather’s father, and your grandfather!’
Kit stared at her disbelievingly. ‘And is that the only reason you objected to their relationship all those years ago? The reason you made my mother choose between the two of you?’
Heather had explained to her daughter that her own mother didn’t approve of her choice of husband, that it had come to a choice between the two, and that Tom had easily won.
Having met Catherine Grainger at the weekend, and looking at her now, Kit could easily understand why Heather had chosen to be with the man she loved, and who loved her, rather than this cold, unemotional woman. What Kit couldn’t understand was why Catherine had forced Heather to make that choice in the first place…
‘Isn’t that reason enough?’ Catherine came back derisively.
‘Not to me, no!’ Kit denied.
Catherine gave a humourless laugh. ‘I don’t really think this is any of your business, do you?’
‘None of my—!’ Kit gasped disbelievingly. ‘What sort of woman are you?’
Those grey eyes—like Kit’s own, only hers were warm as velvet rather than cold as ice!—hardened glacially. ‘Heather was nineteen years old, hardly more than a child herself—what did she know about love?’
‘Enough for that love to have lasted twenty-eight years!’ Kit told her grandmother triumphantly.
Catherine looked unimpressed. ‘They’re still together, then?’
‘Of course they’re still together!’ Kit had wondered how she was going to feel when she confronted this woman today, but now she knew exactly how she felt—furiously angry! This was Catherine’s own daughter they were talking about, a child this woman had presumably nurtured until she was nineteen years old. And yet, Catherine could have been talking about a stranger.
Catherine grimaced. ‘More from luck than judgement, I’m sure.’
Kit could feel her emotions building. ‘What absolute rubbish! If anything my parents love each other more now than they did twenty-eight years ago.’
‘Love!’ the other woman scorned.
Kit had once asked Heather why she hadn’t tried to see her mother over the years, to try and make up the quarrel between them, to show Catherine that years later she was still happy with the man of her choice. Her mother had looked bleakly unhappy as she had assured Kit that would never be possible.
Looking at Catherine’s expression of contempt just at the mention of the word love, Kit could now understand her mother’s reticence. Heather had already been hurt once; why put herself through the risk of a second rejection…?
‘Yes—love,’ Kit told her grandmother heavily. ‘Something you obviously know nothing about!’
Kit had come here today because she had felt compelled to do so, because after talking with her parents at the weekend, and knowing who this woman was, she felt she owed it to Catherine.
‘And you know absolutely nothing about me, Kit McGuire!’ her grandmother spat the words.
‘Then tell me! Explain to me why it is a mother disowns her own daughter, doesn’t even see her for the next twenty-eight years, just because she dared to fall in love with a man her mother doesn’t approve of! Because I certainly don’t understand it. My mother would never do that to me,’ Kit added with absolute certainty.
She didn’t care about this for herself, had lived without a grandmother for the last twenty-six years, was sure she could live without one for the rest of her life. But she cared for her mother’s sake…
Catherine gave a cynical laugh. ‘No, I don’t suppose innocently trusting Heather ever would.’
The heat flooded Kit’s cheeks as she heard the contempt in Catherine’s voice. ‘My mother is seriously ill! She could die,’ she explained in a pained voice, still too shocked by that knowledge herself to be able to soften or lessen the terrible enormity of what her parents had told her over the weekend.
Her mother had begun to have headaches a few months ago, which had become worse as time went on. A visit to a doctor was followed by one to a specialist, who diagnosed that those headaches were being caused by a brain tumour. A tumour that needed to be operated on straight away in order for Heather to stand any chance of living out the year.
Kit had cried brokenly when told the news, absolutely devastated at the seriousness of her mother’s illness. But as far as she could see, that same news had elicited very little reaction from Catherine Grainger.
A nerve pulsed briefly in her grandmother’s creamy cheek, there was a flicker of something in her eyes, though it was too brief for Kit to be able to tell what it was. But other than that, Catherine gave no outward response to the announcement.
‘Did you hear me?’ Kit snapped angrily. ‘I said—’
‘I heard you,’ the older woman cut in softly.
‘And?’
Catherine’s chin lifted slightly. ‘Exactly what is the nature of Heather’s illness?’
‘She has a brain tumour,’ Kit told her frankly. ‘They’re going to operate on Thursday, but—’ She broke off as her voice trembled emotionally. ‘They’re operating on Thursday,’ she repeated flatly once she had herself back under control.
‘Who is?’ Catherine demanded.
‘Does that really matter?’ Kit sighed heavily. ‘Don’t worry, my father now has enough money to pay for the best, and that’s what my mother has.’
Catherine stood up, looking haughtily down her nose at Kit. ‘Does Heather know you’ve come to see me?’
‘No,’ Kit confirmed. ‘In fact, my mother has no idea I’ve even met you.’
‘I see.’ Her grandmother breathed out slowly. ‘Well, now that you’ve told me, what do you want me to do about it?’
Kit stared at her incredulously. ‘Isn’t it obvious? I thought you would want to know. Thought I owed it to you to tell you. So that—so that—’
‘So that Heather and I can have some grand emotional reconciliation before her operation?’ Catherine Grainger guessed. ‘I hardly think so, Kit.’
Kit didn’t understand her grandmother, couldn’t relate to her at all. ‘Why not?’ she asked hesitantly.
Catherine stood ramrod straight before her, tall, elegant and imposing in a navy blue business suit and white silk blouse. ‘Heather made her choice twenty-eight years ago. I no longer have a daughter.’ Her expression hardened as she looked at Kit. ‘Or a granddaughter. Even one apparently named after me.’
Kit was shocked into retaliation. ‘Don’t worry, I have absolutely no wish to be your granddaughter, either! In fact, I’ve done what I came here to do. Said what I came here to say. So now I can leave. Except…’ She paused before turning to walk to the door.
‘Yes?’ Catherine replied stiffly.