‘Does your dad know that?’ asked Eddie, backing away in mock terror at the look she gave him.
‘Because of this very arrangement,’ said Gabriel crisply, ‘Dad’s workload got too heavy at times because he couldn’t say no to Adam Dysart. And since Alison left Dad’s had too much on his plate all round, even with you two on hand. No wonder he had a heart attack.’
‘Have you got cold feet about restoring Adam’s painting yourself?’ asked Eddie bravely.
‘I certainly have not!’ Gabriel glared at him. ‘But Mr Dysart will just have to wait his turn, like everyone else.’
‘Dysart’s are holding one of their major auctions soon,’ said Wayne, holding up a print to the array of fluorescent tubes mounted behind his workbench. ‘Fine art and furniture. Adam’s probably found something he’s keen to put in.’
‘Too bad. He’ll just have to take his hot property elsewhere,’ said Gabriel, then sighed impatiently. ‘What now?’
‘You can’t do that, Gabriel, it’ll upset your dad,’ remonstrated Wayne.
‘Not,’ she said menacingly, ‘if no one tells him.’
‘We won’t,’ muttered Eddie. ‘But Adam might.’
‘He doesn’t know which hospital Dad’s in,’ she reminded them.
Wayne shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t take much detective work. All he has to do is get on the phone to Pennington General.’
It was a thought which occupied Gabriel to the exclusion of all else until she reached the hospital to visit her father that evening. To her relief Harry Brett looked a lot better, his eyes bright with the familiar twinkle which had worried her sick by its absence since the heart attack.
‘Hello, my love, you look rather delicious tonight,’ he said, eyeing her with pleasure.
‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she retorted, depositing some magazines on his bedside table. ‘I took extra special care tonight, to vamp Mr Austin.’ She smiled at the frail, elderly gentleman in the next bed, and won a beam of such delight in response Harry chuckled.
‘Remember we’re invalids, love. Just looking at you is probably rocketing my friend’s blood pressure.’
Gabriel chuckled, pleased that her efforts had not gone unnoticed. Her unruly fair hair had grown out of its London cut, and it had taken time and patience to make it hang smoothly to the shoulders of the cornflower-blue shirt she wore with white cotton trousers. ‘It’s so hot I almost wore shorts, but I chickened out in the end in case I fell foul of Sister.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘How are you? The truth, if you please—not soft soap to console the anxious daughter.’
‘I’m better. Officially better,’ her father assured her. ‘According to the amazingly young consultant I could be home in a few days if I play my cards right.’
Gabriel heaved a sigh of relief. ‘That’s wonderful news, Dad.’ She drew up a chair and sat down, bracing herself. ‘Has anyone rung to enquire about you?’
‘If you mean your mother, no, she hasn’t.’ He waved a hand at the flower arrangement beside him. ‘But she sent that. With a get well card.’
‘No other telephone calls?’
‘Nary a one.’ He frowned. ‘What’s up, pet? Something’s bothering you.’
Gabriel hesitated, then pulled a face. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you in case you got upset, but I’d better own up. I had a visit from Adam Dysart today.’
Harry’s eyes, a deceptively sleepy slate-blue like his daughter’s, lit up. ‘He’s made another find?’
‘Probably.’
‘What do you mean, probably?’
She eyed him defiantly. ‘I didn’t get as far as asking the details. I told him I had too much on and sent him away.’
‘Gabriel!’ Harry Brett stared at her, incensed. ‘What the devil possessed you to do that? The Dysarts are old friends. And, quite apart from that, Adam is one of my best customers since he’s developed the fine art side of the business.’
‘We’ve got a lot of work on hand, Dad.’ She eyed him mutinously. ‘Besides, I didn’t see why I should drop everything just because Adam Dysart snapped his fingers.’
Her father made a visible effort to keep calm. ‘As I recall, most of our work on hand is for private owners with no deadline attached. But Adam’s got an auction coming up soon. If he wants something restored in time for it, Gabriel, we’ll do it.’
Her lips tightened. ‘By “we”, you mean me. I’m surprised you actually trust me to work on something for your precious Adam!’
‘Put your claws away. You know perfectly well you’re even better than your old dad these days.’ He eyed her uneasily, then sighed. ‘This was supposed to be a secret between Adam and me, but in the circumstances it’s best you know.’
‘Know what?’ said Gabriel sharply.
He looked away. ‘A couple of years back I had some bad luck. I’d just taken on more help, bought more equipment, fitted up the vault in the cellar and so on, when a storm did damage to the roof. The house is a listed building, the necessary repair was expensive and my overdraft was at its limit, so I sold some of Lottie’s furniture through Dysart’s.’
Gabriel stared at him in dismay. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t want to worry you.’ Harry shrugged. ‘So when Adam, who is no fool, asked why I needed to sell family possessions, I told him. And he promptly handed over the sum I needed.’
‘He gave it to you just like that?’
Her father’s chin lifted. ‘No,’ he said with dignity, ‘it was a loan. Which I’ve already repaid, as it happens.’
‘Sorry, Dad,’ said Gabriel with contrition, and he grasped her hand in sudden agitation.
‘So you see why I want you to restore Adam’s painting. Please, Gabriel. Contact him when you get home. Apologise. Nicely.’
‘All right, all right, Dad, I will,’ she said hastily, ‘please don’t get upset. I’ll do whatever you want. Cross my heart.’
He leaned back against the pillows in relief. ‘Good girl.’
‘He may not want me to do work for him anyway,’ she pointed out.
‘Of course he will.’
Gabriel stayed longer with her father than usual, to make sure her mutiny had done him no lasting harm. She drove home through the bright summer evening afterwards, trying, without much success, to get in a suitable frame of mind to keep her promise to apologise to Adam Dysart. Even if it choked her. If anyone else had come along with an urgent request to restore a piece of artwork she would have done so without a second thought, she knew very well. Gabriel ground her teeth. But the moment he’d made himself known the legendary Adam had been on a losing wicket.
Her resentment towards him dated from her teens, when she’d had braces on her teeth and a weight problem, and he’d been the tall, skinny boy her father had invited round one school holiday. Adam Dysart had made it humiliatingly obvious that the moment he set eyes on her he couldn’t wait to escape. Seventeen years later Gabriel was no longer overweight, her teeth would have graced a toothpaste advertisement, and she felt secure in her own attractions. But it was galling to find that, along with all the other advantages showered on him, the adult Adam Dysart possessed just the kind