RACHEL worried about what Hannah had said all weekend. It was impossible to dissociate her daughter’s words from the opinion of the doctor at St Winifred’s, and Rachel was in the unhappy position of knowing that she had brought everything that had happened on herself. Of course she wanted Hannah to recover the use of her legs, to walk again, to be doing all the things a little girl of her age should be doing, but not like this. Maybe she was selfish, but she couldn’t help wishing that Gabriel Webb hadn’t been involved.
Walking to the bus stop on Monday morning, Rachel had still not reconciled herself to the knowledge that, without Gabriel’s intervention, it could have been months or even years before Hannah attempted to use muscles that had been weakened by her paralysis. God knew, she might never have had the courage to do what she’d done. Until Gabriel had gained her confidence, until he had offered her the prospect of a totally new experience, she had seemed quite content with her lot.
Or perhaps that was simplifying matters too much. The truth was Hannah probably couldn’t remember a different way of life, and Rachel had to admit she had accepted the physiotherapist’s gloomy diagnosis that her daughter was lazy. In the beginning Dr Williams had been optimistic, but even he had stopped making any unrealistic promises, and, in spite of what she’d told Gabriel, Rachel had begun to doubt that Hannah would ever walk again.
Now there was a genuine possibility. Rachel had phoned Dr Williams on Saturday morning and he was going to make an appointment for Hannah to see a child psychologist. He’d accepted the other doctor’s opinion with genuine interest, and, although she doubted he thought it would do any good, he was willing to try anything if there was even a chance of success.
Which left Rachel with the unpalatable thought that she was in Gabriel’s debt. No matter how many times she tried to tell herself that he had only acted on impulse, she couldn’t forget that he had asked if Hannah had had a psychological evaluation long before Dr Rigsby had suggested it.
Had it only been because he’d felt sorry for her, as Andrew had said? If what his son had said was true, he had only been amusing himself at her expense, and surely that was a more believable explanation? Hadn’t she been telling herself the same thing ever since Gabriel first came into the café? Whatever he said, he couldn’t think that their relationship was doomed to anything but failure.
Even so, as the bus came and she climbed aboard Rachel found herself reliving that scene in the café two weeks ago. Not that she hadn’t relived it a dozen times already. The whole awful memory of it was imprinted on her mind, and whenever she closed her eyes she remembered how she had accused him of being like Joe Collins. But now she found herself trying to find excuses for herself, and justifying her words by the things he had said.
Yet all she kept coming up with was the knowledge that once again Andrew had been in the forefront of their disagreement. Gabriel had wanted to tell her why Andrew had come back to Kingsbridge and she’d refused to listen.
Well, he’d had the chance, she assured herself fiercely. He’d had the opportunity to explain the real reason for Andrew’s sudden appearance, but he’d pulled back from telling her the truth. To begin with, anyway. He’d been protecting his son, she realised now, protecting him as she had tried to protect Hannah all these years. And with what success? she asked herself bitterly. Not a lot, as it had turned out.
So what was she thinking? she asked herself. That she should have been less confrontational? Less emotional? Less willing to take Andrew’s words at face value? What if it was she who had made a terrible mistake? What if Gabriel had meant what he said? Dear God, what then?
It couldn’t be true, she told herself as she unlocked the café door and hurried to turn off the alarm. Just because she’d had a shock over what had happened to Hannah, she was allowing her emotions to get in the way of her common sense. Again. How many times did she have to hear something before she believed it? Gabriel didn’t care about her. He couldn’t. Apart from anything else, his family would never let him make such a mistake.
She was still arguing with herself when she picked up the phone and asked for the number of Webb’s Pharmaceuticals. When she got through, the receptionist at the plant was very polite, but when Rachel asked if she could give her Gabriel’s private number she was politely apologetic. She was not at liberty to give Mr Webb’s private number to anyone, she said, and although Rachel identified herself, and tried to explain that she knew Mr Webb personally, the woman wouldn’t be moved.
‘Then perhaps you could ring Copleys and tell him I called,’ Rachel suggested at last, aware that her desire to speak to Gabriel was no longer an optional thing. She wanted to speak to him, she needed to speak to him, and if that meant humiliating herself to this cool indifferent employee, then so be it.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have a number for Copleys,’ replied the receptionist quellingly. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Kershaw, but—’
‘Someone must have it,’ exclaimed Rachel, her voice rising in concert with her frustration. ‘Please. I’ve got to speak to him. Can’t you ask someone else? The manager, perhaps?’
There was silence for a few moments, and Rachel could imagine the woman exchanging a few amused words with a fellow telephonist. Then she spoke again. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she said crisply. ‘Um—does Mr Webb know your number?’
‘He does, but I’ll give you it again,’ said Rachel hurriedly, reciting the café’s phone number. ‘And—thank you. I do appreciate it.’
‘I can’t promise anything,’ said the woman offhandedly, and rang off.
Rachel spent the next half-hour in a state of high tension, and by the time Stephanie turned up she was already regretting her impulsiveness. Gabriel wasn’t going to phone. If he had got her message, he’d ignored it. She might just as well accept that as far as he was concerned their association was over.
‘What’s wrong?’
Stephanie noticed her flushed face as soon as she came in, and, rather than invent some unlikely explanation for her flustered appearance, Rachel told her what she’d done. She also told her why, relaying why Hannah’s head teacher had wanted to see her and how Gabriel had played an innocent part in the little girl’s progress.
‘And he won’t speak to you?’ Stephanie frowned.
‘Apparently not.’ Rachel tried to sound unconcerned.
‘But what did he say?’
‘Oh, I haven’t spoken with him,’ admitted Rachel ruefully. ‘I don’t have his private number, so I rang the plant and asked them to give him the message.’
‘And that was when?’
‘Oh—nearly an hour ago.’ Rachel grimaced. ‘Stupid, huh?’
Stephanie shook her head. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Don’t I?’ Rachel sniffed. ‘It was a crazy idea. I mean, all right, he may have put the idea in Hannah’s mind, but—’
‘Stop pretending you mean that,’ ordered her friend impatiently. ‘Look, he may have got the message and decided to come and see you. Have you thought of that? It’s not as if he’s any stranger to the café.’
‘Do you think so?’ Rachel stared at the other woman with wide anxious eyes. ‘Oh, God, and I look such a mess!’
‘You look fine,’ Stephanie assured her drily. ‘He should be so lucky! Now, stop worrying about it and get those scones in the oven. The oven we wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for him, I might add. Have you forgotten that?’
Rachel gave a small smile. ‘I haven’t forgotten anything.’
And it was true. Just thinking about what she and Gabriel had shared caused an expanding warmth inside her that nothing could displace.
When the phone rang at half-past ten Rachel’s hands were covered in flour, and Patsy, who knew nothing of what had been going on, went automatically to answer it. Her eyes widened when she heard the voice on the other end of the line, and she put her hand over the receiver as she whispered, ‘It’s Mr Webb, Rachel. Do you want to speak to him?’
Did she ever? Rachel nodded, frantically wiping her hands on a towel. ‘Thanks, Pats,’ she said, taking the handset from her, and the younger girl shrugged indifferently and went back to clearing tables.
Wishing she had more privacy than was possible at present, Rachel put the receiver to her ear and said breathily, ‘Hello, Gabriel. Did you get my message?’
‘It’s not Gabriel, Rachel,’ said a harsh amused voice. ‘It’s Andrew. Sorry to disappoint you, babe, but the old man’s not here.’
Rachel’s heart sank. ‘I see.’
‘Yeah.’ Andrew sounded smug. ‘It was quite a surprise when I got your message from the receptionist at Webb’s. I gather my father wasn’t fool enough to give you his private number. I just wonder what you think you’ve got to gain by pursuing him like this.’
Rachel gasped. ‘I’m not pursuing him.’
‘No?’ Andrew sounded sceptical. ‘Well, why are you ringing him here, then? The guy’s given you the brush-off, for God’s sake. What part of that don’t you understand?’
Rachel wanted to ask, Is that what he said? But she didn’t have the courage. ‘I just wanted to speak to him,’ she insisted. ‘Will you tell him I called?’
‘He’s not here at Copleys,’ said Andrew flatly. ‘As far as I know he’s in Siena. Italy, that is. There’s a woman there my grandmother wants him to meet. He and Nonna flew out on Friday night.’
Rachel hung up then. It wasn’t that she entirely believed the bit about the woman his mother wanted him to meet, but if Gabriel was out of the country she was wasting her time. Andrew would never pass her message on to his father. Whatever feelings he had ever had for her had been destroyed long before he found her and Gabriel in bed together.
Where before she had been flushed and excited, now she was pale and drawn, and Stephanie, who had made herself scarce while Rachel was taking the call, gave an impatient exclamation.
‘What did he say, for God’s sake?’
‘He didn’t,’ said Rachel, turning away to wash her hands at the sink. ‘It wasn’t—Gabriel. It was Andrew. Gabriel’s not there. He’s in Italy, with his mother.’
Stephanie frowned. ‘I see.’ She hesitated. ‘So you’ll phone him when he gets back?’
‘No.’ Rachel swallowed. ‘I don’t know the number, remember? Besides, according to Andrew, his father has given me the brush-off.’
‘Since when did you believe anything Andrew Webb said?’ asked Stephanie shortly, picking up the phone. With nimble fingers she dialled 1471, and waited while the automated voice gave her the number of who’d been calling. Scribbling it on her order pad, she handed it to Rachel. ‘There you are. That’s the number you want. And stop looking so shattered. Andrew’s jealous, that’s all. Who wouldn’t be? He tried hard enough, God knows!’
Rachel took the sheet of paper and gave a shaky laugh. ‘You’re so good for my ego.’
‘No, I’m practical, is all,’ said Stephanie drily. ‘Now, I’m not saying that that number is the answer to all your problems, but at least if you do decide to ring Copleys again you don’t have to go through some snotty receptionist.’
‘Thanks.’ Rachel folded the sheet and put it into her skirt pocket. Then she bestowed a kiss on her friend’s cheek. ‘You’re a pal.’
She told her mother what she’d done that evening. She felt the other woman deserved to know what she was thinking, and for once Mrs Redfern didn’t start grumbling as soon as Rachel mentioned Gabriel’s name.
‘I suppose he deserves to know,’ she admitted grudgingly. ‘If you think he’ll be interested, that is. But I doubt if he’ll get in touch with you. I’d heard he’d gone back to London, and if you say he’s in Italy—well, I expect he’ll be thinking of taking up the reins of the company again when he gets back.’
‘Mmm.’
Rachel didn’t trust herself to make any comment. The idea that Gabriel might not come back to Kingsbridge at all was too upsetting to think about. Wasn’t it too soon for him to be thinking of resuming his duties as CEO of Webb’s Pharmaceuticals in any case? What if he collapsed again? What if she knew nothing about it? God, how was she going to survive not knowing where he was or what he was doing?
Dr Williams rang on Wednesday evening to let Rachel know that an appointment had been made for Hannah to see the child psychologist the following week, and on Thursday Mrs Redfern reported that the physiotherapist, Mrs Stone, had noticed significant improvement in the little girl’s mobility. It was as if now that Hannah had decided to walk again her progress was accelerating, and Rachel buried her own unhappiness over Gabriel in the fierce pride she felt for her daughter. This was what was important to her, she told herself. Nothing else should even come close.
But it did.
In spite of what Andrew had told her, and Gabriel’s continuing silence, hope sprang eternal. Every morning she suffered the quivering expectation of wondering if this might be the day when she’d see Gabriel again, and every night she felt the bitterness of knowing that once again her hopes had been dashed. Day followed day with depressing familiarity, but no dark-haired stranger came into the café, no deep sensual tones called her to the phone. As Andrew had so smugly told her, Gabriel wanted nothing more to do with her, and somehow she had to stop thinking that he did.
And then, on Friday evening, the phone rang as she was about to leave the café.
She was late, and, expecting it to be her mother, Rachel lifted the receiver with mild impatience. She was wondering what it was that couldn’t wait until she got home, and then was almost shocked out of her mind when an achingly familiar voice said, ‘Rachel?’
Trembling, she groped for the edge of the counter and supported herself against it. ‘Gabriel?’ she breathed, almost disbelievingly. ‘Oh, God, is that really you?’
‘Who were you expecting?’ he enquired coolly, and she blessed whatever fate had decreed that on this particular evening she should be a few minutes late in leaving.
‘I—nobody,’ she denied weakly. ‘Um—did you get my message?’
‘Your message?’ Plainly, he hadn’t. ‘No. I got no message. When did you leave one?’
Rachel was shaking so badly she could hardly stand.
‘I—I tried to ring you on Monday morning,’ she said tremulously. ‘I didn’t have your number, so I rang the plant and asked the receptionist if it was possible to get in touch with you. I wanted to tell you about Hannah. She’s been getting out of her chair on her own, and a week ago her head teacher called me into the school to ask if I knew anything about it. Of course I didn’t. As far as I was concerned she was still totally paralysed, but it’s not true. There’s been a distinct improvement, and if she hadn’t fallen trying to pick up a paintbrush we might still have known nothing about it.’
The words had come bubbling out of her mouth, as much the result of nervousness as anything, and she knew they weren’t exactly coherent. All the same, when he didn’t immediately answer her, she realised how foolish she must sound. What reason did she have for thinking he was still interested in their lives? He hadn’t had her message. That wasn’t why he’d rung. For all she knew he might have something entirely different on his mind.
‘Anyway,’ she said, hurrying to fill the awkward silence that had fallen, ‘you didn’t ring me to talk about Hannah.’ She paused. ‘How—how are you? Andrew told me you were in Italy. Did you have a good—?’
‘Andrew!’ Gabriel’s interjection was raw. ‘You admit you’ve spoken to Andrew?’ He paused. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘No.’ Rachel was indignant. ‘Of course I haven’t seen him. Why would I? I told you, I tried to get in touch with you by ringing the plant and—’
‘Yes, yes.’ Gabriel spoke impatiently. ‘But where does Andrew come into this? Why did you ring him?’
‘I didn’t ring him.’ Rachel’s voice grew defensive in response to the accusation in his. ‘He—he took the message.’
‘Where? At the plant?’ Gabriel sounded sceptical and she wanted to scream with frustration. ‘Andrew never goes to the plant.’
‘Not at the plant.’ Rachel felt a painful lump in her throat. Here they were arguing about Andrew again, and she didn’t know how it had happened. ‘He rang me from Copleys. The receptionist I spoke to must have passed my message on to him.’
There was another of those pregnant silences and Rachel wondered what he was thinking. He couldn’t possibly believe that she’d speak to Andrew voluntarily. Or was she being hopelessly naïve in thinking that she and Gabriel might take up where they’d left off?
‘And your story is that you rang to tell me about Hannah?’ he said at last, and Rachel gave a startled gasp.
‘My story?’ she echoed. ‘It’s no story. It’s the truth.’ She took a gulp of air, and then continued tightly, ‘I realise it was probably silly to think that you’d want to know—that you’d even be interested. I’m sorry, but it seemed a good idea at the time.’
‘Don’t be stupid!’ Gabriel’s voice was harsh with emphasis. ‘Of course I’m interested in Hannah. Dammit, that was why I was ringing you. Despite what—well, despite what I thought, I didn’t think that child deserved to suffer just because her mother wouldn’t listen to reason.’
‘Thanks.’
Rachel pressed her lips together before she could say anything more. The urge to ask him what he meant by criticising her when he hadn’t demurred from discussing their relationship with his son was almost irresistible, but this wasn’t about her. As he’d just said, it was about Hannah. And he was right: her daughter did deserve better.
‘And I’m glad that she’s making progress at last,’ he added, and for the first time there was a trace of warmth in his tone. ‘How does she feel about it?’
‘Good.’ Rachel didn’t know how long she could go on without losing control. ‘She’s going to see a child psychologist next week. Just as you suggested.’
‘Great.’ He was evidently pleased. ‘How do you feel about that?’
‘As you pointed out earlier, my feelings aren’t in question here,’ said Rachel stiffly. ‘But, as you’d expect, I’m delighted, too.’
‘You don’t sound delighted.’
‘Well, I am.’ Rachel was having a struggle to keep the emotion out of her voice. ‘I—I did want to thank you, actually. For what you did. If Hannah hadn’t been so excited by your horses she might never have found the courage to try and stand by herself.’
‘You think it was crucial?’ He was cynical.
‘I do.’ And, in an effort to justify that belief, she added swiftly, ‘She’s determined to learn to ride herself. I think your groom, Katy something-or-other, gave her the idea, and she can’t wait to—to—try it.’
But her last words were reluctant. Once again her tongue had run away with her, and she realised with a feeling of dismay how what she’d said might be interpreted. God, he was going to think she was asking if Hannah could visit Copleys again, when that was the last thing he’d have in mind.
‘I mean,’ she appended unhappily, ‘when she grows up, of course. And by then, please God, she’ll have the full use of her legs.’
‘I’m sure she will.’ Gabriel’s voice was terse now. ‘Hannah’s a determined little girl.’ He paused. ‘Like her mother.’
Rachel didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. The change of topic was too upsetting for her fragile emotional state, and now all she wanted to do was put the receiver down and forget he’d ever made this call.
‘I—I’ll tell Hannah you rang,’ she got out at last, but before she could hang up the phone, Gabriel uttered a strangled sound.
‘God,’ he said savagely, ‘can’t we talk about anything else but Hannah?’
Rachel struggled to keep her tears at bay. ‘I—I thought that was what you—what you—’
‘Wanted?’ he demanded, breaking into her trembling words. ‘Well, it wasn’t.’ He gave another anguished moan. ‘Oh, that was my excuse for ringing you, yes, but dammit, Rachel, it’s you I wanted—I needed to talk to. Talk to me, can’t you? Haven’t you missed me at all?’
Rachel held the phone away from her ear for a moment, staring at it as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. And then, jamming it back again, she countered unsteadily, ‘Have you missed me?’
‘Do you have to ask?’ Gabriel spoke almost bitterly. ‘Will I damn myself completely if I tell you I’ve thought of nothing else but you ever since I walked out of the café three weeks ago?’
A sob escaped her. She couldn’t help it. It was such a relief hearing him say what she had so desperately wanted to hear, and tears were suddenly pouring down her cheeks.
‘Oh, Gabriel,’ she breathed, licking the salty droplets from her lips. ‘Do you mean it?’
‘I don’t usually say things I don’t mean,’ he retorted huskily, and she gave a tremulous little laugh.
‘You said you didn’t think I cared about anybody,’ she reminded him unsteadily, and he groaned.
‘I did say I didn’t usually say things I don’t mean,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Even I’ve been known to say stupid things on occasion. Particularly where you’re concerned, as it happens. Do you forgive me?’
‘Do you forgive me?’ she responded huskily, and at last Gabriel seemed to detect the emotion in her voice.
‘Are you crying?’ he exclaimed, and when she didn’t answer, he continued, ‘I’m coming to pick you up. Give me five minutes and I’ll be outside the café.’
‘Five minutes?’ Rachel was horrified. ‘You’ll kill yourself!’
‘Only if I run into something coming out of the Golden Lion’s car park,’ remarked Gabriel drily. ‘I’ve been here all afternoon, trying to pluck up the courage to cross the street.’
‘You haven’t!’ Rachel caught her breath. ‘But why?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you,’ he promised softly. ‘Get your coat. It’s raining outside.’