Janey chose a time when Griff was at work,
‘He looks just like his Ma,’ Phil said, smiling as he gazed at the painting. ‘She was a bonny, lass – right, bonny. She’d be proud of him now, I reckon.’
‘It’s you who raised him. She’d be proud of you, too.’
The compliment brought an abashed grin. ‘There ain’t nothing to raising a young un, Janey. It’s like growing a plant. Give it the right food and plenty of attention, make sure its roots are firmly established then prune it back hard if gets out of hand.’
The thought of Griff getting out of hand made her chuckle. ‘How often did you have to prune Griff back?’
‘Oh, he had his moments.’ Berry bright eyes slid her way. ‘He can be right stubborn when he sets his heart on something he wants, but in a quiet sort of way, so a body never notices until it’s too late.’
Her cheeks bloomed in a confusion of pink.
‘Damn me, if you ain’t as pretty as a border full of peonies,’ he cackled. ‘If I had a bit more spring in my step I’d be after you meself.’
He was still laughing when she left.
She sat at home and waited for Griff to call. One day, two ... a week went by. Finally, she could stand it no longer. She had to talk to him, had to explain. She picked up the receiver and dialed his number.
‘He’s gone out,’ Phil told her, speaking loudly because the telephone was still an unfamiliar novelty to him. ‘He’s on the hill to watch the bats.’
He was waiting for her.
She whistled for Gypsy, then throwing a cardigan her shoulders called out to Pamela. ‘The kids are asleep so I’m taking the dog for a walk. I might drop in on Dad, so don’t wait up.’
The undersides of the clouds were bordered with fiery magenta fading into shades of purple and pink. She watched it shift and change as she walked, the red tones assuming a gentler blush, the purple darkening into grey. Soon the sky would be clothed in darkness, the creation of time displayed in all its mystery and splendor.
She quickened her step. Griff was waiting for her and she could feel the pull of him as if they were attached by invisible thread. Her journey had brought her to him.
‘The tide comes in and goes out,’ she murmured. Her own tide was running high, racing through her body like waves rolling in to shore. She couldn’t doubt its force as it carried her towards the shore that was Griff.
Deep in thought, the cowshed remained unnoticed until something rustled the undergrowth. Her feet suddenly became lead as she was jolted out of her reverie, anchoring her to the ground. She hadn’t intended to come this way.
The limestone blocks looked like bleached bones in the dusk, the windows dark hollow eyes watching her. Eddie Renfrew had stood unseen behind those eyes, waiting like a venomous snake. His poison had found its mark. She could feel it inside her still, drying her mouth and throat, squeezing her lungs until her heart lunged with panic.
I’m going to have to learn to live with this. Devlin’s truth is easier to speak than face. Now is the time to say boo to your ghosts!
Brave words, only it wasn’t daylight. It was dusk with its unseen terror. She shuddered. Had his revenge been sweet? Had he gloated over her father all those years when he’d been imprisoned for a crime he hadn’t committed?
Eddie Renfrew’s dead.
She took a deep breath. Yes, he’s dead, but whilst this is hanging over me I’m half-dead too.
* * * *
From the top of the hill Griff had watched Janey make her way up the lane.
He knew she’d come eventually.
It had been the longest week of his life. He gave a wry grin. So much for ego; he shouldn’t have let his pride get in the way of phoning her.
A smile illuminated his face as he squinted into the rapidly descending darkness. The painting was her way of telling him she loved him – had always loved him.
A puzzled frown replaced the frown. Why had she’d stopped? She seemed to be staring at the cowshed? God, no! Heart in his mouth, he uncoiled to his feet and began to run.
Hand against her heart Janey spun round to face him as he burst through the doorway, her face contorted with fear in the yellow glare of a torch. Instantly, the torch was turned against him, the beam becoming a weapon to blind him. A tiny, relieved sigh reached his ears.
‘Oh, it’s you, Griff! You scared me.’
The daddy of an understatement! If he never saw that expression on her face again it would be soon enough. ‘Turn that damned thing off!’ White dots danced in front of his eyes when she aimed it at the floor. ‘What the hell are you doing in here?’
‘Saying boo to ghosts.’
‘Don’t be so bloody flippant. You should have had somebody with you.’
‘Why are you so angry, Griff? I did have somebody with me.’ Her hand closed around the wooden medallion. ‘You’re with me every minute of every day, as you always have been.’
‘I care for you, that’s why, and if you think some stupid juvenile carving will protect you from harm you need your head examined.’
Her snort of laughter pulled him up short. ‘I’ve been analyzed adequately by Devlin. He said I can’t change what happened so I’ve got to learn to live with it. I haven’t been able to pass this place without getting a panic attack so laying this particular ghost to rest was a priority. I had to face it alone.’
‘And the next priority?’
‘It might be harder,’ she admitted. Her teeth chewed on her bottom lip for a second. ‘You might decide I’m not worth loving ... and to lose you would be unthinkable now.’
‘Damn it.’ He was unable to keep the gruffness from his voice. ‘Are you saying you love me, Janey?’
He felt the smile in her as she threaded her hand in his. ‘I might be, but not here. The memories are too sordid. Let’s go to the hill and watch the bats. I need to explain something to you?’
They talked as they walked. About her quest to clear her father’s name, about the adoption of Justin and the reason she’d given Linda the money.
‘I know you might think her awful for doing such a thing, but she was badly affected by what she saw as a child. She can’t help how she is, Griff. She doesn’t want or love Justin. I know I was wrong to pay her, but I was so frightened I’d lose him. He needs to be loved so much.’ When they reached the top of the hill she turned to face him. ‘When Robert Pitt told me the lawyer said I’d stand a better chance if I were married, I just couldn’t tell you.’
He pulled her down on the grass beside him. ‘Tell me what, Janey?’
‘How much I cared for you. You might have thought I was trying to catch myself a husband for Justin’s sake.’
‘Uh-huh!’ He began to smile. ‘Putting all that aside, how much do you care for me?’
She wondered if the dusk concealed her blushes. Did he have to make her say it? A red neon sign with I love Griff Tyler written all over it would be less obvious. ‘You know how much.’
‘Say it, Janey.’ She could hear the laughter in his voice. ‘It’s only three words.’
‘I love you.’ Her whole body seemed to become one big smile and she laughed aloud. ‘I love you.’
The bats came flying out of the hill with a suddenness that made them jump. The air was thick with an untidy whirl of black squeaking shapes against she moon before they swooped off into the darkness in search of food, with Gypsy chasing excitedly after them.
She laid her head against Griff’s shoulder when his arms came round her. ‘I’ll adopt both the kids, and we’ll have a couple more when the time’s right.’
‘Griff I don’t know. I don’t think I’m much good at ... relationships.’
His lips traced a path across her cheek, coming to rest against her ear. His breath was a soft shivering whisper. ‘I guess there’s only one way to find out?’
If she failed him she wouldn’t be able to bear it? ‘Griff I’m so unsure about this?’
‘Close your eyes.’
Her eyelids drifted shut as his mouth touched hers, loving her, filling her to the brim with longing. She thought, listen to your body. It’s singing a different song. We’re one mind, one heart, we always have been.
Her mouth was a soft exploration against his and there was fire in the touch of his fingers, cool against his flesh in the evening air. His skin touched against hers silk against silk, his mouth was warm and honey moist.
She needed him, needed his loving to make her whole again.
How did he learn to be so tender ... so exquisitely loving?
Stop thinking, experience.
Her body was alive, a sculpture shaping to his caress, breasts smooth, moonbeam pale, hips curving to his touch, thighs satin soft. Her hair was strands of liquid silver spread upon the grass, upon his face, binding him to her with threads of love.
Night dark eyes absorbed the sky of hers. Her mouth accepted, took from his, sought, gave. His voice was whispered, urging.
Listen to your body now!
There was a wild, turbulent song in her, as if the earth, the sea and the sky had come together as one. Her body pulsed with it, a bittersweet poignancy that had her drowning in a sea of sensuality.
Hear your body sing ...
This is how it should be, abandoned and wild, bodies and minds exchanging an exquisite loving, passion at one with the rhythm of nature.
The world began to turn upon its axis, faster and faster. Her fingers curled into the grass, anchoring her body to the earth when the rest of her spun off into an infinity.
She and Griff were one voice, one heart, one body and one love.
The moist night air kissed her buttocks as she lay against his chest. His heart was an erratic beat under her ear, his breathing tumultuous, as if he’d just run a race. Gradually, they tuned into a gentle unison.
Above them the sky was an arc of stars, the moon an incandescent crescent. Beneath, the earth was solid again, turning them towards dawn.
Her finger traced the moon curve of his smile, the pulsing skin that protected his heart. ‘Say something nice to me, Griff.’
His chuckle was a trickle of warm honey against her ear. ‘The Greeks didn’t discover Aphrodite. I just did. I adore you.’
‘How on earth did you manage to graduate from anatomy class, Griff Tyler? Allow me to demonstrate the difference between myself and Venus de Milo ... see I have arms and fingers.’
‘So I notice, and if you don’t stop doing that ...?’ He rolled her over on her back and pinned her arms to the ground above her head. ‘I’ll be forced to do this.’
And how wonderfully he’d done it, she thought a little later when she let herself into the house. She’d never felt so fulfilled, so loved, so in tune with everything around her.
Pamela glanced up and smiled at her when she crept into the kitchen to make herself a drink.
Immediately she became aware of her disheveled state, her hair tangled with grass, her blouse creased and hanging outside her skirt. Her feet were bare because she’d lost a shoe in the darkness.
‘I thought you’d be in bed.’
‘Gypsy came back by herself so I was a bit worried. I rang your father and he said you weren’t there. Then I rang Phil, and he told me you were with Griff on the hill. I hope you don’t mind me waiting up. I wanted to be sure you were safe. Gypsy brought home one of your shoes.’
She’d forgotten about Gypsy. She blushed as she tucked in her blouse, how alive she felt and how supremely happy. She must share it with the woman she regarded as her mother.
‘Griff and I ... we’re in love.’
‘Oh, Janey.’ Pamela’s arms came round her in a big hug. ‘I’m so happy for you, darling, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Griff’s such a nice man.’
‘Just like his father.’ Her smile widened when Pamela avoided her eyes. ‘I’ve got the feeling you might end up being my mother-in-law as well as my mother.’
‘Well ...?’ Pamela gave a funny, embarrassed sort of grin. ‘Who knows, you might just be right.
* * * *
‘Sarah Wyman is dead. Listen to this.’
The body of the Countess was discovered amid the mangled wreckage of her car. It’s believed she said goodbye to friends at a nightclub in the early hours of the morning and was on her way to join her husband in Kent. The Earl is being consoled by close family friend, Mrs. Linda Pitt.’
There was a picture of a tragic-looking Linda being assisted into a car by a middle-aged man. A wry smile twisted Pamela’s lips. It was hard to equate this smart looking stranger with the child she’d once known.
‘No-one round here will miss her, I’ll be bound.’ Ada’s fist punched into a bowl of dough and buried itself to the wrist. ‘That Sarah was a bad-un all right. The way she treated a fine gentleman like Sir Charles ... it just wasn’t right.’
‘My father used to work for Sarah Renfrew once.’
Ada flicked Susie a glance. ‘Little pitchers have big ears.’
‘I’m not a little pitcher,’ Susie said indignantly.
‘As far as I’m concerned, you are. Now you just polish that silver properly, miss. Just because I said you could work today instead of tomorrow morning doesn’t mean you can take it easy.’
Turning the dough out on to a floured board Ada grumbled as she began to knead. ‘I don’t know what’s so all-fired important that you have tomorrow off, anyway. Is there something going on I should know about? The pair of you have been as jumpy as fleas on a dog lately.’
Pamela exchanged a grin with her daughter when Ada hardly paused for breath.
‘Like I was saying before I was interrupted, nobody’s going to miss Sarah Wyman. I remember the time ...’
The tragedy was discussed over a pint in the Thatcher’s Arms by the men, and tossed back and forth over fences by the village women.
Sarah was forgotten when a juicier bit of gossip replaced it.
Pamela and Phil Tyler had become man and wife.
‘Just upped and did it without telling anyone,’ Mrs. Higgins huffed. ‘Last Saturday, mind you. Off to the registry office, and her not even widowed a year yet.’
‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure,’ George answered in the tone of one wise after the event, and then pulled on his boots. ‘I’m off. I’ve got work to do on my motor bike.’
‘You can weed the vegetable patch first, George Higgins. I don’t know why you bought that noisy, smelly thing, anyway. They saw you coming if you ask me. No wonder Tim Brown donated it to the white elephant stall.
Pamela didn’t let the gossip worry her.
Ada had been put out at first but had soon come round with: ‘I suppose it couldn’t be helped, him being part gypsy and all. A secretive lot them gypsies. It’s in their nature.’
She was still living with Janey. She and Phil had pooled their money and were negotiating to buy one of the bungalows nearby. It wasn’t grand, but more convenient than the estate cottage Phil had always lived in. If all went as planned they’d be living in their own home by the beginning of September.
* * * *
Janey hadn’t seen much of her father over the preceding few weeks. Every spare moment had been spent with Griff or her children.
At her insistence he’d dropped in for dinner that week, but he hadn’t eaten much. He’d fallen asleep in a chair at the table. Struck by how pale and exhausted he appeared, she asked him if he felt all right when he woke.
He brushed aside her concerns with an irritated comment that he was perfectly healthy, and would she stop fussing.
Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.’
He rose to his feet and hugged her close. ‘It’s me who should be sorry. I didn’t mean it love. I’ve been working too hard of late and I’m a bit tired. Once the boat’s finished I’ll be able to ease off. I’m putting her into the water this week. Why don’t you come and look her over on Sunday. We could drive in together and then visit Mary and Douglas for lunch.
* * * *
Sunday dawned bright; a faint drifting haze added a touch of humidity to a perfect August day.
Everything had ripeness to it, the roses looked like plump maidens in gaudy crinolines. Overloaded with fruit, tree branches bowed towards the ground. Prickly green shells guarded the chestnuts. Soon, they’d split and throw the shining nuts to the ground.
She would take the children to gather blackberries soon, and rise at the crack dawn to pluck mushroom from the dew. Janey was looking forward to autumn with an ever-increasing impatience. Summer had made her feel full, like a bumblebee who’d supped too much nectar but was ever-greedy for more. She was bursting with love, with her own ripeness.
Her father was waiting for her at the gate. He’s growing thin, he has dark circles under his eyes, she immediately thought. I’ll ask Griff to take a look at him and tell me what he thinks. She hugged him long and hard. I love this man – my father. I want him to know it deep inside where it counts. I want him to be as happy as I am.
They used her car. The conversation between them was desultory as they drove to the harbor at Poole, as if he found it an effort to speak. There were lines of strain about his eyes, a tense stretch to his mouth. She must ask John if there was any progress with the Home Office.
He brightened as the boat came into view. The Saffy Jane was solidly beautiful, her umbilical cord a stretch of unsullied white tying her to the land. She tugged gently at it, eager for her birth. Her hull was navy blue, her name painted in gold lettering, her cabin white.
‘We could go around the harbor for a quick trip, if you like. Just make sure you keep an eye on the children. She’s not quite finished off inside, and I don’t want them to hurt themselves.’
Cable’s hung from the bulkhead, the woodwork was still raw and the seats lacked upholstery. But her brass-work gleamed bright, and her deck gently quivered as they headed around Brownsea Island. The two children stared in round-eyed wonder at the sight of gulls weaving about them and the water slipping by.
After a while, her father brought her back to harbor, his experienced hands placing her in exactly the right position so he could slip on to the quay and secure her to the bollard. A smile played around his lips as he helped them ashore, relaxing his mouth a little. ‘What do you think of her?’
‘She’s wonderful. You must be so proud of yourself.’
‘I can’t really claim the credit. It was my father who designed her.’
‘But you who built her.’ She was laughing as she teased. ‘I insist on being proud of you, whether you like it or not.’
He gave a self-effacing smile. ‘I guess I do like it at that. I’m just not used to it.’
‘Well, get used to it. I love you.’ There, it had slipped out quite naturally without her even thinking about it. She grinned when his eyes caught hers and she saw a misting of tears. ‘I do love you, dad, more than you’ll ever know. So I want you to promise me that you’ll look after yourself.’
‘Stop pushing me around, woman,’ he said gruffly. ‘We’ll be late for lunch if we don’t get going.’ Touched beyond measure, he told himself that his tiredness was probably something simple. He’d been living on nothing but sandwiches lately, and had a thirst on him he couldn’t believe. But it could wait. He’d try a pick-me-up from the chemist first.
‘I’ll get a check-up soon, if only to put your mind at rest. Remind me tomorrow.’
His casual answer didn’t fool her one little bit.
‘I’ll do better than that. I’ll make an appointment with your doctor and drive you in.’ She placed a finger over his mouth when he began to protest. ‘Don’t bother arguing, because I won’t listen.’
Jack didn’t let his annoyance show as he gently kissed her on the forehead. She was his daughter and she loved him. That was all that mattered to him. He’d do nothing to jeopardize their precious growing relationship.
Nevertheless, the day placed a great strain on him. Mary made too much fuss, commenting often on how pale he looked. With both her and Janey’s eyes on him he managed to force down most of his lunch despite his lack of appetite. He felt bloated afterwards, and longed for the solitude of the cottage so he could sink into his favorite armchair and sleep it off.
When he got up from the table he felt dizzy, and had to clutch the back of the chair before anyone noticed. He made an effort to appear alert on the way home, jerking himself awake each time he felt himself drifting off. The trip seemed interminable.
When he finally closed the door of Canford Cottage behind him he was trembling with fatigue. ‘All I need,’ he murmured, heading for the comfort of his armchair, ‘is solitude, and sleep.’
It had arrived! Suddenly and unexpectedly, there it was on her mat, an official envelope. Janey couldn’t believe it as she turned it over in her hands.
John Bellamy esquire, c/o William’s House. Winterbrook, Dorset.
She rang John.
‘What does it say?’
‘I haven’t opened it. It’s addressed to him and marked confidential.’
John laughed. ‘Then what are you phoning me for? Go and give it to him.’
‘What if ... what if it’s bad news? I couldn’t bear it.’
There was a short silence from the other end, then a cautious. ‘How can it be bad news? It seemed cut and dried to me.’
‘But what if it is? He hasn’t been well lately. In fact, I’m picking him up in an hour to take him for a check-up. I know it’s an imposition, but could you ... would you mind?’
‘Ringing my contact and asking him the contents of the letter?’ Her sigh of relief made him chuckle. ‘It’s a little unorthodox and I can’t promise he’ll give me an answer – but yes, why not?’
Fifteen minutes later he returned her call. ‘My contact refused to divulge the contents of the letter, but he indicated he’d prefer to receive it as soon as possible were it addressed to him.’
Eyes shining, she waved the letter jubilantly under Pamela’s nose. ‘It’s arrived!’ She kissed Saffy and Justin, twirling them exuberantly around before setting them on their feet again. ‘Be good for Nana. I’ll be back as soon as possible.’
Her heart warbled a duet with the birds as she jumped into the Anglia. Butterflies took up residence her stomach. No, they were helicopters stirring up her insides. Her mouth seemed to be reaching for her ears.
If I don’t calm down I’ll swallow my head.
In her eagerness, she selected the wrong gear, leaping out through the gate in an inelegant series of hops before she staled. She took a deep breath and counted to ten, restarted the engine and pulled smoothly away.
In sixty seconds my father will be the happiest man alive!
But her father didn’t answer her knock and the door was locked. Daisy whined forlornly at her from the other side.
Dropping to her knees she gazed through the flap of the letterbox, calling out. ‘Dad! Are you in?’
Of course he’s in. His car’s parked in the drive. He must have overslept.
No amount of shouting of knocking brought a response. Uneasily she walked around the cottage, gazing through the windows. The kettle spouted steam so he couldn’t have overslept. All the windows were shut. The only movement inside was Daisy shadowing her from room to room. The dog’s tail wagged furiously as she gazed hopefully back at her.
‘Go and fetch your master,’ Janey ordered, gazing thoughtfully at upper storey. His bedroom window was ajar. She cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Dad, I know you’re in there. Answer me?’
She thought she heard someone mumble. Five seconds later, Daisy’s head poked over the windowsill and she began to bark.
Something was wrong! Heart pounding, she gazed desperately around her. Her glance lit on an old wooden ladder lying in the grass by the shed.
Struggling under its weight she dragged it across to the house and placed it against the wall. It was slippery with moss, and didn’t quite reach. But if she was careful and tested each rung first and then stood on the top one, she’d be able to see inside.
The ascent was precarious. The ladder was rotten in parts and crumbled away under her feet. But as long as she held her breath it seemed to hold together – so she held her breath. Finally the top was reached. Pulling the window open and rising to the balls on her feet she leaned forward on to the inside sill.
Her father was lying in the doorway to the hall, still in his pyjamas.
‘Dad!’ If she got a grip on the windowsill she could probably get inside. Throwing caution to the winds she took a grip on it, exerted pressure on the ladder, swung one leg up, then exhaled with relief.
There was a sharp crack as the rung disintegrated beneath her. She lurched sideways, her hands taking her weight, her foot caught under the ledge on the other side. It felt as though her muscles were being stretched beyond endurance as she hung there for a moment. Then a superhuman effort saw her up and over, dropping to her knees on the other side.
She crawled on all fours to her father. ‘Dad!’
He mumbled something incoherent.
At least he’s alive. Thank you, God. He was perspiring heavily, and was deathly pale. Shudders racked his body now and again but nothing she did or said would rouse him. He was unconscious.
Griff! I’ll call Griff! Calm down and think clearly. Griff will be at the hospital. Call for an ambulance. Get him to hospital fast!
She dialed emergency and explained the symptoms to a calmly reassuring voice at the other end of the line – then remembering the dog and kettle she dealt swiftly with those before going back upstairs. As instructed, she turned her father on his side and kept watch over him.
She loved him so much she was thinking as she sponged the sweat from his dear, scarred face. Please let him be all right.
She followed the ambulance to the hospital, tears streaming down her face, and then sat in the emergency waiting room for what seemed like an age. The place was crowded with people coming and going. Doctors, nurses, patients - all wheeled about in a purposeful frenzy. She half-stood when she saw her father being wheeled away on a trolley, then sat down again.
The nurse had told her in no uncertain terms to wait, that she’d be informed in due time.
A half hour passed, an hour – two, three. Was he dead? No, his face would have been covered. Pamela would be wondering what had happened to her. There was a telephone in a hallway, so she called her.
‘Can you ring Mary and tell her what’s happened.’
Two men in white coats emerged from a room at the end of the corridor. They were moving away from her, talking. The walk was as familiar as the dark curly head. ‘Griff!’ She dropped the receiver back in its rest. ‘Griff, wait!’
He turned, his puzzled frown becoming a smile when his eyes met hers. She practically ran up the corridor, and then she was in his arms and gabbling it all out against his shoulder. A sharp odor of disinfectant lingered about him. ‘I’ve been here for hours. Can you find out how he is? Everyone is rushing about in there and I’m frightened to ask in case it’s bad news.’
‘I suggest you take your young lady to the staff room with you, Doctor Tyler,’ the older man said with an indulgent smile. ‘Tell me the patient’s name. I’ll make enquiries and join you there.’
Griff’s reassuring presence and a large mug of tea did much to calm her nerves, and when the man returned she managed a smile.
‘Hypoglycemia.’
She glanced uncertainly at Griff.
‘Low blood sugar.’
‘Is it serious?’
‘It could have been if you hadn’t found him in time.’ The older man exchanged a glance with Griff. ‘There’s a possibility of diabetes mellitus. He’ll be hospitalized for a few days to undergo tests.’
‘Is he conscious, can I see him?’
‘He is. Doctor Tyler can take you to the ward in fifteen minutes.’ He nodded to Griff and glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll see you in theatre in one hour.’
‘Thank you,’ Janey said as he walked away. ‘You’ve been most kind.’
‘I’d better explain.’
She winced as Griff took both her hands in his. ‘You don’t have to explain. I know what diabetes is. Just tell me he’ll live.’
‘Of course he’ll live.’ Griff turned her palms over and stared at the lacerations and splinters. ‘How did you manage this?’
‘I climbed up the ladder to dad’s bedroom and the top rung broke.’ She managed a grin. ‘I was left hanging from the window sill like a damned monkey with one leg over the edge.’
His mouth crinkled at the corners. ‘That must have been quite a sight.’ He fetched a bowl of warm water and a first aid box. ‘Put your hands in there.’
‘Will it sting?’
His eyes met hers, dark and serious. ‘Like hell, but I have the perfect anesthetic in mind.’
It did sting. The kiss he gave her numbed the pain nicely. She yelped a couple of times when he picked out the splinters, bringing the same response. Finally he peppered her palms with antiseptic powder. ‘There, that should do nicely.’
She kissed him this time. ‘I love you.’
His eyes were as soft as his voice. ‘It would be advisable not to continue this line of treatment. I have afternoon theatre to get through. I’ll leave you with your father and drop in on him later.’
She remembered the letter as the lift bore them swiftly upwards. With a flourish she withdrew it from her pocket. ‘This came from the Home Office. Will it be all right to give it to him now?’
‘Is it what I think it is?’
‘She nodded.
‘I’d say it’s the best tonic he could have.’
Griff left her with the sister.
‘Five minutes, no more, Miss Bellamy. He’s very tired.’
Miss Bellamy? It was the first time anyone has called her that. She didn’t bother correcting her.
Griff was right. Gazing with disbelief at its contents, her father smiled through his exhaustion. ‘How did this come about?’
‘Mary, Pamela, myself, and John Smith. We’ve been working on it for some time.’
‘I told Mary to leave it alone. I didn’t want you to have to go through it all again.’ Tears came to his eyes and he shook his head. ‘This is a most wonderful surprise. I can’t believe it.’
‘Then why are you crying?’ She was crying with him, the tears trickling down her cheeks. ‘Now, hurry up and get better. You’ve given me enough trouble for one morning.’
She hugged him tight as the sister bore down on them, her love for him so fierce she never wanted to let him go. ‘I love you so much. You’re the best father anyone could wish for.’
Griff smiled as he watched them from the doorway. For once, his father’s sixth sense had failed him.
Jack Bellamy would survive.