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‘Let someone else worry about the garden, for one thing. And your dad is quite right in saying I need to take steps now to avoid paying inheritance tax.’
‘You wouldn’t be paying it! Dad would. It would come out of your estate.’
‘But I don’t want my money going to the government.’ Margaret set her spoon down in the saucer and turned her attention to him. ‘Daniel, what have you done with Mia? There was no need for you to rush here this evening. I hope you didn’t feel you couldn’t cancel?’
Actually, it hadn’t occurred to him. His sole thought had been to apologise to Freya.
‘She’s in the car.’ He brushed a hand across his face, reluctant to confess even that much. He’d got a fifteen-year-old daughter he didn’t trust to leave at home even for half an hour. What did that say about him?
His life was a mess. Other parents seemed to be turning out well-balanced young people, whereas he was heading towards a fully-fledged delinquent. What did Freya make of that?
Of him? For reasons he couldn’t fathom he was suddenly interested in that. There was something particularly astute about the expression in her eyes when she looked at him. It made him feel she was weighing everything he said. Making a judgement. Probably finding him wanting.
‘Oh, Daniel, bring her in. It’s too cold for her to be sitting out there, even if she’s got her…whatever that thing is they all seem to be plugged into.’
Opposite, Freya smiled, her blue eyes holding a sudden sparkle. ‘I suspect you mean an MP3 player.’
‘Something like that,’ Margaret agreed. ‘Freya, be a darling and go and get her a glass of diet cola. She must be so fed up, sitting out there.’
‘She’s—’
‘She’s going to be frozen, Daniel. Just bring her in.’
Freya smiled and pushed her chair away from the table. She’d heard that tone in her grandmother’s voice many times before, and it really did brook no argument. Even her dad had done as he was told when faced with that voice.
It was a shame she hadn’t used it more often. If she’d been able to stay longer than that one summer holiday perhaps she’d have made different choices. Passed some exams.
For the umpteenth time that day she wondered what was motivating Mia. Her relationship with her dad was clearly fractured, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was all his fault.
‘A nice man doing his best.’ That was what her grandmother had said when she’d recounted the incident earlier.
And she honestly hadn’t expected him to apologise. At least not in any sincere way. That changed things. Maybe she really had stumbled on a man with integrity?
She found a two-litre bottle of diet cola on the floor of the larder and poured some into a tall glass, carrying it back to the dining room. ‘I found it.’
‘Good. We can’t leave Mia sitting out there. She’ll be texting someone she shouldn’t.’
‘A little like me, then,’ Freya said, setting it down on the tray.
‘Except there wasn’t texting when you were her age. You made your trouble in other ways.’
She’d certainly done that. But she’d had her reasons. When a person deliberately set out to push the self-destruct button there usually were reasons for it. So what were Mia’s?
Freya turned her head as she heard father and daughter returning, taking in his bleak expression and her sulky one.
‘Come and have a drink,’ Margaret said as soon as they appeared.
Dry, Mia really was a very attractive girl. Her hair, which had looked a dirty honey shade earlier, was a dramatic strawberry blonde colour. She’d have been quite stunning if she’d smiled.
In case they didn’t already know she was here under sufferance, Mia scarcely acknowledged that Margaret had spoken to her. Daniel ripped an exasperated hand through his hair and frowned at his daughter.
From this side of the fence it was almost comical to watch. Almost. It would never be quite that, because Freya knew what it felt like to carry a hard knot of anger inside. To feel lonely and frightened and so angry you didn’t know what to do with yourself.
‘Have you finished your tea?’ Margaret asked.
Freya looked down at her empty cup. ‘Yes.’
‘Perhaps you’d take Daniel to look at the chiffonier and the table? I’ll sit here and keep Mia company.’
‘They’re in the morning room,’ Freya said, standing up.
Daniel quickly drained the last of his tea and set the cup back in the saucer. He glanced at his daughter. ‘I won’t be long.’
Mia hunched a shoulder and picked up her cola. This time Freya couldn’t stop the tiny smile, then turned to look at Daniel and caught the quick flash of anger in his eyes. If Mia was looking to provoke a reaction from her father she’d succeeded.
A second glance at his daughter confirmed that she was completely aware of that. Whether or not Daniel was the root cause of Mia’s anger, he was certainly the focus of it. ‘If you want any more cola, I’ve left the bottle on the side in the kitchen.’
‘Thank you.’ Daniel spoke for her.
Freya turned her head and smiled. ‘I assume you know where you’re going?’
He nodded, and walked in the direction she’d pointed. Freya glanced back. With her dad out of the room Mia’s whole belligerent air had vanished. She just looked sad. And quite a bit younger.
Margaret smiled at Freya across the top Mia’s head. A look of complete understanding passed between them.
‘Would you mind pouring me a second cup of tea, Mia?’ Margaret asked. ‘This hip of mine makes it difficult to get out of the chair.’
Freya followed Daniel out into the Minton-tiled hallway, with its stunning mahogany staircase sweeping upwards. She glanced across at him, wondering what had happened in their relationship to make it so strained. It might be arrogant, but she somehow felt that if she just had half an hour with Mia she might be able to help.
But it was none of her business. And Daniel was at least working on it. He lifted his hand to rub his temple, and Freya caught sight of his wedding ring.
Where was Mia’s mother in all this? Her grandma hadn’t mentioned her and she hadn’t liked to ask. Just ‘a nice man doing his best’. That was all she’d said.
‘Margaret’s really good with her,’ Daniel observed.
‘With Mia?’
He nodded. ‘This is one of the few places I can bring her.’
‘Well, one way or another she’s had practice.’
‘You?’
Freya walked past him into the morning room. ‘Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking that. I imagine you’ve heard at least five versions of my youthful misdemeanours.’
‘One or two.’
It shouldn’t hurt to hear what she already knew. But it did. Nevertheless, she liked him better for not lying to her. ‘That’s the trouble with Fellingham,’ she said breezily. ‘Nothing ever happens here, so they have to re-hash old stories. You’d think they might have found something else to talk about after this much time.’
‘Your arrival re-sparked interest.’
‘I just bet. Let me know if I’m under suspicion for murder. Or whether it’s just abduction of minors—’
‘I’ve apologised for that!’
Freya brushed an irritated hand across her face. ‘True. My turn to apologise.’
‘You can’t have been much older than Mia when you left here.’
She took her hand away and caught the full force of his expression. Daniel really had the most incredible eyes. They seemed to offer a warmth and an acceptance she hadn’t seen in the longest time.
‘How old were you when you left?’
‘Seventeen.’
Daniel nodded. ‘Mia’s fifteen. Not so very different in age, then.’
‘Two years is a long time when you’re a teenager,’ Freya said quickly, wanting to make it absolutely clear that she didn’t think Mia’s life was on the same trajectory as hers had been. ‘Fifteen to seventeen weren’t good years for me, and I didn’t make it easy for anyone to like me.’
Funny how you could encapsulate so much angst into a simple sentence. Thinking back now, she could see how she’d managed to antagonise pretty much everyone.
The consequence was that they weren’t pleased to see her back. Everywhere she went she felt the whispers, the looks, and the constant speculation about what she wanted in coming back.
‘Margaret’s really glad you’re here,’ he said, as though he was able to read her mind.
She looked up at him and found he was watching her. For some inexplicable reason she wanted to cry. She bit on the side of her mouth in an effort to control the prickle of tears behind her eyes.
How did he know what she’d been thinking? If she wasn’t careful she’d be pouring out every secret she’d ever had. Maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe those dark brown eyes could see into her soul and read them all for himself?
‘Half your trouble is because of that. Margaret was so excited when she knew you were coming that she mentioned it to one or two people…’ He let his words taper off.
Freya’s breath caught on an unexpected laugh. ‘Yes, I know.’ She hadn’t quite believed she’d arrive until she’d actually stood on the doorstep.
‘And you need to remember you’re not seventeen any more,’ he said, his voice soothing like velvet.
No, she wasn’t. Right now she didn’t feel seventeen at all. Whatever it was Daniel Ramsay had, he should bottle it. It would make him a fortune. Even a cynic like her was dissolving at his feet in a pool of hormones.
God help his poor wife. Daniel would have more opportunity than most to stray. Maybe he did. Maybe that went some way to explaining Mia’s anger?
Only that couldn’t be right.
His hand moved to touch the chiffonier. ‘Margaret wants to sell this?’
Freya nodded.
‘Honestly, she’d do better to hang on to it for a few years. Dark wood isn’t as popular as it was a few years back. It’s all fashion. It’ll have its time again.’
Daniel couldn’t be that kind of man. If he was, her grandma would hardly describe him as ‘doing his best’. And he was still wearing his wedding ring.
Freya pulled her eyes away from the unexpectedly sensual movement of his fingers running along the wood grain. ‘It won’t fit where she wants to go, so she doesn’t have much of a choice.’
He pulled a face. ‘I can’t see sheltered housing suiting her.’
‘Neither can I. But now they’re building some in the village she’s become quite keen…and I suppose it makes sense long-term. I don’t mind, if it’s what she really wants.’
He nodded and turned back to the chiffonier. ‘This isn’t going to make much more than five hundred. It’s early nineteenth century, not particularly unusual, and big. Most houses just can’t take a piece of furniture like this.’
‘And it’s ugly.’ Freya moved away to stand nearer the door. She felt better with more space between them. One thing she’d learnt was that danger was best avoided. And, with a finely tuned instinct for survival, she knew Daniel Ramsay was dangerous.
‘The barleytwist side columns are nice, but that’s really all it’s got going for it. I’d put a reserve of about four hundred on it but, I don’t think it’ll go much higher than that.’
‘Anywhere?’
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. ‘If I thought she would get more elsewhere I’d tell her. Margaret’s a friend, and my auction house isn’t particularly looking for things to sell. With all the antiques programmes on TV recently, business is booming.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘Yes, you did.’ Daniel cut her off, and his eyes held hers. He didn’t even blink.
There was a beat of silence. He really was a mind-reader. ‘Actually—yes, I probably did.’
Daniel thrust his hands deep into his jeans pockets. ‘Is there any particular reason you think I’d do something underhand? Was it something I said or just a chemical reaction?’
‘I don’t know anything about you,’ she said quickly.
‘But you don’t like me?’
Freya moved across to the dining table, pushed up into the corner of the room, and started to lift down the boxes stacked on it. ‘I don’t have to like you. I just need to be certain my grandmother isn’t being taken for a ride.’
‘And you think I’d do that?’
‘I think your business needs a good injection of capital, and I think you want quality pieces passing through your auction house even if the owners would get a better price elsewhere.’
The silence was longer this time. ‘You don’t take any prisoners, do you?’
She shrugged. ‘What’s the point? The sooner we get finished here, the sooner you can take Mia home. What do you think of this?’
Daniel moved back to look at the bulbous legs of the table. ‘Do you have the extra leaves?’
She nodded, feeling unexpectedly mean. ‘Three. Behind the door over there.’
‘What does it measure when fully extended?’
‘Three hundred and ten centimetres.’ Daniel crossed over to look at the other pieces of the table and she added, ‘There’s a scratch on one of the leaves. I can’t remember which one now. I think the back one.’
He looked for a moment. ‘It’s quite deep, but that won’t affect the value much. This will most likely go to a dealer who’ll be able to sort that.’ Daniel turned back to her. ‘I’d no idea Margaret had this. It’s lovely. Why doesn’t she use it?’
‘She did. When I was younger. We used to have big Sunday lunches.’
