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‘And I thought having teenagers was bad,’ another woman standing next to Verity groaned. ‘My youngest…’ she nodded in the direction of one of the changing rooms ‘…isn’t speaking to her father because he refused to allow her to have her navel pierced. She’s eleven next week. So far, the only clothes she’s said she’ll wear are the ones that her father will have forty fits if he sees her in, and I’ve got to admit he does have a point. Of course, we all know that fathers don’t like to see their little girls growing up, but—’
‘Verity, what do you think?’ Honor demanded, suddenly emerging from the changing cubicle dressed in a tiny cut-off top that clung lovingly to her mercifully still flat chest and a pair of stretch Lycra leggings in a mixture of colours that made Verity’s eyeballs ache.
‘It’s…I don’t think your father will like it very much,’ Verity began.
But she was out-manoeuvred as Honor informed her sunnily, ‘No, I don’t suppose he will, but you’ll soon be able to talk him round.’
She could talk him round? Verity opened her mouth and then closed it again.
‘Honor…’ she began, but Honor was already disappearing in the direction of the changing cubicle.
It was another three ho
urs before Honor pronounced herself reasonably satisfied with her purchases, declaring that she was hungry and suggesting that they made their way to the nearest McDonald’s.
They were settled at a table when Honor asked Verity her most searching question yet. ‘Have you ever been in love?’
Verity put down her cup of coffee.
‘Once,’ she admitted quietly, after a few long seconds had passed. ‘A good many years ago.’
‘What happened?’ Honor asked her curiously.
Verity focused on her. What on earth was she doing? This wasn’t a suitable topic of conversation to have with a ten-year-old girl even when the girl was the daughter of the man she had loved—especially when that ten-year-old was the daughter of the man she had loved, she corrected herself quickly—and yet, to her consternation, she still heard herself saying huskily, ‘He…He married someone else!’
‘Perhaps he married someone else because he thought you’d stopped loving him,’ Honor told her quickly. ‘Perhaps he really still loves you,’ she said eagerly.
Verity started to frown. It was quite definitely time to change the subject.
‘It’s half past four,’ she told Honor. ‘What time did you say your father would be back?’
Silas’ meeting had ended a little earlier than he had anticipated, and since he needed petrol he headed for the large out-of-town supermarket where he normally did his grocery shopping.
Catherine’s mother was heading for the checkout with a full trolley-load when he walked in. Smiling at him, she asked, ‘Did your aunt enjoy seeing Honor? Catherine was disappointed that she couldn’t stay with us after all.’
Silas frowned.
‘I’m sorry?’ he began and then checked. What exactly was going on? Honor had told him that she couldn’t stay at Catherine’s because her friend had family visiting, but from what Catherine’s mother had just said she seemed to be under the impression that it was Honor who had had the family commitment.
‘Oh, and thanks for the invitation to dinner next week, we’d love to come.’
The invitation to dinner…? Next week? Silas opened his mouth and then closed it again. His daughter, he decided grimly, was going to have some serious explaining to do.
It was five o’clock when Verity finally pulled into Silas’ drive, empty thankfully of his car, but she knew she couldn’t escape until he returned home to care for his daughter. Besides, Honor was not feeling very well.
‘My stomach hurts,’ she told Verity.
‘I’m not surprised. You did have two milk shakes,’ Verity reminded her.
‘It’s not that kind of pain,’ Honor came back quickly. ‘It’s the kind you get when you feel sad and…and lonely.’
Once they were inside the house, though, Honor suddenly remembered something she had to do outside.
‘You stay here,’ she told Verity, pushing open the kitchen door. ‘I won’t be long.’
The kitchen was generously proportioned and comfortable. In the adjoining laundry room Verity could see a basket perched on top of the tumbledryer, a pile of clean laundry next to it as though someone had pulled it from the machine and not had time to fold it.
Automatically she walked through and started to smooth out the crumpled garments. Honor’s underwear and school clothes and…
