AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Harriet studied him in disbelief. ‘Do I look that stupid and desperate?’
Rafael spread lean brown hands in a soothing gesture that was less expansive than usual. His behaviour was very low key for him, she thought, her brow furrowing. She watched him breathe in, very slow and very deep.
‘I need to make that flight or my next deal is toast,’ he shared, not quite steadily.
‘You were halfway to the airport and you came back just to ask me about Luke?’
Rafael jerked his handsome dark head in mute acknowledgement.
‘But…but why?’
Rafael shrugged and shifted fluid hands, as if he had no idea either. ‘I have to go,’ he said, and thirty seconds later he had gone and she was wondering if she had actually dreamt up the entire episode.
Thirty-six hours later Harriet was checking the fencing on a field boundary when she saw Tolly waving frantically at her from the gate. His car was parked at an angle behind him with the engine still running. Thinking that something bad must have happened, she hurried over to him, only to be handed a phone.
‘Rafael…he says it’s urgentl’ the old man told her anxiously.
‘What are you doing out without your mobile?’ Rafael demanded.
‘I forgot to bring it with me this morning. What’s wrong?’
‘I got the results. You’re not my half-sister.’
‘I’m not your half-sister…’ Harriet repeated, dry-mouthed, feeling the blood drain from her face as shock, wild hope and an equally wild fear of being hurt again all coalesced into overload and destroyed her ability to reason.
‘We’re not related—except in so far as we are both human.’
‘Not related…But are you sure?’ she prompted shakily. ‘Could the lab have made a mistake?’
‘Take a deep breath and listen to me,’ Rafael advised her with measured care. ‘The tests were conclusive. You are not my sister. We do not have the same father. I even had my own DNA matched to Valente’s to check that I am his son…OK? There is no margin for error in these results.’
Her mind was swirling. Her legs were hollow. She felt weak as a kitten. ‘OK.’
‘We’ll have to talk to your mother about this result.’
Her eyes flew wide, for she had not yet managed to think that far ahead. ‘Will we? But Eva’s in Paris!’
‘I’ll get a flight organised for you. We’ll meet in Paris tomorrow morning. Call your mother to let her know that you’re coming, and that you’re bringing someone you would like her to meet.’
‘I can’t believe what you’ve told me yet,’ she whispered, suddenly finding her eyes filled with tears.
‘You will. It’s over. We’ll never have to think about this nightmare again.’
When he rang off, that assurance kept on ringing in her ears: It’s over. We’ll never have to think of this nightmare again. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, impervious to the reality that Tolly was still lodged on the other side of the gate, much as if he had taken root there. Was Rafael letting her know that their relationship was still dead in the water? And, if he was, how could she blame him? What casual affair could survive such a misapprehension?
‘Harriet…’ The old man’s face was deeply creased with dismay and concern. ‘I didn’t intend to listen, but I heard what you said to Rafael. Is that what’s been wrong between the two of you? Is it possible that you picked up the daft idea that you might somehow be brother and sister?’
Harriet reddened as she realised how indiscreet she had been. She was grateful that Tolly could be trusted to keep that devastating misconception to himself. ‘Yes, we did have cause to think that. But we had DNA tests done and thankfully…Well, it was nothing but the daft idea you just called it.’
‘But where did you get that idea from?’
Harriet winced. ‘Mum.’
‘Will you come back to my house with me? I think it’s time we had a chat about something that’s been playing on my mind.’
She stole a worried glance at his troubled expression. When she had first met Joseph Tolly she had admitted that she was keen to find out who her father was. Now she was remembering her suspicion that the older man might know more about her background than he was comfortable admitting.
Tolly sat her down at the scrubbed table. ‘I may know who your father is. I feel I have to speak up, but I don’t feel right doing it.’
