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‘I worked through the night and made the others do the same,’ he said grimly, ‘and caught the early train this morning. Henry was collecting me from the station when your mother called.’
‘You worked through the night? Why?’
‘Because I wanted to see you as soon as possible,’ he said simply.
Her heart leapt and then began to pound.
‘We need to talk, Kay. I can’t go on like this,’ he said softly, ‘but now is not the time. Later.’
She stared at him, doubt mixing with exhilaration. Was this his way of telling her she had to make a decision about the future? Accept his terms or else? The ‘iron fist in the velvet glove’ approach? She didn’t know; she just didn’t know. How could you ever read Mitchell’s mind?
‘Tell me exactly what happened here, Kay,’ he said quietly as Henry appeared from the kitchen with a tray holding the coffee. ‘Minute by minute.’
Her mother appeared at the top of the stairs just as she began to relate the story, and Kay was left in no doubt as to Henry’s feelings for her mother—or her mother’s for Henry, come to that—by the exchange between the couple.
Once they were all sitting down, Kay told the two men everything that had happened before they transferred to the kitchen for toast and marmalade and more coffee.
Kay was beginning to feel panicky about what was to come. Mitchell was thoroughly in control of himself again, his brief glitch when he’d first arrived gone as completely as if it had never happened at all. He was attentive, considerate, but his eyes were veiled against her and his face was giving nothing away. She knew all over again that she just didn’t understand what made him tick. But he had come, she told herself feverishly. He had rushed here to her side when he’d thought she needed him. That had to mean something, didn’t it?
Guilt? a nasty little voice in her head said tauntingly. Could it mean guilt? He had never got over the way he felt he had let his sister down; perhaps this morning hadn’t really been about her, Kay Sherwood, so much as demons from the past?
The four of them were still sitting talking when Georgia and Emily came padding downstairs, the little girls’ transparent delight at seeing Mitchell causing Kay further misgivings. They adored him, she told herself helplessly as she watched the girls clamber onto his lap. And he was so good with them.
It was mid-morning when Mitchell rose to his feet and took Kay’s hand. ‘Go and get your coat,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re going for a drive and lunch somewhere after I’ve phoned a guy I know to come and fix the window.’
‘It’s a Sunday.’ Kay stared at him in surprise. ‘No one works on a Sunday.’
‘He’ll come.’ Mitchell turned to Henry and Leonora. ‘You two okay to hold the fort for a while?’
‘Of course,’ said Leonora eagerly, too eagerly, clearly delighted by events.
‘Can we come?’ Georgia asked immediately.
‘Not this time, honey, okay? But I promise we’ll go somewhere nice soon,’ Mitchell said gently.
‘Can we see the ducks again?’
This was obviously considered the ultimate in nice. Mitchell smiled, ruffling the small head of curls as he said, ‘I don’t see why not.’
Oh, please, God, make all this turn out right, Kay prayed as she fetched her coat, not even stopping to check her hair or put any make-up on. If I’m not what he wants, if he can’t break free of the past, don’t let my girls be hurt.
As they walked towards the car Mitchell took her hand and Kay found she couldn’t speak at all, but her fingers wound themselves round his. She felt in her bones what he was going to say would either make or break them, and she didn’t have any idea which way it would go.
‘I’ve finished racing at the circuit.’
It was the very last thing in all the world she had expected him to say, and now, as she slid into the car, she stared up at him as he stood holding the door open for her.
‘For good?’ she asked after a moment or two.
‘Oh, yes, Kay, for good.’
She nodded, her heart beginning to thud harder. ‘I’m glad.’
‘I’m glad you’re glad.’
‘Mitchell—’
‘Not yet, Kay. I want to talk to you, really talk to you somewhere quiet where there’s just the two of us.’ He shut the door, walking round the bonnet and climbing into the driver’s seat. ‘There’s a pub I know that serves excellent Sunday lunch not too far from here and you don’t have to book.’ He glanced at her, his eyes crystal-clear. ‘We can be there by twelve after I’ve said what I need to say first.’
