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She let herself in quietly, slipped off her sandals and trod upstairs barefoot to investigate, and offer a cup of hot chocolate if her father was still awake.
But his door was open and the bed unoccupied.
Ah, well, a sick visit it is, she decided as she returned downstairs. And quite some time ago, because when she took the milk from the fridge, she noticed the cold chicken was still there under its cling-film cover.
He’ll be starving when he comes in, she thought, mentally reviewing the cartons of homemade soup waiting in the freezer, and deciding on minestrone.
But as she went to retrieve it, a key rattled in the back door lock, and Mr Denison came in, not with the withdrawn, strained look he wore after visiting people in trouble, but appearing positively cheerful.
‘Hello, darling. Foraging for food? Was the Barkland Grange catering that bad?’
‘No, I saw you’d had no supper, so I was getting something for you.’
‘Oh, I’ve been dining out too,’ he said. ‘Geoff Layton phoned to say his son had sent him a birthday hamper from Fortnum’s. So we had chess and the most wonderful pork pie.’ He patted his midriff. ‘Quite amazing.’
‘Oh.’ She closed the freezer door. ‘How lovely.’
‘Anyway,’ he said. ‘How did your evening go?’
‘It went,’ Tavy said crisply, pouring milk into a pan and setting it to heat. ‘For which I was truly thankful. Jago Marsh and I have absolutely nothing in common, and the less I see of him the better.’
‘Ah,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘So no attraction of opposites in this case.’
‘No attraction at all,’ Tavy returned, firmly quashing the memory of the way he’d looked at her—that light touch on her earring and their admittedly tumultuous effect. It was stress, she told herself, induced by a truly horrible evening. Nothing more.
She poured the hot milk into their cups, and stirred in the chocolate. The usual bedtime ritual.
Which is how I want things, she thought. The everyday, normal way they were forty-eight hours ago.
And that’s what I’m going to get back. Whatever it takes. And no intrusive newcomer is going to stop me.
* * *
‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Patrick. ‘I thought—I hoped I was seeing things. What the hell did you think you were doing?’
‘Having dinner,’ Tavy retorted, rolling out pastry as if she was attacking it, which did not bode well for the steak and kidney pie they were having for Sunday lunch. ‘But maybe it’s a trick question.’
She added, ‘If it comes to that, I wasn’t expecting to see you.’ She paused. ‘Or Fiona.’
‘Her mother called mine,’ he said defensively. ‘Said she was feeling a bit down over the divorce. So Mother thought it would be nice for her.’
‘Very,’ said Tavy, reflecting that during their earlier encounter, Fiona seemed to be firing on all cylinders.
‘Besides,’ he went on. ‘In the old days, she was one of the gang.’
Not any gang that I ever belonged to, thought Tavy.
‘Anyway,’ he added. ‘That’s not important. Do you realise that Mother was absolutely furious about last night. And that I’ve had to do some fast talking to stop her from sacking you.’
Or it might also have occurred to her that she’d get no one else to do everything I do for the money, thought Tavy with sudden cynicism. Thought it, but didn’t say it.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But it shouldn’t have been necessary. For one thing, she doesn’t exercise any jurisdiction over how I spend my time outside school hours. Maybe you should have mentioned that.
‘For another, I should have been with you last night, and not him. So why wasn’t I, Patrick? When are you going to tell her about us?’
‘I was about to,’ he said defensively. ‘But you’ve knocked that right on the head. Now, I’ll just have to wait until she cools down over this entire Jago Marsh business, and it won’t be any time soon, I can tell you.’
He shook his head. ‘What on earth does your father have to say about all this?’
‘Not a great deal,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t seem to share your low opinion of Mr Marsh.’ She added stonily, ‘And he was also invited last night, but had—other things to do.’
He sighed. ‘Tavy, your father’s a great chap—one of the best—but not very streetwise. He could get taken in quite badly over all this.’
