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Barnaby smiled shyly. ‘We are, for some years now, but nothing formal. Her sons don’t know, so perhaps you might not mention it. You can tell Graham, of course.’
Hannah nodded. ‘Everyone deserves to be happy. And don’t beat yourself up about what happened. We all make bad decisions, sometimes.’
Barnaby looked at her shrewdly. ‘And what bad decisions have you made, exactly?’
Hannah wafted him away, feeling her neck go red. ‘Oh, you know. Nothing specific.’
Barnaby tilted his head to one side. ‘Hannah, I know we haven’t seen each other much over the years, but you’re still my daughter. And I’ve never been a gambling man, but I would bet every last euro in my bank account that the man you came to my house with yesterday is not your husband.’
Hannah rubbed her face, then stood up and took in the landscape, feeling like her world was wobbling precariously on its axis. But she was also pretty sure that there would be a soft landing; that in view of everything that had happened, her dad wouldn’t let her down.
‘How did you know?’
‘Just instinct,’ said Barnaby with a soft smile. ‘And neither of you is wearing a wedding ring.’
Hannah gasped, then looked at the tell-tale bare skin on the fourth finger of her left hand. ‘We didn’t think of that,’ she said. ‘It was all a bit of a rush, to be honest.’
Barnaby nodded like somehow he understood. ‘So what happened?’
‘Graham and I split up,’ said Hannah with a huge sigh.
‘Oh darling, I’m so sorry.’ Barnaby stood up to join her and squeezed her arm. ‘How did that come about?’
Hannah shrugged. ‘I found out he was having an affair. Not his first, by all accounts, but this one is pregnant.’
‘Good grief, I’m so sorry.’
‘To be honest, Dad, I wasn’t that upset,’ she continued. ‘It wasn’t a great marriage, and we’re better off apart.’
Barnaby nodded thoughtfully. ‘Well, perhaps it’s for the best, then. But why didn’t you just tell me? Rather than this ridiculous charade?’
‘Because I didn’t want to upset you,’ she said quickly. ‘And . . . Rob wanted to get into your good books.’
‘Who’s Rob?’
‘The man currently cooking dinner in your kitchen.’
‘Oh, I see. But if he’s not your husband, who IS he? And why is he trying to get into my good books?’
Hannah smiled and shook her head. ‘Come on, let’s go back,’ she said. ‘I’ll introduce you properly, and let him explain.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘Hi. Can you help me?’ squeaked Rob, his hands twitching frantically as he hopped from foot to foot. The woman was platinum blonde, tanned and slim and probably in her mid-thirties, kneeling in her front garden to snip dead leaves from some kind of yellow shrub. In another life she’d have been right up his street, but now really wasn’t the time for that train of thought.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked, squinting at the sun as she turned to look at him. ‘You look kind of stressed.’ The accent was neither Spanish nor British – maybe Swedish, or Dutch? Not that it mattered right now; she could be a KGB sniper and Rob would still worship her if she could help him out of this mess.
‘I’m the opposite of OK,’ he said, pressing his fingertips into his temples. ‘I tried to make dinner and it’s all gone to shit, and I really need my friend’s dad . . . I mean my wife’s dad, to like me. Can you help? I’m desperate.’
The woman stood up and put her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised.Shit, thought Rob.She’s totally gorgeous. ‘Your friend’s dad, or your wife’s?’ she asked, a curl of amusement on her lips.
‘My wife’s,’ said Rob. ‘It’s complicated. Look, I’ve made a horrible mess and if I don’t sort it out he won’t fall in love with my dog.’
‘There’s a dog too?’ asked the woman, shaking her head in surprise. ‘This just gets better.’
Rob took a deep breath and fixed her with his most needy, puppy dog expression. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying this, but please. I need help.’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Show me the horrible mess. I’m Clara, who are you?’
