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Rosie frowned, caught out by such an unexpected question. ‘Yes, I think so.’
‘I understand she was divorced.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Is your father still alive?’
‘He died a few years ago.’
‘I see. I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘Whatever we decide, there are obviously still things here in the house that need to be resolved. Your mother’s possessions will have to be moved elsewhere for a start. So you can ignore when you were expected to vacate the property and stay until your flight back to Spain, as long as we’re only talking about an additional few days.’
‘That would be helpful. Thank you.’ The tension in Rosie’s shoulders eased slightly because at least she wouldn’t be homeless before heading back to Málaga.
Cecilia suddenly leaned out of the car window. ‘For goodness’ sake, Jay, do hurry up or we’ll be late.’
Rosie’s breath caught in her throat, as Charles put his hands to his neck. ‘I do believe I’ve left my scarf upstairs. Do you mind?’
Rosie stepped back silently, to allow him back into the house, and the moment he started climbing the stairs she hurried to the car.
‘Yes?’ said Cecilia, making no effort to disguise her irritation.
‘When will you make a decision about Driftwood House?’
‘As I said, my husband and I will discuss the situation.’
‘Thank you.’ Rosie glanced through the open front door. Charles was coming down the stairs with his scarf around his neck, so it was now or never. ‘Sorry for asking, but did you just call your husband Jay? I thought his name was Charles.’
Cecilia frowned. She must think that Rosie was mad. ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business but my husband’s middle name is James and close friends and family often call him Jay. Is that all right with you?’
‘Yes, that’s perfectly fine. Thank you,’ said Rosie, brightly, as Charles arrived at the car and slid into the driving seat. ‘Thank you for coming, have a good day and I hope you won’t be late, wherever you’re going.’
Rosie sat down heavily on the grass and watched the car pick its bumpy way down the potholed track. She’d just burbled at the end there and couldn’t even remember what she’d said.
There was no way Cecilia was going to give up her plan to demolish Driftwood House, but that wasn’t uppermost in Rosie’s mind right now. Charles Epping was known to those close to him as Jay, and though he claimed he’d never known her mother, people lied – the last month had taught her that if nothing else. Could he be the author of the hidden love letter?
Cold, unfeeling Charles Epping and her warm vibrant mother. That was hard enough to get her head around but the next notion almost blew her mind. If he was Saffy’s long-lost lover, could he also be her father?
