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made him feel all sorts of things, from guilt to a mind-numbing fear. He couldn’t afford to start noticing similarities in their behaviour—it was too dangerous. Rose was a stranger, and just because she had a problem with authority it didn’t mean that Daniel had inherited it from her.

      ‘I’ll give you a shout when dinner is ready,’ he said, going to the door.

      Daniel muttered something in reply, but for once Owen wasn’t listening to what his son was saying. He was too busy trying to fight his own inner demons. He went downstairs and made them a meal. And the whole time he was grilling and chopping his mind was spinning in ever-decreasing circles.

      He needed to find a solution to the problem of Rose Tremayne but it wasn’t going to be easy. If…He paused at that point and took a deep breath to steady himself then carried on. If Rose was as stubborn as Daniel, she wasn’t going to go away. She wasn’t going to stay quietly in the background either. Once she received Daniel’s letter then she would respond to it, and no amount of threats or coercion by him would change her mind.

      His main aim had been to keep her out of Daniel’s life, but if it wasn’t possible to do that he would have to try a different tactic. Wasn’t there a saying about knowing one’s enemy? It might work very well in this instance. At the moment Daniel seemed to believe that his birth mother was some wonderful almost mythical being who was imbued with goodness and grace, but once he met her, he could change his mind.

      The reality couldn’t possibly live up to his overly high expectations, and that was what Owen needed to concentrate on. Instead of keeping Rose away from his son, maybe he should let them meet and allow Daniel to form a true opinion of the woman who had given him away?

      Just for a moment the thought flashed through his mind that perhaps his son wouldn’t be disappointed, but he refused to consider it. Rose might be many things but she wasn’t a saint!

      Rose went straight home after she’d finished her shift. As she let herself into the building she could feel her heart racing. Ever since Owen had told her that Daniel had written to her, she had been waiting for his letter to arrive. She knew it could take some time to reach her, because it would have to be forwarded by the adoption agency. There was a system in place whereby a parent or an adopted child could leave a note in their files to say that they would welcome contact from the other party, which was how Owen had been able to get in touch with her. His letter had been forwarded by the agency, although she wouldn’t have been quite so keen to follow it up if she’d had an inkling of the outcome. Why did he consider her such a threat?

      There was no answer to that question, or none that she could come up with, at least. Closing the front door, she went straight to the mailboxes at the back of the foyer. Every flat in the block had its own mailbox on the ground floor, to save the postman having to trek upstairs. She unlocked her box and sorted through the usual collection of junk mail and bills until she came to a familiar white envelope bearing the address of the adoption agency on its back flap. Daniel’s letter had arrived.

      Rose made her way to the lift and stood there in a fever of impatience as it carried her up to the sixth floor. She let herself into her flat and ripped open the envelope, not bothering to read the accompanying note. She just wanted to read Daniel’s letter and see what he had to say.

      The letter was quite short, just a few lines written in an unsteady hand, explaining that he hoped she didn’t mind him writing to her but that he would like to see her if it was possible. He’d included his address at the top and his phone number, then repeated them again at the bottom.

      Rose’s eyes filled with tears. Despite its brevity, she knew the effort it must have cost him to write it. Daniel had no idea if she would reply, and the thought of him sitting at home, wondering and waiting as she’d been doing, was more than she could bear. Reaching for the phone, she dialled the number, her heart pounding as she listened to it ringing, once, twice, three times…

      ‘Owen Gallagher.’

      She dropped the receiver back onto its rest. How could she have forgotten about Daniel’s father and his animosity towards her? There was no way that he would allow her to speak to Daniel, so she would have to write to him instead…

      The phone rang, startling her so much that she jumped. She was trembling as she picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?’

      ‘Ms Tremayne? It’s Owen Gallagher. I believe you just tried to phone me.’

      ‘H-how did you get my number?’ she whispered.

      ‘I dialled 1471.’

      His tone was brisk and she winced when she realised how foolish she’d been to make such a basic error. Now that he knew Daniel’s letter had reached her he would do everything in his power to keep them apart, maybe even go so far as to make sure that Daniel never received her reply

      ‘…and that’s why I’ve decided you two should meet.’

      Rose blinked as she caught the tail end of what Gallagher was saying. ‘I’m sorry, but what did you say?’

      ‘I said that I’ve changed my mind and I think that you should meet Daniel. Now all we need to do is to work out a time that will be convenient—’

      ‘Just a moment.’ She took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog of panic from her head so she could think. She couldn’t understand why he’d changed his mind after what he’d said to her that day. ‘Why have you had a change of heart all of a sudden? You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want me to see Daniel, yet now you’re offering to arrange a meeting with him. It doesn’t make sense.’

      ‘After considering all the facts, I’ve decided this might be the best way forward for all of us.’

      ‘I find it very hard to believe that you’re doing this for my benefit, Dr Gallagher,’ she said scathingly, ‘so what is really going on?’

      ‘Nothing. I’m entitled to change my views the same as anyone else is, surely?’

      Rose shivered when she felt the rich deep tones strumming across her nerves. Up till then she’d been more concerned with the content of what he’d been saying and it was only now she realised what a beautiful voice he had—and that it matched his appearance.

      The thought made her gasp, and she clamped her lips together to stop any sound escaping. She couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness in front of this man. Even though he appeared to be offering her an olive branch, she wasn’t convinced it was what he actually intended. Until she knew what he was up to, she had to be on her guard.

      ‘I think it would be best if you two met somewhere Daniel feels at ease. Here, at home, might be best.’

      ‘It would be far too stressful for him to meet me there,’ Rose said quickly, setting aside her own concerns for the moment. ‘It needs to be somewhere neutral—a place where he won’t feel guilty.’

      ‘Guilty?’

      His tone had sharpened and she sighed. She wasn’t deliberately trying to annoy him, but she’d read all the research that had been done about adopted children and how they felt when meeting their birth parents, and the biggest factor of all was the guilt they often experienced.

      ‘Adopted children who have been brought up in a happy and loving home often feel guilty about making contact with their birth parents. They feel that they are letting their adoptive parents down and I don’t want Daniel to be put in that position, do you?’

      ‘No, I don’t. So what do you suggest, Ms Tremayne?’

      There was far less assurance in his voice this time and Rose felt her heart suddenly ache when she realised what he must be going through. The situation was just as difficult for him as it was for her. Her voice softened, unconsciously taking on the soothing cadence she used so often with patients who were deeply traumatised.

      ‘I think we should ask Daniel where he would like to meet me. He is the most important person in all of this, and we need to ensure that he feels completely comfortable with the arrangements.’

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