LITMIR.BIZ

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as between the heat and colour of South America and Northumberland in the depths of winter? Even the trees were stark and skeletal, the grass a dirty green beneath their feet.

      Alex and his father were occupying the seats immediately behind the driver, and despite her best efforts Sara couldn’t help but be aware that Alex was a bare two or three feet in front of her. She’d hoped that she’d never have to see him again, that he’d find the prospect of visiting his brother and his wife boring—and so far he had. And since Harry’s death, she had to admit, she’d wished it had been him…

      Ben stared out of the window for most of the journey, and Sara diverted herself by wondering what her son was thinking. Certainly their present surroundings were entirely unfamiliar to a little boy who was used to the overcrowded cities and forever stretching beaches of the southern hemisphere. Yet he hadn’t complained, except for that moment by the graveside when he’d said he was cold. He’d been almost preternaturally obedient, and she could only assume that the gravity of the situation had got to him in some way at least.

      She sighed. When they’d boarded the plane to London a few days ago—the plane which had, incidentally, brought his father’s lifeless body home for burial—he had seemed to regard the whole trip as a kind of adventure. He’d been excited about coming to England—a place he didn’t even know. He had been born in the army hospital in Kuwait, Sara remembered tightly. Had Harry sensed how desperate she’d been to get away…?

      Now, however, they were back with a vengeance, with no obvious alternative in sight. She really would have to try and explain their situation to Ben. However difficult it might prove, she owed him that at least.

      ‘You’re very quiet,’ remarked Elizabeth beside her, and Sara realised that Harry’s mother was still waiting for her to say how she was.

      ‘I’m tired,’ she said, with an involuntary gesture of apology. ‘I haven’t slept very well since we got back.’

      ‘At least you’re alive,’ remarked Elizabeth in an undertone. ‘How lucky you weren’t with Harry when he was killed.’ The underlying message was clear, and Sara guessed that now that her husband had been buried his mother wouldn’t hesitate to show her claws.

      ‘Liz!’

      Evidently Robert Reed had heard his wife’s comment too, and to Sara’s relief the older woman said no more. But Sara had no doubt that the subject had only been abandoned for the time being. Harry’s mother would probably return to it when they were alone.

      The car glided between the gates of Perry Edmunds, and Ben turned round to kneel on the seat. ‘The other cars are following us!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are we going to have a party?’ He drew back to look at his mother. ‘Will Daddy be there?’

      ‘Your father’s dead, Ben!’ exclaimed his grandmother tautly. She looked at Sara. ‘I thought you’d told him. Where does he think we’ve been?’

      ‘I don’t imagine he associated this morning’s events with anything, Mother,’ declared Alex impatiently, glancing over his shoulder. ‘I don’t know why Sara thought he ought to attend. He’s far too young.’

      If Sara had hoped that Mrs Reed might explain that Ben’s attendance had been her idea, she was disappointed. The cars had negotiated the curving drive and were stopping in the courtyard before the house, and Harry’s mother thrust open her door and climbed out. Ben followed her before Sara could prevent him, and she was forced to watch her mother-in-law grasp his hand and lead him indoors.

      ‘She’s upset.’

      Alex’s unwelcome solicitude was almost more than she could take. ‘Aren’t we all?’ she said, hoping Harry’s father would forgive her, and, ignoring any assistance, she stepped out of the car.

      Mrs Fraser, the Reeds’ housekeeper, had evidently beaten them back from the church, and was standing at the door of the house now, awaiting the return of the family. She was a middle-aged Scottish woman, dour of appearance but gentle of manner, who had worked for Elizabeth Reed for the past twenty-five years.

      Sensitive to the day’s events, she offered Sara a compassionate smile. ‘The little one’s away for some lemonade,’ she declared, referring to Ben’s disappearance. ‘I’ll see that he takes no harm. He can eat his lunch with Alison and myself.’

      ‘Thank you, Mrs Fraser.’ Sara was grateful, as much to know that her son was not being manipulated by his grandmother as for the housekeeper’s obvious kindness. ‘I expect you’ll find he’s hungry. His appetite hasn’t suffered, thank goodness.’

      ‘Not like his mother’s,’ observed Mrs Fraser, with rather more outspokenness than was usual. Her lips curved down at her presumption but she didn’t withdraw her statement. It made Sara feel that at least someone at Perry Edmunds cared about her welfare as well.

      Once inside the house Sara wished that she could have a few minutes to herself, but the cars that had followed them back from the cemetery were disgorging their passengers, and everyone expected Harry’s widow to be there to accept their condolences.

      It didn’t prevent the sense of isolation that enveloped her, however. Despite being surrounded by people, she had never felt more alone. Perhaps she should have kept Ben with her after all, she thought. At least he provided her with the confidence she lacked. But a child couldn’t be expected to understand how she was feeling, and it wasn’t fair to use him in that way.

      Blinking back tears which she felt sure must look rather obvious, Sara endeavoured to regain her composure. After all, she’d made it this far; surely she could sustain herself for another couple of hours? This was almost the final ritual. All that was left was dealing with Harry’s will.

      She moved closer to the huge open fire that added warmth and light to the somewhat sombre atmosphere of the hall. For all Perry Edmunds was an imposing house from the outside, inside it was inclined to be gloomy, with dark oak panelling and lofty ceilings that never seemed to garner any heat. It had been built in the last century, and such modifications as had been made were mostly superficial. And although it was supposed to be centrally heated Sara hadn’t felt really warm since she’d arrived from Brazil.

      But that wasn’t really so unusual, she reminded herself quickly. Apart from the circumstances of her return, this northernmost county of England was a far cry from the corner of Brazil that she and Harry had called home. Naturally she’d noticed the change of temperature—in the inhabitants as well as in the weather, she thought ruefully.

      She was shedding her coat and the fine calfskin gloves that she had worn to the funeral when Mrs Fraser reappeared to check on the extra staff hired for the occasion. After ensuring that everyone had been supplied with either sherry or whisky—Sara noticed that most of the men had chosen the latter—the housekeeper stopped beside Sara and assured her that Ben was quite settled in the kitchen.

      ‘He’s having lemonade and shortbread,’ she said. ‘I made the shortbread myself this morning. Now, just you take things easy. We don’t want you falling ill now, do we?’

      ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

      A tall shadow fell across them, and Sara had no need to turn her head to identify the intruder. Where Alex was concerned she was discovering that she had a sixth sense. She would have liked to walk away, but politeness dictated otherwise.

      ‘I’m perfectly all right,’ she said, her words addressed to no one in particular, but she was aware that Alex and Mrs Fraser exchanged a speaking look. Dammit, she thought, she wasn’t a child; she didn’t need anyone to fuss over her. And as for asking Alex for help…Well, actions spoke louder than words.

      ‘I’d better go and see how Alison’s getting on with the salmon,’ declared Mrs Fraser, evidently deciding that her presence was no longer needed. ‘You can tell your mother the buffet is ready, whenever she decides she wants it serving,’ she added to Alex. ‘I just hope there’ll be enough.’ She glanced around the thickening crowd in the hall and grimaced. ‘I’m sure Mr Reed just told me to cater for eighty, but it looks

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