LITMIR.BIZ

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       About the Author

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       Endpage

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘ARE you telling me that Ross is here—staying in the village? That he’s come back and you didn’t warn me?’ Jenna Lang’s face was ashen, her eyes blazing. ‘Oh, Aunt Grace—how could you?’

      ‘Because we didn’t know until a couple of days ago—not for certain.’ Mrs Penloe’s kindly face was crumpled with worry as she looked pleadingly back at her niece. ‘I thought—I hoped—it was just a bit of village gossip, and Betty Fox had got it all wrong. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.’

      She shook her head. ‘It never occurred to me that Thirza could really be so insensitive …’

      ‘Ross’s besotted stepmother—in whose eyes he can do no wrong?’ Jenna’s voice was icy with bitterness. ‘The woman who blamed me for the break-up of our marriage? Oh, I can believe it.’

      ‘I suppose she’s bound to be loyal,’ Mrs Penloe said, trying to be fair. ‘After all, he was only seven when she married his father—another one with too much charm for his own good,’ she added grimly. ‘And that’s sure to create a bond. Although that’s no excuse for what she’s done …’

      ‘What’s Thirza doing back in Polcarrow, anyway?’ Jenna demanded. ‘I thought she was supposed to be spending the whole year in Australia.’

      ‘Too hot and too many insects,’ her aunt said distractedly. ‘Or so she claims. Interfered with her inspiration. She came back about three weeks ago.’

      ‘Brilliant timing.’ Jenna laughed shortly and mirthlessly. ‘She always knew how to pick her moments.’

      ‘She claims she had no choice.’ Mrs Penloe hesitated. ‘Apparently Ross’s been really ill—picked up some ghastly virus on his last trip. When he was discharged from hospital he needed somewhere to recuperate.’ She sighed. ‘Knowing Thirza, I don’t suppose she gave Christy’s wedding, or your role in it, even a second thought.’

      ‘No,’ Jenna said bitingly. ‘I’m the one who’ll have to seriously reconsider.’

      ‘Oh, Jenna, my dear—you’re not going to leave—go back to London?’ Mrs Penloe asked anxiously. ‘Because Christy would be devastated. And it’s all my fault. I know I should have said something. I suppose I hoped it might all—go away.’

      ‘Or that I might never find out?’ Jenna asked ironically. ‘Hardly likely when Thirza will probably bring him with her to the wedding.’

      ‘Oh, Jenna—surely not even Thirza …’

      Jenna shrugged. ‘Why not? She’s capable of anything. And I presume she’s been invited?’

      ‘Well, yes, but we never thought she’d come. We thought she’d still be in Australia.’ Mrs Penloe ran a hand through her greying curly hair. ‘Oh, what a mess. Why couldn’t Christy have chosen a June wedding instead? Ross would be long gone by then. And the weather would have been better, too,’ she added, momentarily diverted by the threatening sky with its ragged, hurrying clouds framed by the drawing room window. ‘Not that it matters, of course, compared with the sheer embarrassment of Thirza’s behaviour.

      ‘Surely she could have found a good nursing home somewhere—and don’t tell me that Ross can’t afford it, for he earns a fortune and probably has the best health insurance money can buy. Or she could have looked after him in his own home—wherever that is now. Anything rather than this.’

      ‘Maybe it isn’t too late for that, even now,’ Jenna said slowly. ‘Do you think Uncle Henry would talk to her—persuade her?’

      ‘Darling, that was the first thing I thought of. All he said was that Thirza might be his cousin but she was a law unto herself and always had been.’ She drew a long breath. ‘Also that he had enough on his plate with the bills for the wedding, and that as you and Ross had been divorced for two years it could be time for you both to move on.’ She paused, giving her niece another pleading look. ‘And I suppose, in a way, he does have a point.’

      ‘I’m sure he’s right,’ Jenna said. ‘But, unfortunately, it’s a point I haven’t reached yet. Because it wasn’t just the divorce …’ She stopped, biting her lip.

      ‘I know, dearest, I know.’ Mrs Penloe hunted for a handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘So much sadness—and no one could expect you to forget …’

      ‘Or forgive.’ Jenna’s voice was stony. She got to her feet, reaching for her brown suede jacket. ‘I’m going for a walk, Aunt Grace. I need to think, and some fresh air might help.’

      ‘Fresh air?’ Mrs Penloe echoed. ‘It’s blowing a force eight gale out there.’

      But her protest fell on deaf ears. Jenna was already heading out of the room, and a moment later Mrs Penloe heard the front door bang shut.

      She sank back against the sofa cushions and indulged herself with a little weep. She had every sympathy with Jenna, but she was also the mother of a beloved

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