LITMIR.BIZ

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time, Tina had swiftly rung Dominic Hunter’s secretary back, putting on an English accent and pretending to be an embarrassed florist who was supposed to deliver flowers to Mr Hunter’s mother that day but had lost her particulars.

      At the time, she hadn’t even known if his mother was still of this world. Presuming he did have a mother. It would never surprise Tina to find out that the Dominic Hunters of this world were spawned in a test-tube. Or cloned from some other selfish macho creep with a megalomania complex.

      A couple of minutes later she had hung up, with everything she needed to know. Mrs Hunter was still alive and well. And Tina knew where she lived.

      She’d been going to go straight to the grandmother, but an indignant anger had sent her to Bonnie’s father first. An impulsive decision.

      Turning up on Mrs Hunter’s doorstep without even ringing first wasn’t much better.

      Tina sighed. ‘Would you mind waiting a few moments till I check to see if anyone’s at home?’ she asked the taxi driver as he paid him. ‘I just realised the lady of the house might be out.’

      ‘No sweat,’ the driver said, and walked over to open the front gate for her.

      Giving him an appreciative smile, Tina popped Bonnie back in the pram and set off up the paved front path, feeling too nervous now to admire the bloom-filled rose-beds which dotted the spacious front yard. It had been one thing to confront Bonnie’s father. She’d known he was going to be difficult from the start.

      His mother was proving a different kettle of fish entirely.

      Although Tina tried to feel confident of the woman’s reaction, she really could only hope.

      But, oh, how she hoped! She desperately wanted Bonnie to have a grandmother who would lavish love upon her in the way only a grandmother could.

      Not that Tina had any personal experience of a grandmother’s love. But she gathered they specialised in the sort of unconditional affection and outrageous spoiling which both she and Sarah had only dreamt about during their growing-up years.

      She also wanted Mrs Hunter to talk her son into recognising his daughter and agreeing to help support Bonnie financially, without Tina having to resort to legal pressures.

      Pulling the pram to a halt at the base of the four stone steps which led up onto the wide wooden verandah, Tina put on the brake, then left the pram there while she hurried up the steps and rang the front doorbell.

      For a nerve-racking twenty seconds, it looked as if no one was home, but then the door opened and there stood a woman of about sixty. Casually dressed in navy slacks and a floral blouse, she was tall and slim, with a handsome face and short, naturally grey hair. Best of all, there was a reassuring softness in her intelligent blue eyes.

      ‘Yes?’ she said with an enquiring smile.

      ‘Are you Mrs Hunter?’ Tina asked.

      ‘Yes, I am, dear. How can I help you?’

      The dear did it. And the sweet offer of help. Tina had studied human psychology during the course of her acting career, and had become a pretty good judge in assessing character, especially when it came to women.

      Mrs Hunter was no snob, for starters. Most important of all, she was kind.

      Smiling with relief, Tina turned and waved to the taxi driver. ‘It’s okay,’ she called. ‘You can go now.’

      ‘Righto.’

      She turned back, just as the woman spotted the pram at the bottom of the steps. It was facing the house so that she could see Bonnie’s sweet little face quite clearly.

      ‘Oh, what a beautiful-looking baby!’ she exclaimed, and moved down the steps for a closer look. ‘A girl, I presume?’ she said, glancing up at Tina over her shoulder.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘May I hold her? She’s wide awake.’

      ‘Please do.’

      A warm, squishy feeling settled in Tina’s stomach as she watched the woman carefully scoop her grandchild up and start rocking her. Even after the seven short days Tina had cared for Bonnie she knew nothing enchanted the child more than being held and rocked in just that way. She would never cry while someone was doing that. She would just lie there and gaze up at the person rocking her, a look of total bliss on her lovely little face.

      ‘What’s her name?’ her unwitting grandmother asked.

      ‘Bonnie.’

      ‘And yours, dear?’

      ‘Tina. Tina Highsmith.’

      ‘So, what are you selling, Tina?’ Mrs Hunter asked while she smiled down at Bonnie. ‘If you’re an Avon lady, then I’m sorry, but I don’t wear make-up any more other than a bit of lipstick. If you’re with that other mob, then I also already have everything that opens and shuts in the houseware department. My son has no imagination when it comes to presents and always gives me something for the house. He’s into practicality, is Dominic,’ she added ruefully.

      ‘Actually, Mrs Hunter, I’m not selling anything. And it’s your son, Dominic, I’ve come to see you about.’

      This got her attention, startled blue eyes blinking up to stare at Tina. ‘Dominic? Really? What about?’

      ‘About Bonnie, there,’ she said, nodding towards the baby. Tina swallowed, steeling herself for any possible negative reaction to her next announcement. She could only hope the woman was as nice as she seemed. ‘She…she’s Dominic’s daughter.’

      Tina was amazed at the speed and intensity of the various emotions which raced across Mrs Hunter’s face. Shock gave way to a moment’s uninhibited joy, swiftly followed by a deeply troubled concern.

      She walked slowly up the steps to stand close to Tina, her expression still troubled. ‘Does Dominic know?’ she asked warily.

      ‘I tried to tell him today, but I made a stupid mistake in the telling and he had Security throw me out of the building.’

      Concern gave way to outrage. ‘He what?’

      ‘It was my fault, Mrs Hunter,’ Tina explained hurriedly. ‘I see that now. When I told him that Bonnie was his daughter I forgot to add that I am not the mother. I think he took one look at me, knew I was a stranger to him, and jumped to the conclusion I was trying to operate some kind of scam.’

      Outrage changed to puzzlement. ‘If you’re not the mother…then, who is? Your sister?’

      ‘No. My best friend.’ Tina swallowed as that awful lump filled her throat, the one which always came when she thought of Sarah’s dying. ‘Sarah worked at Hunter & Associates all last year. She was Dominic’s secretary from late July till the 25th November. Bonnie was born on August 19th. Sarah was critically injured when she was knocked down by a bus last month. She…she lived a few days, but didn’t make it. Before she died, she made me Bonnie’s legal guardian. Her birth certificate actually says ‘father unknown’, but I know Bonnie’s father is your son.’

      ‘You’re sure?’

      ‘Very sure, Mrs Hunter.’

      Mrs Hunter was frowning. ‘Did your friend actually tell you Dominic was the father of her baby?’

      Tina hesitated. She didn’t want to lie to the woman. It was just that the truth was so complicated, and possibly confusing to anyone who hadn’t known Sarah well. The actual evidence Tina had concerning the identity of Bonnie’s father was largely circumstantial, and partly second-hand. Mrs Hunter might think Tina was jumping to conclusions, but she knew better.

      ‘Sarah and I told each other everything,’ she said firmly at last, happy that this had been the truth—at least till they’d parted company. ‘We were more like sisters than friends. Your son is Bonnie’s father all right, Mrs Hunter. A DNA test should remove any doubt, however, if he

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