degrees. Her train arrived at York in the damp misty cold of late
afternoon. From the railway station she phoned the number that Nicholas
had given her.
'You silly girl,' he scolded her. 'Why didn't you let me know you were
on your way? I would have met you at the airport.'
She was surprised at how pleased she was to see him, and at how much she
had missed him, as she watched him step out of the Range Rover and come
striding towards her on those long legs. He was bare-headed and
obviously had not subjected himself to a haircut since she had last seen
him. His dark hair was rumpled and wind-tossed and the silver wings
fluffed over his ears.
'How's the knee?' he greeted her. 'Do you still need to be carried?'
'Almost better now. Nearly time to throw away the stick.' She felt a
sudden urge to throw her arms around his neck, but at the last moment
she prevented herself from making a display and merely offered him a
cold, rosy brown cheek to kiss. He smelt good - of leather and some
spicy aftershave, and of clean virile manhood.
In the driver's seat he delayed starting the engine for a moment, and
studied her face in the street light that streamed in through the side
window.
'You look mighty pleased with yourself, madam. Cat been at the cream?'
'Just pleased to see old friends,' she smiled, 'but I must admit Cairo
is always a tonic.'
'No supper laid on. Thought we would stop at a pub.
Do you fancy steak and kidney pud?'
'I want to see my mother. I feel so guilty. I don't even know how her
leg is mending.'
'Popped in to see her day before yesterday. She's doing fine. Loving the
new puppy. Named it Taita, would you believe?'
'You are really a very kind person - I mean, taking the trouble to visit
her.'
'I like her. One of the good old ones. They don't build them like that
any more. I suggest we have a bite to eat, and then I will pick up a
bottle of Laphroaig and we will go and see her.'
It was after midnight when they left Georgina's cottage. She had
dispensed rough frontier justice to the malt whisky that Nicholas had
brought and now she waved them off, standing in the kitchen doorway,
clutching her new puppy to her ample bosom and teetering slightly on her
plaster-cast leg.
'You are a bad influence on my mother,' Royan told him.
'Who's a bad influence on whom?' he protested. 'Some of those jokes of
hers turned the Stilton a richer shade of blue.'
'You should have let me stay with her.'
'She has Taita to keep her company now. Besides, I need you close at
hand. Plenty of work to do. I can't wait to show you what I have been up
to since you went swanning off to Egypt.'
The Quenton Park housekeeper had repared her a bedroom in the flat in
the lanes behind York Minster.
As Nicholas carried her bags up the stairs ripsaw snoring came from
