Dreaming Of The Bones

Gemma stood at Hazel and Tim’s kitchen sink, washing up the remains of Sunday lunch. Kit had eaten two huge helpings of Hazel’s spaghetti, in spite of his late breakfast.

His initial reserve had quickly melted, the thawing process helped along by the immediate and limpetlike adoration of Toby and Holly. Hazel and Tim had welcomed him kindly but without fuss, and after lunch Hazel had tactfully suggested that he might bathe Tess in the big claw-footed tub upstairs. Now he and Kincaid were giving the dog a blow-dry in front of the sitting room fire, helped—or more likely hindered, Gemma thought with a smile— by the small children, and Hazel and Tim had taken the opportunity to go for a walk.

Gemma had been glad of a few moments alone. The sight of Duncan and Kit together had made her feel quite unexpectedly queer. It seemed that her knowledge of their possible relationship had altered her perceptions, for she now found the resemblance between them so unmistakable that she was amazed she hadn’t seen it instantly. That, she might have expected, but she had not been prepared for the aching tenderness she felt for them both. And the tenderness was mixed with unease, for she was not only worried about Kit, but concerned about how their involvement with Kit would affect all their lives.

The door opened and Kincaid came in, brushing dog hair from his pullover. “I’m sure I smell like wet dog,” he said, grinning. “But Tess is definitely improved. The next thing will be to get Kit into the tub.”

Wiping her hands on a tea towel, Gemma went to him and put her arms round his waist. She looked up into his face. “You don’t have any doubt now, do you?”

He pulled her closer to him and stroked her hair. “No,” he said softly. “And that frightens me. It’s funny—I’ve even begun to be afraid I’ll find out it’s not true. What if Ian McClellan comes back and takes him off to France?”

Gemma pulled back so that she could look at him again. “We can’t think that far ahead. Let me make us a cuppa and I’ll fill you in on this end.”

He released her, and in a moment she brought two steaming mugs to the table. “What did his grandfather say when you rang him?” he asked as they sat down.

“He seemed relieved, and said he’d wait to hear from you. But I could hear Eugenia in the background. She’s determined to punish Kit for running away.” Gemma shook her head. “What I don’t understand is how Vic turned out as well as she did, coming from that sort of home.”

Kincaid frowned as he thought about it. After a moment, he said, “I think Eugenia was difficult when Vic was a child, and self-centered, but not to the extreme we’re seeing now. It’s possible that the deterioration in her personality has been progressive.” He looked up and met Gemma’s eyes. “And I think at some level she is suffering genuine grief, and lashing out at others is her way of dealing with it. Or not dealing with it.”

“You’re being too kind,” said Gemma.

He shrugged. “All right, then. The woman’s just a bloody bitch. But what matters is that she’s no fit guardian for Kit in her present state, and it’s likely she never will be.”

“Hazel says Kit can stay in the spare room here as long as necessary, and when I talked to Laura Miller this morning, she said she’d offered to have Kit with them, at least until the end of term.” Gemma put her elbows on the table and leaned forwards. “That’s what he needs—school and friends and some sort of normal family life.”

“You don’t have to convince me, love.”

“You just have to convince his grandparents, and Laura said Eugenia turned her down flat.”

“I know,” he said as he took out his cell phone. “But I have no intention of approaching Eugenia about anything. And I intend to play things my way.”

He punched in a set of numbers, then hit SEND. “Hello, Bob? It’s Duncan here.” After a moment, he said, “No, no, he’s fine. But he’s going to stay the night with friends here in London. They’re psychologists—they know the best way of dealing with these things.” There was another pause while he listened, then he continued, “I think you can convince Eugenia that she needs a respite. You have my phone number—you can reach me anytime. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

As he rang off, Gemma became aware of another presence in the room. Turning, she saw that Kit had slipped in from the hall. Before Kincaid could speak, she touched his arm and gestured towards the door.

“Was that my grandfather?” said Kit, his face expressionless.

Kincaid nodded. “Hazel and Tim have asked you to stay here for tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“Why can’t I stay with you?”

“Come sit down and have some tea, Kit,” said Gemma, giving Kincaid time to formulate an answer.

As Kit came slowly to the table, Kincaid said, “I’m sure you’d be fine on my sitting room sofa, but there’s no access to the garden for Tess. I live in a top-floor flat.” He paused a moment. “If it would make you feel more comfortable about staying here, I could stay next door at Gemma’s—that is, if it’s all right with her.”

Gemma made a face at him as she handed Kit his mug. “I think that could be arranged.”

“What about tomorrow?” asked Kit, still wary.

“We’re working on that.” Kincaid studied him as he sipped his tea. “Would you like to stay with the Millers for a bit, if we could arrange it? They want you to come, and you could go back to school, see your mates.”

“What about Tess?”

“Laura said they’d be glad to have Tess,” volunteered Gemma. Laura had, in fact, been sputteringly furious at the idea of Eugenia refusing to let him keep the dog.

Kit looked down at his untasted tea and frowned. “I’m not sure I want to go back to school.”

“It’ll be awkward for a day or so,” said Gemma. “Because they won’t know what to say to you, but after that it’ll be okay.”

Shaking his head, Kit said, “It’s not that. It’s Miss Pope.”

Gemma glanced at Kincaid, who raised his brows in surprise.