Falling for you

And as for my mother, well, she’s a chronic alcoholic, incapable of looking after herself. I’ve hired maybe a dozen housekeeper-companions over the years but they never stay more than a few months. Last Christmas I had to arrange for her to go into a home. That’s why I moved back to Bath. I’m going to need to sell the house to pay the nursing home fees. According to the doctors, she shouldn’t even still be alive, but apparently she has the constitution of an ox.’ He paused. ‘Needless to say, she’s not happy either. Maybe your mother will be pleased to hear it.’

Maddy automatically opened her mouth to defend Marcella, then shut it again. He was probably right. OK, be honest, he was right. How many times had Marcella vehemently declared that she hoped the McKinnons would burn in hell?

Whereas it was, in truth, just terribly, terribly sad. Pauline McKinnon had been through the mill and had declined into alcoholism as a result. She too had been widowed when her children were only young, losing her Scottish architect husband to a brain haemorrhage. And now her house was having to be sold to pay her nursing home fees. She wasn’t to blame for what had happened. The accident had been a tragedy affecting more than just one family. And Kerr — Maddy truly believed him now — had attempted to apologise to her father .. .

‘I’d better be getting on.’ She rose to her feet, realising how long they’d been closeted in his office exchanging family histories. ‘My other customers will be getting restless.’

‘But you’ll carry on coming here,’ said Kerr. When she hesitated he added, ‘I won’t always be around. I’m away in London a lot of the time, dealing with clients.’

Was that meant to be an incentive? Maddy nodded, already feeling oddly bereft at the thought of not seeing him while he was in London. ‘I’ll carry on.’

Another flicker of a smile. ‘Maybe when I get back we could go out to dinner one evening. If you wanted to.’

He was looking at her, gauging her reaction. Maddy wondered if he had the remotest idea how she was feeling right now.

If you wanted to.

Oh, she wanted to, all right. But wanting something and actually doing it were two entirely different things. She pictured Marcella’s reaction upon discovering that she’d had a civilised conversation with a McKinnon, let alone a dinner date.

Put it this way, there’d be no roof left on Snow Cottage.

‘Thanks.’ Maddy hesitated. ‘But that might be a bit ...’

Kerr raised his hands in acknowledgement. ‘OK. I know. Sony, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh, before you go, there’s one other thing that’s been puzzling me.’

Lovely. Something embarrassing, I hope. ‘What’s that?’

‘On Saturday night you didn’t recognise me. On Monday morning you did. I mean, I know it was dark in the garden, but it wasn’t that dark.’

Phew. Only semi-embarrassing, what a relief.

‘Vanity,’ said Maddy. ‘I’d lost one of my contacts and couldn’t bear to wear my glasses.’

‘So that’s what you’re wearing now? Contact lenses? I can’t see them at all,’ Kerr marvelled, moving closer.

‘Actually, that’s the general idea.’ Maddy obligingly tilted her head, allowing him to peer into her eyes. There was that aftershave again, and the giveaway fluttering action in the pit of her stomach. OK, surely ten seconds was enough .. .

Shifting her gaze, she saw that Kerr hadn’t been studying her lenses at all. He was looking at her. As their eyes met, the wing-flapping of the hummingbirds in her stomach intensified. Was he going to kiss her? He wanted to, that much was for sure. And she wanted him to, and he knew she wanted him to .. .

It was easy, Maddy discovered, to break the spell. All you had to do was imagine Marcella bursting into the office. Maddy took a step back and gave Kerr McKinnon a look of reproach.

‘Sorry.’ His smile rueful, he pushed his hair back with his fingers and shook his head. ‘Cheap trick.’

‘Very cheap trick.’

‘I couldn’t help myself.’

‘Just picture my mother with a gun in her hands.’

‘Right. That’s very helpful. Thanks.’

‘Any time,’ said Maddy, realising as she let herself out of the room that they were doing it again.

Making jokes about something that really wasn’t a joking matter.

Chapter 8

It was midday on Thursday and Kate was still in bed, buried under the duvet because in all honesty what was the point of getting up?

But she wasn’t asleep, which was hardly surprising considering the racket going on downstairs.

Her mother had visitors, judging by the snatches of laughter, the doors slamming and the click-clacking of high heels across the parquet flooring in the hall.

Finally she heard Estelle climb the staircase and call out something muffled.

Kate groaned and rolled over onto her back, wincing as the sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window and into her eyes. But trying to ignore her mother was pointless; when she wanted a reaction she was as persistent as Jeremy Paxman.