Kitabı oku: «Promise Of A Family», sayfa 2

‘I wouldn’t call this an emergency!’ her mother cut in hurriedly. ‘Pip will just have to wait.’

Love her mother though she did, Leyne felt very much like telling her that she was not the one who was guardian to the child; she was not the one who would look up occasionally from whatever she was doing to find Pip looking at her as though she was just bursting to ask how far she had got along with her enquiries.

‘I don’t think it will wait, Mum,’ she stated seriously. ‘I’m worried that it’s preying on Pip’s mind.’ Leyne broke off to try another tack. ‘You must have met her father?’

‘No,’ her mother promptly replied. ‘I never met him.’

Which, since she had always known her parent to be incapable of telling a lie, was something of a body-blow to Leyne. ‘You never—?’ She broke off, something in her mother’s expression seeming to tell her that her mother knew more than she was telling. ‘But you do know who he is?’ she pressed.

Her mother gave her cross look, but did concede, ‘He never came into the house. And it was only a brief affair—over almost before it began.’

‘But it was long enough for Max to fall in love with him?’

Catherine Webb’s expression softened. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘She loved him.’ A faraway look was in her eyes. ‘Then Maxine came home one night and shut herself in her room. When the next morning I asked her what was wrong—it was obvious she had been crying—she said she wouldn’t be seeing him again. Nor did she. In fact she refused to so much as mention his name ever again.’

‘You know his name, though?’

Her mother sighed and, after a silent tussle with herself, finally gave in. ‘His name is John Dangerfield.’

John Dangerfield. Leyne rolled the name around in her head. But she knew she had never heard of him. ‘Can you tell me anything more about him?’

‘I know very little about him. As I said, I never met him. He rarely came to the house, and the few times he did Maxine would be on the lookout for his car and would dash out to him. Though…’ Her mother hesitated, but only for a moment or two, and then stated, ‘I expect you to use the information judiciously, Leyne. Pip is at a very vulnerable age.’

‘I know it. It’s why I am being very careful here. Anything you tell me I’ll treat with the utmost care,’ Leyne promised. ‘But we have to bear in mind that Pip is likely to grow more and more anxious if I just try to fob her off. And you know yourself how her asthma can be triggered when she gets emotionally upset. I want to avoid anything that might bring on an attack.’

Catherine looked out of the window to where Pip was now seated on a wooden garden bench, quietly talking to Suzie. ‘Poor scrap,’ she said softly of her granddaughter, and confessed, ‘I really don’t know much more than his name, but, in all fairness, I suppose I must allow she has every right to know. John Dangerfield,’ she revealed, ‘is the chairman of a company called J. Dangerfield, Engineers.’

J. Dangerfield, Engineers? Leyne did not know the company, but the company name prodded a tiny wisp of memory—as if she had heard or read something about them recently.

‘Before you go charging in to tell Pip what I’ve told you,’ her mother cautioned, ‘I think it might be an idea to contact him first.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of contacting him at all!’

‘Then I think you should.’ And at Leyne’s look of enquiry. ‘An utter darling though Pip is most of the time, you know how intransigent she can be on the odd occasion.’

‘That’s true enough,’ Leyne had to admit.

And her mother went on, ‘If I know anything at all about my granddaughter, she is not going to want to leave it there.’

‘Ah…’ Leyne murmured. ‘You…Oh, grief—you think she’ll actually want to meet him?’

‘Wouldn’t you?’

Leyne thought about it, and had to acknowledge that she would not want to leave it at just knowing his name. Weakly, realising that she was taking on more than she possibly should, she was very tempted to leave matters until Max returned home. Leyne then made the mistake of glancing out of the window to where Pip was now looking back at her—with that direct kind of look on her face. And Leyne knew then that whatever it took to bring that little girl peace of mind she would do it. ‘You’re right, of course,’ she admitted.

‘Then I suggest you contact him first before you tell her who he is.’

‘Oh, I don’t—’

‘Do it, Leyne!’ her parent instructed sternly. ‘Most definitely do it!’

‘Why definitely?’ she asked, unable to see why she should involve Pip’s father at this stage.

‘Because,’ her mother replied firmly, ‘for all we know he might want to deny paternity. He’s never paid a penny towards Pip’s upkeep after all. Not that Maxine would ever ask for his support; she’s much too proud for that,’ Catherine said with dignity, and Leyne did not have to wonder from where her sister, herself too for that matter, had inherited that pride.

She and Pip were on their way back to their home in Surrey when Leyne was again made to realise that Pip was every bit as bright as she had always thought. ‘You and Nanna were having a good chat,’ she remarked. ‘Was it about me?’ she asked, in her forthright manner.

Leyne saw no reason to lie to her. ‘I thought Nanna might be able to tell me something about your father, and—’

‘Did she?’ Pip asked eagerly. ‘Was—?’

‘Oh, love, try to be patient. I know it’s difficult for you, but it may take quite some while.’

Leyne hated not to be able to tell her what she had learned that day. And, had her mother not insisted she contact the chairman of J. Dangerfield, Engineers, before she acquainted Pip with her father’s name, Leyne might well have said more. But, on thinking about it, Leyne knew that her mother was right and that her niece would not want to leave it there. She would fidget and fidget at it and would not rest until she had met him. Leyne blamed herself that she had not thought it that far through. Pip could be a dogged little miss when she set her mind on anything. And what was more important to her than knowing—and meeting—her father?

Leyne faced then that, having willingly volunteered to act as Pip’s guardian, the task, up until Pip had asked that one important question, had been no task at all. But in her mother’s absence she was the dear child’s guardian, and therefore it was up to her, and no one else, to make whatever decisions were necessary in regard to the child’s welfare. Decisions, no matter how difficult, which were not to be shirked.

With the company name J. Dangerfield, Engineers, to the forefront of her mind, and a certainty growing in her head that she had heard or read some snippet about that firm recently, Leyne had to wait until Pip was in bed before she could take any action.

As luck would have it, there were almost a week’s newspapers awaiting collection for recycling.

After scouring three newspapers, Leyne was beginning to believe her memory for things inconsequential had let her down. But then, on the fourth paper, not in the business section, as she had supposed, she found herself staring at that which had stayed in her retentive brain for no particular reason.

It was a picture of one very good-looking, self-assured male, attending some gala evening. Just good friends? asked the caption, plainly referring to the glamorous and sophisticated-looking brunette hanging on his arm.

Jack Dangerfield, chairman of J. Dangerfield, Engineers, with his current lovely. Will Gina Sansome have more luck with the wily bachelor?

With her heart pounding Leyne studied the picture of the tall, dark-haired man. John Dangerfield, obviously known to all and sundry—with the exception of her mother—by the well-established diminutive form as Jack.

He was good-looking, far too good-looking for his own good in Leyne’s opinion, and, by the sound of it, still unmarried. And that annoyed her—he was running around fancy-free while Max had had to make sacrifices here and there in order that their daughter should want for very little.

Reading on, Leyne thought he looked to be about the same age as Max, perhaps about a year or so older. Young, however, to be chairman of a problem-solving firm of engineers who apparently, so she read, had an international reputation. Well, all she hoped, Leyne mused, was that as well as solving safety engineering problems, he could safely help her solve this particular nearer to home non-engineering problem.

Wondering if the fact that he must have been extremely ambitious to head such a well-respected company at his mid-thirties age was the reason why—not wanting to be tied down—he and Max had parted company, Leyne went to where they kept the telephone directories.

J. Dangerfield, Engineers, had many business lines, she found, but, not knowing Jack Dangerfield’s home address, it was plain she was going to have to contact him through his business.

Something, she discovered the very next morning, that was easier said than done. ‘Can I help at all?’ enquired the second person she spoke to.

‘It’s—er—a personal matter.’

‘Just one moment.’

‘May I help you?’ enquired a third voice.

‘I need to speak with Mr Jack Dangerfield. It’s a private matter,’ she added quickly, before she could be fobbed off.

She was fobbed off just the same. ‘Mr Dangerfield is out of the office for most of this week. Perhaps if you wrote in?’ suggested number three, which was of no help at all.

Feeling frustrated beyond measure, Leyne only just managed to hang on to her manners. ‘Thank you, I will,’ she replied, and came away from the phone finding that she could be every bit as stubborn as the other females in her family when she had to be.

She penned the letter straight away.

Dear Mr Dangerfield,

I need to speak with you on an urgent matter of family business.

She was very tempted to add something to the effect that it was about time he woke up and, instead of squiring elegant females to social functions, devoted some time and attention to his daughter. But she wanted to see him herself first; wanted first to judge if, despite him looking affable enough in his picture, he might turn out to be someone she would not want Pip to have any contact with. So, having written just that brief note, she signed herself, ‘Yours sincerely, Leyne Rowberry.’

And a fat lot of good it did her. A whole week went by, and—having decided not to give her mobile phone number or her office number—she did not want to take his call there but had written both her home phone number as well as her address—she had heard not a word from Mr Jack Dangerfield.

Pip had suffered a small asthma attack yesterday. It had proved nothing to be too alarmed about. But Leyne was concerned, and could not help wondering if the sensitive child was getting herself in something of an emotional stew with regard to her unknown father. Leyne had checked her niece over carefully on Monday morning before deciding she was well enough to go to school.

Leyne waited until ten o’clock and then, regardless that she was at her office, she rang J. Dangerfield, Engineers. ‘Mr Jack Dangerfield, please,’ she said, her tone businesslike. And was put on to voice number two. Leyne dug her heels in. ‘Mr Dangerfield is in today?’ she enquired, in her best professional manner.

‘He is. But he’s very busy. If I could—’

That the man was in business that day was all Leyne needed to know. ‘Thank you,’ she cut in on number two, injecting a smile into her voice—and rang off. Next she rang Dianne Gardner. ‘I have a bit of a problem,’ she began.

‘Anything I can help with?’

‘I may be a bit late collecting Pip tonight,’ she explained, hoping Dianne would think she was working late. ‘Would it be any trouble for her to stay on with you until I can get there?’

‘No trouble at all. Don’t rush. She can have dinner with us,’ Dianne offered. Their reciprocal back-up arrangement was working well.

Leyne went to see her boss just after lunch. ‘I need some time off. Is it all right with you if I work from home?’

Tad Ingleman sighed dramatically. ‘It will be a dull afternoon without you,’ he said, his eyes appreciative of her dainty features and shining hair. But, with the scheduled move to larger premises delayed yet again, ‘If you can clear your desk before you go we can all spread out a bit.’

‘I’ll be in tomorrow,’ she promised, and, armed with work she would have to catch up on that evening, she went to her car. Instead of heading home, though, she made for the offices of J. Dangerfield, Engineers.

Her telephone enquiry had yielded the information that Mr Dangerfield was in, but was busy. She smiled. No problem.

Glad that it was a non-rainy October day, Leyne parked her car and went and found herself a vantage point. Without doubt chairmen as busy as Jack Dangerfield appeared to be did not keep to nine-to-five hours. Though if he was going to work very late—and Leyne was prepared to stay there until midnight if need be—she would have to ring Dianne again.

That phone call, however, proved unnecessary when, at half past four, the main doors of J. Dangerfield, Engineers, opened and a man she instantly recognised from his newspaper picture came, briefcase in hand, out through the doors.

He was a fast mover, and was down the steps before she had got over her surprise and budged an inch. Then she was galvanised into action. Fortunately he was heading her way.

‘Mr Dangerfield!’ She accosted him before they drew level.

His eyes flicked over her neat and curvaceous figure, taking in her lovely face and hair, and superb blue eyes. ‘You have the advantage,’ he paused to drawl charmingly.

‘Leyne Rowberry,’ she supplied, and looked into his eyes for a flicker of recognition at her name. There was none, but a small gasp of breath escaped her. Oh, my word, those eyes! There was no need to ask from where Pip had inherited her lovely green eyes. Nor too her jet-black hair. ‘Er—I wrote to you.’ She gathered herself back together to explain.

‘You did?’ He glanced at his watch, all too plainly a man in a hurry.

‘You didn’t reply.’

‘And what did you write about, Miss Rowberry?’ he enquired, everything about him telling her she had about five seconds before he strode off and left her standing there.

‘It’s a family matter,’ she replied, adding for good measure, lest he thought the problem was solely hers, ‘Your family.’

He did not like that. All too clearly, as a chilly expression came over his good-looking features, his family were sacrosanct. He made to move off.

There was no time to dress it up. ‘To be more precise, I wrote to you because of your daughter!’ she said quickly.

That stopped him dead in his tracks. ‘My what?’ he demanded, an expression of such total astonishment replacing his chilly look that Leyne had the most appalling sensation that he did not even know he had a daughter.

Immediately she discounted that notion. That couldn’t be right—could it?

CHAPTER TWO

‘I WROTE to you about your daughter,’ Leyne repeated firmly, determined, as disbelief and total scepticism replaced his look of astonishment.

But it was that look, his seemingly genuine look of this being the first he had heard that he had a daughter, that caused Leyne to falter, that odd notion starting to grow and grow that he had not even known that Max had given birth to his child. And Leyne found herself asking, ‘You do know that you have a daughter?’ She was beginning to feel a shade awkward. If he had been entirely unaware of Pip’s existence, Leyne realised she had just dropped something of a very big bombshell on him.

A few moments later, however, and she was feeling more infuriated than awkward when, ‘You’re an attractive woman, Miss—er—Rowberry,’ he drawled. ‘Not to say quite beautiful—in a good light,’ he added mockingly. ‘Which makes me positive that had I had the—hmm—pleasure—I would most certainly have remembered it.’

His meaning was obvious, and colour flared to her face. Embarrassment mingled with anger. ‘Your daughter wants to know who you are—your name!’ she flared. ‘And if—’

‘The hell she does!’ he retorted. But, giving her a steady-eyed stare, ‘You have a daughter old enough to make such a request?’

‘I’m twenty-three…’ Leyne began, and was at once impatient with herself and him. ‘Pip, Philippa, is eleven and a half—twelve next April. She—’

‘You’re not her mother,’ he stated, clearly wanting to know what any of this had to do with her.

‘I’m her aunt. Max—Maxine, Pip’s mother, is my sister.’

‘Maxine Rowberry,’ he said, chewing over the name before pronouncing, ‘Never heard of her. Therefore, never met the lady.’

‘Her name’s not Rowberry; it’s Nicholson.’

‘Same applies,’ he replied, plainly not even having to think about it. ‘Mrs Nicholson?’ he enquired.

‘Miss,’ Leyne enlightened him. ‘Max is my half-sister. She isn’t married.’

‘Why hasn’t she told the child who her father is?’

‘Max always intended to, but—’

‘Why didn’t she write to me?’ he questioned, a direct look in those green eyes.

Apart from those green eyes, who did that direct look remind her of? No need to guess. ‘My sister is abroad on business for six months. In her absence, I’m her daughter’s guardian.’

‘Hmph!’ It seemed, as he gave another quick glance to his watch, that Jack Dangerfield had all the information he required. ‘I’m late for my appointment,’ he told her shortly, and appeared about to stride off.

‘Mr Dangerfield!’ She stopped him, her voice sharp in her moment of anxiety. ‘I can’t leave it like this! I—’

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to. If you’ve written to me your letter will be on file,’ he stated. And, already on his way, ‘My PA will contact you,’ he added.

‘But—’ Leyne protested anyway—a totally wasted exercise. He was gone and she was speaking to herself.

Feeling door-slammingly frustrated, and not a scrap further forward, and doubting very much if she would be hearing from either Jack Dangerfield or his PA, Leyne went to her car and drove home.

When she had calmed down sufficiently she rang Dianne Gardner and explained she was home earlier than expected and would collect Pip shortly.

‘No need if you’ve work to catch up on,’ Dianne assured her, aware that Leyne quite often worked from home. ‘The girls are fine, and, to tell the truth, having Pip here as her guest seems to bring out Alice’s better manners.’

Realising she must be referring to the stroppy phase Dianne had told Max that Alice was going through, Leyne put down the phone and glanced at the work she would complete before morning.

She did not start work straight away, however, but thought back to her meeting with Jack Dangerfield. Though in actual fact it had been more a mutual ruffling up of antagonistic feathers than a meeting! Hardly a meeting either, since it had been none of his making but more his initial halting when she had planted herself full-square in front of him on that pavement.

Leyne was not ashamed of what she had done. It was he who should be ashamed. How dared he deny paternity of Pip? Notwithstanding that they both had the same raven-black hair, one only had to look into those same green eyes to see the resemblance.

How could he walk away? Just like that! While it seemed true that he’d had no idea of Pip’s existence until she had told him of his daughter, to walk off the way he had was inexcusable.

Well, he needn’t think he could fob her off with his condescending ‘My PA will contact you’! She would give him a few days, a week at the most, and if she hadn’t heard from him by next Monday she would again be waiting for him when he came out from J. Dangerfield, Engineers.

Leyne’s resolve to do just that was stiffened when, on collecting Pip and apologising for altering their usual end-of-school-day arrangement, Pip gave her one of her serious looks.

‘What was the hold-up?’ she wanted to know. Oh, crumbs. Leyne glanced at her raven-haired niece, but before she could make any reply, Pip, taking a deep breath, was plunging on, ‘Was it something to do with my father?’

‘Oh, darling,’ Leyne cried. That direct look was there in Pip’s eyes again. How could she lie to her? ‘I’ve—been making enquiries,’ she answered.

‘And?’

As she should have known, Pip would not leave it there. ‘And I’m sorry, love, it’s still going to take some while.’

‘But you’re a bit further forward?’

‘Um—yes,’ Leyne had to admit, and felt as guilty as the devil when a beaming smile broke over her niece’s earnest expression.

‘When you do find out who my father is, will you arrange for me to meet him?’ she asked—and Leyne’s heart sank.

She had no idea how long Pip had been nurturing a need to not only know who her father was but, as Pip’s grandmother had said, would want to meet him too. But it seemed to Leyne then that the least she could do would be to prepare her for the fact that her father was trying to deny that he was her father.

Leyne pulled her to her and gave her a hug. ‘You have to be prepared for disappointment, darling,’ she said gently.

‘How?’ Pip looked puzzled, clearly not understanding.

‘Beautiful though you are, sweetheart, he—um—may not want to meet you.’

Pip’s answer was to break out into a huge grin. ‘He will,’ she said confidently. ‘I know he will. I feel it. I—just—feel it.’ Another huge grin, and, ‘Would you like me to make you some coffee?’

Oh, heavens. Leyne wondered how the child could be so sure, feel so sure her father would want to meet her, when she had attained the age of eleven and he had never bothered to look her up. Pip was not to know that Jack Dangerfield had not—up until today—even known he had fathered a daughter, much less that he was denying even knowing her mother.

Not for the first time Leyne wished that her sister was home, so Max could make the delicate decisions that had to be made.

But, as though conjuring her up, Max rang that night. Though Leyne did not get to know it had been Max until it was too late.

Leyne was in the study at work, intent with complicated matter on her computer, when the phone rang. Absently she reached for it and then heard Pip call, ‘I’ll get it.’ Leyne smiled. Her niece, on her way to bed, may have said ‘bye’ to her friend Alice only an hour ago, but they still had lots to say to each other.

Unusually, Pip was not on the phone for very long, but only a few minutes later came into the study. ‘That was Mummy,’ she said happily. And, as Leyne instinctively reached for the phone extension, ‘She’s gone,’ Pip informed her. ‘Mum said she was in a great hurry, so it was just a snatched call from the nearest landline before they went off again, and goodness knows when she will be able to ring again. She said sorry not to have rung before, but she couldn’t ring us on her mobile because she lost it in the river. She said to give you her love and a hug and to tell you that the beast’—that would be Ben Turnbull, Leyne guessed— ‘has mellowed a bit, though wasn’t too chuffed when she dropped some of his stuff in the river too.’

There was so much Leyne wanted to ask her sister, but it was too late now. ‘Happy, chick?’ she asked softly.

Pip nodded. ‘I wanted to ask Mum about my father—but I couldn’t,’ she confessed. ‘And then Mum said she had to charge off, and something about tribes and the Amazon, but that she just wanted to hear my lovely voice before she and her knight in tarnished armour tried to catch up on a slipped timetable.’

Pip went to bed elated that her mother had made contact, blissfully unaware of the agitation of her aunt’s thoughts.

While Leyne realised that her sister’s lost telephone explained why her phone had been unanswered each time she had tried to contact her, Leyne could not help but wish that Max had rung ten minutes later than she had. If she’d done that then Pip would have been in bed and Leyne would have been able to have some kind of a private conversation with her. A conversation where she could have asked her what she wanted her to do with regard to Pip wanting to know, and meet, her father.

Leyne realised that it was because Max had wanted a few snatched words with Pip before her daughter went to bed that she had rung at the time she had. And, recalling Pip’s overjoyed face, Leyne felt mean that she would have preferred in this particular instance if Max had phoned at some other time. As it was, heaven alone knew when she would ring again.

Leyne’s thoughts drifted to the man who, it was becoming more and more evident, had not been informed that he was a father. What had gone wrong between her sister and Jack Dangerfield Leyne had no clue, but perhaps he was lying. Remembering his astonishment, somehow Leyne did not think he was. Up until today he’d had absolutely no idea that his time with Max had resulted in a daughter.

A daughter he was trying to deny. Well, tough! It was about time he faced up to his responsibilities. The fact that, as chairman of J. Dangerfield, Engineers, he must be a very responsible person had nothing to do with it. Responsible in business he might be; the same could not be said for his private life!

Dianne Gardner was called away again early the next morning, and said she was likely to be away for a couple of days. She was worried because her ex-husband was too committed to have Alice with him, but Leyne assured her there was no need to worry and that she would be pleased to have Alice stay with them. Dropping the girls off at school on Tuesday, Leyne drove on to her office and delivered the work she had finished the previous evening. Explaining that she needed to work from home, she stuffed her briefcase with enough work to keep her busy for the next two days.

As it happened, it suited her very well to work from home. Should Jack Dangerfield’s PA ring, she would be there to take the call.

That call did not come, and by Thursday Leyne had formed the opinion that this had gone on long enough! Only last evening she had glanced up and found Pip’s eyes on her, silently asking the question, Is there any news yet?

Feeling uptight herself as she drove to her office, Leyne could only imagine how much worse it must be for her young niece. That being so, the minute she had the office to herself, she rang the offices of J. Dangerfield, Engineers, and went through the same procedure as before.

This time, though, when she heard voice number three, she changed it slightly. ‘My name is Leyne Rowberry,’ she said firmly. ‘I would like to speak with Mr Dangerfield.’

‘Just one moment, Miss Rowberry. I’ll see if he’s available,’ the efficient-sounding voice answered to her surprise.

Leyne waited, fully expecting to be told that Mr Dangerfield was in Timbuktu, or somewhere equally unlikely, when, to her further surprise, the next voice she heard—was his!

‘Miss Rowberry,’ he said.

‘Mr Dangerfield,’ she replied, and was stumped for the moment by the realisation that she must have previously been talking to his PA, who must know something of her to have let her through her screening position.

‘You rang me?’ he reminded her when she had nothing to add.

‘You were going to contact me!’ she reminded him, hostility starting to enter her tone.

‘I was?’

His PA had been going to, so he said. It was the same thing. ‘Are you playing with me?’ she demanded.

‘Now, there’s a thought,’ he drawled. And while she was chewing on that, and at the same time striving for control—there was more at stake here than the personal antagonism she felt towards this man—his tone suddenly changed to be all tough businessman. ‘You expect me to take you seriously?’ he questioned shortly.

‘Yes, I do!’ she retorted bluntly. ‘There is more here than you and me. I’ve a vulnerable eleven-year-old in my care who is daily hoping I can tell her who her father is!’

There was a pause, as though Jack Dangerfield was taking on board what she had just said. Then, his tone more reasonable, ‘From my point of view, Miss Rowberry, I have told you as plainly as I know how that I am not the child’s father. You, clearly, do not believe me. So why don’t you tell me what makes you so convinced that I am?’ He paused again, but only to come back to demand, ‘You’re trying to tell me that she carries my family’s birthmark?’

‘No, I’m not! Pip doesn’t have a birthmark!’

‘Which is in your favour—there isn’t one.’

‘Are you trying to trip me up?’

‘You’re trying to get me to admit to something that I know is untrue,’ he reminded her. ‘Again I ask—why are you so sure that I fathered the child?’

‘I asked my mother.’

‘Not the child’s mother?’

‘The child’s name is Philippa! We call her Pip!’ Leyne flared, feeling awkward suddenly, but starting to object to her niece being discussed as though she were a parcel. ‘And I told you that her mother is out of the country and likely to be for some while. And that is why I asked my mother.’

‘You were obviously too young when I was—er—sowing my wild oats, but you—’

‘Look here, you!’ Leyne erupted. ‘My sister is not some—some scrubber. She is a responsible and a loving person. And she would not have gone with you for some—er—cheap thrill. You would have meant something to her, and I’m not having you talking as if—’

‘So she told your mother I was the child’s father?’ He cut through her tirade.

Leyne counted to ten. ‘Max did not have to tell her. You were the only man my sister was dating at the time!’

‘I see,’ he said, but was obviously just mulling over in his mind what Leyne had just told him. ‘Then it seems to me,’ he concluded, ‘that I had better come and have a word with your mother.’

‘What for?’ All of Leyne’s protective hackles rose up. ‘My mother doesn’t live with us. But, anyway, my mother has never met you.’