Dawn was lying in wait for him every time of course, only too willing to console him, so the result was inevitable. I told him he was a fool to accept the child as his but, as you know better than anyone, Kate, my son can be as obstinate as a mule. So he married her.’
She gave him a questioning look. ‘Do you blame me for that, Mr Logan?’
He stared at her, surprised. ‘Good God, no, child. You were young, and it was only natural you wanted to see a bit of the world before you settled down. The two of you could have gone on meeting easily enough now and again.’
‘It’s all water under the bridge now.’ Kate glanced at her watch. ‘I must dash—pressing appointment in town after lunch with some curtains.’ She smiled at him. ‘After your next walk come to my place for coffee. Bring Bran with you. I live in Park Crescent, number thirty-four.’
‘So Jack told me.’ Tom Logan smiled reminiscently. ‘Oddly enough, I know the house well. I did a lot of work for Miss Durant when I first started out on my own. She was one of the old school, a real tartar. But she knew her stuff when it came to maintaining her property. She approved of my work, so we got on well. You inherited a sound house, Kate.’ He smiled and patted her cheek affectionately. ‘It’s so good to see you again, my dear.’
‘Likewise, Mr L.’
‘I think it’s time you called me Tom!’
‘Then I will. See you soon, Tom.’ She hurried off to the park gate and turned to wave as she passed through to make for home.
Jack Logan felt so tired during the drive from London through heavy Friday evening traffic he rang his father from his hands free moible as he turned off the motorway and asked him to keep Bran for another night. But, after hearing about the encounter with Kate, Jack drove straight past the entrance to Mill House and headed into town, cursing himself for a fool as he parked near Kate’s house. The lights were on. But that could mean time switches. The car he’d seen before was parked right outside her house again too, but even if it were hers it meant nothing. She could have taken a taxi into town, or someone—some man—could have picked her up to take her out.
He got out of the car, flexing his shoulders wearily. He rapped on the doorknocker instead of ringing the bell and waited, shivering, until light shone through the fanlight. After a moment Kate opened the door, her face guarded.
‘Hello,’ he said quietly. ‘May I come in?’
Without a word she led the way into the sitting room and switched off the television, eyeing her visitor without visible warmth. ‘You look tired, Jack.’
‘The traffic was heavy. I rang my father during the journey and heard he’d seen you today.’ He gave her a wry, weary smile. ‘So I took a chance on finding you in.’
Kate’s feelings were mixed at the sight of him, her undeniable pleasure marred by anger with Jack for taking it for granted he could just turn up any time he fancied without ringing first. She knew that he’d made a note of her number last Sunday. He’d been leaning on the counter right next to the phone. When the phone call never happened she assumed Jack had no interest in reviving their relationship and had resigned herself to the idea so determinedly that she resented him now, for coming back to unsettle her again.
‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked politely.
‘Could I possibly have some tea?’
‘Certainly. Sit down and take a look at the room while I make it.’ Kate went off to the kitchen, thankful that she hadn’t changed from the tailored black trousers and sweater of the afternoon. Strands of hair were escaping from its coil, and her face could have done with attention, but Jack looked too tired to notice. He was probably hungry too, if he’d driven from London. But he was out of luck if he expected a meal. A visitor was no part of her plan for the evening. She’d hung her new curtains, stood back to admire, and then eaten supper early so she could settle down in her finished sitting room to watch the gardening programme Jack had interrupted.
Kate returned with a tray and put it on a small Pembroke table between a pair of cane-sided Louis chairs cushioned in faded russet