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‘That’s certainly good news, good to know,’ Dusty exclaimed, smiling at her, filling with sudden relief.

‘By the way, she’s in the I.C.U., Mr Rhodes. I shall go and visit her on my way back home, even if I can only wave to her,’ Gladys announced.

‘That’s very kind of you, and I’ll go myself later this week. By the way, this Dr Bloom, is he in Meanwood?’

‘Oh yes, he’s our local doctor. He’s been there years. And he’s only three streets away from Molly, and not too far from me either. I’ve written his number down for you, Mr Rhodes. I thought you might want to be in touch with him.’ As she spoke she fumbled in her bag and finally brought out a piece of paper, handed it to him.

‘Thanks, Gladys, thanks again for bringing Atlanta to me. Incidentally, how did you explain her grandmother’s absence to her?’ he asked, staring at the piece of paper, then putting it in his pocket.

‘It was Atlanta who came to me in the kitchen. She said her grandmother had fallen down, had hurt her leg because she wasn’t getting up. So when the ambulance arrived, I said they were taking Grandma to get her leg made better. She accepted that, and then when I told her I was bringing her to you today she was so excited that was all she could think about,’ Gladys informed him, then sat back in the chair.

Dusty stood up. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done. I’d better go and see Atlanta without any further delay. I thought it better to get the whole story from you before seeing my daughter. Now, come with me to the kitchen, Gladys, and have some lunch. Then we’ll arrange for a car to take you back to Leeds, to see Molly and later to your home.’

‘Oh, please, it’s not necessary, honestly it isn’t. I’ll get off, after I’ve said goodbye to Atlanta. She’s a good little girl, you know, very grown up in so many ways, Mr Rhodes.’

‘Yes, I know. She’s a treasure,’ he said, escorting her out of the room. ‘I’m very grateful to you, Gladys, and I won’t let you leave here without some food in you, and a car to take you wherever you want to go. And by the way, you’d better give me your phone number so that I have it handy.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I will. I don’t live far away from Mrs Caldwell, just a couple of streets down.’ There was a moment’s hesitation, before she said softly, ‘Thanks for being so nice.’

He smiled at her, but said nothing, and led her through the entrance foyer in the direction of the kitchen. He saw her looking around, staring at his paintings. But she didn’t make any comment and neither did he.

‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’ Atlanta cried the moment she saw Dusty, coming forward to meet him as he entered the kitchen, dancing towards him on tiptoes, her laughter echoing all around them. She was tall for three, graceful and slender, ‘his little beanshoot’, he called her.

As she came into his arms there was no mistaking whose child she was with her jet-black hair and light blue eyes. It always seemed to him that there was nothing of Melinda in her. After hugging her, kissing her cheek, he put her down on the floor and gave her a huge smile. ‘We’re going to have a fun weekend together while Grandma gets her leg mended.’

‘Does it hurt her, Daddy?’ Atlanta asked, staring up at him. Without waiting for his answer she shook her head and said, ‘She didn’t cry.’

‘No, I don’t think it hurts, darling,’ he answered and then turning to Gladys he said, ‘Please stay for something to eat, it’s already twelve-thirty. You must be hungry.’

Before Gladys could respond, Atlanta looked across at her and announced, ‘Valetta’s made spaghetti, Gladys. It’s got tomatoes in it.’

‘I don’t think I can have lunch here, Atlanta, and—’

‘Oh please, please,’ Atlanta cut in, and looking at Dusty she went on, ‘Make Gladys stay, Daddy, please.’

Dusty grinned, gazing down at Atlanta, and said, ‘I’m having lunch with your friend India, and then this afternoon she’s going to take you out. So, why don’t you eat here in the kitchen, and Valetta will make some more of your favourite things, and then we’ll all go for a drive.’

Atlanta nodded. ‘Can I go and see Indi? I like her.’

‘She hasn’t arrived yet, but of course you can say hello to her … she’s bringing her grandmother to see me.’

‘Oh. Is she like my grandma?’ the child asked, staring up at her father.

Dusty bit back the laugh that rose in his throat, and said, ‘No. I think she’s quite different altogether. In fact, there’s a big difference. But her grandma’s as nice as yours.’

‘Oh goody.’ Atlanta ran to Gladys and took hold of her hand. ‘You’ll like Indi. She’s nice. She tells stories and reads to me.’

‘I know how much you like that. But I really think I have to go, lovey, I’ll meet your friend India another time.’

‘Oh. Don’t go, Gladys,’ the child beseeched, clinging to her hand.

‘I have to visit your grandmother,’ Gladys explained, and then becoming aware of the sudden tears welling in Atlanta’s eyes, she said, ‘Well, all right, I’ll stay and have a snack with you.’ She managed a small chuckle, added with a twinkle, ‘I’m getting a bit peckish.’

‘Like the birds!’ Atlanta exclaimed, laughing. ‘That’s what you always say. Peckish like the birds.’

Dusty said, ‘Then it’s settled. Come on, Gladys, and you too, Atlanta. You can both sit here at the table, and Valetta will bring plates of her delicious spaghetti, and whatever else you want. All right, Valetta?’

‘That’s fine, Mr Rhodes,’ the cook said, laughter in her dark eyes. Waving her wooden spoon, she turned back to her pans, stirring the contents of one of them. ‘I’m almost ready to serve.’

As Dusty was leading his child and Gladys Roebotham to the table at the far end of the large, family-style kitchen he heard the sound of a car outside on the gravel driveway. Kissing the top of Atlanta’s dark head, he murmured, ‘Drink some of your water, darling, and I’ll be back in a minute.’

‘Yes, Daddy,’ she answered dutifully sitting in a chair. She picked up the small glass of water and took a swallow. ‘Sipping like the ducks,’ she said, smiling at Gladys.

Dusty strode across the main entrance foyer, heading for the front door, intent on greeting India and her grandmother on the steps. As he opened the door and went out onto the terrace he saw them coming slowly towards him.

He knew better than to go and escort them inside. The Dowager Countess of Dunvale was something of a tartar, with a very sharp tongue, and was quite determined to look after herself. She resisted any help from others, and he understood absolutely. She was extremely independent and self-reliant, and he admired her for her extraordinary stamina and fortitude. After all, she was ninety-five and anything but senile. Far be it from him to undermine her confidence in herself.

India waved to him and he waved back. He wondered how she would react to the news that Atlanta was here for a week at least. He would give her all of the details as soon as they were settled in the sitting room having their aperitif. Her grandmother liked a drink before lunch, and her insistence on ‘a drop of sherry’, as she put it, always tickled him. He would tell India about Molly Caldwell at once, so there was no misunderstanding. Months ago she had accused him of ‘lying by omission’, and he had no desire to have that accusation levelled at him again.

He knew that India liked the child as much as Atlanta liked her, and her presence would not present any problems, as far as he could see. Angelina, the housekeeper, and Valetta, the cook, would keep an eye on her whilst he was painting during the morning, and he would spend time in the afternoon with her. After all, India would be at the Leeds store during the week, and she still lived at Pennistone Royal, spending only the weekends with him here at Willows Hall. No, the child would not be intrusive on them or their relationship, he decided, and then it struck him that Gladys Roebotham could be very useful. It was obvious Atlanta was attached to her, and Gladys seemed to reciprocate the child’s feelings. Perhaps she would consider spending part of the coming week here looking after Atlanta.

‘Excuse me, Mr Rhodes,’ Paddy said from the entrance foyer.

Dusty swung around to face the house manager. ‘Yes, Paddy?’

‘I’ve put a decanter of Amontillado in the sitting room, and I was wondering if there is anything else you need?’

‘I don’t think so, thanks very much. Lunch in about half an hour. Oh, and Paddy, order a car for Mrs Roebotham, would you, please? It’s to take her back home, with a stop-off at Leeds Infirmary to see Mrs Caldwell. And please tell her I’ll be in to have a word with her in a few minutes.’

‘Right you are, sir,’ Paddy murmured and was gone on silent feet.

‘Good morning, Countess,’ Dusty said a moment later as India and her grandmother finally came to a standstill in front of him.

‘Good morning, Dusty, and countess is far too formal. I do keep telling you that. You must call me Edwina.’

‘You know I can’t,’ he replied, laughing. ‘That’s not respectful.’

She chuckled with him, and then suggested, ‘Why not call me Great-Aunt Edwina? Or Grandmother. But perhaps you have a grandmother of your own?’

‘No, she’s dead.’ Turning to India he smiled lovingly, and kissed her cheek. ‘Hello, darling,’ he whispered against her hair, before he ushered them both into the house.

Within several seconds he had Edwina settled comfortably in a chair near the fireplace, and India went and perched on the sofa, waiting for him as he poured Amontillado into glasses and brought the sherry to them.

‘Cheers, ladies,’ he said, lifting his glass, and sat down on the sofa next to India.

‘Cheers,’ India answered, as did her grandmother.

Staring hard at Dusty, India now said, ‘You’ve got a peculiar expression on your face. What’s the matter?’