Memories Of The Past

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he grimaced. ‘I haven’t even had my kiss hello yet!’

Her cheeks coloured hotly at the gentle reprimand. ‘I’m sorry, Daddy.’ She kissed him warmly on the cheek. ‘I had a horrible experience not fifteen minutes ago, and I don’t think I can be thinking straight yet.’

Her father immediately looked concerned, demanding to know the full story, waiting until they were seated in the comfort of the lounge drinking a much-needed cup of tea. She could see her father was as horrified as she over what had almost occurred.

He looked disturbed. ‘And the child’s name was Sam, you say?’

‘Mm,’ she nodded, shrugging. ‘I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl, only that it was adorable.’ Her expression softened slightly at the thought of the tiny child.

‘He’s a cute little imp, all right,’ her father mused. ‘A real handful.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You do recognise who I’m talking about, then?’

‘Oh, yes.’ He nodded, looking at her closely. ‘Sam reminds me a little bit of Ben,’ he said softly, the statement almost a query.

Helen felt herself stiffen. It was purely instinctive, and yet she couldn’t help herself. Ben had been a long time ago. And yet she still couldn’t talk about him, not naturally, the way that her father now could.

‘Perhaps,’ she dismissed tightly. ‘But at the moment I’m more concerned with speaking to Mr Jones and making sure an incident like today never happens again.’ She knew she sounded pompous and prim, but the incident had been too serious to simply ignore and try to forget about.

Her father nodded thoughtfully. ‘Speaking to Cal should definitely ensure that.’

Helen looked at him frowningly, a little disturbed about the way he said that. ‘I don’t want to get this man into trouble, or anything like that. But you have to realise how dangerous his behaviour could have been.’

‘Of course I can,’ he agreed unhesitatingly. ‘Cal will too.’

She didn’t feel at all reassured by her father’s attitude. ‘He won’t sack the man, will he?’

Her father raised blond brows. ‘Would it bother you if he did?’

‘Well, of course it would,’ she snapped irritably. ‘Jobs aren’t all that easy to come by in this area, and the man obviously has a young family to support and look after.’

‘He only has Sam,’ her father put in quietly.

‘Even so——’

‘Cal will give him the roasting he deserves,’ he said with certainty.

She had already done that, in no uncertain terms, and jobs weren’t plentiful in this particular area. Besides, she could still see that adorable little face looking up at its father so trustingly…

After all, she had already told the man exactly what she had thought of the whole incident, and she could tell by the stricken look on his face how affected he had been by it all, so surely that constant memory of what might have happened was enough. It certainly wasn’t likely to happen again, she was sure of it.

‘Perhaps it isn’t necessary to discuss it with Mr Jones after all,’ she said lightly. After all, she had plenty of other things she needed to talk to Caleb Jones about—talking about today’s incident would only confuse things! ‘He doesn’t really need to know about it,’ she decided with finality.

‘Hm,’ her father said thoughtfully. ‘There’s only one thing wrong with that, darling.’

‘Yes?’ she prompted sharply, not seeing what the complication was at all.

He nodded. ‘Cal already knows what happened this afternoon.’

‘You mean the man will have told him about it himself?’ Helen frowned at the thought of the man’s having gone to him so quickly.

‘Cal is the man, darling,’ her father explained huskily. ‘Sam is the nephew I told you about, the one he’s become guardian to. And I’ve invited Cal over to dinner tonight, so I’m sure he will want to talk to you again about what happened.’

CHAPTER TWO (#u1958f9e5-b924-5663-8e11-d5932dcfddae)

CALEB JONES. How on earth could Helen have guessed that was Caleb Jones?

She had questioned her father’s certainty on the man she had met at the roadside’s possibly being Caleb Jones, describing him in great detail, only to have her father insist it had been him, that the adorable toddler was definitely the nephew he was guardian to.

The man she had met hadn’t looked thirty-nine, early thirties at the most, and he hadn’t appeared anything like the cynically hardened businessman she had expected. She couldn’t even imagine him in a suit and tie, and his hair was far too long to be considered ‘respectable’! But he had been resident on the estate most of the last six months, so that could possibly account for the untidiness of the latter.

But even so, it was hard to imagine that man with the overlong black hair, unlined face and muscled body as anything but the labourer she had first taken him to be.

And he was coming here to dinner tonight, before she had even had the chance to talk to her father about his idea of selling Cherry Trees!

Not that she doubted for a moment that the ploy had been deliberate on her father’s part, at least. He had been deliberately evasive on the subject since her arrival, carrying her case upstairs for her and insisting she must feel in need of a shower after her journey. She did feel hot and sticky, but the shower could have waited for a while, except that her father obviously had other ideas.

She could already tell he was going to be at his most stubborn this weekend!

Which was precisely why she had got herself ready for dinner early; she was determined she would talk to her father about selling the house before Caleb Jones arrived.

He was in the lounge pouring himself a pre-dinner drink when she got downstairs, as she had known he would be. There was nothing her father enjoyed more than half an hour or so’s leisurely relaxation with a glass of good whisky before he was due to eat.

He looked surprised to see Helen down so early, although there was none of the censure in his eyes for what she was wearing that there had been earlier. The classic plain black dress that moved silkily about her body as she walked was one of her father’s favourites. And she knew that, but if he wanted to play at being devious so would she!

She had styled her hair in a much softer style for him too, soft curls piled loosely on top of her head, several loose tendrils on her forehead and cheeks framing her face.

‘A definite improvement.’ He stood up to pour Helen a sherry, eyeing her mischievously. ‘Cal will like the change too, I’m sure.’

She bristled angrily. ‘I really don’t care what Mr Jones likes, as I’m sure you well know,’ she reproved, accepting her sherry and sitting down in an armchair. ‘And the reason I looked the way that I did when I arrived was because I had been to work this morning and drove straight down here from the office.’ And her father was one of the few people she would ever have bothered to explain herself to in this way.

But then, he had obviously known her all her life, and it was a little difficult to stand on your dignity with someone who had changed your nappies for you as a baby, seen you with your two front teeth missing, reassured you that those detested freckles on your nose would disappear one day—although he had been wrong about that—comforted you through your first bout of unrequited love!

He made himself comfortable in the chair opposite her. ‘How is the big city?’ he drawled, his eyes still twinkling, not the clear green of Helen’s but a marvellous hazel colour that made them change from brown to green to blue. Though he was in his mid-fifties, and despite the devastating sadness of losing Helen’s mother so early in their lives together, they hadn’t lost any of their glow.

Helen eyed him derisively, not fooled for a minute. ‘The “big city” is fine,’ she returned drily. ‘And stop being evasive.’

‘Evasive?’ His eyes widened innocently. ‘Me? I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh, Daddy,’ she smiled wryly, ‘you really are a terrible liar.’

He gave a deep sigh, giving up all pretence. ‘It’s my house, Helen——’

‘But it’s my home,’ she cut in protestingly.

He gave her a chiding look. ‘It’s seven years since you left here; London is your home now.’

She shook her head firmly. ‘I always think of Cherry Trees as my home.’