Winds of Change (24 page)

What would Lou have advised?

But the voice in her head remained silent and people were pushing past her, knocking her luggage trolley, making her step instinctively sideways.

She should have spent more time during the flight working out exactly what to do when she arrived instead of chatting then sleeping, and only having approximate ideas about her future actions.

In the end she moved towards one of the car rental desks, joining a line of people seeking vehicles. When she arrived, she asked for a small automatic car and took out her Australian driving licence and passport for identification.

It wasn't cheap, but at least she had wheels. She had to wait again for the courtesy bus to take a group of hirers out to where they would pick up their vehicles. Beside her a man in a business suit was talking earnestly on his mobile phone, not seeming to care who heard what he was saying. She'd have to get herself a mobile that worked here. She pulled out her little notebook and started a list. Mobile phone. Buy car. Find somewhere to live.

There! She felt as if she was making a start already. That felt good.

Warned by Sally, Regina set off in good time for the airport. But there was an accident on the M4 motorway which held her up for over an hour, then the traffic on the M25 was even slower than usual.

She parked and made a dash for the arrivals area, but to her dismay the plane had landed nearly an hour ago. She couldn't believe she'd missed her sister.

Where had Miranda gone? What was she doing now? Someone was bound to take advantage of her.

Feeling guilty that she hadn't set off earlier, Regina turned and made her way back to her car. She could only hope her sister would contact her. Surely she would?

Nikki saw Tim waiting for her at morning break and sighed. She just wanted to sit in peace and drink some orange juice now that her stomach was starting to settle down.

‘Hi, there.' He planted a kiss on her cheek.

‘Don't do that here!' she hissed. ‘I've told you.'

‘I can't help it when you look so pretty.'

‘Well, I don't feel pretty.'

‘I missed you last night.'

‘I was tired. When Mum suggested I stay over, it seemed a good idea. Did you . . . um, sleep well?'

‘Yeah, sure. You know me. But I missed having someone to chat to this morning.'

She looked at her watch. ‘I've got to go.'

‘I'll wait for you after school.'

‘No. I've got some studying to do. I'll work in the library and come back later. Can you fix something for tea?'

She watched him walk away, saw the admiring glances other girls gave him. He was a hot guy. Only . . . she was no longer a hot chick. She'd changed, was still changing. If only her mother would help her financially, she'd move to a place of her own, even if she had to live in the tiniest flat ever built.

The trouble was, Tim would be hurt and he didn't deserve that. He was too nice for his own good, much too nice for her.

Katie found another email from her mother's representative waiting for her when she got back from the hospital. Ned was so much better, he was fretting to be let out, which made her feel good. The email took the edge off that.

She read it, wondering why her mother didn't make contact in person.

Hi, Katie

Your mother's asked me to tell you that she's delighted you're willing to meet her. She's coming to England and will be in touch personally when she gets there. She has your email address.

Cheers

Jeff Halliday

‘Oh, no!' She closed her eyes for a moment. She hadn't said she wanted to
meet
her mother, just make contact, surely? She had enough on her plate at the moment, what with Ned and Brody, and Mum kicking up a fuss that she was contacting her birth parents at all, not to mention her part-time job, without which she'd go mad from loneliness.

And Darren hadn't emailed her for days. That happened sometimes when he was on a mission. She always worried more at those times. You kept hearing on the TV news that another British soldier had been killed in Afghanistan, and you wondered if it was your husband. Only the newsreader's words, ‘The family has been informed', kept her sane. And even so, she found tears welling in her eyes as she thought how upset those poor families would be.

How would she face it if anything happened to Darren? He said it wouldn't, and she didn't contradict his cheerful optimism, because if ever a man loved his job, he did. She'd been glad to move out of army quarters, though, away from other people's worries.

They showed pictures on the TV news of the bodies being brought back – repatriated, they called it. She hadn't realized she'd be living close to the place they brought them when she moved to Wootton Bassett, and she always checked that no coffins were due to be driven through the town before she went shopping.

It was good that such a small town was showing such a good example to the rest of the country about respecting the soldiers who'd lost their lives, but she avoided the repatriations. It'd kill her to be involved in that slow procession along the main street, because it'd be Darren she'd be imagining in the coffins beneath those flags.

It was good, though, that the Queen had named the town Royal Wootton Bassett, only the third town ever to receive that honour; not good that the repatriations were going elsewhere.

Being a soldier's wife was beginning to get to her, Katie knew. If she hadn't had Ned to look after, she didn't know what she'd have done.

Books were lifesavers too. She'd never read so much in her whole life, mostly romances or cheerful chick-lit that was guaranteed a happy ending. They helped her feel better, somehow. She wasn't reading anything miserable or heavy until Darren came back safely.

And now she had a new father to deal with, a man sparing with words, who didn't usually let his emotions show, but who'd been there for her when Ned was rushed to hospital. That meant a lot.

She did hope Mum wouldn't come up from Cornwall to see Ned and check up on them, which she did periodically. It might damage Katie's growing relationship with Brody because Mum wasn't noted for her tact and excelled at putting her foot in it big time. It was a good thing Sam, her mother's new husband, found that amusing. Other people got upset. Katie smiled at the thought of Sam. He was such a nice guy. He'd taken a lot of the emotional load of keeping her mother cheerful off her.

And now, to top it all, her birth mother was going to be in England. She couldn't refuse to see a woman who was coming all the way from Australia to see her. But from the way Brody talked about the woman, she didn't sound trustworthy in relationships.

And anyway, Katie wasn't sure she could forgive her for giving her baby away. Her father said he'd not been consulted, which amazed her. He said he'd explain about her mother's family another time.

But how could you form a relationship with someone who'd given you away? She had a child of her own now and if anyone tried to take Ned away from her or hurt him, she knew she'd fight tooth and nail. Whatever it took.

The traffic lights were all green, so Brody got to the hospital before Katie that evening.

Ned was sprawled on the bed scowling at a book. He said a grudging hello to his grandfather.

‘Something wrong?'

‘This one's too hard for me. But it's got dinosaurs in it.' The child's face brightened. ‘Can you read it to me?'

‘Sure.' Brody found he had to keep stopping to discuss the illustrations and listen to Ned's views on dinosaurs.

Katie came rushing in late, with only fifteen minutes left before visitors were chucked out. ‘Sorry. I was at work and got held up in the traffic.' She hugged Ned, hesitated, then planted a quick air kiss near Brody's left ear.

As they were walking out of the hospital together, he risked it. ‘Would you like to have dinner somewhere?'

Her response was instantaneous. ‘I'd love to. The house seems empty without Ned. If his temperature stays down, he can come home tomorrow. I'll have to phone you and let you know.'

‘What sort of food?'

‘I don't mind.'

‘I know a nice little Indian restaurant.'

‘Great. Let's go.'

It wasn't far and once they were settled at their table, he asked something he'd been wondering about. ‘What's your husband like?'

‘Tall, dark but not handsome. He has lovely twinkly eyes, though.'

Brody managed to keep the conversation going by asking about her life, then she began fiddling with the edge of her plate and shooting him worried glances. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘Yeah. Well, not wrong. It's just . . . my birth mother's been in touch. Or rather her representative has. She's coming to England to meet me. Why can't she email me herself? Why is someone else doing that?'

‘Miranda's coming here? I didn't think her family would let her off the leash for long enough.'

She looked at him in surprise.

‘Sorry. I shouldn't say things like that.'

‘You sound as if you hate her sometimes.'

He picked up his wine glass and took a sip. ‘I didn't mean to. I just . . . hate what she and her family did to me.'

‘What's she like?'

‘I've not seen her for twenty-six years. She'll be forty-seven.' He paused, unable to imagine Miranda looking old. Had she put on weight? Was her hair grey? Did she wear glasses now?

‘What was she like when you were together?'

‘Small, fair-haired, old-fashioned in many ways. I used to tease her about that. It came of having such an elderly father, I suppose. James Fox should have been born in the nineteenth century. I'm sure he didn't believe in votes for women!'

Katie laughed. ‘She'll probably have grey hair now. Mum dyes her hair because it's gone sort of iron grey and she hates that. But she's older than this Miranda. Mum's sixty now. She says she doesn't feel old and gets mad if I tease her about it even. You're forty-seven as well, aren't you? Do you feel old?'

He looked at her in surprise. ‘Old? I'm not old. I suppose I must seem old to you, but I don't feel it inside.'

‘How did you and my mother meet?'

‘We met at university. We were in the same year. She was studying English and I was doing IT, which was less common then. Miranda was living at home. My family were in the country, so I was a bit lonely, I suppose. She was lonely because she was shy and didn't know how to mix.'

‘Did you fall in love with her straight away?'

He'd forgotten how he'd felt about Miranda because the anger had taken over once the family had closed ranks on him and kept him away from her. ‘I suppose I did. Well, quite quickly, anyway.'

He changed the subject, didn't want to remember those days and the pain of losing Miranda – losing his unborn child, too. Why had she taken everything away from him? She'd not only stopped loving him but had caved in to her family about having the baby adopted.

The only possible conclusion to draw was that she couldn't have loved him, not in the way he'd loved her, anyway. Or maybe she was just a coward, unable to stand up to people. How could he have been so mistaken in a person? It was a question he'd asked himself many times over the years because, whatever he did, he'd never been able to forget her and the few short months they'd been together.

That was what had ruined his marriage. But at least he saw his son regularly and was on reasonable terms with his ex.

He wasn't on any sort of terms with his first love.

Miranda hired a car for a week. Surely in that time she'd be able to buy a vehicle of her own?

She sat behind the wheel, deeply relieved that the car had a satellite navigation system because she hadn't had time to study the map of England in detail. Now all that remained was to decide where to go and program in her destination.

Should she go straight to her sister's? She was fairly certain Regina would put her up for a night or two. But she was afraid Regina would tell Sebastian where she was, afraid he'd find some way to get to her.

And most of all, she was afraid of not managing, not standing on her own feet.

There was a folder of brochures on the seat beside her. She flicked through them, wondering what they were about. To her relief, a couple were from hotel chains, offering accommodation at what seemed a reasonable price. She looked at the map and found one in Wiltshire, in a town called Swindon.

The instructions for using the satellite navigation system were clear and she programmed in the postcode of the hotel she had chosen. A woman's voice, sounding very upper-class English, told her to take the first left.

Taking a deep breath she drove out of the parking area, waving back to the cheery attendant. Cars whizzed past her, all seeming intent on breaking the speed limit. She'd been driving for years, but suddenly she felt like a learner. Was it her imagination or did people drive more quickly here in the UK?

She could only hope that the satellite navigation system knew where it was going because she didn't. Cars, roads, junctions, motorways loomed at her in quick succession. They were well signposted but what saved her from panicking was the pleasant-sounding electronic voice guiding her.

The motorways were absolutely crowded and traffic was slow at first. She didn't mind that. It gave her time to get used to the car. When she saw a sign for Services, she turned off and found her way into a crowded car park. She sat over a large cup of coffee and a croissant, watching people, something she often did, quite used to being on her own.

The caffeine perked her up and she made her way out to the car again, feeling quite proud of herself. She could do this.

By the time she got to the hotel, she was so exhausted she was worried her driving might be affected. She hired a room and took her luggage up, staring round it and pulling a face. Why did so many hotels choose neutral colour schemes? Still, the room had everything you really needed and there was a café where she could get meals.