Winds of Change (28 page)

He turned back to Nikki. ‘I'll send your mother in shortly. She can fetch your things to hospital for you.'

Outside he found an attractive woman who looked far too young to be his patient's mother. ‘Mrs Fox?'

‘
Ms
Fox.'

‘Could I have a word before you see your daughter?' He didn't wait for an answer but led the way down the corridor.

Regina stared at the doctor as he walked away, suddenly fearful for Nikki, then hurried after him into a tiny room with a sagging old couch along one side and a couple of hard chairs facing it. She took a seat on the couch and waited.

He sat down, frowning. ‘Your daughter's quite ill, I'm afraid.'

‘How ill is “quite ill”? Is something wrong with the pregnancy?'

‘Yes. We'll need to do some tests and then we'll know better how to treat her. I suspect pre-eclampsia. In the meantime she'll have to stay in hospital. Whatever you do, don't let her persuade you to take her home. It could put her life in danger.'

Shocked, she tried to take this in. ‘Nikki is that ill?'

‘Yes. Are you all right?'

‘Sorry. It's just . . . a shock. Nikki's never had a day's illness in her life, except for the usual childish ailments.'

‘Could you bring her some things in?'

Regina just managed to stop herself saying her daughter no longer lived with her. ‘Yes, of course.'

‘Good. We'll go back and see if they've found her a bed. I don't suppose you have private medical cover?'

‘No, I'm afraid not.' It had seemed a waste with them both being so healthy and she'd never bothered with it.

Regina followed as they wheeled her daughter up to a ward, calmed Nikki down when she objected to being put into a hospital gown, and promised to go and get the girl's own things.

‘There's a key to the flat in my school bag. Did they bring that in with me?'

‘I don't think so, but I can easily get it from school.'

‘Sorry to be such a nuisance.'

‘You're not doing this on purpose and, anyway, what else are mothers for?'

‘Thanks, Mum. Tell Tim, won't you?'

‘Yes, of course.'

With a sigh, Nikki closed her eyes again and Regina went to the nurses' station. ‘I'll be back in an hour.'

‘Can you just give us a few details first?'

She helped them fill in the forms then hurried off.

The school nurse had her daughter's things and summoned Tim.

He looked horrified when they told him Nikki would have to stay in hospital and declared he was going to see her at once.

‘Why don't you come back to your place with me first to pack Nikki's things, then you can ride to hospital with me?'

‘Yeah. Great. She's going to be all right, isn't she? And the baby?'

‘They're both in good hands.'

The flat, to which Regina had not so far been invited, shocked her rigid. It was a hovel situated in a slum, there was no other way to describe it.

Tim shot her a quick look sideways. ‘I know it's not much but it's all we can afford just now. As soon as I've finished school, I'll get a job and we'll find somewhere better.'

‘I'm sure you will. Now, let's sort out some clothes for Nikki and maybe a book or two. What was she reading? I can't remember a time when she didn't have a novel in her hand.'

‘She picked up some books from the charity shop a couple of days ago. I'll get them.'

He was silent all the way to hospital and he looked so anxious there could be no doubt he loved her daughter. But he also looked young and a little afraid.

They were both far too young for this.

Brody was worried. What the hell was Miranda doing here? Not only in England but in Wiltshire, of all places. He felt to be making progress with his daughter and didn't want anything interrupting that.

Nor did he want the past stirring up again. He'd loved Miranda deeply – more fool he! – and she'd let him down, though what her family had had against him, he'd never understood. He'd dreamed about it all last night and the night before, living through it again, feeling the anguish and frustration . . . then the fury at being driven out of his home town.

It was hard to carry on studying when he was both angry and upset, but he'd figured if he ever found her again and they got back together, as they surely would, he'd at least have a decent job to support them. He'd got a first class degree. Miranda hadn't finished hers.

After the child's expected birth date, he went to see her father again, asking about the baby. He found himself facing the brother instead. Arrogant sod!

‘She had it adopted,' Sebastian said.

‘It's my baby too. I'll take you to court about that.'

‘What? Did you think you could suckle it yourself and raise it? They'd laugh you out of court. Anyway, you can't prove you're the father. She put “Father unknown” on the birth certificate.'

‘I want to see her, talk to her.'

‘Well, she doesn't want to see you. And anyway, she's not here.'

Within the week, Brody was sacked on the most spurious of excuses and, for all his excellent grades, failed to get even a sniff of another job.

Then one evening he met his former boss, John, in a café where he was doing some casual work. He scowled but said nothing.

John hesitated, then said in a low voice, ‘Meet me in the gents in a couple of minutes.'

When Brody slipped inside, John said, ‘You've offended someone, Lanigan! The word is out around Perth in the sort of firms you're likely to look for jobs that you're not to be trusted.'

‘Who did that?' As if he didn't know!

John tapped the side of his nose. ‘Not wise to ask. Some people have friends in very high places.'

‘I can't believe it's happening in this day and age.'

‘It's happened in every age. Money and power can talk very loudly. Look, if I were you, I'd get out of the state and look for work elsewhere. Western Australia is a small place; you can do better for yourself anyway. Tell future employers you've been enjoying a holiday since you graduated and don't try to provide anything but academic references.'

‘Could you give me a private reference?'

‘Sorry. I'd like to keep my job.' John walked out.

Brody stood there in silent humiliation, then pulled himself together to finish his shift. A week later he moved to New South Wales and never went back to Western Australia.

Ten years after that he accepted a transfer to the UK and stayed on. It had been a good move. He felt free of his past here. After a few years, he'd had a little luck, developed some small software programs that filled useful niches and would keep selling well. They brought in steady royalties, and he was quite comfortable financially now; could pay the necessary child support for his son, afford decent holidays, whatever he wanted.

He wasn't rich, had no desire to push harder financially. Comfortable was quite enough for him.

After his marriage broke up, he hadn't looked for another long-term relationship, except for the ones with his children. Nothing, but nothing was going to mess up his fledgling relationship with his daughter . . .

He realized he'd slipped back into thinking about the past again, something he'd vowed to stop doing. He got up to pour himself a whisky and sat down, scowling at some stupid-looking woman on the television. He had no idea what programme had been showing. The one he'd started to watch must have finished.

How many people were sitting alone tonight feeling lonely? Why was he so often on his own anyway? Because he was no good at relationships, that's why. He raised his glass. ‘To hell with the past!'

But he choked on the whisky. He wasn't really a drinker.

What was he now? Not the bright-eyed lad who'd loved Miranda, that was sure. What would she see when she looked at him now? If they ever met again.

What would he see when he looked at her?

Miranda arrived at the café early, feeling extremely nervous. She chose a seat from which she could observe the door and sat down, ordering a latte.

When a young woman walked in, she had no need to ask if this was her daughter. She was shocked at how much the newcomer resembled not only herself but also her mother in the old photos she regarded as some of her treasures. She stood up and waved.

Katie threaded her way slowly across the jumble of tables in the café and stopped just before she got to the table, studying her. ‘Miranda Fox?'

‘Yes. And I'm sure you're Katie. You look so like your grandmother at the same age. Won't you join me?'

After the slightest of nods Katie sat down, ordering a cappuccino from the hovering waitress.

Miranda tried to keep her voice steady, tried not to stare too much. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me.'

‘I thought it was only fair. You . . . um, look younger than I'd expected.'

‘My mother's side of the family is noted for its baby faces. It's a problem when you're young, but a blessing when you get older.' She stopped, realizing she was babbling, forcing herself to wait.

Katie could hear the nervousness in her mother's voice and it disarmed her a little. If Miranda had been confident and brassy, she'd have had a lot more trouble relating to her, she was sure. But this woman was tense and on edge – just as she was herself. ‘I'd like to hear about my birth family, baby faces and all. It's important to know where we come from, don't you think? That's why I posted my details on the adoption lists.'

‘I didn't find you through those lists. A dear friend contacted a private investigator. He knew how much it mattered to me.'

‘He must care about you.'

‘He died recently. I miss him.'

The naked pain in her face disarmed Katie still further.

‘I've brought you some copies of family photos that I'd scanned in.' Miranda fumbled in her handbag with hands that shook visibly.

Katie stared at those hands as she took the photos, then looked up at the gentle face with its over-bright eyes. Oh dear, being unkind to this woman would be like smacking a baby for crying. She swallowed hard and bent her head to study the photographs.

‘I've written on the backs who they are. This one is my mother. Can you see the resemblance to yourself?'

‘Yes. She died young, didn't she?'

‘How did you know that?'

She didn't want to tell her about Brody, not yet, and he definitely didn't want to be brought into things. ‘I've been doing some research.'

‘She was very young when she died, only twenty-eight. In fact, my father's first two wives both died young. The third one left him. So I have an older half-brother and a younger half-sister. My sister lives in England, near here, actually.'

‘And your brother, my uncle?'

‘He lives in Australia and is best forgotten. He's an arrogant bully.'

Katie stared at her in surprise.

‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything about him.'

‘It's all right. I'll probably never meet him.' She had to wonder, though, why a woman as gentle as this hated the man so much. ‘Tell me about my father, how you met him, why you parted.' To her amazement, she saw her mother wipe away a tear.

‘He was called Brody Lanigan and I met him at university. I loved him very much. My father . . . separated us forcibly and I never saw Brody again. He was very intelligent and good-looking, at least I thought so.'

This didn't sound like a woman who'd callously abandoned her lover and child. Katie was puzzled, but didn't dare ask anything else in case she revealed too much.

‘Would you tell me about your son, Katie?'

She smiled involuntarily. ‘Ned's five, into mischief all the time. He's intelligent – well, I think so – and tall for his age, like his father. Here, I have a photo.' She held it out.

‘I can't believe I'm a grandmother. I never hoped for that.'

Katie watched Miranda's forefinger touch the photo lightly, tracing out Ned's face, and that gesture further weakened her resolution not to see her mother again, as did the tears that had welled in the other woman's eyes when they were talking about Brody.

‘And your husband, Katie? What does he do?'

‘He's a professional soldier, a captain. He's serving in Afghanistan at the moment.'

Her mother looked shocked. ‘That must be hard on you.'

‘I've grown used to being a soldier's wife. I knew what it'd be like when I married Darren. It's just . . . sometimes, like now, he's out of touch for a while, then you can't help worrying. But I cope. You have to.' That was the word she always used. Cope. It was as good as any to describe how it was. But it was getting harder and harder to say it with confidence. She finished her cappuccino. ‘I have to go soon. I deliberately kept the time short in case—' She broke off, not wanting to hurt her mother. Oh, dear, she'd intended to be so businesslike!

‘In case you didn't take to me,' Miranda said quietly.

‘Something like that.'

‘And now you've met me? Can we see one another again? Or did I fail the test?'

She could see how white-knuckled her mother's hands were. ‘You passed it. And yes, we can meet again. Here, if you like. How about in two days' time, but half an hour earlier, so that we can talk for longer? I'll bring a few photos for you.'

‘I'd love that.'

Katie stood up. ‘I have to pick Ned up now.'

‘Yes.'

She hesitated, not knowing how to say goodbye, whether to air kiss her mother or not. But it seemed false, so she just nodded and tried to smile. Didn't manage that.

When she was outside, she glanced back into the café and saw that her mother had turned her back to the room. But her shoulders were shaking visibly and she was mopping her eyes.