Dear Reader,

I think we’ve all experienced the agony of unrequited love sometime in our lives. You know…that boy you were too scared to speak to and whose smile made your day just that little bit brighter. For my Kate that “boy” was Gideon Manser.

I hope you ache for her—for them both—because life has hit them hard. In reality things do not always work out the way we would wish, but in my story Gideon and Kate have the happy ending they richly deserve.

The Isle of Wight, where this book is set, is a real place. My husband worked on it for a couple of summers, and my family and I escape there whenever we can. If you stand at the bottom of England and look out to sea, you will see it. Just twenty-three miles by thirteen miles, it’s a truly magical place. I can’t think of many places more perfect to live out a “happy ever after.”

Much love,

Natasha

Harlequin Romance® is thrilled to bring you another sparkling new book from British author

Natasha Oakley

Her poignant and emotional writing will tug on your heartstrings.

Books by Natasha Oakley

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3838—FOR OUR CHILDREN’S SAKE

3854—THE BUSINESS ARRANGEMENT

A Family To Belong To
Natasha Oakley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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NATASHA OAKLEY told everyone at her primary school she wanted to be an author when she grew up. Her plan was to stay at home and have her mum bring her coffee at regular intervals—a drink she didn’t like then. The coffee addiction became reality, and the love of storytelling stayed with her. A professional actress, Natasha began writing when her fifth child started to sleep through the night. Born in London, U.K., she now lives in Bedfordshire with her husband and young family. When not writing, or needed for “crowd control,” she loves to escape to antique fairs and auctions. Find out more about Natasha and her books on her Web site www.natashaoakley.com

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

THE wind tasted salty on her lips and the ice-cold rain pitted her cheeks. Kate Simmonds stared out at the slate-grey sea and felt her hair flick painfully around her face.

She was coming home.

Too late.

Aunt Babs was dead.

She lifted one shaking hand to push back her hair. A week ago everything had been so different, or had seemed that way. Then there’d been time. She had known she’d make the trip back home some time—just not yet. She wasn’t ready. Even now. And Aunt Babs had understood. She really had.

But now it was too late.

Kate leant against the metal bar of the upper ferry deck and looked out to sea. An immense grey vastness stretching out before her. It put everything into perspective somehow. Made all her bitter angst seem rather unimportant and petty. She should have made time.

Aunt Babs had given her a home. She’d taken an awkward, angry little ten-year-old into her house and loved her as though she’d been her own. A foster mum in a million. Kate knew she’d deserved more from her than the weekly phone call and the occasional trip to London. It was just one more regret to add to the pile she was accumulating in her life.

It must be almost six years since she’d made this trip. She’d not meant to stay away so long. Six years! So much had changed in that time. She had changed. She was barely recognisable from that twenty-two-year-old Katie. She’d passed through Katie, Kay and Katherine before becoming Kate. Reinvented. Kate Simmonds. Poised. Elegant. In control of her life.

If only that were true. Inside she still lived with the same cankerous uncertainties and a desperate desire to belong. Still carried the scars of rejection. And now, of course, there was something more. Something even deeper. A more recent pain that seared like a branding iron. She pushed her hands deep in the pockets of her long black coat and turned away from the overwhelming greyness of the March sky.

Just a handful of tourists had ventured outside to eagerly watch the Isle of Wight appear in the distance. They stood clustered together under a canopy of clashing umbrellas. Dimly she was aware of a questioning glance directed at her, then a half-smile as though the elderly lady in the red anorak thought she might know her.

Kate looked away. She didn’t. It was an illusion—like so much of her life. She didn’t want the inane conversation she knew would follow. She wanted to be left alone with her thoughts, however painful.

Abruptly Kate turned and walked back across the deck, pulling open the heavy metal door. The high heels on her suede boots made the steep steps down difficult and her black coat spread out behind her like a flowing cape.

Below, the passenger lounge smelt of chips and stale cigarettes but it was good to be out of the bitter wind. Kate shook out her hair and unwound her long burnt-orange scarf before joining the crocodile of people waiting in line for something to drink.

‘If you want coffee you’re in the wrong queue.’

Her head whipped up at the sound of a male voice and she stared up into the face of Gideon…Manser.

His name fell effortlessly into place. She remembered him perfectly. His intense blue eyes and angular features. The small indentation in the centre of his chin. A man with more sex appeal than the average movie star. And the object of her unrequited teenage fantasies.

‘The machine’s broken down this side,’ he said calmly, a faint smile pulling lines in his strong cheeks.

Gideon Manser.

Instinctively her hand went to her hair; she was uncomfortably aware it hung damp and limp about her face. She’d have known him anywhere. He hadn’t altered at all. Or perhaps he had a little. He was slightly thinner. Tired-looking. Slightly worn at the edges. But he was still sexy. Very sexy indeed.

‘Thank you,’ she managed.

She could remember, all too clearly, what a complete and utter fool she’d made of herself when he’d first arrived on the island. At seventeen she’d thought he was the most gorgeous thing to have ever walked the planet—and she couldn’t have made it much plainer.

He was older than her. Much older. A top London chef who’d lived in France and Italy. He’d had all the glamour and sophistication her young heart had craved. Just thinking about how she’d behaved made her long to curl up in a ball and howl with humiliation.

Strangely he didn’t seem so old to her now. With the magic of adulthood she seemed to have caught him up. Kate straightened her shoulders. ‘It’s Gideon, isn’t it?’ Kate hesitated. ‘Gideon Manser? Do you remember me? I’m Kate. Kate Simmonds? Well, I was always called Katie. You perhaps don’t remember me. I—’

Shut up. Just shut up. Stop babbling on, she thought desperately. It would be better if he didn’t remember her.

She bit down on her lip. He probably wouldn’t remember. Why should he? He hadn’t been interested in her. They must have laughed at her—him and Laura. Or felt sorry for her—which would be worse.

‘Of course I remember you,’ he said, stretching out his hand.

Hell! She felt a flush mottle her neck as she stretched out her own hand.

‘It would be difficult not to.’ He smiled and his fingers wrapped around hers. ‘Babs has…had,’ he corrected swiftly, ‘photographs of you everywhere and Debbie made sure everyone knew you were on the television now. Half the island is fascinated by your reports from the States each week. You’re a celebrity. A local girl made good.’

Kate looked down at her boots. ‘Oh, right.’ She should have guessed she’d be a minor celebrity on the Isle of Wight. Debbie had just loved it when she’d landed the job as LA correspondent and started making weekly television reports. Couldn’t hear enough of who was doing what and with whom.

And Aunt Babs had just been proud. The thought speared her with guilt. She should have come back to the island before now. It would have meant so much to the woman who’d changed her life so dramatically.

Gideon looked across at the other queue. ‘We’d better get in line or there won’t be time to have a coffee.’

‘I suppose not.’

She felt her stomach twist in a nervous flutter. Gideon Manser. Why did he have this effect on her still? She was twenty-eight years old, for heaven’s sake. Her world was peopled with sexy men. She’d interviewed most of them. He wasn’t anything special.

And yet…

She fiddled with the strap of her handbag. It was probably the place. It brought back memories she hadn’t thought of in years. Rocked her off balance. Or maybe Gideon was just a symbol of what she couldn’t have. Something else she couldn’t have, she amended silently.

She looked back at him. His jacket collar was pulled up against the cold, his jeans were dark and his hands were…well, they were beautiful.

He reached across for the tray. ‘Debbie said you’d be coming home for the funeral.’

‘Y-yes.’

‘Was it difficult to get away?’ Kate reached across for a tray of her own but he stopped her. ‘Don’t bother. I’ll get these.’

‘You don’t have to. I—’ She broke off and let her hand fall back. ‘Thank you.’

‘So—’ he turned to smile at her ‘—was it difficult?’

His smile was like a gateway to a time tunnel. She felt as if she was shooting back through the years at the speed of light. So many memories flashing by. The kind that came up to bite you when you were least expecting it.

At seventeen she’d fantasized about what it would be like to kiss him. At night she’d closed her eyes and pretended he was her pillow and imagined his voice telling her how much he loved her. She pulled her gaze away from his lips, embarrassed.

She’d been an idiot. It wasn’t surprising a man of twenty-six hadn’t been interested in an adolescent seventeen.

‘Did you find it difficult to get away for the funeral? Debbie thought you might be too busy. Not be able to make it.’

Kate stuffed her hands down into the depths of her coat pockets. ‘Oh, no.’

‘No?’ he repeated.

He seemed to be watching her critically. Probably wondering why she couldn’t have visited Aunt Babs and Debbie more often if it were so simple.

On the surface she’d just packed her bags and left without a backward glance. Only a few very special people knew why. And they wouldn’t have told a soul.

‘How long are you staying for?’ he asked.

‘Until Wednesday. Not long. I’ve got to get back to London…’ The line moved forward and Kate reached for a china cup. It was good to have something sensible to do with her hands. She rested it on the metal grid and pushed the ‘coffee white decaf’ button.

‘Not going back to the States immediately, then?’

‘No.’ She put the cup down on a saucer and made an effort to relax. ‘And how are you?’ She watched his strong hands go through the same procedure as she’d done.

‘Good.’ He hesitated. ‘You heard about Laura, I suppose?’

Her stomach did a somersault as the floor appeared to disappear beneath her feet. Damn it! She had heard.

With crushing clarity she remembered Debbie’s tearful phone call. The shock of hearing that Laura was dead. How could she have been so thoughtless? ‘Yes, I—’

‘She died.’

‘Y-yes, I know. I’m so sorry.’ She pulled her hand through her hair. ‘I meant to write at the time but…’ She trailed off weakly.

But…she’d been busy with her own trauma. Her own grief had been so intense when Richard left that she’d struggled to believe anyone could be hurting as much as she was. She’d had no compassion left for anyone but herself.

Not even Debbie, who’d been distraught at having lost her friend. With a pang she realised she’d scarcely given Gideon a thought.

She looked up at his face. His pain was there. Etched on his face. In his eyes. And there was nothing she could really say to help him. How did you even begin to say something sensible to a man who’d lost the wife he’d loved?

His smile was tight. Forced. ‘Two years ago. Not long after Tilly was born.’

‘I know. I’d just gone to LA. Debbie rang me…’ Thankfully the queue moved on again. ‘I’m sorry. I—’

‘Do you want a muffin?’ He cut her off. ‘Or perhaps some chocolate? You’re usually safer in these places if it’s wrapped.’

Kate looked up. One moment death, the next muffins. It was strange how people did that. Moved in and out of grief. It was as though they couldn’t bear to think about it for too long. Just touched it and then had to turn away before the pain became too great.

‘Nothing. Thanks.’

He reached out for some biscuits. ‘I missed breakfast. It was an early start,’ he said by way of explanation.

Kate nodded. The queue moved on again and they reached the till point.

Laura Bannerman had had everything: two parents who loved her, a beautiful home, her own pony, blonde hair, no acne—and Gideon.

It was difficult to think of her as dead. Horrible now to think how much she’d hated her. Well, envied was a more accurate description. She hadn’t hated her. Her life had seemed enchanted, that was all, and if she could have waved a magic wand and changed places with Laura she would have.

But not now. Poor Laura was dead and Gideon a widower. No one could have foreseen that coming. She would have liked to ask what she’d died of but knew she couldn’t.

He picked up the tray. ‘Do you mind where we sit?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Smoking—’

‘Non-smoking,’ she cut in quickly. ‘Gave up last year. One year, nine months, fourteen days and counting.’

‘Congratulations.’

‘Thank you.’

Did he remember about that? She’d started smoking that summer in a desperate, foolish attempt to look older. Who knew why she’d thought he’d be impressed? It hadn’t worked but she’d started a difficult habit to break.

Gideon carried the tray across to a table by one of the windows. Two long bench seats were either side. ‘Will this do?’

‘It’s fine.’ Kate unbuttoned her coat and sat down.

‘Are you staying with Debbie?’

‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Ah.’ He unwrapped his biscuit before snapping it in half. ‘Are you sure you don’t want some?’

‘I don’t eat biscuits.’

‘Ever?’

‘Empty calories,’ she said, picking up her cup. ‘It’s all about discipline.’

Gideon frowned. Discipline. It didn’t surprise him she should say something like that. Discipline was probably the mantra by which she lived her life.

Not many people managed the breakthrough into television from radio. It took determination and a single-minded, focused kind of commitment. The kind that made one careless about the feelings of others.

A shadow passed across his face. He knew all about that kind of ambition. The human cost of it…

What was the point of Kate Simmonds coming back to the island now? When Babs was dead? It was too late. She’d been too busy when it had mattered to visit the people who loved her.

Just as he’d been too busy to notice how ill Laura had become.

‘No chocolate? That’s quite a sacrifice,’ he said, looking back at Kate. Had she really not noticed how much Babs and Debbie had wanted her to visit? It seemed unbelievable.

He studied her. She was going to make quite a stir on the island. Her clothes were expensive, her hair obviously cut by an expert, her make-up impeccable and her nails acrylic. Still had the same brown eyes though. The ones that looked out at everything and everyone with such pain and made you feel as if you were kicking a puppy.

‘Hanging out with Hollywood’s “beautiful people” is enough to give anyone neurosis about their weight.’ Kate shrugged and sipped the bitter liquid before pulling a face at her coffee. ‘That’s disgusting! Like drinking tar.’

He smiled. ‘It’s the worst coffee on the planet. Had you forgotten? You’ve been away too long.’

Kate’s face relaxed and her eyes lost some of their tension. She put the cup back down on the tray. ‘Do you still own the Quay Inn?’

‘Yes. We’re in the Michelin Guide with one star. We’ve had that for a few years now and we’re hoping for a second.’

Hoping. That was a lie if ever there was one. He was working every hour God sent to make it happen—and shunting his girls all over the place. Babs had told him it was ‘short-term pain for long term gain’ but was it really worth it? He rubbed a tired hand across the back of his neck.

‘That’s fantastic.’

‘Yes.’ He looked down at the table. It was fantastic. It was his lifetime ambition. Their ambition. His and Laura’s. But without her it didn’t seem worth having. ‘Laura and I always hoped…It seemed important at the time. But…well…’

Kate looked away, suddenly feeling as if she was stepping on eggshells. She could feel his sadness radiating from him. How pointless it all was. She knew he would trade it all, all his success, if he could just have his wife back. She understood something of how that felt.

The silence stretched on. ‘How old are your children now?’ she asked in a rush. As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she could take them back. She knew, almost to the day, how old his eldest child was.

‘Jemima is five.’

Laura had been pregnant on her last visit to the island. Glowing with excitement. It had hurt.

‘And Matilda is three,’ he said quietly. ‘Just three.’

Kate watched him bow his head as though the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. A strange phrase that. Whenever she heard it she wondered what it actually meant—but looking at Gideon she knew exactly.

And then he picked up his coffee and drank without flinching. For a man who could taste the most intricate food combination with complete precision that was quite a feat.

‘They’re pretty names.’

‘Laura…’ His voice broke. ‘Laura picked them. I was going to choose the boys’. We’d hoped to have more children. Maybe another couple.’ He shrugged and Kate could feel his desperation to return to normal. Heard the steadying breath he took. ‘But it wasn’t to be. You haven’t got any? Children?’ he clarified when she didn’t immediately answer.

Kate almost flinched. It was a reasonable question. In time, no doubt, she’d get used to people asking it. ‘No. No children.’

She could have added she would never have children. Couldn’t. But it was impossible to formulate those words. It was as though it would become more real if she said it out loud. Make it true. Which was illogical because you couldn’t change a medical fact. She would never have children.

‘No time, I suppose. With your career.’

She gave a swift smile. One she knew didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It certainly keeps me out of mischief.’

‘A significant other?’

‘Not so you’d notice,’ she answered quickly with a furtive glance out of the window. Not any more.

This couldn’t go on much longer. With every moment the island was drawing closer. It was too uncomfortable meeting Gideon again. ‘Too busy working to have a relationship,’ she lied.

Gideon sat back on the bench. ‘You got your dream. It must be very exciting.’

Exciting? She wanted to laugh. You could describe it like that, she supposed, if you ignored all the endless waiting around to interview someone who didn’t much want to be interviewed. The sickening feeling when they only answered you in monosyllables and you knew you had to make something interesting out of it. Of course there were moments. Exciting moments.

Kate let her forefinger play with the edge of her saucer. But they didn’t fill the void she felt in her life. There was no way to explain how she felt about doing yet another interview with yet another ‘star’ promoting yet another film. In the greater scheme of things it just didn’t matter. Somewhere along the line it had lost its glamour. And all the time she had a different dream. Another dream. One that could never come true.

‘I’ve been very lucky,’ she compromised.

Gideon’s mouth twisted into the half-smile she remembered. Hell, it was sexy. The effect was like a light bulb going on.

‘Luck takes work. No one knows that better than I do. The Quay Inn isn’t a success by chance. I put in long hours to make it happen. Sacrificed a lot.’

‘Sometimes I think there’s an element of fate about it though. Just being in the right place at the right time. Most of my opportunities have come about by chance.’ She looked out of the window again, glad to see how close they were to land. Not much further and she could escape.

‘It helps if chance is on your side,’ he replied, breaking off as a lady in a red anorak approached them, her eyes on Kate. ‘Can I help?’

She waited until Kate looked up before saying hesitantly, ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but are you the lady from the television? The one who does the weather?’

The expression on Gideon’s face almost made Kate laugh but she answered with a calm smile, grateful for the interruption. ‘Entertainment news. That’s my slot. Hollywood gossip.’

In the two weeks she’d been back in London she’d almost got used to this kind of thing happening. In LA she’d passed completely unobserved.

The woman turned round to nod triumphantly at her friend, who was hovering uncertainly by the evacuation notice. Then she turned back to rummage in her anorak pocket, pulling out a notebook and pen.

‘Would you mind signing this? I said to Yvonne—she’s the lady in the brown coat—over there.’ She pointed. ‘With the glasses. I said to Yvonne when we were on the ferry deck that I recognised you. I always watch your bit. We both do. She said she didn’t think it was you. But I’m very good with faces.’

Kate suppressed the bubble of laughter building inside her as she flicked over the shopping list on the top page. ‘Of course I’ll sign it.’ Out of the corner of her eye she could see Gideon watching in apparent disbelief. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Cynthia.’ Her chest puffed out in gratification as she saw Kate begin to write her name. ‘Cynthia Puttock. Mrs Cynthia Puttock.’

Kate handed the notebook back with a wide smile. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Cynthia.’

Cynthia looked at the autograph with immense satisfaction. ‘Would you mind…’ she began as a new thought occurred to her. ‘Would you mind if I had my picture taken with you? My husband isn’t going to believe I met you.’

She didn’t wait for Kate to reply before she was waving over her shoulder at her friend, ignoring the tannoy which was asking for all drivers to return to their cars.

‘It won’t take a moment. Yvonne, would you—?’ She broke off and turned impulsively towards Gideon. ‘Would you take the picture? Yvonne, you stand there.’

Kate decided to give in with good grace. She flicked her hair back off her face and stood up, placing herself between the two women. It was as close to being a celebrity as she was going to get. As close as she wanted to get. It made her feel uncomfortable.

She watched as Gideon was given a rudimentary introduction to the stranger’s camera.

‘There,’ he said, moments later. ‘I hope I’ve got you a photo.’

‘Thank you very much. I—’

The tannoy cut off their gratitude. ‘We’d better go down to the cars,’ Kate said apologetically. ‘It’s very nice to have met you both.’

Gideon’s hand moved to fit into the small of her back and he guided her towards the yellow exit. ‘Does that happen often?’ he asked quietly.

‘Only since I’ve been back in the UK.’ Her face broke into a genuine smile as real laughter bubbled up. ‘But don’t worry, I’m not letting it go to my head. How can I? I’m on the page after carrots and potatoes and she thought I was the weather girl! Nice to know I’m memorable.’

He laughed and Kate turned to look at him. He looked much younger when he laughed. Handsome. She hadn’t thought about him for years and yet, seeing him again, it was as though she were seventeen again. She was completely aware of his hand resting in the small of her back. He was hardly touching her and yet…

She moved away, her smile dying on her face. ‘We’d better get back to the cars. It was nice to see you again.’

‘And you.’

‘After such a long time.’ Kate reached into her bag for her car keys. ‘Oh, and thank you for the coffee.’

‘It was a pleasure,’ he said, pulling open the door down to the car deck.

Kate held her long coat off the steps as she walked down in front of him. At the bottom she turned back to him. ‘Well, goodbye. I’m glad we bumped into each other.’

‘I wouldn’t worry too much about goodbye,’ he said, holding the door open for the couple behind. ‘We’re bound to meet again.’

‘A-are we?’ Kate asked, suddenly feeling foolish.

‘Inevitably. Debbie’s looking after my girls today.’ He broke off as someone loudly tooted their car horn. ‘We’d better hurry and get to our cars. People are getting irritated.’

Kate turned obediently and cut through towards her little green MG.

‘Nice car,’ she heard Gideon say, and felt vaguely pleased. Though why it should matter that he liked her car she didn’t know. She forced herself not to look back at him but climbed elegantly into her low-slung car.

Meeting Gideon again had been a bizarre experience. Unexpected. Though there was no reason why he shouldn’t be on the car ferry. Lots of locals popped back and forth to the mainland. It was just she’d been stealing herself for the funeral. She hadn’t expected to meet anyone yet.

She waited while the heavy doors of the ferry opened, watching as the line next to her was sent out first. How could she have been so stupid not to remember about Laura the minute she’d recognised him?

She leant forward and rested her head on the steering wheel, closing her eyes in mortification. It seemed it was her destiny to act like an idiot when she was around him. Maybe some things never changed, however many years passed.

She started the engine and put it in gear. His face had looked so bleak. But then what did she expect? His wife had died. It didn’t get much worse than that.

Certainly she’d nothing to complain about in comparison. Not even Richard’s leaving could really compare to Gideon’s loss. Kate’s hands gripped on the steering wheel as a wave of sadness washed over her. It was never far away. Always lapping at the edge of her consciousness. Making her feel dissatisfied—and angry.

At least Gideon had his children. She would never have that. Never have a family of her own. Never have anyone really love her…

Kate let her car roll forward as the van in front started to move off. And now she had to face Debbie.

There was the bump where the ramp joined land—and she was back on the island. Back where people would look at her and remember she’d been a foster girl. Unwanted. An object of pity. The one with head lice.

Or she had been until Aunt Babs had declared war on them. A bitter battle which had involved her spending hours with her head over the bath, a fine tooth comb scraping over her scalp. Kate smiled grimly and took the road that led towards Newport, scarcely aware of the rain falling heavily on her wind-screen.

If it were Debbie in London, staying in her flat for the weekend, it would have been completely different. It would have been fun. Then they’d have been squabbling over whether to have Indian or Chinese and whether the best shops were in Covent Garden or Oxford Street. Sisters. Almost.

But Debbie on the Isle of Wight was another thing altogether. Here she lived the life Kate wanted and could never have. Here it was like looking into a mirror and seeing an alternative universe, one she wasn’t eligible to enter. The poor child, standing barefoot in the snow, looking through a frosted window at a family opening presents in front of the fire. Still the outsider looking in.

And it hurt. Still hurt.

Debbie had a husband who loved her. Two children. Both boys. Callum and Daniel.

Kate’s heart twisted inside her—as it always did when she thought of how cruel fate had been to her. All she wanted was the simple things in life and yet they’d always eluded her.

She lowered the gear to negotiate a tight bend. She was being selfish. Debbie had lost her mother and was hurting. This wasn’t the time to feel envy.

Because it was envy. Kate recognised it but felt powerless to do anything about it, even though she knew it twisted and distorted her life.

Six years since she’d done this journey and yet she remembered it perfectly. She knew the ancient oak tree that stood proudly on the corner just before she had to turn left and the old pub on the corner. It was all achingly familiar. Round the next bend was the hotel where they played croquet on a summer afternoon.

And if she could have turned away and run she would have. It hurt. Just being here hurt. Knowing that in a few short minutes she’d be sitting in Debbie’s house drinking tea and hearing her children playing somewhere in the house would hurt. Desperately.

She wouldn’t take anything away from Debbie. She loved her. It was just she wanted a little of her happiness. She wanted to know what it was like to hold a newborn baby, to feel its soft little body curved into hers and know she was a mother.

Kate took the car past the hotel and on towards Debbie’s house. Every day there was this intense pain, a huge sense of loss. A column of ice running the length of her body. It didn’t matter that she’d managed to break into a career other people envied, or that she’d bought herself a great flat in Highgate, drove a trendy car. She knew she was a failure. Deep down.

She’d known it when Richard had walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him. He wanted children. Non-negotiable. And if he couldn’t have them with her he was going to have them with someone else.

He’d loved her. Of course he’d loved her. He’d told her. Just not enough.

Not enough. His words echoed in her head.

Over two years ago. The fifteenth of January. On a Sunday. From that day on she’d known it wasn’t just children she’d never be able to have. It was a normal life. The one thing she’d craved since her step-dad had put her in care.

She hadn’t been enough for Richard. She wasn’t enough on her own—and he’d left. Left her incomplete and hurting.

Two months before she had left for Los Angeles. The opportunity of a lifetime—and one she’d needed to survive. And she had survived.

As had Gideon.

Kate slipped into second gear and rounded the final bend. There was no turning back now. She was here to say goodbye to Aunt Babs. Goodbye and thank you.

CHAPTER TWO

GIDEON decided to wait before collecting his children. Give Debbie time to see Kate before he arrived.

He drove straight past her neat nineteen-fifties semi and down towards the coast. Debbie had been so anxious about whether Kate would be able to make it. He didn’t want to intrude. It was bad enough he hadn’t got any choice but to accept her help with Tilly and Jemima. It was too much for her.

The seafront car park was completely deserted, which was hardly surprising this early in the year. The rain had started to fall in fat, heavy drops, which meant the walk along the pebble beach he’d have liked to clear his head wasn’t really possible.

Instead he switched on the radio and watched the wind catch at the waves. The sea was a fair way out now, but at high tide it would be quite spectacular. Primal. This was just the best place on earth. He couldn’t imagine living away from here. All those years he’d spent in cities. People crammed together, rushing around with no time for each other. Look at Kate Simmonds. Somewhere along the line she’d forgotten what was important.

His mind dwelt for a moment on the woman he’d met on the ferry. Possibly she was what he’d expected. She was as carefully turned out as she was on the television, except perhaps her hair was less well groomed. He smiled. On television it fell in a smooth, swinging bob. On balance he preferred it windswept and blown around her face. Made her seem more approachable. More real.

His fingers reached out to re-tune the radio away from the high-pitched woman who was screeching about needing nothing but love. Not much chance of that if she yelled all the time. He flicked through the pre-set channels before settling on the classical one and then laid his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.

On television Kate seemed commanding and playful. The personification of glossy, successful living. The flesh and blood woman was more confused. Vulnerable. That was the word. Katie Simmonds had always been vulnerable.

And beautiful.

He didn’t quite know where that thought had come from, but she was beautiful. She had a restful, intelligent face. One that came alive because of her eyes.

He remembered her eyes. How they could laugh while the rest of her face was impassive. And how they’d followed him around, devoted. It had been quite unnerving being the object of a teenage crush. He smiled as he wondered whether she remembered.

It certainly wouldn’t happen now. Life had moved on for the cosmopolitan Kate Simmonds. She wouldn’t give a man like him the time of day. Preoccupied, exhausted and old beyond his years. What was there about him that would interest her in the slightest? God knew why that should bother him, but it did.

Kate felt sick. It was as though she’d been punched hard in the stomach and was left reeling on the floor.

Debbie was pregnant.

Very pregnant.

She lifted her hand and waved at Debbie, who was standing in the doorway, before reaching down into the foot-well for her handbag. It was a chance to hide her face for a second. Give her a moment to school her features into delight.

Why hadn’t Debbie warned her? Told her she was expecting a baby, so she could prepare herself?

But she knew why.

Debbie wouldn’t have known how to find the words. Not when she knew how much Kate’s infertility still hurt her. She brushed a hand over her face and opened the door, pulling her collar up against the rain.

‘You’d better make a run for it,’ Debbie called into the wind, one hand cradled protectively over her stomach. ‘It doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop any time soon.’

Kate slammed the door shut and scurried into the house. ‘This is vicious weather.’

‘You’d better give me your coat. I’ll hang it in the utility room to dry,’ Debbie offered practically. She waited while Kate unbuttoned it and handed it over before she said, ‘We’ll bring in your case later.’

‘I don’t know…Debs, I…’ Kate began awkwardly, her eyes drifting to Debbie’s distended stomach. ‘I think I might be better off staying at your mum’s. I don’t want to get in the way. I—’

Debbie smiled tearfully and then nodded. ‘I know, Kate. I do understand. Particularly with me like this.’ She turned and walked through the kitchen to the utility room.

Kate followed her as far as the kitchen and stood with her back against the melamine worktop. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she do this? She’d known since she was twenty-two that she couldn’t have children. It wasn’t a new discovery.

‘I thought you’d say that,’ Debbie said, coming back into the room. ‘I put fresh sheets over there yesterday afternoon. I just hoped you might be able to.’

Guilt washed over her. ‘You know I’m really pleased for you. It’s just—’

‘Difficult for you,’ Debbie finished for her.

Kate tried to smile but it didn’t quite work. The corners of her mouth lifted but her breath caught in her throat in a painful lump. Difficult didn’t even begin to describe how painful she found being around pregnant women and babies.

She’d had six years to become accustomed to the knowledge she’d never have children. Six years since a ruptured appendix had changed her life.

Every moment of that time was ingrained in her mind. She could see Aunt Babs, her round face concerned and supportive, sitting by her bed, and hear Dr Balliol’s clipped accent as he told her there’d been only limited damage to one fallopian tube. In itself it wouldn’t have been catastrophic. But…

It was the ‘but’ that had taken away any hope she might have had. The operation had revealed that her ovaries hadn’t formed properly. A ‘genetic abnormality’. She would never have children.

Never.

At twenty-two she hadn’t even realised she wanted children, but the word never was a for ever type of word. It meant for all time. It was beyond her control. It was until the day she died. She would never have a baby.

Kate looked up and met Debbie’s grey eyes. Their gentle expression told Kate that she remembered too. The memory of that time was never very far away—for either of them. Debbie had been thirteen weeks pregnant. The contrast in destiny between the two of them couldn’t have been more marked.

Debbie’s hand lay protectively over her tummy. ‘It doesn’t matter, Kate.’

‘It does. I wish…’ She trailed off, uncertain what she actually did wish. That things were different? That she wasn’t here? That she were stronger and able to accept the things she couldn’t change?

Kate hated herself for not being stronger. She could see the exhaustion in Debbie’s face. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears were obviously not far from the surface. If there’d ever been a time when she could have paid something back to Debbie for her good-natured acceptance of her into her childhood home, this was it. But…

As though she knew what she’d been thinking, Debbie broke into her thoughts. ‘I’m just so glad you’re here. I’ve been half expecting you to telephone to say you wouldn’t be able to make it and I don’t think I can do this by myself. I miss Mum so much. I keep thinking about how she won’t see my baby now.’

Her round face crumpled and Kate forgot herself and reached for her. She wasn’t even aware of the baby bump between them.

‘It’s due in another six weeks. Not long. If she’d just managed to wait…’

‘I’m sorry, Debs. I really am,’ Kate murmured, stroking her hair. For a few minutes she held her, letting her cry softly into her shoulder.

‘I shouldn’t be doing this to you,’ Debbie said, pulling away and blowing her nose in a tissue. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do this as soon as you arrived. But I’m just so pleased to see you. I really need you to be here.’

Kate reached out and laid her hand on Debbie’s swollen abdomen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked softly. ‘About the baby?’

‘I didn’t know how to. Do you mind very much?’

Beneath Kate’s hand she felt a hard kick. She looked up to see Debbie pull a face. ‘Did that hurt?’

‘Not hurt exactly—but it’s not the most comfortable experience. Put that together with the heartburn and swollen ankles; the whole thing’s just perfect.’

Kate laughed as she was meant to. To her ears it sounded dutiful but it seemed to satisfy Debbie. ‘You should have told me,’ she said, pulling her hand away and turning at the sound of the back door opening.

‘That’ll be Gideon,’ Debbie said quickly.

‘Is anyone home?’

Debbie reached across to pull a tissue out of a box on the table and blew her nose fiercely. ‘I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of hours,’ she called out. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry back without getting everything you needed done.’

‘All finished.’ He smiled across at Kate as she pushed back against the worktop.

‘This is Kate. Do you remember her from—?’

Kate cut in quickly, unaccountably embarrassed. ‘We met on the ferry.’

‘Oh. That was nice. I wasn’t sure you’d remember each other,’ Debbie said, as she tucked the tissue up her sleeve. ‘Kate’s not been back to the island much since she left for university. Hardly at all since she started work.’

‘No, she hasn’t.’

There was a slight edge to his voice that forced Kate to look up at him.

His eyes held a critical expression. But fleetingly so. No sooner had she recognised it than it was gone.

Debbie peered out of the back window. ‘Is it still raining out there? Give me your coat, Gideon. It might dry off a bit before you have to leave.’

Gideon shrugged out of his wet jacket but kept hold of it. ‘You sit down. I’ll put it in the utility room.’

Debbie sank down into a seat. ‘I don’t know what the matter is with me today. My ankles have puffed up and I feel so tired.’

‘Take it easy now, then,’ Gideon said, emerging from the small back room Debbie used as a laundry room. ‘How have the girls been?’

‘Just fine, but I’m afraid Tilly’s fallen asleep. Nursery just wore her out today. And Jemima’s got a letter from school about an Easter pageant, but she’ll show you that.’

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ he asked, turning towards the kettle.

‘That would be lovely.’

Kate watched, feeling like a spare part in what was obviously an old friendship. ‘How long have you looked after Gideon’s girls?’ she asked, taking the seat opposite Debbie’s.

Gideon cut in. ‘She’s helping me out for a few days.’

Kate swivelled round to look at him. His face was turned away as filled the kettle.

‘I’m not doing much,’ Debbie said. ‘Just picking them up from school and nursery, then hanging on to them until Gideon collects them. I’m Mum’s stand-in.’

Debbie rubbed her stomach gently. ‘Mum said she’d look after the girls until Gideon’s had a chance to find a good replacement for Ingrid. Emily helps too, of course. Rachel Boyle when she gets the chance.’

Gideon opened one of the top cupboards and pulled down the box of teabags. ‘Ingrid was our nanny.’

‘One day she was there and the next she was gone,’ Debbie said, bristling with indignation. ‘Very irresponsible to behave like that when you work with children.’

‘She’s a city girl and found island life a bit claustrophobic. It’s not for everyone, living here. I shouldn’t have hired her.’ Gideon glanced across at Kate. ‘She wanted more nightlife than can be found in Newport and my hours didn’t help.’

‘She knew them when she took the job. It makes me cross.’

It felt strange listening to Gideon and Debbie talking together. In her mind she’d kept everything on the Isle of Wight frozen in time, everything just as it always had been. But things had changed. Friendships had been forged by circumstances she hadn’t been a part of. Kate was suddenly aware of a wave of homesickness.

Gideon smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘Babs stepped in to help.’

‘You know Mum…’ Debbie tailed off and Kate pushed the box of tissues across the table towards her. Yes, she knew Aunt Babs. She’d never been able to stand by and watch other people struggle when she could do something to help them. Debbie was the same. They were special people.

Debbie smiled a watery smile across the table and took a tissue. ‘Thanks. I’m such a mess. I can’t seem to stop crying.’

Kate looked at her mottled face and red-rimmed eyes and felt guilty. She hadn’t cried yet. Inside her heart was a dull ache, but she hadn’t been able to shed a single tear for the woman who’d been so pivotal in her life. Without Aunt Babs she’d have had a very different future.

‘It’s hardly surprising,’ she said awkwardly.

Gideon brought three mugs of tea across to the table as a small tornado burst into the room shouting, ‘Daddy! Daddy, you’re back!’

Kate felt as though the room had frozen around her. Just for a moment.

This was Gideon and Laura’s child.

Jemima.

The baby Laura had been carrying when Kate had first discovered she’d never have children of her own. It had hurt so much to look at the pregnant Laura then. The woman who had everything she’d ever wanted.

That was the last time she’d visited the island. As soon as she’d recovered from her operation, she’d left. Money from Aunt Babs in her pocket and a postgraduate certificate in radio journalism in her hand, she’d turned her face resolutely away from her past and concentrated on the future.

For a time it had been enough.

Gideon pushed back his chair to receive his daughter into his arms. Jemima looked older than her five years, Kate thought, but what did she know about children? Her hair was a sandy brown, much darker than Laura’s had been, but her face was the same perfect oval. Beautiful. Her arms flew up to hug her father and Kate felt her heart contract.

There was something so unconditional in the love of a child for a parent. She’d even been like that herself. She’d forgiven her mother for almost anything, grateful for a careless kind word. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have a warm little figure clinging to you for love and comfort. It must be the most magical feeling.

Across the kitchen table she caught Debbie’s eyes and knew she understood. She’d always understood. Like her mother. Kate tried to smile but it slipped slightly.

‘This is Jemima,’ Gideon said, turning the little girl to face Kate. His strong hands rested on her waist, dark against the pale lilac of her jumper. ‘And somewhere around there’s Matilda.’

‘She’s asleep on Auntie Debbie’s bed,’ Jemima said.

‘This is Kate Simmonds. She’s Auntie Debbie’s sister.’

Kate started at hearing herself described like that. She’d never felt like a sister and yet that was how Debbie always treated her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be, it was just that she couldn’t quite accept that she really belonged. That they could really want her.

Jemima looked steadily across the table at her and then smiled. ‘I’m five.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Kate replied a little awkwardly. Why couldn’t she do this? After all this time? Somehow in the presence of children she just froze.

‘Tilly is three. She’s my sister. Did you know my mummy’s dead?’

Kate looked helplessly up at Gideon, wondering what she should answer. She’d no experience with this kind of thing. None at all. She avoided contact with children wherever possible. There was no point making herself feel worse about everything.

His face was a blank and Kate turned back to the little girl, who was evidently expecting some kind of reply. ‘I know,’ she said again, feeling very foolish. And then, ‘So’s mine.’

‘When did she die?’

Kate looked at the almond-shaped eyes of the little girl and saw in them a real interest. Strange. She’d never before thought that inside a child was a person. Perfectly formed and entirely there. The panic inside her started to recede. She could talk to a person. ‘When I was eight.’

‘I was three,’ Jemima said, almost proudly. ‘She was very sick.’

‘Yes,’ Kate agreed, looking helplessly up at Gideon.

He pulled Jemima towards him and lightly kissed the top of her head. ‘Why don’t you go and get me your book bag? Auntie Debbie says you’ve got a letter for me.’

Jemima nodded. ‘I’ve got to make an Easter basket.’ She ran out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

‘She’s lovely,’ Kate said awkwardly.

Gideon smiled. ‘She’s a good girl.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not very used to children,’ she said, feeling she had to say something to explain her awkwardness.

‘You did fine,’ Debbie said reassuringly. She turned towards Gideon. ‘Kate lives a completely different life from us. She’s not a children person. You should see her flat. It’s all cream and taupe. Can you just imagine the mess my two would make of it all in no time?’

Gideon leant back in his chair, his legs outstretched under the table. ‘Where do you live? Are you based permanently in the States now?’

‘LA was a two-year commitment. I live in Highgate,’ Kate answered. ‘North London.’

He nodded as though he knew it. ‘Do you like living in London?’

Kate thought about it. No one ever asked her that. They always assumed she did. How could you not love living in a great city, with fantastic theatres and wonderful restaurants?

But did she like it? She wasn’t sure any more. She’d been so looking forward to coming back home—to her flat, to see her friends. But when she’d got there it hadn’t felt like home. It had just been a flat. Many of her friends had moved on in the two years she’d been away. Had downshifted and taken themselves off to the countryside.

Richard had married.

Surprisingly that hadn’t hurt as much as she’d thought it would. It had felt like closure. She looked up and caught Gideon watching her curiously. ‘When I get a parking space near my house I do.’

‘And do you miss LA?’

‘You must miss LA,’ Debbie cut in. ‘Can you imagine anything more exciting than to live in LA? Did you know she interviewed Brad Pitt?’

Kate played with a knot mark on the pine tabletop. She understood what Debbie was doing. She was even grateful for it. She was to be cast as a career woman. The woman with drive and vision who didn’t have time for a home and family. It was how she tried to present herself. It made life easier.

Debbie heaved herself out of the end seat. ‘How about I get the children something to eat? It’s nearly five. They must be hungry,’ she said, turning to Gideon.

‘That would be great. Then I can just rush them through the shower when we get home and put them to bed. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me this evening.’

‘It’s not going to be fancy, but I’ve got some nice bread from the corner shop, cheese and things.’

Kate drained the last of her drink and pushed the empty mug towards the centre of the table. ‘Is there anything you’d like me to do?’ she asked.

Gideon had already taken some lettuce from Debbie’s fridge and begun to rinse it through under the tap. Completely unpretentious for a world-famous chef. He seemed so completely at home. Far more comfortable than she was in Debbie’s home.

Debbie reached up for a cerise plastic salad bowl. ‘There’s some cucumber in the bottom of the fridge, I think, Gideon. Chop that up and pop it in the salad. Kate, do you want to slice the bread?’ She paused and listened to a sudden shout. ‘I’m needed, I think. Daniel’s at that awful stage where he just won’t share.’

She turned and walked out of the room. Alone with Gideon, Kate felt nervous. Illogically so, she reminded herself. The tension was only in her head.

‘The bread’s in the bread bin,’ Gideon remarked.

Kate stood up hurriedly. ‘Does Debbie have a board to cut it on?’

‘By the toaster,’ he replied calmly.

‘Oh, right.’ She hadn’t been to this house before and it certainly showed, Kate thought as she searched in the wrong drawer for the bread knife. Whereas Gideon…

‘Debbie has a knife block.’

‘Does she?’

Gideon pointed across to the work surface on the other side of the kitchen. Kate walked over and pulled a couple of knives out before she selected the right handle. She turned in time to see him cut the cucumber in sliver-thin slices, his hand moving in a rapid rocking movement. ‘Open the cupboard second on the left,’ he said without looking up.

‘Why?’ she asked, looking down at the bread knife.

‘There’s a basket there you can use for the bread.’

If his intention was to make sure she realised she didn’t know what she was doing he was making a fine job of it.

She pulled open the cupboard and found the bread basket exactly as he’d said. ‘You seem to know your way around Deb’s kitchen,’ she said slightly acidly.

‘She’s one of the few people who ever invite me to lunch.’

‘Really?’ she asked in spite of herself.

He smiled. It was nothing, but it made Kate catch her breath. He had the kind of smile that lit up his face and made you want to smile back. Foolishly. At seventeen she’d done just that. Had grinned inanely every time he’d deigned to notice her.

‘Everyone’s intimidated about asking a chef to dinner. What do they cook? Will I criticise?’

Kate swallowed. ‘And do you?’

The grooves in his face deepened and Kate found herself smiling back at him. It was like breathing. Completely unconscious. He smiled and she felt good.

‘I’ll never confess to that.’

‘Probably wise,’ she returned, turning away and sawing at the loaf she’d found in the bread bin.

He put down his own knife and rested his hand lightly on hers. She looked at him questioningly, her heart hammering against her ribcage. ‘Let the knife do the work.’

‘Oh,’ she said, her eyes transfixed as she looked up at him.

‘It’s easier.’

Suddenly everything seemed to well up inside her. Coming home, now, after too long away. Aunt Babs being dead. Debbie pregnant.

Something of that must have communicated itself to Gideon because his eyes softened and the pressure on her hand increased. For a moment. And then he moved away. ‘It’s really important to Debbie you came. I’m sure it was difficult to get away…but it means a lot to her. It was a good decision.’

Kate sniffed. She never sniffed, but she did now. Hurriedly she turned her face away and returned all her attention to the task in hand. Just as he’d said, the blade moved through the fresh bread effortlessly.

She caught her trembling lip between her teeth. It had been two long years since she’d felt this aware of a man—and it frightened her. Relationships were pointless. They could lead nowhere. Not for her.

And not with Gideon. That was all in the past. Those dreams belonged to the girl she’d once been. Before he’d married Laura. Before the ruptured appendix. Before Richard.

‘Tell me about your restaurant,’ she said, breaking the silence. ‘Why did you change the name? What was it before? The Queen Anne?’

Gideon transferred the cucumber to the plastic bowl. ‘It’s on the quay. Simple as that. We, Laura and I, thought people would remember where it was and it would stick in their minds. There wasn’t any great discussion about it. Neither of us particularly liked the old name. There’s no record Queen Anne ever stayed there so it seemed rather pointless.’ He turned and looked along the shelf, pulling out the balsamic vinegar. ‘This will have to do for a dressing. Despite my best efforts I can’t get Tilly to eat salad anyway.’

Kate put the bread in the basket and turned to watch him.

His hands tossed the salad. ‘The hotel’s changed quite a bit since you were last on the island. We now have a restaurant and a brasserie. The brasserie has a limited menu but still uses the same fresh ingredients. The restaurant is more adventurous.’

Kate cast a look across at him. ‘And more expensive.’

‘Much more expensive,’ he said, placing the bowl in the centre of the pine table. He picked up the dirty mugs and moved them to the side by the sink. ‘I still plan the menus for the brasserie but I don’t cook there any more. Just the restaurant. And I don’t work at weekends. Not any more.’ He searched the fridge for the cheese. ‘I need to be there for the girls.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Restaurant hours are long. Laura found it difficult. After Tilly was born particularly.’ His voice was empty of emotion.

Kate didn’t know what to say. There was a sudden stillness inside the kitchen. She busied herself putting away the bread board and rinsing the knife under the tap but she still felt uncomfortable.

Such pain. To have loved someone and lost them. So suddenly.

Gideon had only ever looked at Laura. Since the time he’d first arrived on the island. Had never deviated, had never looked elsewhere—and there’d been plenty of opportunities. Kate swallowed the hard lump in the back of her throat. She felt embarrassed by her feelings. She shouldn’t be finding him attractive. It felt…

She searched for the word in her head. It felt…wrong. That was it. Wrong. Like having feelings for a married man.

Debbie bustled into the kitchen. ‘I’ve put down a large plastic sheet in the middle of the lounge. The children can eat in there,’ she pronounced. ‘I’ve got some plastic plates somewhere. If we tell them it’s a picnic they’ll not mind so much about being cooped up because of the rain. Give us a couple of minutes’ peace.’

Kate flicked a glance across at Gideon’s profile. The tension that had shown on his face was gone, replaced with calm good humour. But she wasn’t fooled. He still suffered. Every day of his life since Laura died he’d been hurting. Doing all the things he had to do, going about his business, pretending he’d moved on…

Had Aunt Babs known that? Probably. She’d possessed the rare gift of noticing most things.

‘I think the plates are in the bottom cupboard, but I may have stuffed them in the box on the top of the freezer.’

Kate reached down and searched the cupboard Debbie was pointing at. ‘These?’ she asked, pulling a rainbow of plastic plates out from the shelf.

‘Yep, that’s them.’

She handed them across to Debbie, who laid them out on the table.

‘I think I’ve got some cold sausages in the fridge.’ Debbie pulled a tired hand across her face. ‘The kids can finish them up.’

Gideon laid a hand on her arm. ‘Take it easy. I’ll get them.’

Debbie sank back down in the seat. ‘I do feel dreadful. I think I’ll get Mike to put the boys to bed, then I’ll give myself an early night.’ She looked at Kate. ‘I’ll get you settled into Mum’s house first, though—’

Kate cut her off. ‘I can do that by myself.’

She shook her head. ‘Mum had double glazing put in at the back last summer and the door’s really odd. I need to show you how to do the handle.’

Gideon started to put bread, cheese and cold sausages on the children’s plates. ‘I can do that for you.’

‘No, I…’ Kate wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want Gideon putting himself out like that. Didn’t want Debbie to trouble herself either. In fact, the idea of being alone for a while was really appealing.

‘Debbie needs to rest.’

His eyes held hers and his calmly stated comment prevented her from saying anything more. It was obviously true and equally obvious to anyone who knew Debbie well that she wouldn’t allow her to go alone.

‘I’ll keep your girls with me, then, until you’ve settled Kate in. The house feels very strange without Mum in it.’

Gideon picked up three plastic plates and went to carry them through to the lounge. ‘We’ll talk about that when it’s time to go. If Tilly’s woken up they might as well come with me.’

Kate gently rubbed at her temples. A small throbbing pain was beginning at the back of her eyes. It didn’t matter what arrangements they made for her, she’d had enough and wanted some time alone. Too many emotions were whirring about inside her and she needed time to dissect them all. Understand what she was feeling.

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