At the cottage Kit had washed his hands and brushed his hair, then gathered his things up without further complaint. When he was ready, he’d produced a spare key from the drawer in the kitchen.
“Did I not latch the window?” Kincaid had asked, still a bit concerned over his lapse.
“The lock doesn’t quite catch,” said Kit. “You wouldn’t have noticed. But I always get in that way when I forget my key. It makes Mum fur-” He’d stopped, stricken, and Kincaid had hustled him out of the cottage with an arm round his shoulders.
This time Kincaid kept the key, and they had driven to the Little Chef in silence.
Their tea arrived, hot and strong, and as they stirred their cups, Kincaid glanced at his watch and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. “I’m going to ring Gemma and ask her to let your granddad know you’re all right. No, wait,” he added as Kit started to protest, “that’s all for now. We’re going to take this one step at a time. Fair enough?”
Kit gave him a nod, and Kincaid wished he were really as confident as he was attempting to sound. What he hadn’t told Kit was that he didn’t know what to do next. The only thing of which he felt sure was that returning Kit to his grandparents right now might mean losing him for good.
Dialing Gemma’s number, he filled her in briefly, then said, “Ring Kit’s grandfather and tell him he’s all right, that he’s safe with me. Nothing more. Then give Laura Miller a ring, too, would you, love?”
“What are you going to do?” asked Gemma. “You have no legal right to keep him with you without their permission.”
“I know,” he answered guardedly. “But I don’t see any alternative at the moment.”
There was a pause, then Gemma said, “Bring him here, then, until we figure something out. At least there’s a garden for the dog.”
“Will Hazel and Tim mind?”
“I’ll just go have a word. See you in an hour or two,” she added and rang off.
Kincaid eyed Kit, who had been listening intently in spite of the arrival of his breakfast. “We’re going to visit Gemma for a bit,” he said as he picked up his fork and tucked into his eggs. “Okay with you?”
Instead of answering Kit frowned and said, “I didn’t know you knew the Millers.”
“They were worried about you. Gemma and I were worried about you. And I imagine all the friends that Laura Miller rang were worried about you, too.”
Kit looked a bit sheepish. “I didn’t think of that. Honestly. I only thought-”
“I know. Sometimes we lose our perspective.” Kincaid waved his fork at Kit and grinned. “Eat up. All those hours without food probably stunted your growth.”
“You sound just like my mum,” Kit said, concentrating on cutting his sausage. He ate in silence for a few minutes, then looked up at Kincaid. “It wasn’t any good, you know. Going home, I mean. It didn’t bring her back.”
Gemma stood at Hazel and Tim’s kitchen sink, washing up the remains of Sunday lunch. Kit had eaten two huge helpings of Hazel’s spaghetti, in spite of his late breakfast.
His initial reserve had quickly melted, the thawing process helped along by the immediate and limpetlike adoration of Toby and Holly. Hazel and Tim had welcomed him kindly but without fuss, and after lunch Hazel had tactfully suggested that he might bathe Tess in the big claw-footed tub upstairs. Now he and Kincaid were giving the dog a blow-dry in front of the sitting room fire, helped-or more likely hindered, Gemma thought with a smile-by the small children, and Hazel and Tim had taken the opportunity to go for a walk.
Gemma had been glad of a few moments alone. The sight of Duncan and Kit together had made her feel quite unexpectedly queer. It seemed that her knowledge of their possible relationship had altered her perceptions, for she now found the resemblance between them so unmistakable that she was amazed she hadn’t seen it instantly. That, she might have expected, but she had not been prepared for the aching tenderness she felt for them both. And the tenderness was mixed with unease, for she was not only worried about Kit, but concerned about how their involvement with Kit would affect all their lives.
The door opened and Kincaid came in, brushing dog hair from his pullover. “I’m sure I smell like wet dog,” he said, grinning. “But Tess is definitely improved. The next thing will be to get Kit into the tub.”
Wiping her hands on a tea towel, Gemma went to him and put her arms round his waist. She looked up into his face. “You don’t have any doubt now, do you?”
He pulled her closer to him and stroked her hair. “No,” he said softly. “And that frightens me. It’s funny-I’ve even begun to be afraid I’ll find out it’s not true. What if Ian McClellan comes back and takes him off to France?”
Gemma pulled back so that she could look at him again. “We can’t think that far ahead. Let me make us a cuppa and I’ll fill you in on this end.”
He released her, and in a moment she brought two steaming mugs to the table. “What did his grandfather say when you rang him?” he asked as they sat down.
“He seemed relieved, and said he’d wait to hear from you. But I could hear Eugenia in the background. She’s determined to punish Kit for running away.” Gemma shook her head. “What I don’t understand is how Vic turned out as well as she did, coming from that sort of home.”
Kincaid frowned as he thought about it. After a moment, he said, “I think Eugenia was difficult when Vic was a child, and self-centered, but not to the extreme we’re seeing now. It’s possible that the deterioration in her personality has been progressive.” He looked up and met Gemma’s eyes. “And I think at some level she is suffering genuine grief, and lashing out at others is her way of dealing with it. Or not dealing with it.”
“You’re being too kind,” said Gemma.
He shrugged. “All right, then. The woman’s just a bloody bitch. But what matters is that she’s no fit guardian for Kit in her present state, and it’s likely she never will be.”
“Hazel says Kit can stay in the spare room here as long as necessary, and when I talked to Laura Miller this morning, she said she’d offered to have Kit with them, at least until the end of term.” Gemma put her elbows on the table and leaned forwards. “That’s what he needs-school and friends and some sort of normal family life.”
“You don’t have to convince me, love.”
“You just have to convince his grandparents, and Laura said Eugenia turned her down flat.”
“I know,” he said as he took out his cell phone. “But I have no intention of approaching Eugenia about anything. And I intend to play things my way.”
He punched in a set of numbers, then hit SEND. “Hello, Bob? It’s Duncan here.” After a moment, he said, “No, no, he’s fine. But he’s going to stay the night with friends here in London. They’re psychologists-they know the best way of dealing with these things.” There was another pause while he listened, then he continued, “I think you can convince Eugenia that she needs a respite. You have my phone number-you can reach me anytime. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
As he rang off, Gemma became aware of another presence in the room. Turning, she saw that Kit had slipped in from the hall. Before Kincaid could speak, she touched his arm and gestured towards the door.
“Was that my grandfather?” said Kit, his face expressionless.
Kincaid nodded. “Hazel and Tim have asked you to stay here for tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
“Why can’t I stay with you?”
“Come sit down and have some tea, Kit,” said Gemma, giving Kincaid time to formulate an answer.
As Kit came slowly to the table, Kincaid said, “I’m sure you’d be fine on my sitting room sofa, but there’s no access to the garden for Tess. I live in a top-floor flat.” He paused a moment. “If it would make you feel more comfortable about staying here, I could stay next door at Gemma’s-that is, if it’s all right with her.”