Family Secrets (8 page)

Taken
aback, Rhianna set the boxes down on the end of the table.

“Hi,
Rhia. This is Katie,” Lawrence told her and turned to the child. “I told you you’d be having a fun time this morning, didn’t I?”

The
little girl, absorbed in what was going on around her, merely nodded.

Rhianna’s
head was whirling and, as soon as was possible, she busied herself on the other side of the room. Why hadn’t Lawrence told her he had a child? Now she came to think of it he had mentioned family commitments. Surely the little girl couldn’t be his and Tina’s? If so then he had to know where she was. Rhianna dismissed that thought almost immediately, as being too incredulous.

Once
or twice she caught Lawrence looking in her direction and bent her head to speak with a child. After a while, Lawrence went to have a coffee and she crossed to Katie’s side. The little girl looked up at her and beamed. Judging from her gappy teeth she had to be around seven.

“I
choosed flowers for Mummy, but I don’t know what to do for Daddy,” Katie confided.

“No
problem. I’ve got some sheets of patterns to help you decide. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to choose from.”

Katie
was a dear little girl and Rhianna was incensed. Why couldn’t Lawrence have mentioned that he had a child? For all she knew, he’d gone back to her mother after he’d left Tina. How dare he flirt with Rhianna when there was someone else in his life?

She
moved away to help a small boy who hadn’t a clue what he was doing. When she next looked up, she saw a couple of men standing in the doorway. One was carrying a camera. The press had turned up. Rhianna had completely forgotten they were coming and Fiona was nowhere to be seen.

Rhianna
had a brief word with the reporter and photographer, and then she clapped her hands for attention and explained what was happening; giving the parents the opportunity to withdraw their children to the back of the gallery if they didn’t want them to be photographed. To her relief, Fiona reappeared just then carrying a bundle of design sheets.

The
thought of being in the newspaper made the children’s day. The photographer took some pictures of Matthew’s paintings too, which was a bonus.

“Are
you sure you weren’t mixed up in that raid?” the reporter asked Rhianna. “Only my mate was telling me…”

Rhianna
shook her head. “Now, if you don’t mind we really must press on. We’ve another group of children coming in shortly. I look forward to reading your article next Friday.”

As
the workshop came to an end and Fiona began to collect up the pottery in carefully labelled trays, Rhianna noticed that Katie looked upset and went over to see what the problem was. Apparently, the little girl hadn’t realised she couldn’t take her mugs home with her there and then.

Katie’s
lip trembled, “But I wanted to give it to Mummy for
Mothers’
Day
.”

Lawrence
hunkered down to her level. “Don’t worry, Pumpkin, I’ll collect your mugs for you next week - promise. You’ll have it in plenty of time.”

He
popped them into the tray and unknotted Katie’s apron.

Rhianna
realised how good he was with children. She left him and went to help another girl who hadn’t quite finished her pattern. When Rhianna next looked up, she saw Lawrence was in earnest conversation with Fiona, and Katie was putting on her coat.

“I’ll
pop in on Tuesday afternoon to collect the mugs - if that’s OK,” he told them. “I’m impressed with the way you two organised this workshop. The kids were so enthusiastic and involved.”

Fiona
did a mock curtsey. “Thank you kind sir – we aim to please.”

She
began clearing up and settling one or two children who had arrived for the next session. Katie tugged Lawrence’s arm.

“Come
on. We mustn’t be late for Grandma and Mummy.”

He
looked at Rhianna apologetically. “We’ve arranged to meet up for a family lunch. Talk about a petticoat government! OK, young Katie, say thank you to Rhia and Fiona.”

They
were so busy for the rest of the morning that Rhianna didn’t have time to think, but there was a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. As they snatched a short lunch break before the older children came in that afternoon Fiona challenged her.

“Rhia,
whatever was wrong between you and Laurie? You were avoiding him for most of the session.”

Rhianna
gulped down a mouthful of coffee; it burnt her tongue.

“I
should have thought that was obvious. Can’t you guess? He didn’t tell me he had a child and possibly an ex-wife or partner - other than Tina. He’s having lunch with Katie’s mother now, even as we speak. He must be a right Lothario.”

Fiona
stood staring at her and then began to laugh.

“Oh
Rhianna – talk about crossed wires! Katie’s not his daughter, she’s his niece!”

Rhianna
gasped and clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my goodness. What a fool I’ve been. Whatever must he think?”

Fiona
shook her head in bemusement. “What I don’t understand Rhia is would it have mattered if he had a child?”

Rhianna
gaped at her, “Absolutely not. You know I like children. Katie’s a sweet little girl, whoever her mother is. It’s just that I prefer people to be upfront with me.”

Fiona
gave her friend a slap on the back. “So you do care about the gorgeous Laurie? You’re not quite impervious to his charms! Go on admit it!”

Rhianna
knew it was difficult to keep things from her friend, but she had no intention of admitting anything. She fixed her with a reproving look.

“Stop reading things into the situation, Fi. I haven’t known Laurie more than five minutes… Now, we’d better get organised for this afternoon. Those teenagers can be rather demanding if we don’t keep on top of things.”

As
she checked that they’d got everything ready, she wondered miserably how she could put things right with Lawrence.

*

Lawrence was eating lunch with his family in a restaurant in St Albans.

“I
liked that lady with the gold hair. She helped me with my pattern,” Katie said, spearing a chip.

“Who’s
this?” Lawrence’s sister-in-law, Allison asked.

“Katie
means Rhianna who runs the gallery with her friend Fiona.”

“She
was nice too,” Katie piped up. “She’s got red hair and she’s funny. Can we go there again, Uncle Laurie, please?”

“Oh,
I’m sure we can when you come to stay with Grandma and Grandpa another time…Rhianna is Letitia Delroy’s grand-daughter,” he explained to Allison.

Allison’s
eyebrows shot up. “Didn’t know Letitia had any family.”

“Tell
you later,” Mary Lorimer mouthed, nodding slightly towards Katie.

But
Katie was blowing bubbles in her lemonade and not listening.

“Don’t
do that,” Allison chided her small daughter. “You still haven’t told me what you made at the workshop.”

Katie
sighed and rolled her eyes. “I told you, Mummy. It’s a surprise. You’ll have to be pa-chent,” she said, trying out a word her mother often used on her.

The
two women tried to keep straight faces.

“Well, she’s a chip off the old block and no mistake,” Mary Lorimer said. She turned to Laurie who was still trying to figure out why Rhianna had given him the cold shoulder. He had no idea what he could have done to offend her. He frowned. Perhaps he should ring her and try to find out.

“Laurie
what on earth’s wrong?” his mother demanded. “This is supposed to be an enjoyable family meal out and you look as if you’re at a funeral wake.”

Lawrence
jerked himself back to the present with an effort. “Sorry, I was miles away. What were you saying?”

“What’s
a foonral wa- that thing you said, Grandma?” asked Katie waving her straw.

“Oh,
nothing important, dear. Now eat up and then you can have your pudding. You’re keeping us all waiting.”

“Bet
I can guess what you’re going to have,” Lawrence teased his small niece.

She
finished the last mouthful. “Bet you can’t, cos I don’t know yet,” she grinned back.

Lawrence
took her hand and together they went to look at the dessert trolley.

Mary
Lorimer sighed. “The sooner Laurie gets married and has some children of his own - the better.”

“Well,
there’s no one on the horizon, is there?”

“I’m
not sure – time will tell, I suppose. He’s got a craving to go back to Brookhurst and that bothers me.”

Allison’s
eyes rounded. “Really? You’d think he’d have had enough of that place after what happened between him and Tina – you don’t suppose she’s back on the scene again, do you?”

Mary
shrugged. “Who knows, he hasn’t confided in me. I sincerely hope not, but we’ll just have to wait and see… Oh good! Those two have finally decided - let’s go and choose our desserts.”

Chapter Seven

Rhianna had a very quiet week-end, catching up on a few necessary chores and then spending time printing and enhancing the photographs she had taken at Brookhurst. She was pleased with the results. She now had a record of some of the places where her father had been as a child. After a lot of deliberation, she selected one of the photographs and began an oil painting.

She was invited out for a drink with friends on Saturday evening, but they had known Marcus too and kept bringing him into the conversation, so it wasn’t that successful. She didn’t wish to be reminded of her disastrous relationship. She had moved on at last, and Marcus didn’t figure in her life any more.

*

Lawrence stood, arms folded, a broad grin on his face as he watched Rhianna handing out the pottery to a surge of children who had come to collect their items after school. Eventually, she was left with two small boys haggling over one mug.

“Were
you both in the same group?” she asked.

They
nodded. “So which of you is JS?”

To
Lawrence’s amusement, both lads pointed at each other.

“Well,
you can’t both be,” she said trying, not to look at Lawrence.

“We
can ‘cos he’s Jason Saunders and I’m Jake Smith,” one of them explained.

Rhianna
bit her lip. “I see – OK, but you don’t both own this mug so where’s the other one?”

Hearing
the exchange, Fiona unexpectedly came to the rescue. She was standing by the gallery door, where a fraught mother was chastising her son for picking up the wrong mug. Fiona extracted it from the child and waved it at Rhianna.

“Mistaken
mug identity – does this solve the problem?”

“Hopefully,
but where’s Tyler’s?”

Fiona
rummaged in one of the trays and held it up triumphantly.

“Here
you go, Tyler. Problem solved - it was mixed up with the wrong group.”

Highly
amused, Lawrence waited to see what would happen next.

“Well,
that’s lucky,” Rhianna said. “I was just about to chop this mug in half.”

Jason and Jake gulped - eyes like saucers.

“Now
these two look identical,” Rhianna said, turning the mugs this way and that. Did you both sit next to one another?”

The
boys nodded. “That’s mine. It’s got an orange spot on it – see.”

“So
it has. Well, that’s useful, isn’t it? Now, if you two come again, I suggest you make your patterns different from each other’s, OK?”

They
nodded, fidgeted whilst she wrapped the mugs in tissue and, grabbing them, rushed outside to where their mothers, engrossed in conversation, were unaware of the minor drama.

Lawrence
laughed. “I didn’t realise I was going to get some free entertainment.”

“It’s
all right for you,” Rhianna told him. “You didn’t have to sort it out!”

But
his merriment was contagious and she joined in.

“Now
we’d better find Katie’s mugs. Let’s hope they’re safe.”

Fiona
closed the gallery door and came across.

“Oh it’s OK, I know where they are. I’ve put them out the back - out of harm’s way.”

When
she’d gone to find them Lawrence said, “Right, now it’s time you and I had a little chat, Rhianna.”

“What
about?” she asked - all too aware that it was down to her to put things right.

“Oh,
I think you know that – what on earth did I do to annoy you so much on Friday? You treated me as if I’d got the plague.”

Before
she could reply, Fiona returned with the mugs.

“Rhia,
can I leave you to lock up? I’m going to meet Dave at the leisure centre and I need to get changed. We can finish clearing away tomorrow.”

“Absolutely,
you get off. I’ll see to things here.”

Fiona
stood in the doorway. “Thanks – I owe you one. Bye, you two. Have fun!” she stood in the doorway and blew them a kiss.

Rhianna
busied herself stacking the trays. “I’m just going to take these out to the shed,” she told Lawrence.

He
picked up the rest of them and followed her outside. She stacked them tidily in the shed and locked the door.

“Is
Fiona always like that?” he wanted to know.

“Like
what?”

“So
bubbly and high spirited.”

“Mostly.
She’s a happy-go-lucky sort of person.”

He
followed her back down the path into the gallery. She turned the key and bolted the door. When she turned round he was blocking her path.

“Rhianna
– exactly what have I done? I can’t put it right unless you tell me. I thought we were friends.”

“We
are – it’s all my fault.” Rhianna said miserably. “When I saw you with Katie last Friday – I thought that…”

He
frowned. “You thought what?” Light slowly dawned. “Wait a minute - surely you didn’t think Katie was my little girl?”

She
nodded, colouring slightly. “But now Fiona’s explained she’s your niece and…”

His
eyes darkened. “And would it have been such a problem if she had been my child?”

“No
– of course not. It’s not that.” She hastened to assure him. “It’s just that - I thought you hadn’t been upfront with me - that you’d got an ex-wife or another partner.”

“Oh,
Rhia, what am I going to do with you?” he asked softly and, suddenly, she was in his arms and he was kissing her gently. He stroked her hair, traced the outline of her face. She floated away on a cloud of ecstasy.

A
sudden noise from the gallery sent them hurrying in. A bespectacled, middle-aged man was wandering round.

“I’m
sorry, we’re closed,” Rhianna told him.

“Door
was open. I spoke to your colleague the other day. She told me that a Miss Soames doesn’t work here, but I’ve got reason to believe otherwise.”

He waved the
Brookhurst
Weekly
News
under their faces.

Rhianna
sighed. “My name is Rhianna Delroy. Fiona Field and I own this gallery… And you are?”

He
ignored this. “So you weren’t the lady who was mixed up in that post office raid then?”

“I
was in Brookhurst at the time, yes, but I don’t wish to say anything more.”

“Right.
Well, if you should change your mind- here’s my card.”

He
stretched out his hand. “Les Phelps.”

He stood in the doorway for a moment. “There is a rumour going round that you were in Brookhurst, visiting your grandmother that you’d never met before. Now, that would make a great human interest story. I suppose you wouldn’t…”

“No,
she wouldn’t,” Lawrence said firmly. “We’ve already had the reporters here doing a feature for the gallery and that’s sufficient. Now, if you wouldn’t mind leaving.”

He
held open the door and locked it behind the reporter when he’d gone.

Rhianna
looked ashen-faced. “This is such a nightmare. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and find it was all a dream.”

“Does
that include me?”

“No,
of course not,” she said unsteadily.

“Then
can I take you out for a meal tomorrow evening? I saw a rather nice Italian restaurant on the way here.”

“Yes,
please that would be lovely,” she breathed, her heart thumping wildly.

He
stooped and kissed the tip of her nose and, unlocking the door, again, disappeared into the night.

Wednesday
was always a busy day for the online business. The delivery van usually arrived mid-morning. Rhianna and Fiona sorted out orders, packed them up and did some book-keeping. The business was booming, which was a good thing as, apart from the workshops, the gallery was very quiet.

“So
did you manage to sort things out with Laurie?” Fiona wanted to know, as they took a breather in the middle of the morning.

Fiona’s
eyes rounded when Rhianna told her about her date that evening.

“He’s
taking you to that new Italian place. Wow! He’s got good taste. I wouldn’t mind going there myself. What are you going to wear?”

Rhianna
frowned. “Haven’t got a clue. I had a look through my wardrobe last night, but everything reminds me of an occasion when I went out with Marcus.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Come on Rhia. You’ve got masses of lovely clothes. There must be something? I’d offer to come and help you sort something out, but I’ve got a hot date myself. Actually, I was going to ask you if you could spare me tomorrow. Dave’s got some flexi time to use up and we could go up to town for the day.”

“Of course. I can’t very well refuse, can I, after all the covering you’ve done for me recently. Look let’s leave the posting until tomorrow. Then we can finish early and I’ll do it first thing.”

Back home, Rhianna finally decided to wear a kingfisher blue skirt with an embroidered top. She added a matching shrug, swept her hair up into what she hoped was a sophisticated style and carefully applied her make-up.

She was ready far too early and kept peering anxiously out of the window. What if he’d changed his mind and didn’t turn up? Marcus had been a dreadful time-keeper. But Lawrence was punctual. He looked incredibly handsome in dark blue trousers and jacket, a crisp white open-necked shirt beneath.

“I
like the way you’ve done your hair,” he told her.

Rhianna
smiled. “Thanks, you scrub up well yourself.”

The
Italian restaurant was superb. Over their pasta, they talked about their tastes in music, recent films they’d seen and then, inevitably, the conversation turned to art. There were a couple of things Lawrence wanted to ask her, but he wasn’t sure if the time was right. In the end he decided to play things by ear.

“Would
it be OK if I dropped into the gallery sometime soon? I want to run something past you and Fiona. Is there any chance of a meeting?”

Rhianna
stared at him. “That sounds mysterious. Well, I’m on my own tomorrow - would Friday or Saturday morning do - or is that too soon?”

“I
can’t manage Saturday - promised to do something for my mum - but Friday afternoon would be OK.”

She
couldn’t begin to imagine what it was he wanted to talk to them about and he didn’t give her any clues. The more she got to know Laurence the more she grew to like him. She knew there was an attraction between them and seemed powerless to prevent it.

Lawrence
finished his mouthful of penne primavera. “Great, and - when I come on Friday - d’you think I could take a look at the portrait of Anna Soames?”

“Yes,
you’re welcome. Perhaps you can see what all the fuss is about, because I can’t and it’s beginning to bug me.”

“I’ll
do my best. I’m curious to take a look and see if I can discover who the artist was.” Lawrence picked up the dessert menu. “And your father didn’t mention it?”

“No,
I didn’t even know of the portrait’s existence until he’d died.”

Over
dessert - luscious fruit tartlets and cream - Rhianna found herself telling him about the sketchbook her grandmother had given her.

“We’re
thinking of having another exhibition of my father’s work before long,” she told him. “He was such a talented artist.”

“It’s
obviously in the genes. Your father and grandfather have passed it on to you.”

“You
haven’t seen any of my work yet,” she protested.

“No,
I’m looking forward to that. How are the photographs coming on?”

“Good
– even though I say it myself. I’m hoping to take some to Brookhurst soon to give to Letitia. I was going to post them, but it would be much nicer to give them to her in person.”

“She’d
like that. She’s thrilled that you’ve made contact with her.”

Rhianna
smiled at him. “And I’m pretty made up too. I thought I was all alone in the world and suddenly I discover I’ve got a grandmother. How amazing is that?”

He
reached out and placed his hand over hers on the table. She smiled her heart beating a wild tattoo. His eyes met hers steadily.

“It’s
just a pity you didn’t get to know your grandfather,” he said.