Rafferty's Legacy

Rafferty's Legacy by Jane Corrie

TERESA COTTAM gazed lovingly at the tall fair man by her side, then down at the engagement ring he had slipped on her third finger not ten minutes ago, in front of a crowd of well-wishers.

It was hard for her to believe that so much had happened in such a short time, and most of it, she thought with a stab of sorrow, catastrophic.

Her gaze went back to Carl again; but he had changed all that, he had turned her world of loneliness into a place of light and hope. As she stood beside him accepting the congratulations of his friends, people she hoped she would soon know, her mind went back to the time she had first met the tall Australian by her side.

Even now, in the midst of so much happiness, Teresa was still able to feel the pain of that first meeting, and the news she had had to give him when he arrived at her home inquiring after her brother, and how she had to tell him that Rob had died in an air crash not two weeks previously, and not only her brother, but her mother also—in fact, all the family she had.

When Carl had given her his condolences, he asked if he might visit her again when she was more able to receive visitors, and Teresa had thought that he was just being kind and never dreamt that he meant it. But he had, and a fortnight later he re-

turned, and kept on returning. She learnt later that his original call had been a courtesy call, for he was captain of an Australian rugby team, and had met Rob, Teresa's brother, while on a tour of England.

It was through Rob's sporting connections that he had met his death, for he had wanted to watch an international game being played in France; a game he would have been taking part in had it not been for an ankle injury sustained the previous week. Had he taken the same flight as the rest of his team, Teresa would still have had a family, instead of finding herself utterly alone; but her mother had decided she would accompany her son, the attraction being a weekend in Paris, and had tried to inveigle Teresa into going with them, but Teresa had already made arrangements for that weekend and was staying with a friend of hers while her parents spent the weekend in Scotland visiting an elderly aunt of theirs. If Teresa's friend Jane had not had such a dread of spending two nights alone in their rambling old home, or if she had decided to join her parents on the duty visit, Teresa would have been on that fateful flight too; and there had since been black times when she wished she had been.

Carl's possessive arm stealing round her waist jerked her out of her musings, and her lovely green eyes met his blue ones, her heart leaping at the look of love in his. 'Happy, girl?' he asked softly.

Teresa's answer was in her eyes. 'You know I am,' she whispered.

'I'll take you up on that look later,' he said with a grin.

She was still looking at him, thinking for the

hundredth time how handsome he was, and how" lucky she was to have such a man fall in love with her, when she saw his easy-going smile fade, and a look of hardness replace the smile. Following his glance, she wondered what could have brought about such a swift and, she thought with surprise, furious reaction from him.

The small man now threading his way past the guests towards them wore an ill-pressed suit, and one, Teresa felt, that was only brought out for special occasions, for it was of a rather outdated style and contrasted blatantly with the well-dressed assembly.

Her eyes passed on to his face; he looked old, yet there was a springiness in his step that belied this conclusion, although his features were wrinkled and he was tanned a deep brown from exposure to the sun. His hair had once been a fiery red, as her hair had been until she had used a toner on it, sick of the quips she had had to put up with from the truck drivers who worked at the same firm she had been employed at; a distribution depot not far from her home.

Teresa had the strangest feeling that she ought to know this man, yet her memory remained blank, and as he drew nearer she saw that his eyes were a light blue, and there were several gaps in his front teeth when his smile widened as he reached them.

The silence puzzled Teresa, for the man's appearance had stopped everyone talking, and it seemed that all eyes were on him, waiting in silent expectancy.

On reaching Carl and Teresa, the man held out

one gnarled hand towards Carl, and with a wicked grin remarked in a voice that held an Irish lilt to it, 'Welcome to the family, boy. 'Tis a miracle, it is ! ' and turning to Teresa, held out his other hand to her. 'Oi'm your Uncle Patrick, girl,' he explained, and then gave her a hard stare from those blue eyes of his. 'Can't make out why your mam didn't tell me you were coming, or'—his glance went back to Carl standing stiff as a ramrod beside her—`that you were marrying an Elton.' His grin widened. 'Guess I wouldn't have believed it, anyway.'

Teresa felt there had been a spark of maliciousness in this last remark, and held her hand out to his. 'You must forgive me,' she began hesitantly, remembering a little belatedly that her mother had spoken of a family connection in Australia, but there had been no contact for years, and Teresa had presumed that whatever connection there had been had died out.

She also realised with a pang that she would have to tell him about her mother and her brother, but decided it might be better to impart the sad news to him in private, and waited for a lead from Carl.

Carl's lead was hardly a helpful one, for utterly ignoring the man's still outstretched hand, he said in a voice Teresa hardly recognised, 'I don't recall inviting you to this party.'

Teresa gave a shocked, 'Carl !
'

Her newly-acquired uncle, however, showed no

such startled reaction, but only shook his head sadly

and tut-tutted, "Tis a mighty shame, girl, that bygones can't be bygones at a wonderful time like this.'

Teresa was utterly confused, and when Carl said

in an icy voice, 'I think we'd better adjourn to a more private spot,' she felt she couldn't get out of the room fast enough. It was as if there was a time bomb ticking beside them that at any moment might blast the room apart.

In frigid silence Carl led the way to his office at the back of the sumptuously appointed homestead, leaving a bewildered Teresa and a doleful-looking uncle to follow, although she had a distinct impression that the sad look on her uncle's face completely masked another emotion, and again she felt that in an odd way he was vastly enjoying himself.

Carl's first words were addressed to Teresa. 'Do you admit that this man is your uncle?' he demanded.

Teresa's gorgeous eyes widened: for goodness' sake, she wondered, what heinous crime had her uncle committed to cause this commotion? 'I suppose he must be,' she said slowly. 'I mean,' she added hastily, not wishing to offend the poor man who had claimed her as his niece, 'I must be related to him, mustn't I? I do know Mother used to speak of a family connection in Australia, but that was years ago.' She looked at her uncle. 'You never kept in touch,' she accused him gently, `so naturally I wouldn't have thought of contacting you.'

Her uncle's blue eyes rested on the rich mahogany desk, then came back to Carl, who was watching him with cold eyes. 'Your mam's name was Maureen, right?' he asked Teresa, not bothering to answer her accusation but intent only on proving their relationship. 'And your Granddad's name was Daniel Rafferty, right?'

Teresa nodded affirmatively, and did not see the grim set of Carl's mouth at the confirmation.

Flinging a look that could only be described as triumphant towards Carl, he muttered, 'Not that I needed to prove it; she's a Rafferty okay; one look at those eyes and I'd have known her anywhere—although,' he added woefully, 'only the Dear knows what the child's done to her hair.'

With an indignant gasp, Teresa answered quickly, 'I had to do something; it's not funny being continually addressed as Red!'

Carl walked to the door of the office and held it open, and looking at Patrick Rafferty, said harshly, 'You've had your fun, now get out.'

The small man shrugged, not a bit offended at the curt dismissal, and looked at Teresa. 'I'm kin, girl,' he said in that soft lilting voice of his. 'I don't blame you if you want to disown me—only just you remember I'm around if you don't fit in.' With that, he left without a backward glance at either Teresa or Carl.

'Teresa, I want you to promise not to have any dealings or contact with Patrick Rafferty,' Carl ordered in a tightly controlled voice.

Teresa looked at him, hardly able to believe her ears; he was looking out of the windows with his back to her, and she saw the way he held himself stiff and straight with no sign of relaxation even though they were now alone. 'I feel I ought to warn you,' he went on in a cold impersonal voice, 'that if you disobey me there will be no chance of happiness in our marriage.'