A Rich Man's Touch. Anne Mather
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admit that she’d found challenging him an exhilarating experience.
After what Stephanie had said, Rachel half expected Gabriel to return to the café the next morning. But he didn’t. An overcast sky heralded a change in the weather, and by late afternoon it was raining quite heavily. Rachel was relieved when her mother and Hannah came into the café at a quarter to five, shaking the dampness from their umbrella. It signified that the working day was almost over.
‘I want a banana split,’ announced Hannah, almost as soon as her grandmother had pushed her though the door, and although there were few patrons still left in the café, Rachel gave her a reproving stare.
‘I want never gets,’ she said, quoting one of her mother’s favourite sayings. Then, transferring her attention to the older woman, she asked, ‘How did she behave today?’
‘I was good, I was good,’ cried Hannah, but her mother waited for Mrs Redfern to confirm that the weekly visit to the physiotherapist had been a success.
‘She—worked quite hard,’ admitted the child’s grandmother dubiously. And then, in an aside to her daughter, ‘I just wish we didn’t have to deal with that woman. She’s so—unsympathetic. I sometimes think Hannah would do much better with someone else.’
Rachel sighed. She’d heard this complaint before. ‘What can we do?’ she asked. ‘Dr Williams arranged for Hannah to see her. And Mrs Stone is supposed to be one of the best physiotherapists around.’
‘Who said that?’ Mrs Redfern wasn’t convinced. ‘Stone by name and Stone by nature, if you ask me. Not to mention the fact that she makes me feel like I’m an unnecessary encumbrance.’
‘Oh, Mum, you’re exaggerating!’
‘What is Grandma ’xaggerating?’ asked Hannah, getting impatient. Then tugging on her mother’s skirt, she pleaded, ‘Can I have a banana split, please? Can I? I promise I’ll eat all my supper.’
‘May I?’ corrected Rachel automatically. ‘I don’t know how many times I’ve told you that.’ She sighed again. ‘Oh, I suppose so. But I’ll have to get it myself. Steph’s already gone home.’
‘So early?’ murmured Mrs Redfern, waiting until the last two customers had left the café before wheeling Hannah’s chair across to the counter.
‘She had some shopping to do,’ said Rachel levelly, not rising to the bait. Her mother considered that Stephanie didn’t pull her weight in the café. And it was true that the other woman was inclined to take advantage of the fact that she and Rachel were friends.
‘Shopping!’ Mrs Redfern snorted, but, seeing that her daughter was not in the mood to bite, she changed the subject to one Rachel liked even less. ‘By the way, you’ll never guess what I heard this morning: there’s a rumour that the reason Gabriel Webb is living at Copleys now is because he’s seeing a consultant neurologist at a hospital in Oxford.’
Rachel was stunned at her reaction to this news. Anxiety blossomed in her stomach, and she didn’t know how she controlled the urge to demand that her mother tell her where she had heard such a thing. God, she thought, turning away to take the ice cream out of the freezer, giving herself time to recover. Was that why he looked so pale and drawn? Because he was ill? Dear Lord, what was wrong with him?
‘Can I have some of the fluffy cream that comes out of a can as well?’ Hannah’s request was sobering. She had wheeled herself round to the other side of the counter and had dipped her finger into the sauce her mother had poured over the fruit. ‘Ooh, that’s lovely, Mummy. You make the bestest banana split ever!’
‘You’d better not let Stephanie hear you say that,’ said Rachel, forcing herself to put her concerns about Gabriel Webb to the back of her mind. But she was aware that her voice wasn’t quite as playful as it should have been and she felt her mother watching her with shrewd eyes.
‘I always like the things you do best,’ declared Hannah staunchly, clearly sensing that she was on to a winner. ‘Do you think I could have a milkshake as well?’
Rachel pulled a wry face. ‘Don’t push it, sweetheart,’ she advised, handing the dish containing the banana split to her mother and guiding Hannah’s chair to the nearest table. ‘There we are.’ This as Mrs Redfern set the dish down in front of her granddaughter. ‘Now I’ll go and make us a nice cup of tea.’
‘All right.’
Hannah accepted her mother’s decision good-naturedly, and Rachel was leaning down to give the little girl a swift hug when the café door opened behind her.
A draught of damp air issued into the room, but it wasn’t the sudden drop in temperature that caused Rachel to straighten and glance round in wary understanding. It was her mother’s sharp intake of breath and the shocked expression that had crossed her face.
‘Am I intruding?’
Gabriel Webb stood just inside the door, his dark hair sparkling with drops of rain, the familiar overcoat hanging open over black jeans and a V-necked cream sweater. Ironically enough, he looked less drawn today, his eyes surveying the scene he had interrupted with narrow-eyed consideration.
‘Oh, Mr Webb.’ Rachel was aware of feeling totally out of her depth. Aware, too, that her mother was watching her reaction closely and probably not liking what she saw. ‘I— I’m sorry but we’re closed.’
Gabriel turned and flicked the card that still displayed the ‘Open’ sign. ‘Is that right?’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t realise. When I saw you still had customers…’
Rachel couldn’t look at her mother. She was fairly sure Gabriel Webb knew exactly who her ‘customers’ were, and she could sense Mrs Redfern’s antagonism from across the table. But, short of calling him a liar, she had no choice but to introduce them.
‘Um—this is my mother and my daughter, Mr Webb,’ she said awkwardly. Then, with a hopeful glance in her mother’s direction, ‘Mum, this is Mr Webb.’ She hesitated a moment before adding reluctantly, ‘Andrew’s father.’
Mrs Redfern didn’t get up. ‘Yes, I know who Mr Webb is, Rachel,’ she declared stiffly, without offering him a greeting. ‘Hannah, watch what you’re doing. You’re dripping ice cream all over the table.’
‘Who’s Mr Webb?’ Hannah hissed to her grandmother in the kind of stage whisper that had to be audible to their visitor, and Rachel stifled a groan.
‘Hannah!’ she reproved, before Mrs Redfern could say anything more provocative, and then caught her breath when Gabriel left his position by the door to approach the table where the older woman and the child were sitting.
‘Hi, Hannah,’ he said, squatting down beside her chair and regarding her with warm approving eyes. ‘That looks good.’
Hannah cast a nervous glance up at her mother and then, apparently deciding there was no harm in answering him, she said, ‘It’s a banana split.’
‘Yeah, I know what it is.’ Gabriel grinned, and Rachel realised it was the first time she had seen him so relaxed. ‘I used to love them when I was younger. Banana splits and strawberry milkshakes! I think those were my favourite things.’
‘Do you like strawberry milkshakes, too?’ asked Hannah, wide-eyed. ‘They’re my very favourite drinks. Only Mummy says that having a milkshake as well as a banana split will spoil my supper.’
‘Well, I guess Mummy knows best—’
‘Eat your ice cream, Hannah.’ Mrs Redfern had evidently had enough of this interruption to their routine. She looked at Gabriel. ‘I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than waste time talking to a six-year-old, Mr Webb. As Rachel told you, the café’s closed. It was my fault. I forgot to lock the door.’
Gabriel got to his feet. ‘No problem,’ he said easily, his eyes moving from the older woman’s tight closed face to Rachel’s embarrassed one.