Sleeping With A Stranger. Anne Mather
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Maya’s already got a husband doesn’t mean she can’t have a bit on the side as well.’
‘Melissa!’ Helen nearly choked on her coffee. ‘You ap-pal me, you really do.’
The girl shrugged. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Helen gasped. ‘She was pleased to see him, that’s all.’
‘Wasn’t she just?’ Melissa snorted. ‘Whatever. The guy’s hot. Even you must have noticed. Or have you forgotten what it’s like to—?’
‘That will do.’ Helen couldn’t listen to any more. She took a steadying breath and changed the subject. ‘Is your room nice?’
‘Nice?’ Melissa finished the lemonade in her glass and returned it to the tray. ‘You’re determined not to treat me like an adult, aren’t you?’
‘Because you’re not an adult, Melissa. You’re thirteen, not twenty-three.’
‘I’ll be fourteen soon. Why can’t you remember that?’
‘Oh, I remember exactly how old you are,’ said Helen with feeling. Did she ever? Then in a spirit of compromise, ‘So you think we should stay?’
‘Do kids have a vote?’
‘Of course, you do.’ Helen sighed. ‘I thought you might want to meet your grandfather.’
Melissa pulled a face. ‘Like I need another old man in my life!’
‘So what are you saying?’
‘Well, we’re here, aren’t we? And this place isn’t bad. And our staying will definitely get up Maya’s nose.’
Helen couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged at her lips. ‘You’re impossible!’
‘But you love me anyway,’ said Melissa, dodging her mother’s playful nudge. Then as the sound of a car accelerating up the villa reached their ears she arched a mocking brow. ‘Hey, is that who I think it is?’
Helen’s stomach contracted. She had no doubt that the car belonged to her father. Someone, Maya probably, had informed him of their arrival, and he’d evidently dropped whatever it was he’d been doing to return to the house.
Immediately, the prospect of unpacking, of doing as Melissa had suggested and staying here, lost its appeal. Dear God, what was she going to say to him? How many more lies was he planning to tell her? What excuse could he possibly make for hinting that he only had a short time to live?
Melissa, who had dashed out onto the balcony to try and see the new arrival, returned with a disappointed face. ‘You can’t see the drive from here,’ she said. ‘Do you think it’s him?’
‘If you mean, do I think it’s your grandfather, then, yes, I think so,’ said Helen tersely. And, as if just noticing her daughter’s appearance, she added, ‘Don’t you have anything more suitable to wear? Shorts, for example?’
‘Yeah, right. Like I’m going to dress like a dork!’ Melissa was disgusted. ‘And don’t take your bad temper out on me. It’s not my fault.’
Helen’s anger subsided as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I just wish you didn’t always wear black!’
‘It’s a fashion statement,’ said Melissa airily, making for the door. ‘Anyway, I’m going to see what’s going on downstairs. I don’t want that evil bitch queering the pitch.’
‘Stay where you are.’ Helen moved quickly to intercept her. ‘You are not leaving this room on your own.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And watch your language where your grandfather’s wife is concerned. Stop trying to be a poor imitation of your grandmother.’
Melissa’s cheeks turned a little pink. ‘I don’t know why you’re defending her,’ she muttered. ‘She ruined your life, didn’t she?’
‘Maybe.’ Helen wasn’t prepared to argue the point. Then, giving in, ‘Oh, give me a minute to use the bathroom and we’ll both go and get it over with.’
Melissa frowned. ‘You’re really not looking forward to this, are you?’
‘No, I’m really not.’
‘Because your old man snowed you?’
‘Because he lied to me, yes.’ Helen hadn’t the energy to go any further. She picked up her handbag and rummaged for her comb. ‘Do I look all right?’
Melissa gave her a grudging once-over. ‘Not bad for an older woman,’ she conceded. ‘Milos thinks you’re cool, anyway.’
Helen flushed. ‘Oh, right,’ she said, even though the girl’s words had given her a cheap forbidden thrill. ‘Let’s go before I lose my nerve.’
B EFORE Helen could reach for the door handle, however, someone knocked from outside, and her stomach took a nosedive.
‘Who is it?’ she called faintly, but Melissa simply took the initiative and opened the door.
The man who stood outside was instantly recognisable. Tall and lean, with gaunt features and thick grey-streaked sandy hair, her father looked almost as apprehensive as she did. ‘Helen,’ he said thickly, making no attempt to step into the room. ‘Dammit, I should have gone to meet you myself, instead of getting Milos to do it. I’ve waited so long for this moment. Can you forgive me for being scared I’d f—mess it up?’
Helen couldn’t move. Now that he was here, actually standing in front of her, all the years between them seemed like so much wasted space.
‘Well, say something,’ he exclaimed raggedly, and she realised he’d mistaken her silence for withdrawal.
As if growing impatient with both of them, Melissa stepped forward. ‘Hi,’ she said, regarding him with critical dark eyes. ‘I’m Melissa Shaw; your granddaughter.’ She paused, glancing at Helen. ‘Don’t mind Mum. She’s having a hard time remembering who you are.’
‘That’s not true,’ began Helen quickly, desperate not to antagonise him before they’d had a chance to get to know one another again.
But Sam Campbell didn’t let her finish. ‘I wouldn’t blame her if she was,’ he said gruffly. ‘Goodness knows, I’m not proud of the way I’ve let things drift.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s so good to see you again—to see both of you. I’ve been a fool to let Sheila call the shots all these years.’
Helen hesitated. ‘It’s not all your fault,’ she said, ignoring the rolling-eyed look Melissa gave her. ‘I was too stubborn, I guess. I wasn’t prepared to listen to you.’
‘And now you are?’
Helen made a helpless gesture. ‘I’m—older,’ she said obliquely. And then, because she couldn’t ignore the reasons that had brought her here, ‘When you said you were ill…’
Hectic colour flooded his cheeks. ‘That wasn’t true—’
‘I know that now.’
‘Milos told you?’
‘No. Maya.’ Helen saw the way his mouth tightened at the news. ‘I don’t think she wants us here.’
Sam shook his head, his impatience evident now. ‘It’s not her call,’ he said. ‘This is my house, not hers.’ He pushed nervous hands deep into the pockets of his cotton trousers. ‘I have to ask: does my deception make a difference?’
Helen lifted slim shoulders. ‘It does, of course. But I don’t know how I feel.’ She saw Melissa watching her and went on carefully, ‘Perhaps we ought to take one day at a time.’
‘Would you have come if