Savage Innocence. Anne Mather
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know who your real father was.’
‘I didn’t. Until today.’ Isobel looked doubtful. ‘It turns out he was my father’s brother.’
‘Are you serious?’ Michelle’s blue eyes were wide. ‘Holy Moses! And they never told you?’
‘They didn’t tell anyone,’ said Isobel unhappily. ‘My father—my adoptive father, that is—made that a condition when he agreed to take me.’
Michelle still looked confused. ‘But I didn’t know your father had a brother.’
‘Nor did I.’
‘And your real mother—?’
‘She’s still dead.’ Isobel looked wistful now. ‘It turns out that when she was killed the authorities discovered that she’d named Robert Dorland as—as my father.’
‘Robert Dorland?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So where is he now?’
‘I’m not sure. At the time the letters were written, he was living at somewhere called Tregarth Hall in Polgarron. That’s in Cornwall.’
‘Cornwall?’
‘Mmm.’ Isobel nodded. ‘It turns out I was born in London, not Newcastle.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ Michelle was amazed.
‘Of course, the facts of—of my adoption are the same. My mother was still unmarried at the time I was born. Her—association with my father was very brief.’
She was feeling weepy again now, and when she turned away to go into the kitchen Michelle sprang up from the couch and went after her. ‘Hey,’ she said, putting her arm about the other woman’s shoulders. ‘It’s nothing to cry about. At least you know who you are now.’
‘Do I?’
‘Sure you do.’ Michelle sighed, searching for the right words. ‘Are you telling me Marion knew about this all along?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Isobel drew away from her, pulling a tissue out of the box she kept on the counter and blowing her nose before going on. ‘She seemed as shocked as me.’
‘Then, what—?’
‘Oh, it was something and nothing,’ said Isobel tiredly. ‘She suggested that Robert Dorland might not be my father after all. That my mother might just have used his name—’
‘To what advantage?’
‘That’s what I said,’ said Isobel eagerly. ‘I mean, if she hadn’t been killed, he would never have known.’
‘Precisely.’ Michelle snorted. ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t let her upset you. As I’ve said many times before, she’s a jealous cow.’
‘But why?’ exclaimed Isobel blankly. ‘She’s the success of the family, not me.’
‘Well, obviously she doesn’t think so,’ retorted her friend shrewdly. ‘It must have been a sickener for her when she found out about you and Jared. I mean, doesn’t she spend all her time trying to insinuate herself with the divine Elizabeth?’
‘Don’t say that.’ Isobel couldn’t allow Michelle to ridicule Jared’s wife. ‘Life hasn’t been easy for Elizabeth, you know that.’
Michelle grimaced. ‘I know what she wants everyone to believe,’ she remarked drily. ‘But, okay. I won’t say anything bitchy about Mrs Kendall if you’ll stop getting mopey over Marion’s maliciousness. Hell, she’s probably afraid you’re going to go looking for him.’
Isobel frowned. ‘Why should that bother her?’
‘Come on.’ Michelle was impatient now. ‘What was that address you just told me? Tregarth Hall? That doesn’t sound like a semi in a nice, but unspectacular, part of town.’
Isobel stared at her. ‘You’re saying you think my father might be a—a wealthy man?’
‘It’s possible,’ said Michelle, shrugging as she opened Isobel’s fridge. ‘Ah, wine,’ she noted approvingly. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’
Isobel sniffed again, but her mouth tilted a little at her friend’s good-humoured common-sense. ‘I don’t want any,’ she said, helping herself to a can of Coke. ‘It’s all yours.’
Michelle lifted the bottle out of the fridge and looked for the corkscrew. ‘So you’re really going through with this, then?’
Isobel looked down at her stomach. ‘You mean the baby?’
‘I mean the baby,’ agreed Michelle, pouring herself a glass of Chardonnay. ‘Does Marion know about that?’
‘Heaven forbid!’ Isobel spoke fervently. ‘She’d say, Like mother, like daughter.’
‘Mmm.’ Michelle headed back into the living room. ‘And you’re still determined that Jared doesn’t need to know either?’
Isobel nodded vigorously. ‘It was never meant to happen, Michelle. You know that. It’ll be better for all of us when I go away.’
‘Well, if you want my honest opinion, I think he’s bloody lucky to have known you,’ declared her friend staunchly. ‘I hate to say anything good about the bastard, but he hasn’t had the happiest of marriages with the—with Elizabeth, has he?’
‘No.’ Isobel’s throat was tight.
‘And, contrary to what you say, I think he would do something about it, if he knew.’
‘What? Get a divorce? I don’t think so. Apart from the fact that Elizabeth’s disabled, it’s common knowledge that he was driving the car when the accident happened.’
Isobel was getting emotional again, and Michelle apparently decided it was time to back off. ‘Who knows?’ she said lightly. ‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, I guess.’ She sank down onto the sofa again, and took a sip of her wine. ‘So…what are you going to do about the letters?’
Isobel perched on the chair opposite. ‘What do you think I should do?’
Michelle arched improbably thin eyebrows. ‘How should I know?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘But I guess, looking at you now, that you’ve got a plan in mind.’
‘I had,’ admitted Isobel ruefully. ‘Now, I’m not so sure.’
‘Why not?’
Isobel bit her lip. ‘I had thought of looking for somewhere to live near—near Polgarron.’
‘Ah. And?’
‘Well, if your suspicions are true, and he—does have money, I don’t want him to think I’m looking for him now because I think he—owes me something.’
‘He does.’
‘Michelle!’
‘He does, dammit. You are his daughter.’
‘If it’s true.’
‘Do you doubt it?’
‘No.’
‘There you are, then.’ Michelle was triumphant. ‘I suggest we drive down the first weekend of the holidays.’
Isobel caught her breath. ‘You’ll come with me?’
‘And see you settled? What else?’
‘Oh, Michelle, thank you.’ Isobel went and gave her friend an impulsive hug. ‘I thought I’d have to go on my own.’
‘How are you going to haul all your stuff in that match-box of yours?’ demanded Michelle, disparaging Isobel’s car with affectionate familiarity. ‘No, we’ll take the estate car.