as he headed the car towards the motorway.
‘And did you find anything?’ She found herself almost holding her breath, but that was silly. There was nothing to find.
He shook his head. ‘No, Holly. Not a thing. The folder contained everything that referred to you.’
‘So why didn’t you just let me leave?’
‘A number of reasons. If I’m right…’
‘You are not right! Whydo you have to be so damned obstinate?’
He threw her an exasperated glance. ‘And you’re not being stubborn, I suppose?’ She didn’t answer. Satisfied that he had made his point, he went on. ‘If I’m right there must be papers somewhere and your house is the obvious place to look.’
‘There are no papers.’
They paused at a junction and he turned to her and fixed her with a look that pinned her back in her seat. ‘When I came to see you, Holly,I was angry. I had spent the previous week watching a friend die and as far as I was concerned you were an uncaring, thoughtless woman who had taken a quite calculating decision to cut her mother out of her life. I didn’t want to like you.’
‘You made that plain enough.’
‘Your first reaction to my news only reinforced those feelings. The rejection seemed so utterly callous.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘No. I realise that. But Mary thought you knew; your mother — Margaret Carpenter — had promised to tell you the truth.’
‘There was nothing to tell, Joshua. Why won’t you simply accept that?’
‘Because of this.’ He slipped an envelope from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed it to her.
She didn’t want to take the envelope, but she knew that he wouldn’t let this go until she had done as he asked.
‘What is it?’ she asked as they moved on.
‘It’s a photograph. I want you to look at it.’ Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the flap and tipped the photograph on to her lap. Then she frowned. It was a photograph of her… No, not her, someone very like her. Someone with the same almond-shaped eyes, but blue, not light brown, the same wide, high cheekbones, the too full mouth. Holly unconsciously touched her hair.
Silver-blonde hair that hung in a smooth curve to her shoulder. She turned the photograph over and there was the stamp of a photographer in Ashbrooke and the date, fifteen years earlier.
‘Who is this?’ she demanded. But she didn’t need an answer. She remembered the look on his face when she had pulled off her hat and he had seen her hair for the first time. ‘It’s Mary, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? It could be you.’
‘Yes…’ Why hadn’t she realised how alike they were? Except that she had only been seven and they hadn’t been alike then. She had been a rather thin and scrawny child, not at all like the woman in the photograph.
‘You do see now. Holly? You can see why I know I’m right.’
‘No! It’sjust a family likeness. Coincidence.’ His expression was compelling her to some unacceptable truth and somehow she had to make him see, prove to him that he was wrong. ‘I have my birth certificate,’ she said. ‘It’s at home, I’ll show you. As soon as we get there. I’ll show you.’ Her voice broke on a sob as she turned to him. ‘You’ll see then, Joshua. You’ll have to believe me then.’
CHAPTER FOUR
JOSHUA wanted to stop, give Holly a chance to recover her composure, but she refused. ‘I want to get home as quickly as possible,’ she said, unmovable in her determination. After the briefest glance at her set face he had humoured her, putting his foot down when they reached the motorway and keeping it there, his concentration focused only on the road.
It was lunchtime when he finally pulled up outside her home and the two of them sat for a moment, adjusting themselves to the stillness. Then Holly roused herself. ‘Thank you, Joshua.’
‘What for?’
‘Understanding that I didn’t want to talk.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll get your bag.’
She put her hand on his arm,
‘And did you find anything?’ She found herself almost holding her breath, but that was silly. There was nothing to find.
He shook his head. ‘No, Holly. Not a thing. The folder contained everything that referred to you.’
‘So why didn’t you just let me leave?’
‘A number of reasons. If I’m right…’
‘You are not right! Whydo you have to be so damned obstinate?’
He threw her an exasperated glance. ‘And you’re not being stubborn, I suppose?’ She didn’t answer. Satisfied that he had made his point, he went on. ‘If I’m right there must be papers somewhere and your house is the obvious place to look.’
‘There are no papers.’
They paused at a junction and he turned to her and fixed her with a look that pinned her back in her seat. ‘When I came to see you, Holly,I was angry. I had spent the previous week watching a friend die and as far as I was concerned you were an uncaring, thoughtless woman who had taken a quite calculating decision to cut her mother out of her life. I didn’t want to like you.’
‘You made that plain enough.’
‘Your first reaction to my news only reinforced those feelings. The rejection seemed so utterly callous.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘No. I realise that. But Mary thought you knew; your mother — Margaret Carpenter — had promised to tell you the truth.’
‘There was nothing to tell, Joshua. Why won’t you simply accept that?’
‘Because of this.’ He slipped an envelope from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed it to her.
She didn’t want to take the envelope, but she knew that he wouldn’t let this go until she had done as he asked.
‘What is it?’ she asked as they moved on.
‘It’s a photograph. I want you to look at it.’ Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the flap and tipped the photograph on to her lap. Then she frowned. It was a photograph of her… No, not her, someone very like her. Someone with the same almond-shaped eyes, but blue, not light brown, the same wide, high cheekbones, the too full mouth. Holly unconsciously touched her hair.
Silver-blonde hair that hung in a smooth curve to her shoulder. She turned the photograph over and there was the stamp of a photographer in Ashbrooke and the date, fifteen years earlier.
‘Who is this?’ she demanded. But she didn’t need an answer. She remembered the look on his face when she had pulled off her hat and he had seen her hair for the first time. ‘It’s Mary, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? It could be you.’
‘Yes…’ Why hadn’t she realised how alike they were? Except that she had only been seven and they hadn’t been alike then. She had been a rather thin and scrawny child, not at all like the woman in the photograph.
‘You do see now. Holly? You can see why I know I’m right.’
‘No! It’sjust a family likeness. Coincidence.’ His expression was compelling her to some unacceptable truth and somehow she had to make him see, prove to him that he was wrong. ‘I have my birth certificate,’ she said. ‘It’s at home, I’ll show you. As soon as we get there. I’ll show you.’ Her voice broke on a sob as she turned to him. ‘You’ll see then, Joshua. You’ll have to believe me then.’
CHAPTER FOUR
JOSHUA wanted to stop, give Holly a chance to recover her composure, but she refused. ‘I want to get home as quickly as possible,’ she said, unmovable in her determination. After the briefest glance at her set face he had humoured her, putting his foot down when they reached the motorway and keeping it there, his concentration focused only on the road.
It was lunchtime when he finally pulled up outside her home and the two of them sat for a moment, adjusting themselves to the stillness. Then Holly roused herself. ‘Thank you, Joshua.’
‘What for?’
‘Understanding that I didn’t want to talk.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll get your bag.’
She put her hand on his arm,
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