Paddy.
But he’s sixty-three, she thought absurdly. Old enough to be David’s grandfather.
‘Trish? Are you there?’
‘Yes, I’m here. I was distracted by something. Sorry. Yes, I’d like to have dinner. When?’
‘Tonight? We’ve found a nice little old-fashioned Italian restaurant just round the corner from Cottesmore Court. They still flame things in front of you and there are bottles in straw and Alpine soldiers’ boots and hats on the walls. You will come, won’t you? Bella’s still working, but she said she could get to the restaurant by nine.’
Reeling from the idea that David could be his son – and that she might well have loads of half-siblings she knew nothing about – Trish agreed.
‘But why don’t you and I meet at half past eight so that we can have a quiet father-and-daughter drink together first?’
‘That’d be great, Trish.’ He sounded surprised. ‘I’ll see you there at half eight, then.’
‘Right,’ she said, before putting down the mobile.
The light on her answering machine was flashing. Even though she knew there wouldn’t be one from George – the time difference made that thoroughly unlikely – she played the messages.
There was one from her mother, two from friends just back from holiday and wanting to see her, and one from Anna:
‘Trish, are you feeling any better? I felt very guilty after lunch, when I realised quite how much pressure I’d been putting on you when you were feeling frag. I hadn’t meant to. Do ring when you’ve got a minute.’
Trish picked up the phone. An apology from Anna was rare enough to need encouraging. Besides, it would be good to be distracted from Paddy and the idea that he might be responsible for David’s existence. Somehow Trish was going to have to find out, and she just couldn’t see herself asking him a direct question.
‘Anna?’ she said when her call was picked up. ‘Hi. It’s Trish. Thanks for your message. I’m fine. But you’re right, I was feeling fragile. I’m sorry I ran out on you.’
‘God, I’m glad. I had a sudden ghastly feeling that you might have … you know, when I talked about children. Trish, you looked so pale, you hadn’t just had a you know … Had you?’
‘What on earth are you talking about, Anna?’
‘An abortion. You hadn’t just had one, had you?’
‘No, Anna. Nothing like that.’ Intrusive questions Trish
could take, even though she didn’t like them. Sympathy would be impossible just now, so she wasn’t going to admit to the miscarriage.
‘Thank God for that.’ Anna’s sigh was deep enough to have come from one of the great whales. ‘I know I’m tactless, but I’d never have forgiven myself for that. Now, there’s a terrific film by a new Polish director on at the NFT next week. I’ve got a couple of tickets for Wednesday. Would you like to come?’
‘Why not? Thank you, Anna. I’ve got to dash now, so let’s talk on Wednesday morning about when to meet. Thanks for ringing. Bye.’
Chapter 4
The restaurant was all Paddy had promised, with red-and-white gingham cloths and candles stuck in straw-basketed chianti bottles, and packets of grissini criss-crossed between the waterlily-shaped pink napkins. Trish and her father were both drinking Campari-soda to fit in with their surroundings. She liked the fact that he shared the joke so easily. He snapped another breadstick as she asked him when he’d met Bella. It wasn’t a very subtle way into the discussion she hoped would lead to information about David’s parentage, but it was the best she could do.
‘About seven years ago. Why?’
‘I just wondered who you were with before that, say nine or ten years ago.’ Trish was glad Antony Shelley couldn’t hear her clumsy questions. After all her years at the Bar she should have been better at cross-examination than this.
‘Why?’ Paddy’s face was tight with suspicion.
‘It was about then that you started trying to get in touch with me,’ she said
But he’s sixty-three, she thought absurdly. Old enough to be David’s grandfather.
‘Trish? Are you there?’
‘Yes, I’m here. I was distracted by something. Sorry. Yes, I’d like to have dinner. When?’
‘Tonight? We’ve found a nice little old-fashioned Italian restaurant just round the corner from Cottesmore Court. They still flame things in front of you and there are bottles in straw and Alpine soldiers’ boots and hats on the walls. You will come, won’t you? Bella’s still working, but she said she could get to the restaurant by nine.’
Reeling from the idea that David could be his son – and that she might well have loads of half-siblings she knew nothing about – Trish agreed.
‘But why don’t you and I meet at half past eight so that we can have a quiet father-and-daughter drink together first?’
‘That’d be great, Trish.’ He sounded surprised. ‘I’ll see you there at half eight, then.’
‘Right,’ she said, before putting down the mobile.
The light on her answering machine was flashing. Even though she knew there wouldn’t be one from George – the time difference made that thoroughly unlikely – she played the messages.
There was one from her mother, two from friends just back from holiday and wanting to see her, and one from Anna:
‘Trish, are you feeling any better? I felt very guilty after lunch, when I realised quite how much pressure I’d been putting on you when you were feeling frag. I hadn’t meant to. Do ring when you’ve got a minute.’
Trish picked up the phone. An apology from Anna was rare enough to need encouraging. Besides, it would be good to be distracted from Paddy and the idea that he might be responsible for David’s existence. Somehow Trish was going to have to find out, and she just couldn’t see herself asking him a direct question.
‘Anna?’ she said when her call was picked up. ‘Hi. It’s Trish. Thanks for your message. I’m fine. But you’re right, I was feeling fragile. I’m sorry I ran out on you.’
‘God, I’m glad. I had a sudden ghastly feeling that you might have … you know, when I talked about children. Trish, you looked so pale, you hadn’t just had a you know … Had you?’
‘What on earth are you talking about, Anna?’
‘An abortion. You hadn’t just had one, had you?’
‘No, Anna. Nothing like that.’ Intrusive questions Trish
could take, even though she didn’t like them. Sympathy would be impossible just now, so she wasn’t going to admit to the miscarriage.
‘Thank God for that.’ Anna’s sigh was deep enough to have come from one of the great whales. ‘I know I’m tactless, but I’d never have forgiven myself for that. Now, there’s a terrific film by a new Polish director on at the NFT next week. I’ve got a couple of tickets for Wednesday. Would you like to come?’
‘Why not? Thank you, Anna. I’ve got to dash now, so let’s talk on Wednesday morning about when to meet. Thanks for ringing. Bye.’
Chapter 4
The restaurant was all Paddy had promised, with red-and-white gingham cloths and candles stuck in straw-basketed chianti bottles, and packets of grissini criss-crossed between the waterlily-shaped pink napkins. Trish and her father were both drinking Campari-soda to fit in with their surroundings. She liked the fact that he shared the joke so easily. He snapped another breadstick as she asked him when he’d met Bella. It wasn’t a very subtle way into the discussion she hoped would lead to information about David’s parentage, but it was the best she could do.
‘About seven years ago. Why?’
‘I just wondered who you were with before that, say nine or ten years ago.’ Trish was glad Antony Shelley couldn’t hear her clumsy questions. After all her years at the Bar she should have been better at cross-examination than this.
‘Why?’ Paddy’s face was tight with suspicion.
‘It was about then that you started trying to get in touch with me,’ she said
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