Read Online Night Visit by Priscilla Masters - Free Book Online Page B

had trouble disliking him. No trouble hating her.
    He followed me to a table, banged his head on the beam and grinned at me without a trace of self-consciousness. ‘Hi, Harry.’ Hurtfully his voice was as warm as though he was addressing his favourite sister. With a sinking heart I realised what was missing from it. Lust. That had been the missing factor.
    I responded in kind and, to my credit, without rancour. ‘Hello.’ I hoped he couldn’t hear the struggle in my greeting. As I settled warily across the table from him I wondered. Did his eyes have to be such a bright, hurtful blue?
    He dropped back into the chair, stretching out his long legs. He began politely enough with thanks for the birthday card before he said, ‘You’re looking rough.’
    ‘ I wish I could return the insult.’
    He brushed my spiky compliment aside. ‘I mean it, Harry. Is something wrong?’ That he could ask such a question.
    ‘ Nothing apart from my marriage breaking up and my daughter missing her father.’
    His eyes flickered. ‘I’ve been busy.’
    It was a pathetic excuse. ‘At weekends?’
    ‘ How about a drink?’ he said quickly.
    ‘ Fine.’ It was wonderful how he thought he could distract me from my purpose but I could play games too. ‘White wine, please.’
    I was gratified to see Robin’s eyes widen. ‘You aren’t turning to drink, are you? You never drink in the day. It gives you a headache.’
    I leaned forward. ‘I would like a drink and I don’t seem to get headaches these days.’
    ‘ Touché,’ he said and ambled towards the bar.
    He was served quickly and came straight back again, flipping a menu across the table.
    ‘ So Happy Birthday,’ I said, raising my glass. ‘And is it happy?’
    ‘ So… so... Obviously I worry about you and Rosie.’
    Even from my psychopathic husband it was an obvious lie. However, I should have worked the whole thing out before I came. Robin was playing another part, concerned ex-husband, absent father.
    He grinned and ran his fingers through his hair. It flopped straight back over his eyebrows as it had been cut to do. ‘So when I got your birthday card, well, it seemed an ideal opportunity to...’
    ‘ Renew old friendships?’
    His confidence was only marginally displaced. ‘We’re a bit more than an old friendship, Harriet.’
    ‘ The birthday card was pure habit,’ I said. ‘It’s hard to let May the eighteenth go by without marking it somehow. And I really am fine, in spite of the way I look.’
    Robin was watching me with a faintly pitying look. ‘Don’t be proud, Harry,’ he said. ‘We were married for ten years—remember?’
    ‘ And now we’re getting divorced.’
    He gave a heartfelt sigh of regret. ‘You seem a bit on edge,’ he said.
    I began telling him then about the missing child, Vera Carnforth, and Reuben’s burial site. ‘I can’t believe that he didn’t tell me,’ I said. ‘Such a huge life event, his own granddaughter’s abduction and he didn’t confide in me. He said nothing. He never even mentioned it. Apart from the last plea.’
    Robin was, for once, unusually perceptive. ‘But you didn’t confide in him, did you?’
    ‘ What do you mean?’
    ‘ I’m sure I remember you telling me,’ he said, ‘round about Christmas time, that his wife was insisting he wasn’t told he had cancer.’
    ‘ That’s right,’ I said, ‘but I’m surprised you remembered.’
    ‘ Mmm.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe sometimes you misjudge me.’
    I said nothing.
    ‘ Perhaps,’ he said, ‘if you’d been straighter with him he might have felt able to unload his problem.’
    For my husband this was a searingly perceptive remark.
    The food arrived then and for minutes our mouths were too busy even to argue. I had known he would go for the fillet steak. Red blooded, carnivorous male—what else? I finished my meal first, pushed my plate back and moved my head, catching a faint tang of orange scented perfume.
    He spoke first. ‘So tell me more