Read Online No Mark Upon Her by Deborah Crombie - Free Book Online
Authors: Deborah Crombie
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he’d been too busy with work and the recent demands of family life to really give the matter serious consideration, not to mention that Gemma’s recent unpaid leave had seriously cut into their budget—as would his.
He still had his old MG, although he seldom drove it these days. The maintenance on it was a nightmare, but he was reluctant to sell it for the pittance it was worth. He had once rashly promised Kit that he would keep the Midget until he learned to drive, and he hated going back on a promise to his son. Now, however, the thought of Kit actually driving the little car horrified him—only slightly more than contemplating what it would cost to insure him if he did so.
His dad had given him an easy out. “I could come up to London and drive the Midget back to Cheshire,” Hugh had offered. “Keep it in the garage, do some restoration. Get it in tip-top shape.” When Kincaid, who had never seen his dad do more than change a tire, raised an eyebrow, Hugh had given him a sly wink. “Never too old,” he’d added.
Gemma had hugged Hugh, then his mum, Rosemary, who had left her packing to join in the surprise. “You are dears,” Gemma said. “But are you sure? How will you get back to Nantwich?”
“Not to worry,” Rosemary assured her. “Jack will run us to the train. And the new car’s ordered—it should be waiting for us when we get home.”
Looking at his parents, it had seemed to Kincaid that his father was a little thinner, and his mother a little grayer, than when he had seen them last. They were unfailingly generous, taking into their lives first Kit, the grandson whose existence they had not even imagined, then Toby, and now Charlotte. He loved them for it, and he realized that he told them so too seldom.
He’d given his mother a kiss on the cheek and his father a manly sort of hug-with-handshake. “Thank you. The car’s brilliant. And it means we’ll be able to come visit you more often.”
Toby had begun jumping up and down, shouting, “The dogs can come now, too, the dogs can come, too,” and was soon joined in the jumping by Charlotte. Jack and Winnie stood on the porch, holding Constance and grinning.
The only one not enthusiastic had been Kit, who stood with arms crossed, frowning. Kit had begged to go back to Cheshire with his cousins, Duncan’s sister Juliet’s children, for the rest of the half-term break. But as much as Kincaid loved his niece, Lally, he hadn’t liked the idea of the two teenagers on their own without his or Gemma’s supervision. Not that he and Gemma had kept them from getting into real trouble before, he thought with the shudder that always accompanied the memory of the previous Christmas.
Now, he looked at Kit, fidgeting and scowling beside him, and wondered if there was more bothering him than the car and the end-of-holiday blues.
As they’d had two cars to drive back to London, Gemma had taken Toby and Charlotte in the Escort, and Kincaid had thought that taking Kit in the Astra would give them some quality time together.
“Maybe we could go to Nantwich over Christmas,” he said, realizing the rashness of the suggestion even as he made it. He felt sure that Gemma would want to be at home—it would be Charlotte’s first Christmas as part of their family. “Or afterwards,” he amended. “Boxing Day. We might stay a few days between Christmas and New Year’s.”
Kit looked a little mollified, then frowned again. “What if Lally and Sam have to spend their hols with their dad? He wants them to live with him all the time, you know.” He shot a glance at Kincaid through the hair that was falling into his eyes. “Now that Aunt Jules is seeing that policeman.”
“What?” Kincaid had to make an effort to concentrate on an overtaking lorry. “Juliet’s seeing a copper? She never said a word.” But now it occurred to him that his sister had seemed happier and more relaxed, and that several times he’d caught her smiling for no apparent
He still had his old MG, although he seldom drove it these days. The maintenance on it was a nightmare, but he was reluctant to sell it for the pittance it was worth. He had once rashly promised Kit that he would keep the Midget until he learned to drive, and he hated going back on a promise to his son. Now, however, the thought of Kit actually driving the little car horrified him—only slightly more than contemplating what it would cost to insure him if he did so.
His dad had given him an easy out. “I could come up to London and drive the Midget back to Cheshire,” Hugh had offered. “Keep it in the garage, do some restoration. Get it in tip-top shape.” When Kincaid, who had never seen his dad do more than change a tire, raised an eyebrow, Hugh had given him a sly wink. “Never too old,” he’d added.
Gemma had hugged Hugh, then his mum, Rosemary, who had left her packing to join in the surprise. “You are dears,” Gemma said. “But are you sure? How will you get back to Nantwich?”
“Not to worry,” Rosemary assured her. “Jack will run us to the train. And the new car’s ordered—it should be waiting for us when we get home.”
Looking at his parents, it had seemed to Kincaid that his father was a little thinner, and his mother a little grayer, than when he had seen them last. They were unfailingly generous, taking into their lives first Kit, the grandson whose existence they had not even imagined, then Toby, and now Charlotte. He loved them for it, and he realized that he told them so too seldom.
He’d given his mother a kiss on the cheek and his father a manly sort of hug-with-handshake. “Thank you. The car’s brilliant. And it means we’ll be able to come visit you more often.”
Toby had begun jumping up and down, shouting, “The dogs can come now, too, the dogs can come, too,” and was soon joined in the jumping by Charlotte. Jack and Winnie stood on the porch, holding Constance and grinning.
The only one not enthusiastic had been Kit, who stood with arms crossed, frowning. Kit had begged to go back to Cheshire with his cousins, Duncan’s sister Juliet’s children, for the rest of the half-term break. But as much as Kincaid loved his niece, Lally, he hadn’t liked the idea of the two teenagers on their own without his or Gemma’s supervision. Not that he and Gemma had kept them from getting into real trouble before, he thought with the shudder that always accompanied the memory of the previous Christmas.
Now, he looked at Kit, fidgeting and scowling beside him, and wondered if there was more bothering him than the car and the end-of-holiday blues.
As they’d had two cars to drive back to London, Gemma had taken Toby and Charlotte in the Escort, and Kincaid had thought that taking Kit in the Astra would give them some quality time together.
“Maybe we could go to Nantwich over Christmas,” he said, realizing the rashness of the suggestion even as he made it. He felt sure that Gemma would want to be at home—it would be Charlotte’s first Christmas as part of their family. “Or afterwards,” he amended. “Boxing Day. We might stay a few days between Christmas and New Year’s.”
Kit looked a little mollified, then frowned again. “What if Lally and Sam have to spend their hols with their dad? He wants them to live with him all the time, you know.” He shot a glance at Kincaid through the hair that was falling into his eyes. “Now that Aunt Jules is seeing that policeman.”
“What?” Kincaid had to make an effort to concentrate on an overtaking lorry. “Juliet’s seeing a copper? She never said a word.” But now it occurred to him that his sister had seemed happier and more relaxed, and that several times he’d caught her smiling for no apparent
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