Read Online Turning the Tide by Christine Stovell - Free Book Online
Authors: Christine Stovell
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past.
George rubbed his hand across his face as if to wipe away the memories. He buttoned his pyjama jacket and tried to concentrate on what mattered. He loved Miss Harriet, just as he’d loved the man who’d brought her into the world, however flawed he’d been. He’d already done more than she would ever know to protect the girl, but these days he was beginning to feel his age. He couldn’t just stand there and watch her let everything she had worked so hard for slide away from her; but he was too worn out to take her on. If only she could see that Matthew Corrigan might – and even George felt it was a long shot – just provide the lifeblood that would reinvigorate the boat yard again.
George turned out his light and rested his head. Tomorrow he’d check the pontoons and maybe he’d have a word if he saw any of the owners. Although in his opinion the ones who were left, the ones who hadn’t buggered off to the marina, were not worth having anyway. His last thought, before he nodded off, was that in some ways it wouldn’t do any harm if they all slung their hooks; then Miss Harriet would have no option but to cast her net wider, would she?
For someone who still behaved like an adolescent boy, thought Trevor, staring up at the ceiling of their bedroom, Frankie wasn’t completely selfish; he seemed to have been persuaded that they were better off out of the limelight, whatever happened at the restaurant.
Frankie was naïve to expect that Trevor’s relationship with his daughter would continue if Sophie was allowed to know the truth about them. His ex-wife might have remarried, but she was as poisonous now as the day she had evicted him from the marital home, jealously guarding Sophie, malignant as a virus, always threatening to infect his fragile relationship with his daughter. If Frankie thought a contact order could protect them, he’d underestimated Jane’s ability to thwart the law. Trevor had regularly turned up at her house to find that Sophie was mysteriously ill or had a pressing appointment within the hour. The only answer, as far as preserving his relationship with his daughter was concerned, was to keep apart the two people he loved most, however much it disappointed Frankie.
Sensing a gap in the door just wide enough for her to work on, Kirstie came bustling in, sniffing the air suspiciously. Miffed that she had been excluded from the fun, she jumped up on the bed and curled into Trevor. She knew he was a softer touch than Frankie who, for once, seemed disinclined to shout at her. Trevor ran an idle hand over her, setting her quivering as he tickled her tummy. Suddenly his fingers encountered a swelling and he sat up to inspect his discovery.
‘Oh look, Frankie, what’s that?’
Frankie took a quick squint. ‘It’s a nipple, you fool.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said, pinning a protesting Kirstie down. ‘But why does it look like that?’
Frankie dumped the towel he was bearing on the floor. ‘Like what?’
Trevor pointed. ‘Isn’t it a bit, you know, pinker than usual?’
‘How the hell should I know?’ Frankie scowled and threw himself down beside Trevor.
‘Well, perhaps you should find out.’ Trevor dropped Kirstie on Frankie’s lap. ‘Perhaps you should take her to the vet’s.’
‘Absolutely not, Trevor,’ said Frankie, handing her back. ‘You’re the one who wants to know.’
Since the frolics were clearly over, Kirstie dropped to the floor and started worrying Trevor’s pants.
‘All I can say is, thank goodness we haven’t got kids,’ said Trevor, shooing her off. ‘I can see who’d always be the one getting up in the night.’ As he headed for the shower he caught sight of Frankie’s stricken face in the mirror. A bit of him wondered if Frankie just made noises about being a surrogate stepdad to Sophie because he knew it would never happen; but perhaps even Frankie yearned for someone else to take care of? Trevor groaned. After Frankie had respected his
George rubbed his hand across his face as if to wipe away the memories. He buttoned his pyjama jacket and tried to concentrate on what mattered. He loved Miss Harriet, just as he’d loved the man who’d brought her into the world, however flawed he’d been. He’d already done more than she would ever know to protect the girl, but these days he was beginning to feel his age. He couldn’t just stand there and watch her let everything she had worked so hard for slide away from her; but he was too worn out to take her on. If only she could see that Matthew Corrigan might – and even George felt it was a long shot – just provide the lifeblood that would reinvigorate the boat yard again.
George turned out his light and rested his head. Tomorrow he’d check the pontoons and maybe he’d have a word if he saw any of the owners. Although in his opinion the ones who were left, the ones who hadn’t buggered off to the marina, were not worth having anyway. His last thought, before he nodded off, was that in some ways it wouldn’t do any harm if they all slung their hooks; then Miss Harriet would have no option but to cast her net wider, would she?
For someone who still behaved like an adolescent boy, thought Trevor, staring up at the ceiling of their bedroom, Frankie wasn’t completely selfish; he seemed to have been persuaded that they were better off out of the limelight, whatever happened at the restaurant.
Frankie was naïve to expect that Trevor’s relationship with his daughter would continue if Sophie was allowed to know the truth about them. His ex-wife might have remarried, but she was as poisonous now as the day she had evicted him from the marital home, jealously guarding Sophie, malignant as a virus, always threatening to infect his fragile relationship with his daughter. If Frankie thought a contact order could protect them, he’d underestimated Jane’s ability to thwart the law. Trevor had regularly turned up at her house to find that Sophie was mysteriously ill or had a pressing appointment within the hour. The only answer, as far as preserving his relationship with his daughter was concerned, was to keep apart the two people he loved most, however much it disappointed Frankie.
Sensing a gap in the door just wide enough for her to work on, Kirstie came bustling in, sniffing the air suspiciously. Miffed that she had been excluded from the fun, she jumped up on the bed and curled into Trevor. She knew he was a softer touch than Frankie who, for once, seemed disinclined to shout at her. Trevor ran an idle hand over her, setting her quivering as he tickled her tummy. Suddenly his fingers encountered a swelling and he sat up to inspect his discovery.
‘Oh look, Frankie, what’s that?’
Frankie took a quick squint. ‘It’s a nipple, you fool.’
‘Yes, I know,’ he said, pinning a protesting Kirstie down. ‘But why does it look like that?’
Frankie dumped the towel he was bearing on the floor. ‘Like what?’
Trevor pointed. ‘Isn’t it a bit, you know, pinker than usual?’
‘How the hell should I know?’ Frankie scowled and threw himself down beside Trevor.
‘Well, perhaps you should find out.’ Trevor dropped Kirstie on Frankie’s lap. ‘Perhaps you should take her to the vet’s.’
‘Absolutely not, Trevor,’ said Frankie, handing her back. ‘You’re the one who wants to know.’
Since the frolics were clearly over, Kirstie dropped to the floor and started worrying Trevor’s pants.
‘All I can say is, thank goodness we haven’t got kids,’ said Trevor, shooing her off. ‘I can see who’d always be the one getting up in the night.’ As he headed for the shower he caught sight of Frankie’s stricken face in the mirror. A bit of him wondered if Frankie just made noises about being a surrogate stepdad to Sophie because he knew it would never happen; but perhaps even Frankie yearned for someone else to take care of? Trevor groaned. After Frankie had respected his
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