His Forbidden Bride (2 page)

Zoe had questioned her once on the subject. 'And my arrival was a total

embarrassment to her.'

'Did she never want a baby of her own?' Zoe asked.

Gina looked past her, her face oddly frozen. 'At one time, perhaps,' she

said. 'But it just—didn't happen for her.' She sighed briefly. 'Poor Megan.'

Megan was tal er, too, thinner and darker than her younger sister, with a

face that seemed permanently set in lines of resentment. There was no

glimpse in her of the underlying joy in living that had characterised Gina,

underpinning the occasional moments when she'd seemed to withdraw into

herself, trapped in some private and painful world. Her 'quiet times' as she'd

called them wryly.

Zoe had wondered sometimes what could possibly prompt them. She could

only assume it was memories of her father. Maybe their quiet, apparently

uneventful marriage had concealed an intense passion that her mother stil

mourned.

Her aunt was a very different matter. On the face of it Mrs Arnold seemed to

have so much to content her. She'd never had to worry about money in her

life, and her husband had been a kind, ebul ient man, immensely popular in

the locality. The attraction of opposites, Zoe had often thought. There could

be no other explanation for such an il -assorted pairing.

In addition, her aunt had a lovely Georgian house, enclosed behind a high

brick wall, from which she emerged mainly to preside over most of the

organisations in the area, in a one-woman reign of terror. But not even that

seemed to have the power to make her happy.

And her dislike of her younger sister seemed to have passed seamlessly to

her only niece. Even the fact that Megan Arnold had once taught English

herself had failed to provide a common meeting ground. Zoe couldn't

pretend to be happy about her aunt's determined hostility, but she'd learned

to offer politeness when they met, and expect nothing in return.

She got off the bus at the crossroads, and began to walk down the lane. It

was stil a warm, windy day, bringing wafts of hedgerow scents, and Zoe

gave a brief sigh of satisfaction as she breathed the fragrant air. Public

examinations always made this a difficult term at col ege, and she might

unwind by doing a little work in the garden tonight, she thought as she

turned the slight corner that led to home. She'd always found weeding and

dead-heading therapeutic, so while she worked she could consider the

future as wel . Review her options.

And stopped dead, her brows snapping together, as she saw that the front

garden of the cottage had acquired a new and unexpected addition. A 'For

Sale' board, she registered with a kind of helpless disbelief, with the logo of

a local estate agency, had been erected just inside the white picket fence.

It must be a mistake, she thought, covering the last few yards at a run. I'l

have to call them.

As she reached the gate, Adele appeared in the neighbouring doorway, her

youngest child, limpet-like, on her hip.

'Did you know about that?' she inquired, nodding at the sign. And as Zoe

speechlessly shook her head she sighed. 'I thought not. When they came

this morning, I queried it, but they said they were acting on the owner's

instructions.' She jerked her head towards the cottage. 'She's there now,

waiting for you. Just opened the door with her own key and marched in.'

'Oh, hel ,' Zoe muttered. 'That's all I need.'

She pul ed a ferocious face as she lifted the latch and let herself into the

cottage.

She found Megan Arnold in the sitting room, standing in front of the empty

fireplace, staring fixedly at the picture that hung above the mantelpiece.

Zoe hesitated in the doorway, watching her, puzzled. It was an unusual

painting, quite unlike Gina Lambert's usual choice of subject. It seemed to

be a Mediterranean scene— a short flight of white marble steps, scattered

with the faded petals of some pink flower, flanked on one side by a plain

white wal , and leading up to a terrace with a balustrade. And on the edge of

the balustrade, against a background of vivid blue sky and azure sea, a

large ornamental urn bright with pelargoniums in pink, crimson and white.

What made it all the more curious was that the Lamberts had always taken

their holidays at home, usual y in Cornwal , or the Yorkshire Dales. As far as

Zoe was aware, the Mediterranean was an unknown quantity to her mother.

And it was the only time she'd ever attempted such a subject.

Her aunt suddenly seemed to sense Zoe's scrutiny, and turned, her face

hard and oddly set.

'So here you are.' Her greeting was abrupt. 'You're very late.'

'There was a staff meeting,' Zoe returned with equal brevity. 'You should

have let me know you were coming, Aunt Megan.' She paused 'Would you

like some tea?'

'No, this isn't a social cal .' The older woman seated herself in the

high-backed armchair beside the empty fire-place.

My mother's chair, Zoe thought with a pang, trying not to feel resentful. It

was, after all, her aunt's house, but it was smal wonder there'd been friction

in the past if she made a habit of walking in whenever the whim took her.

Megan Arnold was dressed as usual in a pleated navy skirt with a matching

hand-knitted jacket over a tailored pale blue blouse, and her greying hair

was drawn back from her thin face in a severe knot.

'As you can see I've placed the house on the market,' she went on. 'I've

instructed the agents to commence showing the property at once, so you'l

have to remove all this clutter.' She waved a hand at the books and

ornaments that fil ed the shelves on either side of the fireplace. Then

paused. 'I'd be obliged if you'd remove yourself, too, by the end of the

month.'

Zoe gasped helplessly. 'Just like that?'

'What did you expect?' Megan Arnold's mouth was a hard line. 'My husband

allowed your mother to have this property for
her
lifetime only. The

arrangement did not mention you. You surely weren't expecting to stay on

here,' she added sharply.

'I wasn't expecting anything,' Zoe said, with equal crispness. 'But I did think

I'd be al owed some kind of breathing space.'

'I feel you've had plenty of time.' The other woman was unmoved. 'And in

the eyes of the law, you're merely squatting here.' She paused. 'You should

have no difficulty in finding a bedsitting room in Bishops Cross itself.

Somewhere convenient for your work.'

A bedsit would hardly be adequate,' Zoe said, keeping tight hold on her

control. George must have known about this, she thought with shock. His

mother must have told him what her aunt was planning. Or he heard them

talking one day at the house. And that's why he asked me to marry him.

Because he knew I was going to be virtual y homeless almost at once.

She shivered. Oh, George, why didn't you warn me instead of trying to play

Sir Galahad? she thought desperately.

She drew a deep, steadying breath. Did her best to speak normally. 'Not all

the furniture came with the cottage. Some of it belonged to Mother, and I'l

want to take it with me, as wel as her books and pictures.'

She saw Megan Arnold's gaze go back to the painting above the

mantelpiece, and decided, however belatedly, to try an overture. To heal a

breach that had never been of her making. 'Maybe you'd like to have one of

them yourself, as a keepsake,' she suggested. 'That one, perhaps.'

Her aunt almost recoiled. 'Wretched daub.' Her voice shook. 'I wouldn't have

it in the house.'

Zoe stared at her, appal ed at the anger, the bitterness in her tone. She said

slowly, 'Aunt Megan—why—why do you hate her so much?'

'What are you talking about? I—hate Gina—the perfect sister?' Her sudden

laugh was shrill. 'What nonsense. No one was allowed to hate her. Not ever.

Whatever she did, however great the sin, she was loved and forgiven

always. By everyone.'

'She's dead, Aunt Megan.' Against her will, Zoe's voice broke. 'If she ever

hurt you, I'm sure it wasn't intentional. And, anyway, she can't do so again.'

'You're wrong.' Mrs Arnold lifted her chin coldly. 'She never had the power to

affect me in any way. Because I always saw her for what she was. That

innocent, butter-wouldn't-melt façade never fooled me for a minute. And how

right I was.'

She stopped abruptly. 'But that's all in the past, and the future is what

matters. Sel ing this cottage for a start.' She stood up. 'I suggest you hire a

skip for al this rubbish— or take it to a car-boot sale. Whatever you decide,

I want it cleared before the first viewers arrive. Starting with this.'

She reached up and lugged the Mediterranean painting off its hook, tossing

it contemptuously down onto the rug in front of the hearth. There was an

ominous cracking sound.

'The frame,' Zoe whispered. She went down on one knee, almost

protectively. 'You've broken it.' She looked up, shaking her head. 'How could

you?'

Her aunt shrugged, a touch defensively. 'It was loose anyway. Cheap wood,

and poorly made.'

'Whatever.' Zoe was almost choking. 'You had no right—no right to
touch
it.'

'This is my property. I shall do what I wish.' Her aunt reached for her bag.

'And I want the rest removed, and al the holes in the plaster made good,'

she added. 'I shal be back at the end of the week to make sure my

instructions are being fol owed. Or I shall arrange a house clearance myself.'

She swept out, and a moment later Zoe, still kneeling on the rug, heard the

front door slam.

To be fol owed almost immediately by the back door opening, and Adele

calling to her.

'Jeff’s looking after the kids,' she announced as she came in. 'I saw Madam

leaving, and came to make sure you're al right.'

Zoe shook her head. 'I feel as if I've been hit by a train,' she admitted. She

swal owed. 'God, she was vile. I—I can't believe it.'

'I'l put the kettle on,' said Adele. She paused. 'What happened to the

picture?'

'She threw it on the floor. It was completely crazy. I mean, I don't think it's

necessarily the best thing my mother ever did, and it spent most of its life up

in the attic until she moved here, but…' She paused, lost for words.

'Wel , I've always liked it,' Adele said. 'Greece, isn't it? My sister gets

concessionary rates, so we went to Crete last year, and Corfu the year

before.'

Zoe shrugged. 'It's somewhere in that region, I guess.' She gave it a

doubtful look, then got to her feet, holding the damaged frame careful y, and

placed the picture on the sofa. 'Only we've never been there. My father didn't

like very hot weather.'

'Wel , perhaps she copied a postcard or something that someone sent her,'

Adele suggested as she fil ed the kettle in the kitchen.

'Maybe.' Zoe frowned. 'It was one of those things I always meant to ask

about, but never did.'

'So, when are you being evicted?' Adele asked as they sat at the kitchen

table, drinking their tea.

'I have to be out by the end of the month,' Zoe admitted. 'And she means it.'

'Hmm.' Adele was thoughtful for a moment. 'Do you think she real y is

crazy?'

'Not certifiably,' Zoe said wryly. 'Just total y irrational where my mother is

concerned.'

'Wel , maybe that's not entirely her fault,' Adele said meditatively. 'My gran

remembers her as a child, and she said she was a nice-looking kid, and the

apple of her parents' eye. Then your sister came along, as an afterthought,

and immediately she was the favourite. And "the pretty one", too.'

She shrugged. 'That can't have been very nice. And not easy for any kid to

handle. So, maybe it's just common or garden jealousy.'

'From Queen of the Castle to the Queen in
Snow White
?' Zoe pondered.

'Wel , you could be right, but I have the feeling there's more to it than that.'

'And it won't help that you're the image of your mum at the same age.' Adele

poured more tea into her mug. 'Though they weren't always bad

friends—according to Gran, anyway,' she added thoughtful y. 'There was a

time when they did things together—even went away on holiday. Although

even then your aunt behaved more as if she was her mother than her sister

by al accounts.' She pursed her lips. 'Maybe that's what caused the trouble.'

She paused. 'So what are you going to do? How are you going to manage, if

she's turning you out?'

Zoe grimaced. 'I'm going to have to find a flat—unfurnished.'

'Or even a small house. You'l miss the garden.'

'Yes.' Zoe's lip quivered suddenly. 'Among so many other things.' She forced

herself to smile. 'Maybe Aunt Megan's doing me a favour. I'd just been

thinking that my life could do with a whole new direction. This could be

exactly the impetus I need. I might even move right away from here.'

'Some place where the wicked Queen can't barge in, using her own key,'

Adele agreed. 'Although I'd miss you.'

'Wel , I won't be going immediately.' Zoe wrinkled her nose. 'My contract

stipulates one ful term's notice. But I can be looking—and planning.'

'You don't think some prince on a white horse is going to gal op up and