'Oh? What are you writing?' She thought of all those emails he'd written to Felicity. Perhaps this was how he was coping with his grief. Putting it all down on paper.

'I'm trying my hand at poetry. But please don't say anything to Dominic; he would only belittle what I'm doing. In his view there's only room for one poet in the family, and he's it.'

Harriet had once attempted to read one of Dominic's so-called epic poems but had soon given up; she hadn't been able to make head nor tail of it. Felicity had tried to explain what it was about and had drawn Harriet's attention to the effectiveness of his syntax, as well as the symbols and allegories he'd used, but eventually her sister had admitted defeat and told Harriet that she was a philistine. 'I refuse to believe you can't hear the beauty of his language,' she'd said. 'The man's a genius.'

'What kind of poetry do you write?' Harriet asked Miles. Part of her wanted him to come right out and just say it - I'm writing about my love for Felicity. How much I adored her. How much I miss her. But the greater part of Harriet wasn't ready to have her hurt and disappointment further compounded by a confession. To be forced to listen to Miles opening his heart to her about Felicity was more than she could bear. She hated knowing that even in death, Felicity was always going to be the main attraction in her life. That those who had known her sister would always want to talk about Felicity in preference to her.

'Oh, you know, the usual thing,' he replied. 'Regret and lost opportunities.'

'And love? Surely that's a given. Every poet writes about that.' Stop it, she told herself. Back off before it's too late. Don't give him the chance to tell you you're nothing but a poor imitation of the woman he would have gladly ripped out his heart for.

He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and shot her a sideways glance - a nervous, guilty glance, she noted. 'Like you say, that's a given. But as Samuel Johnson wrote, "Love is only one of many pa.s.sions." It can appear in many guises. And when you least expect it.'

'I'll have to take your word on that,' she said coolly, and quickened her pace to catch up with the children.

'Can we let Toby off the lead now?' Carrie asked.

'Yes. But the usual rules apply - '

'We know,' they both chorused, 'don't go near the water!' They charged off whooping and yelling.

Miles laughed. 'They've got you totally sussed, haven't they?'

'They're much too smart for their own good. I can't think what they'll be like when they're teenagers. Completely uncontrollable knowing my luck.'

'Nonsense. They'll be great, and lots of fun. I know you won't believe me, but you really are turning out to be a great mother to them.'

'Not true. I can never be that. Felicity was their mother, and always will be. I'm merely the caretaker.'

'I think you underestimate yourself. And the children. They've become very fond of you.'

Reminded of what Dominic had said to her in Dublin - that the children relied on her and needed her - Harriet was brought up short by a bolt of self-pity. Very likely, because her situation made her as desirable as a bucket of fish eyes, the children's fondness for her would be the nearest she ever got to be being loved. Being relied upon isn't enough, she wanted to scream. Self-pity morphed into stinging bitterness and she set off at a ferocious pace, wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and the man who had loved Felicity in a way she would never know.

But Miles was hot on her heels. He put a hand out to stop her. 'Harriet, what is it? What did I say?'

'The children,' she blurted out. 'We mustn't let them go on too far without us.' Then, hearing Toby give off a loud bark, she turned her head sharply. Further up the towpath, stooping to stroke Toby while chatting to the children, was Will Hart.

'Hi,' Will said when Harriet and her companion joined him and the children. He held out his hand to the other man, deciding on sight that if he was a rival for Harriet's affection, he'd have to shoot the good-looking young blood dead on the spot. 'I'm Will Hart, the Maple Drive neighbour from h.e.l.l.'

'Hi, I'm Miles.'

'Ah, one of the McKendrick boys; I've heard about you.'

'Really? From Harriet?'

'No, from Dora Gold. I think she knows everything about everyone in the road, which makes her fascinating company.' He smiled, first at Miles and then at Harriet, and began to feel he'd walked in on something. Something between the two of them. He checked out Harriet's body-language. If it was possible, she looked more agitated than usual, kicking at the leaves on the ground and looking anywhere but at Miles. He was disappointed to see she wasn't wearing her cute beret. 'Carrie tells me that you've found the coolest house ever?' he said.

She looked up at him. 'Yes, it's far better than I could have hoped for. I've made an offer on it already and I've arranged to see it again tomorrow with Mum and Dad.' Her face suddenly brightened and she smiled one of her rare smiles. 'Why don't you come with us? We could make a party of it.'

Surprised at the invitation, he said, 'Thanks, I'd like that. What time?'

'Seven. It'll be dark, so you won't see the location at its best, but you'll get the general idea. We won't be able to all squeeze into the one car, so - '

'No worries. I'll follow behind. I know my place.' He wondered if Miles was also included in the party.

'Oh, and before I forget,' she said. 'That Jools Holland concert you mentioned - remind me of the date again?'

Will was thrown. He thought he'd blown it the other night when he'd deliberately asked Harriet in front of Dora in the hope that she would be too embarra.s.sed to turn him down outright. When he'd returned home with no answer at all, he'd given up hope. But now here she was bringing the matter up of her own accord. What stupendous constellation of lucky stars had brought about this stroke of good fortune? He must remember to thank Jarvis for standing in for him so that he could have the afternoon off.

Chapter Forty-Two.

Will knew from Gemma that Suzie was bored and missing her friends from university. He couldn't do anything about the latter, but to give her something to think about other than ante-natal cla.s.ses, the benefits of breastfeeding and the understandable fear of giving birth, he had asked her to help out in the shop. Jarvis had said he thought it was an excellent idea. 'So long as there'll be no danger of a towels-and-hot-water situation arising,' he'd cautioned. 'I'm useless in a crisis.'

'Don't worry,' Will had said, 'she's got ages before the big day.'

'Do you think she might end up getting hooked on the business? I've a feeling you'd like that, wouldn't you? I can see the sign above the shop now: "Hart and Daughter".'

That was the thing about Jarvis; he saw the truth long before it hit most people right between the eyes. Will had never thought of it before, but the prospect of having one of his children on board was a pleasing one. It gave him a sense of pride. Was that why old man Stone had been so eager for Maxine to follow in his footsteps?

The more he thought about Suzie coming to work for him, the more ideal it seemed. Given that she would have such an understanding boss, she would be able to work the hours that would fit in around the baby. In the early phase, when the baby was sleeping like the proverbial baby, she could even bring it in. Obviously that would only be a short-term option, but it was certainly worth thinking about. However, in the long-term, to make a decent extra salary he'd have to find a way to up their turnover. She would have to accept that while she worked for him she would never be well off, but there were worse things that could happen to her.

He hadn't mentioned anything about this long-term option to Suzie - he didn't want to appear as if he was making decisions for her - but what he'd so far suggested was that she was more than welcome to help out in the shop if she wanted. He'd also offered her the chance to go round the salerooms with him. 'Any way to get out of the house would be fantastic, Dad,' she'd said.

So today, Monday morning, they were heading north on the M6 to attend an auction in Lancashire. 'You will say if you need to make a loo stop, won't you, Suzie?' he said. 'When your mother was pregnant she hated to be out of range of a loo. We once made half a dozen stops during a two-hour journey.'

'If I ask you to pull over it will be because I've got a mad desire for a Mars bar wrapped in cheese then battered and deep fried.'

'Stop the car!' Will groaned. 'I need to be sick.'

Suzie laughed. 'I heard a bloke on the radio saying it was his favourite meal, so I gave it a go. You should try it; it's bliss on a plate.'

'More like a heart attack on a plate.'

'Did Mum have any funny cravings?'

'A few. I remember stocking up on peanut b.u.t.ter when she was expecting Gemma. I'd made the mistake of a.s.suming she'd repeat the craving she had when she was pregnant with you, but she'd moved onto cheese and onion crisps. She used to eat them in bed when she couldn't sleep, washed down with a bottle of Dandelion and Burdock. Hasn't she told you any of this herself?'

Suzie turned away and looked out of the side window. 'I think she's hoping it might all go away if I don't discuss it with her.'

'I'm sure that's not true, Suzie.' But sadly, it probably was.

'We took Nana Ruby out for tea on Sat.u.r.day,' she said more cheerfully.

Aware that she'd abruptly changed the subject, Will said, 'I know, I spoke to her in the evening.'

'Nana told me she can't wait to be a great-grandmother.'

'Has she shown you the baby clothes she's been buying for you?'

'No, but I know about the knitted stuff.'

He laughed. 'There's more. Lots more. She's having the time of her life going round all the baby departments picking up bargains for her great-grandchild. She was the same when you were on the way.'

'Do you think she might like to help out when I need to work?'

'If she's fit and well, you'll have to fight her off not to help.' It seemed the perfect moment to tell Suzie about his idea for her. Funny how things often happened just at the right time.

The saleroom wasn't one of his favourites due to its size - large and soulless, little more than a draughty warehouse - but it was filling up fast when they arrived. Will had checked out several items he was interested in online, but with half an hour to go before kick-off, he went in search of the lots he'd come for: a George III mahogany tilt-top tripod table; a pair of silver Victorian sh.e.l.l-shaped salt cellars; and a round silver photograph frame with a pierced shamrock border which he wanted to buy for his mother for Christmas, for that first all-important photograph of her great-grandchild. The catalogue price had been put at an ambiguously low figure, but Will had set himself a top price of seventy pounds. After he'd inspected the lots and found them in reasonably good condition, and had exchanged a few words with the other dealers he knew who were stalking the trestle tables, he instructed Suzie to mark them off in the catalogue, just as Jarvis had once taught him. The cycle of life, he thought happily.

'Can I do the bidding for you, Dad?' Suzie asked when the auctioneer took his place on the podium.

'If you want. But you stop when I tell you to. And be sure to hold up our card so the auctioneer's a.s.sistant can write down our number if we make the successful bid.'

'Is that it? No lecture about being careful not to rub my nose at the wrong moment?'

'That's a myth. It takes more than a nervous twitch to catch the attention of a busy auctioneer. Okay, it looks like we're off. Keep an eye on the running order. Sometimes a sale can run away like an express train.'

Later, when they were driving away with a full boot, wearing matching satisfied looks on their faces, Will said, 'You enjoyed that, didn't you?'

'It was great. Is it always that exciting?'

'It is if you come away the victor with the spoils. Unfortunately there are plenty of times when you leave empty-handed.'

'Well, I loved it. Will you bring me again?'

'If you're going to come and work for me, you'll have no choice.'

She smiled and his heart surged: it was good to see her so happy.

They were almost home, having stopped off for something to eat, when Suzie said, 'Dad, you don't have to give me an answer straight off, but is there any chance I could move in with you when the baby's born?'

Will didn't need to think about his answer. 'Of course. But only if you sort things out with your mother. She has to be happy about the arrangement.'

Suzie rolled her eyes. 'She'll be glad to see the back of me.'

'Maybe a little distance between the two of you might help,' he said. He sounded as unconvinced as the look she gave him. They both knew it would take more than this to make Maxine have a change of heart.

It wasn't until that evening, when Will was at home, checking through his post before going to see Harriet's house, that he experienced a pang of regret. If Suzie came to live with him, there would be no more seduction tricks in front of the log fire. Any future bedroom activity would have to be conducted with the volume turned down low. He was being selfish, he knew, but he couldn't help but wonder where it would leave him in his cause to get to know Harriet better. If he was going to make a move on her, he'd better do it soon, before the house was invaded by a two-man army bringing with it babygros drying on the radiators, prams and pushchairs clogging up the hall, high-chairs and bottles cluttering the kitchen, and the rest of the house given over to toys, clothes and all the messy paraphernalia the average teenage girl leaves in her wake in the belief that it will be tidied away for her. As lurve nests went, it would be a two-star romantic turn-off. He shuddered at the thought that at the age of forty-six, he might be reduced to a grappling session in the back of his car.

The cycle of life was all very well, but not if it meant he was about to catch up with his youth by having a gear stick poke him somewhere painful ...

Carrie and Joel turned round to wave at Will every now and then as he followed behind Bob Swift's car. Will told himself that life would be a lot easier if he could put Harriet out of his mind. Why did he want to get involved with someone so complicated? Apart from the difference in their ages, there was also the two young children to add into the equation. How often would he be able to see Harriet on her own with Carrie and Joel on the scene?

When he wasn't around Harriet, Will could make himself believe that his feelings for her rated no more than a mild case of infatuation, and that her appeal lay in the challenge of stripping away her impregnable armour and discovering what soft, yielding warmth lay beneath. But the second he was in her company, he knew the attraction was more than a superficial whim to explore those hidden depths. He respected and admired her; something he hadn't felt for a woman in a long while. She had a steely tenacity he doubted he possessed. Harriet would have survived his mid-life crisis, no problem. Like Maxine, she probably had him down as a wimp for not having stuck it out.

He genuinely thought she was one of the strongest people he knew. As far as he could see, in that split-second when her sister's car had collided with another, Harriet's life had changed for ever and she had sacrificed everything she had created for herself to take on the challenge of a lifetime. She must have loved her sister an awful lot to do that. He couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of such love.

It seemed par for the course that Harriet hardly spoke to him when they arrived at the house. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was embarra.s.sed he was there, as though she'd regretted inviting him. But he didn't care: she was wearing that cute, s.e.xy beret again; she could treat him any way she liked! His reaction to it had him contemplating the possibility that he was developing some kind of weird hat fetish. He mentally swapped the black beret for a bowler hat. No. Definitely nothing doing there. He then tried a cowboy hat. Still nothing.

And like the headgear, he loved the house on sight. A shame it hadn't been on the market when he'd been looking. With Harriet busy showing her parents round - she seemed to have her work cut out jollying her father along - Carrie and Joel voiced their eagerness to give him a guided tour.

'Come and see my room,' Joel said, grabbing him by the hand.

'Then you have to see mine,' Carrie said, catching hold of his other hand. 'You can see the ca.n.a.l from the window. And I've got a fireplace.'

'My room has a secret hiding place in it,' Joel added, not to be outdone.

'It's only a silly old cupboard,' whispered Carrie, dragging Will up the stairs. 'But don't tell him that, will you?'

'My lips are sealed.'

He made all the requisite noises of appreciation when he saw their bedrooms, including showing thigh-slapping astonishment at Joel's secret hiding place. They then led him back out onto the landing and into the biggest of the bedrooms. 'This is Harriet's room,' Carrie said. 'It's nice, isn't it?'

He stood in the middle of the empty room and was just taking in the proportions of it when suddenly a picture of a bed with Harriet lying invitingly on it popped unbidden into his head. He cleared his throat and went over to the window where he cupped his hands around his eyes in an effort to cut out the light so he could see the garden and view beyond. But it didn't work; it was too dark outside. When he turned round, the children had vanished but Harriet was standing behind him looking arch and remote. He started slightly.

'Sorry,' she said, 'I didn't mean to make you jump.'

'It's an age thing. When you get to be as decrepit as me, you have to watch the old ticker.'

Her eyes flickered. 'Exactly how old are you?'

'How old do you think I am?'

'Seventy-two?

'Close. I'm actually seventy-nine. Not bad going, eh?'

A half smile softened her face.

'I don't suppose I could tempt you into a drink with me when we've finished here, so I can congratulate you on finding such a great house?'

She moved away from him and went and stood by the pretty Victorian fireplace. 'Where were you thinking?' she said.

Good G.o.d! He'd got away with it. 'How does The Navigation sound? We could go straight from here if you like.'

'Okay. But I'll have to check with Mum and Dad and make sure they don't mind.'

He was about to make some quip about not keeping her out beyond her curfew for fear of getting her grounded, when he thought better of it. It couldn't be easy, having once had all the freedom of living away from home, only to be stuck there again and answerable not just to parents but to a niece and nephew.

The Navigation was busy. So busy they couldn't find a table and ended up standing around yelling into each other's ears above the swell of too many other voices and a succession of records Will neither knew nor wanted to know. Apparently it was some whippersnapper's eighteenth birthday. It was a pity his coming of age precluded meaningful conversation for anyone else.

'This is a complete disaster, isn't it?' he shouted, leaning in close to Harriet. 'Shall we give it up as a bad job?'