Tangled Lives by Hilary Boyd Read Free Book Online Page B

you loved him once. It might be enough to begin a relationship, but then again it might not.’
    ‘It’s hard to think like that.’
    ‘I’m not trying to put a dampener on things.’ Marjory eased herself out of the chair and stood still for a moment to steady herself with her stick before moving slowly across to the sink. ‘I just think it’s important not to have too many expectations.’
    Annie felt a surge of anxiety at Marjory’s words and realised she couldn’t think beyond this first meeting. I don’t have any expectations, she thought, beyond actually setting eyes on my firstborn child again.
    ‘We’d better clear up a bit.’ Marjory bent stiffly to open the dishwasher, and Annie began collecting the glasses.
    ‘I asked Mrs B. for one of her Victoria sponges. Men always like cake.’
    The thought of the sponge cake brought sudden tears to Annie’s eyes. Every day when she was pregnant, gathered round this same table, Aunt Best would insist on the ritual of tea. Whoever was in the house, and anyone else sensible enough to drop by at three thirty, was encouraged to join in. It was a time for conversation, for catching up with the day, for laughter, for sharing worries.
    Back then Marjory baked too: flapjacks, banana bread, lemon cupcakes – nothing fancy. Her baking was enthusiastic rather than consistent, and there was much merriment at the failures. But Mrs Blundell had the magic touch. Her cakes were creamy, light and melting, always utterly delicious. It was memories of Joan Blundell’s Victoria sponge that had set Annie on the path, many years later, to Delancey Bakes.
    She went up behind Marjory and put her arms round her thin shoulders.
    ‘That was the dearest thing to do,’ she said. Nothing bad can happen to me, she thought, under the auspices of Aunt Best, and Joan Blundell’s Victoria sponge.
    There was a sudden clatter of feet on the flagstones in the hall, and Jamie burst into the kitchen.
    ‘He’s here! Quick, he’s just getting out of the car. And tell you what, he’s absolutely GORgeous!’
    Annie closed her eyes for a moment and took a steadying breath.
    ‘Let’s do it!’ Marjory’s authoritative voice urged Annie forward, through the kitchen, into the hall, towards the open front door and her reunion with her son, Daniel Gray.
    Jamie’s right, he is beautiful, was her first thought. Really stunning. And the spitting image of Uncle Terence.
    ‘How do you do. I’m Marjory Best.’ Marjory was shaking the man firmly by the hand. ‘Please, do come in.’ The afternoon was still overcast and drizzling; a typical April day.
    ‘Hi, I’m Daniel.’ He introduced himself, his voice surprisingly strong and confident. He glanced quickly between Jamie and Annie, his gaze settling on Annie. She tried to speak, but no words came out, so she just held out her hand to him. The glaring genetic connection was so startling that it was almost like a physical blow.
    Daniel was tall with broad shoulders, his thick wavy hair a dark auburn and falling just below his ears. He had her own grey-blue eyes, strong, sculpted features – more beautiful than handsome – dominated by her father’s nose, but otherwise Terence Sinclair seemed incarnate in front of her. Her flesh and blood, no question. And not a trace of Charles Carnegie, she thought with a twinge of childish satisfaction.
    ‘Annie Delancey,’ she said eventually.
    For a moment they clasped hands in silence. The others were moving off towards the kitchen, but she and Daniel continued to stare at each other. Just as she had when he was a baby, she wanted to gaze at him forever.
    ‘Come through,’ she heard Marjory call.
    Daniel waited, gesturing politely to her to go first.
    Marjory filled the kettle and put it on the Raeburn. Jamie took down the cake tin from the dresser and carefully lifted the sponge onto a white plate with a blue rim. It looked perfect, cream and jam poking temptingly from between the golden sponge layers,