Forgotten Destiny by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788636322
Publisher: Canelo
Published: 2019-06-20T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

My heart seemed to stop beating.

‘She is here?’ I repeated senselessly.

‘Why should she not be?’ He raised an eyebrow sardonically. ‘I, at least, spend as much time as I can with my daughter.’

The remark cut me to the quick. That, too, was unfair, inferring that I was deliberately neglecting her. But this Richard Wells was a man who could be cruel in his determination to achieve his objectives; that much I had realized already. Any tenderness in his nature was well hidden, though his concern for his child’s welfare, if indeed she was his child, was to his credit.

‘Well, are you coming to see her or not?’ he asked harshly.

I stood up. My legs felt weak and trembling; no, not just my legs, my whole body, like one of the milk jellies Grandmama had fed to me when I was convalescing after my accident. Richard Wells had picked up his brandy glass to drain what little remained in it and suddenly, though I had declined a drink earlier, I felt the need of something to give me courage.

‘Could I have just a little?’ I asked.

He frowned. ‘And have Alice smell it on your breath?’ he said censoriously.

‘Oh, I didn’t think…’

And perhaps in my condition I should not be drinking, in any case!

‘Oh, I suppose she smells it on mine, and she’s not old enough to know it’s different for a lady.’ He took a glass, poured some brandy into it and held it out to me. ‘Here.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You are quite right – I should not. And it would most likely make me cough.’

‘Go on,’ he said impatiently. ‘I’ve poured it for you now. And in any case, as I said myself, it’s medicinal. You are very pale. I shouldn’t like you to faint away in front of the child.’

I took the glass. The smell of the brandy was strong in my nostrils; it awakened some deeply buried memory. I associated that smell with feeling very ill, I realized; I took a sip and my stomach turned, and I seemed to hear someone say: It will make you sick, or it will pick you up. Either way you will be better. And my own voice, childlike: But I don’t like the taste! And that other voice, soft, loving, cajoling: Just a sip, my darling! For me.

It startled me, that sudden, unexpected smidgen from my forgotten past. I thought that for the first time since my accident I was hearing my mother’s voice. Obedient to it, I put the glass to my lips and sipped.

I did not like the taste, any more than I had liked the smell, and the strong liquor burned my throat. But as it slipped down and went into my veins I did indeed feel a little better. I set the glass down on the table and took a determined step towards the door.

‘I’m ready now.’

‘Good. Your colour is coming back certainly. Now, remember, not a word to Alice about who you really are. This way.’

Richard Wells led me along a passage to where a door at the rear of the house led out into a herb garden.

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