Ruthless Awakening. Sara Craven
had made it clear that any mention of Grace Carlow’s name was taboo. At the same time Rhianna had realised that there was not one photograph of her mother, or any family mementoes, anywhere in the cheerless little flat. Moreover, her own framed photo of her parents’ wedding, which she’d put on the table beside her narrow bed, had been removed and placed in the chest of drawers.
‘I have quite enough to do in the house,’ Aunt Kezia had returned brusquely when Rhianna, upset, had tried to protest. ‘I’m not coming back here and having to dust round your nonsense.’
On the upside, she’d liked her new school, too, and had come home at the end of the summer term excited at being given a part in the school play, which would be rehearsed during the autumn and staged before Christmas.
But, to her shock and disappointment, Aunt Kezia had rounded on her. ‘You’ll do nothing of the kind,’ she declared tight-lipped. ‘I won’t have you putting yourself forward, giving yourself airs, because it only leads to trouble. And there’s been too much of that in the past,’ she added with angry bitterness. ‘Quite apart from this nonsense with Miss Caroline. And after all I said to you, too.’
She drew a harsh breath. ‘Kindly remember that you’re only here on sufferance, my girl, and learn to keep in the background more than you have been doing while you’re living in Mrs Seymour’s house.’
‘But it isn’t her house,’ Rhianna objected. ‘Carrie told me it really belongs to her cousin, Diaz, but he’s away most of the time, either living on his other estates in South America or travelling all over the world as a mining consultant. So her parents look after it for him. She says when he decides to get married they’ll have to find somewhere else to live.’
‘Miss Caroline says a deal too much,’ her aunt said grimly. ‘And I’m still going to have a word with your teacher. Knock this acting nonsense on the head once and for all.’
And, in spite of Rhianna’s tearful protests, she’d done exactly that.
‘Poor you,’ Carrie had said, her forehead wrinkled with concern when Rhianna had eventually told her what had happened. ‘She’s so hard on you all the time. Has she always been like that?’
Rhianna shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said unhappily. ‘I only met her for the first time when she came to Mummy’s funeral and told me that she’d been appointed my legal guardian and I had to live with her. Before that I’d never heard from her at all—not even on my birthday or at Christmas. And I could tell she was angry about having to take me.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not really welcome here either. I just wish someone would tell me what I’ve done that’s so wrong.’
‘It’s not you,’ Carrie said hesitantly. ‘I—I’m sure it’s not.’
Rhianna bit her lip. ‘You said once you’d heard your parents talking about me. Would you tell me what they said?’
Carrie’s face was pink with dismay. After a pause, she said, ‘It was ages ago, so I’m not sure I remember exactly. Besides, I shouldn’t have been listening anyway,’ she added glumly. ‘And I’m sure it would be better coming from your aunt.’
‘She won’t talk about it,’ Rhianna said bitterly. ‘She doesn’t talk about anything.’ She looked beseechingly at the other girl. ‘Oh, please, Carrie. I really need to know why they all seem to hate me so much.’
Carrie sighed. ‘Well—I was on the window seat in the drawing room, reading, and my parents came in. They didn’t realise I was there, and Mummy was saying, “I can hardly believe that Kezia Trewint would do such a thing. Agree to take in that woman’s child—and have the gall to ask to bring her here.” Daddy said he supposed she hadn’t had much choice in the matter, and he told Mummy not to do anything too hasty, because they’d never find anyone to run the house and cook as well as your aunt.’
She swallowed. ‘Then he said, “And it’s hardly the child’s fault. You can’t blame her for things that her mother did years before she was born. And that’s how it was, so don’t start thinking anything nonsensical.” Then Mummy got cross and said that your mother was—not a nice person,’ Carrie added in a little embarrassed rush. ‘And that the apple never fell far from the tree, and what the hell would Diaz say when he heard? Daddy said, “God only knows,” and he thought that everyone should reserve judgement and give you a chance. Then he went off to the golf club.’
She added tearfully, ‘I’m so sorry, Rhianna. I should never have listened, but when I met you I was really glad, because you looked so unhappy and lost, and I told myself that Daddy was right. Only now I’m afraid I’ve made everything a hundred times worse.’
‘No,’ Rhianna said slowly. ‘No, you haven’t—I promise. Because I—I really wanted to know.’ She flung back her head. ‘Besides, none of it’s true. Mummy wasn’t a bit like that. She was a wonderful person.’
And so beautiful too, she thought, with all that deep, dark auburn hair that Daddy said was the colour of mahogany, and the green eyes that tilted at the corners when she laughed. Whereas my hair is just—red.
She swallowed. ‘After Daddy died she got a job as a care worker, and the people she visited really loved her. They all said so. And Mrs Jessop told someone that if Mummy hadn’t been so involved with looking after everyone else she might have thought about herself more, and realised there was something wrong. Seen a doctor before it was—too late.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘So, you see, there must be some mistake. There has to be.’
Carrie gave her a comforting pat. ‘I’m sure,’ she said, but her anxious eyes said that even if her parents had been wrong, that still didn’t explain Kezia Trewint’s strange, unloving attitude to her only living relative.
Understanding that had still been a long way in the future, Rhianna thought wearily, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. In the meantime it had remained on the edge of her life, a cloud no bigger than a man’s hand, yet occasionally ominously hinting at the storm to come.
Like the day she’d encountered Diaz Penvarnon for the first time.
It had been, she remembered, one of those burning, windless days in August, when the sun seemed close enough to touch.
They’d been down at the beach all day, slipping in and out of the unruffled sea like seals, Rhianna by then as competent and confident a swimmer as the other two. It had been Simon who’d called a halt, explaining that he needed to get back as his parents had friends coming to dinner.
In spite of the heat, it had always been a matter of honour to see who could get to the top of the cliff path ahead of the others. The girls rarely won against Simon’s long legs, but this particular afternoon he had dropped one of his new trainers in the loose sand at the foot of the cliff and halted to retrieve it, so that Carrie and Rhianna had found themselves unexpectedly ahead, flying neck and neck up the stony track.
And when Carrie had stumbled Rhianna had got there first, laughing and breathless, head down as she launched herself towards some invisible finishing tape.
Only to cannon into something tall, solid and all too real, finding, as she had staggered back with a gasp of shock, strong hands grasping her shoulders to steady her, while a man’s cool voice had said, ‘So—what have we here? A fleeing trespasser? This is private land, you know.’
She looked up dazedly into the face above her, swarthy and lean, with high cheekbones only to see the faint amusement fade from the firm mouth and the grey eyes become as icy as snow clouds in January. He studied her in return, his glance shifting with a kind of incredulity from her unruly cloud of hair to her long-lashed eyes and her startled, parted lips.
She said, ‘I’m Rhianna Carlow. I—I live here.’
He drew a swift sharp breath, lifting his hands from her and stepping back in a repudiation that was as instant as it was unmistakable.
He said, half to himself, ‘Of course—the child. I’d almost forgotten.’
‘Diaz!’