Page 86 of Skullduggery
‘What happened to the skull?’ Tash asked. ‘Do you have it? I’d love to see the object that started all of this.’
Hugo snorted. ‘The British Museum snatched it within hours of our return from 1994. I expect it’ll be safely buried in a deep vault for the rest of time. We’ll never see it again.’
His mother looked disappointed, but I was relieved they’d taken it off our hands. Time travelling was an unsettling business – not to mention incredibly dangerous.
Charles indicated left, then turned onto a narrow gravel-lined driveway with leafy trees planted along one side of it. Within moments the trees gave way to a pretty cottage, and I realised that it looked exactly like the painting that still hung in the Assigney mansion. There were the same roses in pink, red and dusky-orange hues, though the daisies, planted in beds all along the side of the house, were new. They certainly weren’t in the old portrait.
I gazed at them and a lump caught in my throat.
‘Are you okay?’ Hugo asked gruffly.
I nodded; I still felt shaky and anxious, but I was okay. Everything was okay.
Charles parked in front of the cottage. ‘You should go in first, Daisy,’ he said. ‘When you’re ready, the rest of us will join you.’
‘I’m not waiting in the car!’ Hester protested.
Otis flapped towards her, cupped his hands and whispered something in her ear. She pouted then her shoulders dropped. ‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘I’ll wait.’
I didn’t want to go in alone; this meeting wasn’t only about me. I looked at my mum and dad, my beautiful, loving, adoptive parents, whose expressions reflected my own nerves. ‘Come with me,’ I whispered. They started to shake their heads and I raised my voice. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Come with me.’
Mum’s bottom lip trembled and so did Dad’s. ‘Are you sure, Daisy?’ he asked.
‘You’re my family,’ I told them. ‘I need you there.’
Preparing to speak, Hester drew in a breath but Otis jabbed her sharply in her ribs and she subsided. I smiled at them. ‘You’re my family as well. Just give us a bit of time first,then you’re welcome to come in too. We only need a moment.’
Hugo planted a brief kiss on my cheek. ‘You’ve got this, Daisy. It’ll be great.’
I wiped my sweaty palms down the fabric of my trousers. ‘Yep. It’ll be wonderful.’ Then, before I could chicken out, I opened the car door and stepped out.
Rose was waiting for us, and she opened the cottage door long before we reached it. Her fingers were twisting together in front of her as she waited for us on the doorstep.
Her red hair was shorter and there were fine lines around her tear-filled eyes. I could tell she was scared, but there was calmness and wisdom there too, even though deep down she was the same steely, bright-eyed, brave woman I’d met thirty years ago. She was older but she looked happier.
I stepped towards her and her arms went around me. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘And yet I am. You look exactly the same.’
A soft laugh escaped my lips. It had only been days since I had seen her, but it had been half a lifetime for her since she’d seen me.
‘I’m sorry I ran away like that, Daisy.’ Her voice cracked. ‘It was done with the best of intentions. There’s not been a single day when I haven’t thought of you. You have to know that I didn’t want to abandon you. Please, please forgive me.’
I swallowed the painful knot in my throat. ‘There’s nothing to forgive.Nothing. You did nothing wrong.’ I hugged her tightly then stepped back and gestured to my mum and dad, who were standing awkwardly behind me.
‘This is Alison and Mike,’ I told her. ‘My mum and dad.’
Rose brushed away a tear from her cheek then she embraced them tightly, too. ‘Your daughter is a wonderful person,’ she said.
My mum sniffed. ‘Yourdaughter is a wonderful person.’
I bit my lip hard. ‘We’re all wonderful people,’ I told them.
And I meant it whole-heartedly.
There were more tears,more introductions and many more hugs; in fact, it was a full hour before our group was seated comfortably in Rose’s garden with enough tea and cake to satisfy an army.
‘Alain is a great cook,’ Rose told us, waving a hand at her husband.
I smiled at the good-looking, genial, Frenchman whose salt-and-pepper hair caught the sunlight and whose warm gaze whenever he looked at Rose displayed his love for her. Despite all the turmoil and the trauma, my birth mother had found her way in life and she was happy. That knowledge meant more than I could have anticipated.
