Page 35 of The Cornish Christmas Book Clu
‘Do I get three guesses?’
‘She asked if I’m still in touch with our father.’
‘Are you?’
‘I thought he was dead, didn’t I? He and my mum split up when I was about eleven and we never saw him again. That’s when I started going off the rails. When Mum threatened to hand me over to social services and I said I’d go live with my dad if she didn’t want me, she laughed and wished me good luck with that because he was six feet under. Killed in a car crash.’
‘Oh, Gage. How could she lie to you?’
How wrong he’d been to assume that he’d come to terms with his fractured relationship with his mother because now, thanks to Tamara’s unstinting sympathy, tears filled his eyes. No matter how hard he blinked, they continued taunting him.
‘We’re stopping,’ Tamara said and pulled off the road into a farm gateway. ‘The chairs can wait.’
‘I was a handful. She couldn’t cope.’
‘That’s no excuse. Don’t you dare blame yourself.’ Her face flamed. ‘I’ve not been a perfect mum, but I’ve never trashed Fred to Toby.’
‘Even though many people would say you had every right to?’
‘They’d be wrong,’ she said softly. ‘My son doesn’t need that burden.’ Tamara straightened her shoulders. ‘These are broad. They can take it. Toby’s better off hearing Fred was a good man who wasn’t ready to be a father.’ A faraway look appeared in her eyes. ‘Maybe that’s the truth.’
‘But you stepped up. What does that say about your character compared to Fred’s?’
She shrugged off the question.
‘Does Toby have any contact with his dad these days?’
‘No.’ Tamara said firmly. ‘Apart from paying child support, Fred’s had nothing to do with us since he left. When Toby was little, he used to ask about his dad all the time but then he stopped.’ A sigh slipped out. ‘A few years ago, I asked him if he wanted to track Fred down because I would’ve helped if he did.Toby didn’t want to know, so I’ve never mentioned it again.’ She shook her head. ‘We’re getting off track here.’ The undercurrent of strength and steel he’d spotted in Tamara the first day they’d met returned. ‘So where is your dad?’
‘Living in Edinburgh, with yet another family on the go.’ He managed a faint smile. ‘Becky hasn’t had a lot of contact with him over the years, mainly Christmas and birthday cards and the occasional phone call. He had another couple of kids with a different woman after my mum, and now he’s on his fourth lot, so we’ve more half-brothers and half-sisters scattered about the country. It might explain why I’ve never settled down. Must be the genes.’
‘That’s rubbish. Look at Becky. You couldn’t find a more down-to-earth, grounded person.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps the upset of her dad and everything pushed her the other way. Becky married straight out of school and the kids came one after the other, all before she was twenty-one.’
‘Whereas I’m the original rolling stone.’
‘Until you came to Penworthal.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘At least, I hope you’re not going to throw it all in now you’ve got what you came for.’
‘Reconnecting with Becky isn’t the only reason I’m here and you know that.’ Gage could hardly bear to look at Tamara, but couldn’t look away either, so he briefly closed his eyes. ‘At least, I hope you do?’ He held his breath.
‘I do.’
* * *
Tamara relaxed as relief inched over Gage’s conflicted expression. Pushing too hard and too fast wouldn’t help either of them. Determined to change the subject and get back on schedule she said, ‘If we don’t hurry up, we’ll run out of time to check out the different lots first to decide which to bid for.’
‘I’ve never been to an auction before. Probably best I superglue my hands to my body and let you take charge. I’m afraid I’ll end up spending thousands on an antique Chinese pot.’
‘Don’t worry. If the auctioneer is on the ball, they’re expert at telling the difference between a genuine bid and someone scratching their nose.’
She started the engine, put the van in gear and checked to make sure no one was coming before pulling back out. This was her first time driving a vehicle this cumbersome, although she’d kept that nugget of information to herself because Gage was edgy enough today.
‘There’s the sign. Boscarrek Manor.’ Gage frowned. ‘Looks posh. Are you sure we’ll—’
‘It’s fine. Trust me.’
Tamara turned the van and drove through the intricate wrought-iron gates. Although impressive at first sight, the metal was badly rusted and the gilding on the ancestral crests had long since disappeared. From her research she’d discovered the family behind today’s auction had owned the estate for almost four hundred years, but the new heir had sold it to a developer who planned to turn it into ‘executive apartments’. In other words, fancy places for people attracted to living a simpler life in the country, in theory, but with none of the drawbacks.
‘I scoured the online catalogue and we’ll be good. This sort of thing is my happy place.’ She giggled. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t go over the allotted budget.’
