Part-Time Father. Sharon Kendrick

why nothing would make her set foot inside Brockbank House again.

      ‘You go. You’ll have a great time.’ Kimberley picked up a towel and began to rub at her sopping hair. ‘Will you ring up and RSVP for me?’ she asked. ‘Please?’

      Mrs Ryan’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve a feeling there’s more to this than meets the eye, but, yes, darling— if you’re absolutely adamant.’

      ‘I am.’ She stared down at her mother’s ankle. ‘And if you’re feeling better now, Mum, then I’ll have to think about getting back to London.’

      Mrs Ryan sighed. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t expecting it. Such a pity, though—I could quite get used to having you around the place again.’

      

      Kimberley had planned to leave the following afternoon. She had just finished packing after lunch when there was a knock at the front door. Thinking it might be her mother, who had insisted on hobbling next door to see her neighbour, just to prove she could do it, Kimberley opened the door. Before her stood a young woman in her early twenties— someone Kimberley didn’t recognise.

      She had shiny shoulder-length fair hair, which was cut into a bob, and she wore a superbly cut pair of trousers in an immaculate but very unseasonal cream colour, with a matching cashmere jacket. Gold gleamed discreetly at her ears and neck and she exuded a kind of confidence which only money could give you. And lots of it, too.

      ‘Can I help you?’ asked Kimberley uncertainly.

      The girl creased her eyes into a frown. ‘Are you Kimberley Ryan?’ Her voice was American—cultured and direct.