Restless Nights. Catherine George

‘As early as that? I usually put in another couple of hours after the boys go. The light’s good at this time of year.’

      But she’d have to go down to the cellar on her own afterwards. ‘If I did I wouldn’t make it here to see you,’ she said lightly.

      ‘True,’ he said, sobering. ‘Anyway, pet, how is the work coming on?’

      ‘I’m just removing the first layer of dust and grime.’ She looked at Adam. ‘Not much to show yet.’

      ‘I’ll come round tomorrow,’ he said promptly. ‘If that’s convenient—Gabriel.’

      ‘Of course.’ She gave him a smile so honeyed it won a cynical look from him before he left her alone with her father.

      Harry Brett shook his head in disapproval. ‘What is your problem with Adam?’

      ‘What problem?’ she said innocently.

      ‘Come on, this is your old dad you’re talking to! For some reason you don’t like Adam. Why?’

      ‘I don’t have to like your clients to work for them.’ She patted his hand. ‘It’s nothing personal, Dad. I suppose we rather got off on the wrong foot because he expected me to drop everything to work on his precious sleeper. If that’s what it turns out to be,’ she added.

      ‘Do you think he’s right?’ said Harry.

      ‘Quite possibly. The canvas is certainly old enough. I’ll report my progress tomorrow night.’ Gabriel looked at him in appeal. ‘Dad, I’m sorry I can’t make it in the afternoons as well—’

      ‘My dear child, you’re doing far too much as it is. Don’t worry. Mrs Austin’s daughter brings her in every afternoon.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘The ladies see I’m not neglected.’

      ‘Did they bring you that enormous basket of fruit over there?’

      ‘No. Adam brought that—plus a new thriller. And now you’ve got that look on your face again,’ he said, shaking his head at her.

      ‘Sorry, Dad. He lends you money, brings you expensive presents—I suppose I’m just plain jealous.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Actually, it was very good of Adam. Though his offerings rather put my homemade biscuits in the shade.’

      ‘Not to me,’ said Harry, so lovingly Gabriel had to swallow a lump in her throat and pretend interest in the new novel to disguise it.

      ‘How are things?’ asked Laura Brett later, during their nightly phone call.

      ‘Dad’s looking good, but—’

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘I had a word with the ward sister on my way out. If Dad does come home next week it’s vital he has complete rest.’

      ‘And we both know that the moment he’s back at the ranch he’ll be out in that barn, getting up to all kinds of mischief instead of behaving like a sensible invalid.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘Let me think about it for a while. Maybe I can help.’

      ‘Don’t offer money, Mother!’

      ‘As if I would,’ said Laura, laughing. ‘Besides, Harry’s not that broke, surely?’

      Gabriel hoped not. ‘His restoration work certainly doesn’t come cheap.’

      ‘So what are you labouring on right now?’

      ‘I’m restoring a portrait for Adam Dysart.’

      Her mother whistled inelegantly. ‘Are we talking about the Adam Dysart?’

      ‘The one and only. Dad’s blue-eyed boy.’

      ‘So you’ve met him again at long last. What’s he like?’

      ‘Tall, dark, and full of the self-confidence you’d expect from the man who has everything.’

      ‘You don’t like him, obviously. But then, your father’s been singing his praises to you for so many years you’re bound to be prejudiced against him.’

      ‘Adam was there in the ward when I visited tonight. Took Dad an enormous basket of fruit and a brand-new thriller,’ said Gabriel, depressed.

      ‘Is he married?’ asked Laura.

      ‘What’s that got to do with anything? But as it happens he isn’t. He’s just broken off a relationship with someone.’

      ‘How do you know that?’

      ‘He told me.’

      ‘Then you must have had some conversation with him.’

      ‘He came round last night to ask after Dad. And this morning to bring the picture. And he’ll be back tomorrow, and every other tomorrow until I’ve finished, to check on the work in progress.’

      ‘In that case, darling, make sure you charge the earth for your services. It sounds as though you’ll earn it!’