‘I’ll deal with that when it happens.’
‘No.’
Gabe realised he’d said the word with way more force than he’d intended. But he knew that this was not the way to deal with a man like Tommy—with any bully. He had first-hand experience, and as an adult he’d done enough work with children—both bullies and the bullied—to know that running away, showing fear, kept the cycle going.
‘It won’t work. I get that you’re scared, but running will make Tommy worse. He relishes your fear. He didn’t need to come here today, or stalk you to Cornwall. If this was only about Cathy he’d contact her. This is about making you suffer.’
‘Well, he’s good at that.’ The bitter undertone spoke volumes about her bleak memories. ‘But I don’t care about me. It’s Cathy I’m scared for. And that’s why I’ll run. To keep her safe.’
‘You don’t have to do that. Not when you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. Don’t throw it all away.’
‘I won’t. I’ll just be putting it aside for a while. You don’t get it, Gabe. None of it matters more than Cathy.’
‘There is an alternative.’
‘What? I kill him? Tempting, but unfortunately not feasible.’
‘Call his bluff. I don’t think he has any interest in Cathy—he just wants to punish you. Let Tommy see Cathy.’
‘Excuse me?’ Etta thunked her glass down on the side table, the expression in her tawny eyes morphing from incredulity to anger.
‘I don’t mean hand her over. I mean set up a supervised meeting. From what I saw of her, it seems to me that Cathy is a strong, intelligent girl. And that you and she have a strong bond.’
For a moment envy touched him as he tried to imagine his own parents forging any bond with their children except one of duty. He remembered the photos on Steph’s walls, depicting the years of Cathy and Martha’s childhood.
‘Am I right?’
‘Yes.’ Etta’s expression softened. ‘Cathy has some teenage moments, but she has got a great outlook on life. She worked hard, got excellent GCSEs, and she has a plan for her future, great friends. That’s the point. I won’t let Tommy ruin that.’
‘Then maybe you should trust her. And yourself. You’ve brought up a very together, bright young woman. Trust her to see Tommy for what he is. Then he loses his power over you.’
For a scant second she considered his words as she swirled the cognac round the glass and watched the dark golden ripples. Then she shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. You can’t understand. You are Gabriel Derwent, Earl of Wycliffe, one day the Duke of Fairfax. You have a long line of ancestors at your back, two parents, two siblings—a whole family tree. Cathy has me. I’m her entire family tree. So of course she wants a dad.’
‘It doesn’t always work like that.’ Gabe figured that one mum like Etta completely topped two parents like the Duke and Duchess in the parenting stakes. ‘Cathy won’t want a dad like Tommy.’
‘Tommy knows how to turn on the charm. I know that all too well. And it’s not only that. I’m not excusing any of his behaviour, but he did have a rough time himself—everyone knew that his dad was an evil man who beat up his wife and his kids. Tommy got the worst of it—it was like his dad hated him. Cathy will feel instant sympathy for him. I can picture it all now. Tommy will present himself as the reformed convict or the wronged rebel. He’ll admit his sins, tell Cathy he wants to make it up to her, and Cathy is susceptible.’
‘Maybe so. But Cathy loves you—her bond is with you. You won’t lose her to Tommy.’
Etta shook her head and the sadness on her face twisted his chest.
‘Bonds break, Gabe.’
Her voice vibrated with emotion and Gabe wondered exactly what bonds she meant.
‘Especially around me,’ she added, so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard the words. ‘But you’re right. I won’t lose Cathy—if I have to run to the ends of the earth, I will.’ She lifted her glass to her lips and drained it. Then she rose in one lithe movement. ‘Thank you for having my back with Tommy, and thank you for the drink. Now it’s business as usual. I’m heading to my room and I’ll be back to work first thing.’
Relief that she was backing away from further confidences mingled with his frustration that she would give up her hard-won life. But he had to back off—Etta was not someone who had come to him for advice, not one of the kids he tried to help. She was an adult, and so far she had done fine without him. Yet it took enormous effort to hold himself back from holding forth.
‘OK. I’ll be next door. Any problems, bang on the wall.’
* * *
Two weeks later Etta glared at the wall—exactly as she did every night. Right now she was suffering a veritable multitude of problems.
Not so much in the daytime, because then she could throw herself into work. The Derwent family tree fascinated her during waking minutes; the only niggle to her absorption was a nagging feeling that somehow Gabriel was orchestrating her work. There was nothing she could pinpoint as such, and it might well be that her thoughts were skewed by her constant awareness of him. An awareness she loathed for that very reason—it made her lose perspective.
As did her inability to sleep. Every night—every time she closed her eyes—Tommy loomed behind her lids. With every creak she imagined him sneaking through the darkness of the house. Worse, though, were the images of him finding Cathy. In the depth of night the scenario spun out... Tommy getting ever closer to the cruise ship, boarding...