For a nanosecond doubt entered her eyes, and then she shook her head. ‘We’re all potentially dangerous. Dad wouldn’t hurt me. Or Mum.’
‘Your mum is just looking out for you.’
‘I get that. But I’m sixteen. Mum was pregnant with me when she was my age, and she had no one. She’s always said she got where she is because people took a chance on her. So why won’t she give Dad a chance?’
Gabe sensed deep waters closing in over his head. ‘Cathy, this is something you should discuss with your mum, not me.’
‘But I won’t be able to discuss it with her because I’ll be in the middle of the ocean. You’ll be with Mum whilst she is dealing with Dad. You could help me, seeing as I’ve helped you.’
This was a girl after his own heart—a girl who saw the value of quid pro quo. ‘How do you work that out?’
‘You really want M
um for this job, and I could have got her to turn it down.’
‘You could have,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s not my place to influence your mum’s decisions. I’m her employer. Plus, I’m sure your mum knows what she’s doing with regard to your father.’
Cathy shook her head. ‘Once Mum makes up her mind she digs her heels in. She’ll never admit she’s wrong about Dad. Never. Especially not if everyone keeps agreeing with her. You managed to persuade her to take your job instead of coming on this cruise. That’s, like, incredible. You could try and persuade her to give Dad a chance.’
‘I’m sorry, Cathy, but no can do. This is between your mum and you.’
A knock on the door interrupted them and Gabe turned his head to see Etta approaching the table. She looked professional from the tips of her smooth short chestnut hair that curved to touch the hollows of her shoulder blades to the tips of her black buttoned boots. The tailored two-toned blue tweed jacket worn over a matching dress gave a stylish twist to her authority. Seamed at the waist, the sophisticated shift with its V neckline emphasised both her slenderness and her curves and Gabe’s breath caught in his throat.
‘Sorry to interrupt, but Steph and Martha are back and we need to go and get our suitcases. And face the press.’
Cathy rose from her chair and threw one last glance of appeal at Gabe. ‘At least promise you’ll think about what I’ve said.’
‘Think about what?’ Etta asked, once her daughter had left the room, and then she shook her head. ‘Forget I asked. That’s not fair. Cathy wanted to speak with you privately. Just promise me she hasn’t got any hare-brained schemes in her head.’
‘If she has she didn’t confide them to me. Plus, short of swimming the ocean, I can’t see there is much she can do.’
‘That’s true.’ Smoothing her skirt down, she hauled in a breath. ‘So, shall we go?’
‘Yes.’ He rose to his feet and saw the pallor of her face. ‘You don’t need to be nervous.’
‘Actually, I think I do. A certifiable nutter may well be lurking amongst that throng of press sniffing out a non-existent story.’
‘The press will work in our favour. The last thing Tommy will want, if he is serious about seeing Cathy, is any confrontation recorded by the press. Plus, late last night he was in Cornwall—my guess is he won’t have made it back here yet.’
‘That’s true.’
Etta looked marginally more cheerful, and a funny feeling of satisfaction that he’d erased at least one line from her furrowed brow touched his chest.
‘Odds are he’s sleeping off a session in the pub as well. He’d already been drinking when he found me.’
A small shudder shivered through her, as if the words had triggered a memory she’d rather forget. Gabe’s guess was that Tommy was a mean drunk and his fists clenched—with any luck Tommy would turn up, and Gabe could make him wish he hadn’t.
In the meantime... ‘Don’t mention Cathy to the press at all. The implication for Tommy will be that Cathy is with you at Derwent Manor—that way he won’t try anything when she’s en route to the cruise. And keep an eye out for April Fotherington—she’s a good reporter but she’ll be pushing the romance angle.’
‘You can’t push something that doesn’t exist.’
Her tone brooked no argument.
One more sweep of her hand over her skirt and she nodded. ‘Let’s do this. Sooner we go, the sooner it’s over, right?’
‘Right. Let’s get this show on the road.’
* * *