way to fix that. He picked up the phone and called the front desk. ‘I’d like to send thirty long-stemmed red roses to Emer Sullivan at St Aidan’s Hospital …’
‘Would you like more orange juice, sir?’
Luke had never been called ‘sir’ so much in his life. He politely refused and the flight attendant moved away. Jack had his head stuck in the
Financial Times
. They’d hardly spoken at all, which suited Luke just fine. He wanted to be left alone. Watching them load Annie’s coffin into the hold had drained any fighting spirit, and right now he didn’t feel he’d ever get it back. Why hadn’t they let him die at the roadside, along with his mother? How very different it could have been if they’d been on that road just a few minutes later, or earlier – they’d be in Wales now, starting a new life.
Luke glanced out of the window at the green fields below. It looked like Ireland. Except it wasn’t. It was a foreign land, and he felt pangs of homesickness. Would he ever be able to return? Had he made the right decision? He wasn’t guaranteed safety in England. Joe was a thug, but he wasn’t stupid. If Connolly or Byrne ever did get hold of Joe, would they mention having met Luke’s father? If they did, Joe would put two and two together and turn up on Jack’s doorstep. Luke’s only hope was that his uncles would dodge the police, like they always did.
‘Sir, please put your seat into the upright position and fasten your seatbelt. We’ll be landing soon.’
He did as he was asked, wincing from the pain in his ribs. Everything was such an effort.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Jack.
Luke nodded.
‘We should be home in an hour once we clear the terminal,’ Jack told him.
Home. That was a laugh. The Stewart family would choke on their caviar when they saw him. He wouldn’t fit in with them, nor did he want to. They meant nothing to him, but he wished it was different. He hated feeling so alone.
As the plane began its descent, Luke closed his eyes and wondered when he’d next sleep beneath an Irish sky.
Chapter Six
‘Honey, I’m home!’
Jack was in his study when he heard Matt arrive home, calling out what was now a standing family joke, immediately followed by the sound of claws slithering along the wooden floor as Honey the Golden Labrador raced to greet her master. It was comforting. Jack needed such moments of familiarity now more than ever.
‘There’s someone trying to sleep,’ scolded Maggie. Their voices receded, Matt doubtless following the housekeeper into her domain, the kitchen. The smell of roasting beef wafted along the passageway into Jack’s study, but he had little appetite.
When they’d got home from the airport a few hours ago, Maggie was all over Luke, hugging him and saying how sorry she was about Annie. Luke, probably shell-shocked by this outpouring of affection, had soon retreated to his bedroom in the downstairs guest suite, which was really a self-contained flat, useful when entertaining potential business clients – and useful now for a fiery invalid. He’d said he was tired and would prefer to eat dinner in his room and then sleep.
‘He’s so like his poor mother,’ Maggie had said. ‘Same dark hair, and those blue eyes. I’d have known him anywhere.’ And that was the problem. Luke was too much like Annie and seeing him here in this house brought it all back – the pain her leaving had caused.
It would be so helpful to hear Emer’s calm voice right now. Jack had tried phoning her earlier but the call had gone straight to voicemail. No point in hiding away here in the study – best go and see Matt and make sure he was on side. Maybe enjoy a final father–son chat before the duo became a trio.
In the kitchen, Matt was helping himself to the strawberries set aside for pudding. ‘Ow!’ he yelped, as Maggie rapped his knuckles with a wooden spoon. ‘That’s child abuse, that is.’
Jack smiled. It was good to be back home with Matt and
‘Would you like more orange juice, sir?’
Luke had never been called ‘sir’ so much in his life. He politely refused and the flight attendant moved away. Jack had his head stuck in the
Financial Times
. They’d hardly spoken at all, which suited Luke just fine. He wanted to be left alone. Watching them load Annie’s coffin into the hold had drained any fighting spirit, and right now he didn’t feel he’d ever get it back. Why hadn’t they let him die at the roadside, along with his mother? How very different it could have been if they’d been on that road just a few minutes later, or earlier – they’d be in Wales now, starting a new life.
Luke glanced out of the window at the green fields below. It looked like Ireland. Except it wasn’t. It was a foreign land, and he felt pangs of homesickness. Would he ever be able to return? Had he made the right decision? He wasn’t guaranteed safety in England. Joe was a thug, but he wasn’t stupid. If Connolly or Byrne ever did get hold of Joe, would they mention having met Luke’s father? If they did, Joe would put two and two together and turn up on Jack’s doorstep. Luke’s only hope was that his uncles would dodge the police, like they always did.
‘Sir, please put your seat into the upright position and fasten your seatbelt. We’ll be landing soon.’
He did as he was asked, wincing from the pain in his ribs. Everything was such an effort.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Jack.
Luke nodded.
‘We should be home in an hour once we clear the terminal,’ Jack told him.
Home. That was a laugh. The Stewart family would choke on their caviar when they saw him. He wouldn’t fit in with them, nor did he want to. They meant nothing to him, but he wished it was different. He hated feeling so alone.
As the plane began its descent, Luke closed his eyes and wondered when he’d next sleep beneath an Irish sky.
Chapter Six
‘Honey, I’m home!’
Jack was in his study when he heard Matt arrive home, calling out what was now a standing family joke, immediately followed by the sound of claws slithering along the wooden floor as Honey the Golden Labrador raced to greet her master. It was comforting. Jack needed such moments of familiarity now more than ever.
‘There’s someone trying to sleep,’ scolded Maggie. Their voices receded, Matt doubtless following the housekeeper into her domain, the kitchen. The smell of roasting beef wafted along the passageway into Jack’s study, but he had little appetite.
When they’d got home from the airport a few hours ago, Maggie was all over Luke, hugging him and saying how sorry she was about Annie. Luke, probably shell-shocked by this outpouring of affection, had soon retreated to his bedroom in the downstairs guest suite, which was really a self-contained flat, useful when entertaining potential business clients – and useful now for a fiery invalid. He’d said he was tired and would prefer to eat dinner in his room and then sleep.
‘He’s so like his poor mother,’ Maggie had said. ‘Same dark hair, and those blue eyes. I’d have known him anywhere.’ And that was the problem. Luke was too much like Annie and seeing him here in this house brought it all back – the pain her leaving had caused.
It would be so helpful to hear Emer’s calm voice right now. Jack had tried phoning her earlier but the call had gone straight to voicemail. No point in hiding away here in the study – best go and see Matt and make sure he was on side. Maybe enjoy a final father–son chat before the duo became a trio.
In the kitchen, Matt was helping himself to the strawberries set aside for pudding. ‘Ow!’ he yelped, as Maggie rapped his knuckles with a wooden spoon. ‘That’s child abuse, that is.’
Jack smiled. It was good to be back home with Matt and
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