Entwined by Elizabeth Marshall Page A

very soon after arriving, but I remembered her because she had looked terribly sad and confused.
    “Grace left my place earlier to walk back to her hotel. She said she’d text me as soon as she was back. When I got no text I went looking for her.”
    “I’m sure Grace is tucked up in her bed and just forgot to call you, Kate. You really shouldn’t have gone out looking for her on your own.”
    “Kate, did she leave your place before or after the power cut?” Rose asked.
    “It was before,” Kate said with absolute confidence.
    “Could she have had enough time to get back to her hotel, before the power went?” I asked.
    A knock at the door interrupted our conversation.
    “It’s Harry, can I come in?”
    “Come in, Harry,” Rose said.
    “What were you doing out there?” he said, gently, putting the bundle of clothes on a table.
    “Harry, I… need to speak… to you,” she said, through chattering teeth.
    “Yeah, and so do I,” said Rose, holding up a knitted tunic from the pile of clothes Harry had just laid on the table.
    “What’s wrong, Rose?” I asked, watching the deeply suspicious frown developing on her face.
    “This,” she said, waving the tunic aggressively. “It’s my Mum’s.”
    “Are you sure?
    “Yeah, of course I’m bloody sure. I mean, look, it’s got a cigarette burn on the sleeve.”
    I turned to look at Harry. He was visibly shaken, his face pale and his eyes shifting uneasily between the three of us.
    “You’re right, Rose. We do need to talk… all of us,” he said, nervously turning to leave the room. “When Kate is dry come back through to the taproom.”
    We joined the three men in the taproom. Rose helped ease Kate into a chair and settled next to her friend on the rug in front of the fire. I lowered myself wearily into a wooden backed chair beside Simon. The fire had taken the chill off the room but the atmosphere was uncomfortable and tense. Duncan emerged from the kitchen with three mugs in hand.
    “Darling, you are an absolute star. Thank you,” I said, as my son handed me one of the hot mugs of tea.
    “My pleasure, Ma,” he said, passing the other two mugs to Rose and Kate.
    An impatient sound from Harry’s throat prompted Duncan to hurriedly deposit his rear end on a bar stool. “For many years,” Harry began, and then stopped. He was clutching something in his right hand. Lowering his head slowly, he stared at the object for a few seconds before beginning again. “Sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for the task. “Twenty years ago I was a young man… well, comparatively young at any rate. I had an eye for a pretty girl, and I wasn’t too bad a looker, if I do say so myself. I met a girl, here in the pub. She was new to the area and used to come in with her mother,” he sighed, casting a dreamy look towards the bar. “They were quiet folk but I was curious and made an effort to talk to the girl. One thing lead to another and eventually I asked her out. She was shy and didn’t accept at first, but her mother convinced her to give me a chance,” he paused to take a sip of his whisky, and I noticed that his left hand shook as he lifted the glass.
    “She was so beautiful in every way. I fell in love with her, and…” he broke off and wiped a tear from his cheek.
    Drawing a breath he continued. “She fell pregnant and we had a beautiful baby girl… but I could never be her father.”
    “Why Harry, what happened?” Kate asked.
    “Jessie was in danger. There were people who wanted to hurt her.”
    “Why didn’t you just go to the police?” said Rose.
    “Because it would have made no difference, Rose. The kind of danger Jessie was in wasn’t the sort the police could help her with.”
    “How did this stop you being the child’s father?” Simon asked.
    “Jessie wanted to be sure that the child would have a bolt-hole. Somewhere safe and completely unconnected to her, should she ever have the need.”
    “So where