Betrayed

‘Oh, really!’ Olivia found it difficult to contain her anger. So far as Andrew, and her father, were concerned, a woman only had one role in life. And if she deviated from that role, she was both selfish and wicked.

‘Anyway, I’ve got to be getting on,’ said Andrew, placing his chair squarely against the table. ‘Some of us have work to do.’

Olivia rode the jab. ‘All right,’ she said, cradling her cup in her hands, and looking up at him over its rim. ‘I may come and join you later. Where is everyone, by the way? Sara’s bed was empty when I woke up. I thought she’d be down here.’

‘I dare say she’s about somewhere,’ replied Andrew reluctantly. ‘I heard Mum say she was going to gather some vegetables, and I think Sara went with her. Why don’t you go and join them? They probably need your help more than I do.’

‘Oh, Andy!’ His almost childish desire to get his own back broke through Olivia’s reserve. Unable to sustain her anger against him, she got up from the table, and ignoring his instinctive withdrawal, she gave him a swift hug. ‘We’ve got to forget the past,’ she told him gently, looking into hazel eyes that were several shades darker than her own. ‘I have missed you—all of you—terribly. But—well, there were reasons why I couldn’t come back before now. Please—believe me.’

Andrew’s sun-browned features were wary. ‘Don’t think you can get round me, the way you got round Dad,’ he exclaimed, but she could sense he was weakening. ‘Oh—all right,’ he muttered. ‘I missed you, too. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for staying away so long.’

He left, after bestowing a rather awkward kiss on her cheek, and Olivia gave a wistful smile as she seated herself at the table again. Slowly but surely, she told herself firmly. Eventually they would all come round. They were her family, weren’t they? And in spite of everything, they loved her. She had to believe that.

Which was more than could be said about her grandmother, she thought ruefully. It was obvious where Harriet Stoner’s loyalties had lain, and they had not been with Olivia. She had been a potent reason to stay away from Lower Mychett. So long as Harriet Stoner was alive, Olivia would always have felt the outsider, the cuckoo in the nest.

Not that she could totally blame her grandmother for that, Olivia admitted. And, in all fairness, she had not been the only reason Olivia had stayed away. Her dread of seeing Matthew again, of rekindling all the pain and anguish she had felt at leaving, had provided a far more powerful deterrent. And she had been right to take those precautions, she conceded uneasily. Even now, the chemistry was still active, and avoidance seemed the only cure.

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