Ivan gave her a puzzled frown. Maybe he’d explained all this once while she’d been suffering cold sweats about illicit sex. ‘What?’ she repeated.
‘That you come and stop here. You’ll be much closer to the hospital.’
‘Hardly,’ she disagreed, sharply. ‘The Ackerman’s the other side of Peterborough from this house. If you factor in extra traffic the petrol consumption’s probably the same.’
‘No, ’cos you can park your car here and come for visiting every night with us. I’ll drive you.’
Diane laughed. ‘What about our house? What about my work?’
‘Well, that’s what Gareth wants,’ said Melvyn, decisively, in aso that’s thattone.
Diane turned back to Ivan. ‘How long have you known that Gareth had found his father and sister?’
Although his eyes widened and his lips parted, Ivan didn’t look any more ready with an answer this time than last.
She turned to Melvyn. ‘How long?’
He shrugged.
‘Since before the crash?’ she guessed.
‘It’s not our business, Diane. It’s between you and Gary.’
‘Since before the crash.’ She picked up her mug to take to Megan in the kitchen, then changed her mind and put it down. Megan had a nasty habit of throwing her arms around people and hugging them close. Diane felt as if she reeked of sex and Megan would know that Gareth was in no condition to provide it. She wiped a haze of sweat from her top lip.
‘But when are you coming?’ Melvyn frowned as Diane retrieved her bag from under the table.
She straightened. ‘Where?’
‘Here, while our Gary’s in –’
‘I’m not.’ She fished out her keys.
Ivan’s brows beetled in exactly the same way as Melvyn’s. ‘But Gary said –’
‘I’m not coming.’ Calmly. She raised her voice. ‘Thanks for the tea, Megan!’
‘You going, darlin’?’
Megan scurried out of the kitchen with her embrace ready but Diane was already on her way through the front door.
She whizzed home, mind racing. Why would Gareth want her to stay at Ivan’s house? Ivan had only three bedrooms, all presently occupied; a guest would be an inconvenience. The petrol/wear-and-tear argument was an insult to her intelligence.
She pulled up outside the house.
So it must be ... She frowned out of the window at the dark lane.
So it must be ... Come on, Diane.
So it must be ... it must be ...
The light in her brain came on slowly.
More stuff he didn’t want her to find out.
Chapter Nine
Rich, dawn-pink fabric. Anything too pale would’ve been a mistake with Tamzin’s bloodless complexion. Glass buttons, black embroidery silk, chrome rings in two tiny sizes, thread. The new-fabric smell enveloped her along with the steam as Diane ironed out the folds ready to mark out the garment on the laminate floor. She didn’t have a table. Cutting on the floor saved space and money, both of which were at a premium in this house, although it did also mean fluff bunnies that collected in corners and rolled out to attach themselves to her fabric at the least draught.
