Best Kept Secret Read online

  Once Emma had filled in the Stanford application form, she wrote a long letter to Cyrus to thank him for making it all possible. She then turned her attention to a bulky package that contained profiles of Sophie Barton, Sandra Davis and Jessica Smith. It only took a cursory reading for her to realize which candidate Matron favoured, and it certainly wasn’t Miss J. Smith.

  What would happen if Sebastian agreed with Matron or, worse, decided he preferred someone who wasn’t even on the shortlist? Emma lay awake wishing Harry would call.

  Harry thought about calling Emma, but assumed she would already have gone to bed. He began to pack so everything would be ready for the early morning flight, then lay down on the bed and thought about how they could convince Sebastian that Jessica Smith was not only the ideal girl to be his sister, but his first choice.

  He closed his eyes, but there wasn’t any hope of snatching even a moment’s sleep while the air-conditioning thumped out a constant rhythm as if auditioning for a place in a Calypso band. Harry lay on the thin, lumpy mattress, and rested his head on a foam pillow that enveloped his ears. There certainly wasn’t a choice between a shower and a bath, just a washbasin with constantly dripping brown water. He closed his eyes and reran the last three weeks, frame by frame, like a flickering black and white movie. There had been no colour. What a complete waste of everyone’s time and money it had all been. Harry had to admit he just wasn’t cut out for the author tour, and if he couldn’t even get the book into the top fifteen after countless radio and print interviews, perhaps the time had come to pension off William Warwick along with Chief Inspector Davenport and start looking for a real job.

  The headmaster of St Bede’s had hinted quite recently that they were looking for a new English teacher, although Harry knew he wasn’t cut out to be a schoolmaster. Giles had graciously suggested, on more than one occasion, that he should join the board of Barrington’s so that he could represent the family’s interests. But the truth was, he wasn’t family, and in any case, he’d always wanted to be a writer, not a businessman.

  It was bad enough living in Barrington Hall. The books still hadn’t earned enough money to buy a house worthy of Emma, and it hadn’t helped when Sebastian had asked him quite innocently why he didn’t go out to work every morning, like every other father he knew. It sometimes made him feel like a kept man.

  Harry climbed into bed just after midnight, even more desperate to call Emma and share his thoughts with her, but it was still only five in the morning in Bristol, so he decided to stay awake and ring her in a couple of hours’ time. He was just about to turn off the light when there was a gentle tap on the door. He could have sworn he’d left the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle. He pulled on his dressing gown, padded across the room and opened the door.

  ‘Many congratulations,’ was all she said.

  He stared at Natalie, who was holding up a bottle of champagne and wearing a tight-fitting dress with a zip down the front that didn’t need an invitation to pull it.

  ‘What for?’ said Harry.

  ‘I’ve just seen the first edition of Sunday’s New York Times, and Nothing Ventured has come in at number fourteen. You’ve made it!’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Harry, not quite grasping the significance of what she was saying.

  ‘And as I’ve always been your biggest fan, I thought you might like to celebrate.’

  He could hear Great-aunt Phyllis’s words ringing in his ears: You do realize you’ll never be good enough for her.

  ‘What a nice idea,’ said Harry. ‘Just give me a moment,’ he added, before walking back into the room. He picked up a book from a side table and returned to join her. He took the bottle of champagne from Natalie and smiled. ‘If you’ve always been my biggest fan, perhaps it’s time you read this,’ he said, handing her a copy of Nothing Ventured. He quietly closed the door.

  Harry sat on the bed, poured himself a glass of champagne, picked up the phone and booked an overseas call. He’d almost finished the bottle by the time Emma came on the line.

  ‘My book’s crept on to the bestseller list at number fourteen,’ he said, slurring his words.

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ said Emma, stifling a yawn.

  ‘And there’s a ravishing blonde standing outside in the corridor holding a bottle of champagne, and she’s trying to break my door down.’

  ‘Yes, of course there is, darling. By the way, you’ll never believe who asked me to spend the night with him.’

  6

  THE DOOR WAS OPENED by a woman in a dark blue uniform with a starched white collar. ‘I’m Matron,’ she announced.

  Harry shook hands, then introduced his wife and son.

  ‘Why don’t you come through to my office,’ she said, ‘then we can have a chat before you meet the girls.’

  Matron led the three of them down a corridor that was plastered with colourful paintings.

  ‘I like this one,’ said Sebastian, stopping at one particular painting, but Matron didn’t respond, clearly believing children should be seen and not heard.

  The three of them followed her into her office.

  Once the door was closed, Harry began by telling Matron how much they’d all been looking forward to the visit.

  ‘As I know the children have,’ she replied. ‘But first I must explain a few of the home’s rules, as my only interest is the well-being of the children.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Harry. ‘We’re in your hands.’

  ‘The three girls you have shown an interest in, Sandra, Sophie and Jessica, are currently in an art lesson, which will give you a chance to see them interacting with other children. When we join them it is important that we allow them to continue their work, because they must not feel they are taking part in a competition. That can only end in tears, and might well have long-term repercussions. Having been rejected once, they don’t need to be reminded of that experience. If the children see families walking around, of course they know you’re thinking about adoption. Why else would you be here? What they mustn’t find out is that you are only considering two or three of them. And of course, once you’ve met the three girls, you may still want to visit our homes in Taunton and Exeter before you make up your minds.’

  Harry would have liked to tell Matron that they’d already decided, although they hoped it would look as if it was Sebastian who made the final choice.

  ‘So, are we ready to join the art class?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, leaping up and running to the door.

  ‘How will we know who’s who?’ asked Emma, rising slowly from her seat.

  Matron scowled at Sebastian before she said, ‘I will introduce several of the children to you, so none of them feel they are being singled out. Before we join them, do you have any questions?’

  Harry was surprised that Sebastian didn’t have a dozen, but simply stood by the door impatiently waiting for them. As they walked back down the corridor towards the art class, Sebastian ran ahead.

  Matron opened the door to the classroom, and they entered and stood quietly at the back. She nodded to the master in charge, who said, ‘Children, we have been joined by some guests.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Clifton,’ said the children in unison, several of them looking round, while others carried on painting.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said Harry and Emma. Sebastian remained uncharacteristically silent.

  Harry noticed that most of the children kept their heads bowed and appeared somewhat subdued. He stepped forward to watch a boy painting a football match. He obviously supported Bristol City, which caused Harry to smile.

  Emma pretended to be looking at a picture of a duck, or was it a cat, while she tried to work out which of the children was Jessica, but she was none the wiser by the time Matron joined her and said, ‘This is Sandra.’

  ‘What a wonderful painting, Sandra,’ said Emma. A huge grin appeared on the girl’s face, while Sebastian bent down and took a closer look.

  Harry wal