Antigua Kiss Read Free

of John.'
    He lifted one well-shaped dark eyebrow. 'Are you hinting that you'll contest the will?'
    She shook her head. 'It would be a bad thing for John if the two people who are all the family he has now resorted to litigation over him. If I were really convinced that you were the better person to have him, I would give him up—not gladly but with a good grace, for his sake.'
    'Perhaps we can arrive at a compromise,' he suggested.
    'Perhaps.'
    But during the restless night which followed, Christie could see no way in which they could compromise when they lived in different parts of the world. Had he lived in England, it might have been possible to work out a system for sharing John in the way that separated parents did. But when the people concerned lived on opposite sides of the Atlantic . . .

    The alarm clock woke her at six. She had always got up at seven but, with John to attend to, she needed the extra hour.
    This morning she made the fatal mistake, instead of jumping out of bed immediately, of thinking, I'll just have five minutes more. The result was that she fell asleep again.
    The next time she woke, someone was shaking her gently? and a deep voice was repeating her name.

    'Oh, my goodness! What time is it?' she demanded, realising what she had done and, at first, being much more concerned about being late than by the alien presence of an almost strange man in her bedroom.
    'Only twenty past six. You've plenty of time. I heard your alarm clock as I was leaving the bathroom. I guessed you'd had a disturbed night, and thought you might like some tea to get you going.'
    Ash indicated the cup and saucer he had placed on her bedside table.
    He was wearing a short silk dressing gown of navy silk over apple-green cotton pyjamas. He had had a bath the night before, after she had gone back to bed, and this morning he had washed his hair.
    The angular lines of his jaw, shadowed when they said goodnight, were now no darker than the rest of his face. She could smell, very faintly, his after-shave.
    Thank you . . . but you needn't have bothered.'
    Why didn't he go away, instead of standing there, his hands in the pockets of the dressing-gown, looking down at her as if he had never seen a woman in bed before? She suspected he had seen many, but perhaps never one in warm pyjamas. His sort of woman would sleep in clinging satin, filmy chiffon or, more probably, nothing at all but an aura of expensive French scent.
    'What time does the boy wake up?' he asked.
    'I expect he'll be awake now. He usually reads until I go in to him.'
    'Reads? At his age?'
    'It's not really reading. He looks at picture books and talks to himself.'
    'Will it frighten him if I say hello?'
    'I shouldn't think so. He's a very friendly little boy.'

    As he moved to the door Christie sat up, her self-consciousness submerged by a more important consideration.
    'Mr Lambard—'
    'Ash.'
    'Ash,' she amended. 'He . . . John doesn't know his parents are dead.
    He's too small for the word to have any meaning, and one can't say they've gone to heaven because his parents were not religious, and he hasn't been taught to say prayers. He's been left with me before, during the school holidays, and sometimes with other people when I couldn't have him here. So far he hasn't even asked me when his father and mother are coming back. You may not agree, but Mrs Kelly and I—she's the neighbour I mentioned last night—both feel it's better to say nothing. I wouldn't ever lie to a child,' she added earnestly, 'but with one of John's age, it's not difficult to dodge an issue. So, please, be careful what you say.'
    He nodded. 'I won't say anything—for the time being. I was thinking while I was shaving that it's a fortunate circumstance that your job involves long holidays. You can bring him to Antigua and stay with him for a few weeks while he settles down in new surroundings.'
    Before she could protest that he was taking far too much for granted, he had left the room and