Fox Evil Read Free Page B

in fantasizing about the woman who had abandoned her. Whoever she was, her story had been told a thousand times before and would be told a thousand times again. Single woman. Accidental pregnancy. Unwanted baby. The mother had no place in her daughter's story…
    …or wouldn't have done but for a persistent solicitor who traced Nancy through the agency's records to the Smith home in Hereford. After several unanswered letters, he came knocking on the farmhouse door, and by a rare stroke of fate found Nancy home on leave.
     
    It was her mother who persuaded her to speak to him. She found her daughter in the stables where Nancy was brushing the mud of a hard ride from Red Dragon's flanks. The horse's reaction to a solicitor on the premises-a scornful snort-so closely mimicked Nancy's that she gave his muzzle an approving kiss. There's sense for you, she told Mary. Red could smell the devil from a thousand paces. So? Had Mr. Ankerton said what he wanted or was he still hiding behind innuendo?
    His letters had been masterpieces of legal sleight of hand. A surface read seemed to suggest a legacy-
"Nancy Smith, born 23.05.73… something to your advantage…"
A between-the-lines read-
"instructed by the Lockyer-Fox family… relative issues… please confirm date of birth…"
-suggested a cautious approach by her natural mother, which was outside the rules governing adoption. Nancy had wanted none of it-
"I'm a Smith"
-but her adoptive mother had urged her to be kind.
    Mary Smith couldn't bear to think of anyone being rebuffed, particularly not a woman who had never known her child. She gave you life, she said, as if that were reason enough to embark on a relationship with a total stranger. Nancy, who had a strong streak of realism in her nature, wanted to warn Mary against opening a can of worms, but as usual she couldn't bring herself to go against her softhearted mother's wishes. Mary's greatest talent was to bring out the best in people, because her refusal to see flaws meant they didn't exist-in her eyes at least-but it laid her open to a legion of disappointments.
    Nancy feared this would be another. Cynically, she could imagine only two ways this "reconciliation" could go, which was why she had spurned the solicitor's letters. Either she would get on with her biological mother or she wouldn't, and the only thing on offer in both scenarios was a guilt trip. It was her view that there was room for only one mother in a person's life, and it was an unnecessary complication to add the emotional baggage of a second. Mary, who insisted on putting herself in the other woman's shoes, couldn't see the dilemma. No one's asking you to make a choice, she argued, any more than they ask you to choose between me and your father. We all love many people in our lives. Why should this be different?
    It was a question that could only be answered afterward, thought Nancy, and by then it would be too late. Once contact was made, it couldn't be unmade. Part of her wondered if Mary was motivated by pride. Did she want to show off to this unknown woman? And if she did, was that so wrong? Nancy wasn't immune to the sense of satisfaction it would give.
Look at me. I'm the child you didn't want. This is what I've made of myself with no help from you.
She might have resisted more firmly had her father been there to support her. He understood the dynamics of jealousy better than his wife, having grown up between a warring mother and stepmother, but it was August, he was harvesting, and in his absence she gave in. She told herself it was no big deal. Nothing in life was ever as bad as imagination painted it.
     
    Mark Ankerton, who had been shut into a sitting room off the hall, was beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable. The Smith surname, coupled with the address-Lower Croft, Coomb Farm-had led him to assume that the family were farm laborers who lived in a tied cottage. Now, in this room of books and worn leather furniture, he was far from confident