Emma drank thirstily, smiled at her. 'I did. Thank you. Life is rather like a switchback, isn't it? Just as you're going along nicely you get flung off into outer space again.'
'Maybe we get too complacent if life is too easy,' Mrs Pat said. 'Folk can get awful smug.'
Emma laughed. 'I'm surprised they ever get the chance. I'm in a constant state of surprise.'
'An exciting life,' Mrs Pat said, amused.
'You're making fun of me,' said Emma, unwillingly forced to smile.
'Me? Never,' said Mrs Pat unconvincingly. She looked round as Edie appeared once more with the children, their faces pink and clean. 'Spick and span? That's right. Off you go with your Emma, then.' She sighed. 'Lucky you had an early lunch.'
'I wish I had,' Emma said, feeling ravenous. Her adventures in Boxrey Wood had given her an appetite, and even the pain of Ross walking towards Amanda again had not taken the edge off her hunger. 'I'm a boringly down-to-earth female,' she said to Mrs Pat. 'Nothing has ever deprived me of my appetite for long. You'll never find me pining away, I'm afraid. I'm too disgustingly healthy.'
'And a good thing, too,' said Mrs Pat. 'Edie shall take the children back. You stay here and eat some lunch.'
Emma hesitated. It was tempting. She would not, then, have to see Ross and Amanda together; to witness a family reunion in which she had no part whatever, to feel shut out and alien to the new happiness around her. And anyway, Leon Daumaury, whatever his faults, had a right to privacy in these precious moments with his grandchildren. He would not want an observer to be present.
'That's very kind of you,' she said doubtfully. 'Thank you, I'd like that.'
'Sit down, then,' Mrs Pat said, nodding at Edie, who quietly led the children away. Tracy looked back, dark-browed, looking rather alarmed, some sort of intuition springing into her mind.
'Visitors? What visitors, Emma?'
'Come along,' Edie said gently.
When they had gone Mrs Pat made Emma a herb omelette, golden and creamy inside, with a crisp, white-fleshed apple to follow, and cheese available if she wanted some. 'I like cheese with an apple,' Mrs Pat said, pouring her a cup of coffee.
Emma drank her coffee by the fire, reluctant to move, then thanked Mrs Pat and made a slow return to the cottage. The car had gone, she was relieved to see, and when she came into the kitchen she found Edie and the children alone, busy making fairy cakes for tea.
'Ross has been called out to Duckett's Farm,' Tracy told her casually, preparing the cake trays.
'Oh?' Emma tried to look indifferent.
Robin looked round at her, his bright eyes curious. 'There weren't any visitors, Emma.'
Tracy and he stared at her, waiting for her reply. Emma was taken aback. Had something gone wrong? Had Leon Daumaury changed his mind? Or had he, perhaps, never been in the sleek limousine? Had it been Amanda by herself?
'I must have been mistaken, then,' she said lamely.
'It was Amanda, I suppose,' Tracy said in disgust. 'I'm glad she'd gone by the time we got here.'
'So'm I,' Robin agreed wholeheartedly.
'Mm…' Donna added with such fervour that they all laughed. Then Emma said quietly, 'You mustn't say things like that about Amanda, children.'
'Why not?' asked Robin, the acute.
'Because you must not be rude about grownups,' Emma said in a certain confusion. She might have more truthfully said that they might one day find themselves with Amanda for an aunt, and they would have to put up with it.
'You aren't working,' Edie said reproachfully at that moment, and the three children turned back to the work in hand.
Emma spent half an hour writing to Fanny, filling in the details of what had happened to her since she left London, making it all sound amusing, she hoped, and dwelling carefully on a long description of the three children. Fanny would be worried about her, no doubt, and this would ease her mind. She posted it and then returned for tea, after which she played dominoes with the three children, allowing Donna to share her hand so that she felt she was really taking part.
Ross did not return until much later. The children were all in bed. Edie was knitting a bright yellow sweater for Robin. Emma was working on some sketches, her face smoothly absorbed.
She looked up, sensing his presence. He was watching her oddly, his face enigmatic. As her eyes met his, she felt his gaze probing her expression, as if seeking some answer to an unspoken question.
Half resentful, half wary, she lifted her brows. 'Something wrong? You look grim.'