Lucy Killane stood there in a frozen silence, staring at her.
'Oh, don't pretend to look bewildered,' Prue snapped. 'You don't fool me, any more than you fooled my mother!'
'She told you . . .' Lucy began, then took a deep breath. 'What? What did she tell you?'
'The truth! She thought I was old enough to know what had ruined my parents' marriage ... or rather, who had!'
Lucy put a hand to her mouth, whitening, then a wave of red flowed up to her hairline. 'Oh, so that's why ... why you were so offhand with me when you first arrived?'
'Until I was stupid enough to let you charm me into forgetting everything my mother had told me! But that's what you're good at—you and your daughter, and your . . . your whole damn family!
You have a genius for charming people into forgetting things . . .
little, unimportant things, . . like loyalty and decency and common sense!'
'But it wasn't true!' Lucy said huskily, still very flushed. 'My husband meant everything to me; I loved him very much, I never once looked at any other man. Your father and I were friends, just as he was my husband's friends You ought to know your father better than to believe he would betray one of his oldest friends; he'd known my husband far longer than I had.'
'But you knew what I was talking about at once!' Prue said coldly, and Lucy sighed.
'Oh, your mother accused us ... one day she came to the house and made a very unpleasant scene,, shouting and crying. I was very upset, I tried to tell her the truth, but I knew that she wasn't very stable, I didn't take her seriously. Jim told me to forget it, he said she hadn't really believed the things she said, she was pathologically jealous and given to these outbursts. He said she was even jealous of his dog.'
Lucy paused, face hesitant, worried, then plunged on, 'She was jealous of you, too, Prue. It drove her crazy if she thought your father loved you more than her.'
Prue's green eyes opened wide, her pupils very black. That was true; although she had forgotten it until now, she had always known her mother was jealous whenever she and her father were together. What else had she forgotten about those childhood years? she wondered, and oddly remembered Josh teasing her by saying that he had kissed her years ago. Had he lied? Ever since he had said it, some faint memory had been trying to surface; she felt it almost within reach for a second . . . then it was gone again on dragonfly wings.
Lucy was unaware of her reverie. 'And after she went away, and took you with her, Jim said she had taken you to make sure you grew up hating him,' Lucy went on, and that was true, too. Her mother had wanted her to hate her father; that was why she had told her so much about the past, blackening his name. That was something Prue had worked out for herself years ago, but her mother's jealous nature and instability didn't mean that there was no truth to all her wild accusations, did it? There must be some fire behind all that smoke.
'Your two children must have got it from somewhere, though!' Prue said bitingly, and Lucy Killane looked dumbfounded.
'My two…'
'Lynsey . . . and Josh! Yes! They're as bad as each other!'
'Josh?' repeated his mother with incredulity.
'Yes, Josh,' Prue snapped. 'I know how Lynsey managed to seduce David, because her brother tried the same game with me, flirting with me every time I saw him, trying to kiss me and... only he didn't take me in the way your daughter fooled poor David.'
Lucy Killane stared at her. 'Josh has been flirting with you?' Her voice was slow, almost dazed, but there was a thoughtful look in her face.
'Don't pretend to be shocked! I can't stand hypocrisy!' Prue said with contempt. 'He's your son, we both know where he got it from!'
They had been so absorbed that they hadn't heard the creak on the stairs, and weren't aware of the man in the doorway until he spoke, making them jump.
'Prue!' he said sharply, and they both looked round, startled and shaken.
Lucy Killane flushed up at the sight of him; she turned hurriedly away, her face distressed. By contrast, James Allardyce was white-faced and his eyes were appalled.
'Don't talk to Mrs Killane like that!' he said, an Prue laughed angrily.
'Mrs Killane? It's a bit late to be so formal, Dad. I know about you two, I've always known. Mum told me.'
Hot blood rose up in his face and he glanced quickly at Lucy Killane, who begged him, "Tell her it isn't true, Jim!' but she couldn't look at him, all the same, and Prue read guilt in her averted eyes.
'Yes, lie to me, Dad,' Prue said. 'Tell me you don't love her!'
He looked grim, his head bent, a frown pulling his brows together.
'Your mother was sick, she invented grievances to give herself a reason for hurting me, she lied to you, Prue. There was nothing going on between me and Lucy, we were just friends. I give you my word of honour that that's the truth.' His eyes lifted and she looked into them and believed the level stare, believed even more the unhappiness, the distress, because the truth he was telling was not quite the whole truth and he knew it. She knew it, too, and was suddenly very sorry for him.