“Not as much as she should,” Gabe piped in, earning himself a look of reproach from Quinn.
“I will rest more,” she promised.
“I’d like to see you in a fortnight,” Dr. Malik said as she said her goodbyes and rushed off to see the next patient.
“See, all is well,” Quinn said as she got off the examining table and slipped her feet into her shoes.
“Thank God. Would you like me to come with you?” Gabe suggested. “I still have a bit of time.”
Quinn had heard back from Hetty Marks two days ago. . Hetty was in London visiting her sister, and had suggested they meet in person, which had left Quinn fluttering with nervous excitement. They had arranged to meet by the Albert Memorial at noon.
“Gabe…”
“All right. I understand. Ring me when you’re through.”
“I will. And thanks.”
Quinn took a taxi to Hyde Park. It was too far to walk, and as Dr. Malik had observed, it was a hot day. Even in her light summer frock, Quinn was perspiring. The green expanse of the park beckoned to her to enter its coolness, but she had to wait by the memorial. It was the easiest spot to meet someone since it was open and elevated, the perfect vantage point.
The air shimmered with heat, and was thick with the aroma of freshly mown grass and flowers. Birdsong carried on the light breeze, but was quickly drowned out by the sound of a giggling toddler. Quinn looked at the little boy and her heart filled with longing. She couldn’t wait to meet her baby. She wanted to hear it giggle just like that, and feel its weight in her arms as she held it close, enjoying that intoxicating baby smell that all little ones seemed to have. Eau de Bébé, Jill called it.
Quinn walked up the steps in front of the memorial before taking a drink of water from the bottle she always carried. The water was tepid and Quinn made a face, which elicited a chuckle from the elderly woman who was just walking up the steps.
“I remember you making a face just like that when I gave you a bottle. The formula wasn’t warmed through, and you were very displeased, as I recall.”
“Ms. Marks,” Quinn said, smiling at the woman. She looked exactly like her profile photo on Facebook. Round blue eyes, ruddy complexion, and thick salt-and-pepper hair cropped close to her head. Ms. Marks wore a long cotton skirt with a pattern of bright red poppies against a cream-colored background, and a beige top.
“I’m thrilled to see you, Quinn. Or should I say Dr. Allenby? What an honor. I looked you up after I received your message. I’ve only just recently learned how to use Messenger. My word, you’ve come a long way from that squalling infant,” she said as she studied Quinn with undisguised interest.
“Should we walk or would you prefer to find a shady bench?” Quinn asked.
“If you feel up to walking, I’m game,” Ms. Marks replied. “And please call me Hetty.”
They walked away from the memorial and deeper into the park. “I’ve only just found out about my sister,” Quinn began. “I had no idea my mother gave birth to twins. She never thought to mention the fact.”
“So you’ve met her then.”
“Yes, very recently. She’s not what I expected,” Quinn confessed.
“Few people ever are. I’m glad you contacted me, though. I always did wonder about you girls.”
“Please tell me everything, as you remember it.”
Hetty nodded, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalled the details of that day. Her account was very similar to that of Reverend Seaton, and Quinn was disappointed that Hetty couldn’t add much to what she already knew.
“You see, I took a leave of absence shortly after the two of you were found. My mother fell and broke her hip, and needed looking after, so I spent nearly a year in Manchester. That’s where I’m from, originally. By the time I returned to work, your cases were closed.”
“Did you never look at the files?” Quinn asked.
“I was no longer the case manager, so I had no access to the information. Adoption files are confidential.”
“Do you know anything at all about my sister?”
“I know that she had surgery and remained in hospital for several weeks, under observation. By the time I returned, she’d been discharged and adopted. That’s all I can tell you, love.”
“Did she look like me? Were we identical?”
Hetty smiled kindly. “You were newborn babies. Even if you were identical, it’d be pretty hard to tell at that stage, especially as I never saw you side by side. I suppose you looked alike, but I can’t tell you anything more than that. I’m sorry.”
“Is there any way to find out who adopted Quentin?”
“I’m sorry, pet, but finding your sister won’t be easy. Had your mother gone through the proper channels, there’d be a record, and your sister would have had a surname at birth. As your mother decided to leave you girls just lying about…”
“I see. Thank you, Hetty.”
“I do wish I could help you. I always thought it was wrong that they split you up, but I suppose they thought it best to get you adopted as soon as possible without waiting for your sister to recover. Not many people wish to take on babies that are ill, and I believe your sister might have had a congenital heart condition. They thought you’d have a better chance on your own, and looks like they were right.”
“Yes, my parents are wonderful. I got very lucky. I can only hope my sister can say the same.”
“Have you searched the internet for a Quentin of about the same age?”
“I have, but no joy,” Quinn replied.
“What’s your next step then? Is there anything I can do?”
“I suppose I’ll visit the hospital where Quentin was treated. Perhaps someone might remember her, or maybe I can even get access to her file. As her sister, I could be considered next of kin,” Quinn speculated.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but you can certainly try. I think your mother might have a better chance, as the birth mother, you know.”
“Do you think so?”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it? Oh, I do hope you find her, Quinn. I can’t imagine life without my sister. We’ve had our ups and downs, as sisters do, but there’s no one in the world who understands me the way she does.”
“Since Quentin and I didn’t grow up together, I can’t expect that we’d share that sort of bond,” Quinn replied, envious of Hetty’s relationship with her sister. She’d always longed for a sibling, but she was grateful for Jill, who was as close to a sister as Quinn could hope for.
“No, you didn’t, but you shared a womb, and parents. You must have something in common.”
“I’d like the chance to find out.”
“I hope you’ll get it. It’s so much easier to find someone in this day and age, with computers and such. I’m sure you’ll find her trail.”
Quinn and Hetty talked for a while longer, and then Hetty said her goodbyes and rushed off to meet her sister for lunch at a nearby pub. Quinn found a shady bench and sat down, needing a few minutes to ponder what Hetty had said. The truth of the situation was that Quinn was as far from discovering what had happened to Quentin as she had been a few days ago. She would never seek help from Sylvia, who had never bothered to find out what had happened to her baby. She’d just walked away—from both of them. She didn’t deserve to have her daughters back, and Quinn would keep whatever she discovered to herself. In truth, Sylvia would be of no use anyway, since her name wasn’t listed anywhere as the birth mother, and she had no legal connection to the children she’d abandoned.
Quinn supposed her only option was to visit the hospital where Quentin had been left, but what were the chances that anyone would actually tell her anything? She left the park, purchased a fresh bottle of water, took a few minutes to hydrate, and set off for home. She’d clear forgotten that Logan and Scott would be coming by tonight to take a look at the sword. She’d stop by the shops on the way home and pick up a couple of salmon fillets. Served with jasmine rice and steamed asparag
us, they would do very well for an impromptu dinner.
Quinn took her mobile out of her bag and rang her mother. She’d promised to call after the doctor’s appointment. She momentarily considered telling her mum about Quentin, but quickly changed her mind. She’d keep that bit of information to herself until she knew more. Perhaps it was unfair of her not to share this monumental news with her parents, but since discovering her psychic gift at a young age, she’d learned to be secretive, more for her parents’ sake than her own. She had no wish to upset them or cause them unnecessary pain, since they were already questioning their place in her life and thinking that somehow they’d never been enough.
Chapter 45
“That looks delicious,” Colin said as he helped himself to a piece of salmon. “And what’s in that sauce?”
“It’s plain yogurt with a bit of dill and lemon juice,” Quinn replied shyly, taken aback by the praise. No one except Gabe ever complimented her cooking.
“Outstanding,” Logan agreed as he popped another forkful of fish into his mouth. He swallowed and gave Quinn a brilliant smile. “So, are we going to acknowledge the five hundred pound elephant in the room named Quentin or are we going to talk about fish some more?” he asked playfully.
“I wasn’t sure if you knew,” Quinn replied.
“Oh, I know. Mum has been ranting and raving about your confrontation for days.”
“Logan, did you know about Quentin before?” she asked, watching his face for clues.
Logan shook his head. “I didn’t know about either of you. I love my mum, Quinn, but I don’t pretend to understand her. There are parts of her she keeps to herself and always has done, even while my dad was alive.”
“May I ask you something?” Quinn said, hoping he wouldn’t take offense at her prying.
“I think you’re entitled to some answers,” he said as he continued to eat, unperturbed.
“Did your parents have a happy marriage?” Sylvia rarely mentioned her husband, who’d died of cancer several years before Quinn and Sylvia met. She seemed to mourn him, but not deeply, not the way Susan would mourn Roger Allenby if he passed, or the way Grandma Ruth mourned her Joe. He’d always been there, in her heart, and in everything she did, and she hadn’t feared death, knowing they would be reunited at last. That was the sort of love Quinn strove for and the kind of marriage she aspired to with Gabe. Perhaps Sylvia was someone who wasn’t capable of very deep feelings, but she did seem to adore Jude and felt very protective of him.
Logan didn’t answer immediately. He took a sip of wine and held it in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “I thought they did, but knowing what I now know, I’m not so sure. Their marriage was very quiet.”
“Meaning?” Colin asked, his eyebrow furrowing in confusion.
“Meaning they just got on with it. They never rowed or disagreed. They kind of just rubbed along, like two coworkers who must share an office space.”
“That’s a good thing, surely,” Colin said, still looking puzzled.
Logan blessed Colin with a brilliant smile, a smile that spoke volumes, and laid his hand over his partner’s. “Would you want us to have a quiet relationship?”
Colin blushed prettily. “No, I suppose not. That kind of relationship doesn’t have much passion, does it?”
“No. When neither person is invested enough to get excited about anything, it’s as good as being dead.”
“Hmm, I never thought of it that way,” Gabe interjected. “My parents went at it hammer and tongs when I was a kid.”
“And I bet they had great make-up sex afterwards,” Logan concluded.
“Well, I can’t attest to that, thankfully, but I can honestly say they loved each other. My mum was devastated when Dad died. She misses him sorely, even the parts of his character she found irritating.”
“Quinn, what about your folks?” Logan asked.
Quinn chuckled and smiled at him. “No, my parents did not have a quiet marriage, but they did get on, and still do. They are not shy about showing affection though, and they feel comfortable to disagree and defend their point of view. It doesn’t undermine their relationship; it makes it stronger.”
“I don’t think my dad knew Mum at all, now that I think of it,” Logan said, shaking his head. “She kept a lot to herself, as we now know. She likes secrets.”
“Will there be more revelations, do you think?” Quinn asked, suddenly worried.
“Lord, I hope not. This is about as much as I can handle,” Logan joked. “So, what’s our plan?”
“Our plan?” Quinn gazed at Logan across the table. She hadn’t expected him to want to help, but she’d accept his assistance gladly if it was on offer.
“Well, you are planning to look for her, are you not?” he asked as he helped himself to more rice.
“Yes, but it’s proving rather difficult. I have no legal ties to Quentin, and neither does Sylvia. And all this happened nearly thirty-one years ago. Hetty Marks, the Social Services case worker I met with this afternoon, suggested I start at the hospital.”
Logan shook his head. “That’s a dead end, if you ask me. In 1983 the records would still have been hand-written, so accessing the NHS database would yield no results. Given that this case is three decades old, the files from that period would no longer be kept on-site.”
“Where would they be?” Quinn asked, alarmed. She hadn’t considered that.
“The files would have been archived. They’re either still in the building or have been transferred to some other facility. In any case, no one on staff would let you anywhere near them.”
Quinn felt a pang of disappointment. Her plans had been tentative, but now she didn’t even have a starting point. She pushed away her plate, no longer hungry.
“Can I have some pudding?” Emma asked as she came into the dining room, dragging Mr. Rabbit by the ear. “I finished watching the film.”
“I think pudding is an excellent idea,” Gabe said. “How about we clear the table and bring out pudding for everyone? Emma, will you help me?”
“Mr. Rabbit is tired,” Emma replied.
“I bet he’s weak with hunger too,” Logan joked. “I can look after him while you help your dad.”
Emma gave Logan a loaded look, but handed over the toy and accepted the bread basket from Gabe. “Go put that in the kitchen.”
“What’s for pudding anyway?”
“Banofee pie,” Gabe replied with a smile of anticipation.
“Did you make it yourself?” Colin looked impressed.
“Is my name Rhys Morgan?” They all laughed at the joke. “No, I bought it on the way home, so I know it’s good.”
“Bring it on,” Logan said. “Emma, do you like banoffee pie?”
Emma shrugged. “It’s all right, I suppose. I like ice cream better.”
“We have ice cream too,” Quinn said. “I wouldn’t let you down.”
Emma lit up. “I’ll have that then and you can all have your banana toffee thingy.”
“We’ll show you the sword as soon as Emma goes to bed,” Quinn promised quietly after Emma disappeared into the kitchen. “We don’t want her to know where it’s kept.”
“Would she go looking for it?” Colin asked.
“She might, just out of curiosity. Let me give them a hand,” Quinn said. She collected the dirty plates and headed toward the kitchen. “After ice cream, it’s off to bed with you,” she said, smiling at Emma, who was taking out an extra-large bowl for herself.
“But I want to stay up.”
“You have school tomorrow.”
“I’m not tired.”
“But Mr. Rabbit is,” Gabe replied. “Or is he to sleep alone tonight? He might get lonely.”
Quinn pinned Gabe with a disapproving look, and he shrugged. One of the things they were learning as parents was to watch what they said because Emma didn’t miss a trick.
“Is that why you two sleep together?” Emma asked. “Who will I sleep with once I’m too old
to sleep with Mr. Rabbit?”
Quinn patted Gabe on the back as he nearly choked on a sip of water. “There, there, Daddy. We’ve got time yet. Here, Emma, why don’t you bring these plates and forks to the table?” she suggested. “Can’t eat the pie with our hands.”
“That would be exceptionally rude,” Emma announced, making Gabe and Quinn exchange looks and burst out laughing.
“I suppose it would be,” Gabe agreed. “Come, let me help you.”
“Are you going to have a smart mouth too?” Quinn asked her belly as she took the kettle off the hob and made a pot of tea. “I suppose I’d be surprised if you didn’t, with Gabe and me for parents, Emma for a sister, and your odd assortment of grandparents.” She sighed and patted her stomach affectionately.
Once Emma finished her ice cream and was sent to bed under protest, the adults were finally able to resume their conversation.
“I think I might be able to help with the search,” Colin said. “Neither of you can access the files, but I might be able to. As a doctor, if I request a file that I think might be relevant to a case I’m working on, I have a good chance of getting it.”
“Would no one require authorization?” Gabe asked.
“The case is thirty years old. I think at this stage, no one would particularly care.”
“Would you be willing to do that?” Quinn asked.
Colin turned to Logan with a playful grin. “Feel like taking a drive to Leicester on Friday?”
“I hear Leicester is lovely this time of year,” Logan replied. “We’ll play at being day-trippers.”
“Excellent. Friday it is then. Now, let’s see that sword.”
Chapter 46
January 1463
Stanwyck Hall, Northumberland
Guy didn’t get very far when he left Castle de Rosel behind on that cold December evening. He’d left in a fit of temper, only to realize a mile down the road that he’d taken neither his armor nor any coin. Returning home with his tail between his legs was out of the question, so he continued on to Stanwyck Hall to beg his liege lord’s hospitality.
The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4) Page 25