Deceit Of A Pagan. Кэрол Мортимер

were in just as much difficulty as Templar was. It gave them a mutual grievance. Although there wasn’t much difference in their ages, Mary was worn down with the weight of her family problems, and Templar dreaded getting into the same predicament.

      ‘Hello, poppet,’ Mary tickled Keri under the chin. ‘My, she’s getting bonny!’ She looked closely at her friend. ‘But you don’t look too good. What’s happened?’ she asked perceptively.

      Templar explained about Mrs Marks’ ultimatum and her difficulty in finding somewhere else to live.

      ‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Mary worriedly. ‘You could always come here for a few days if you get really stuck for a place,’ she offered.

      Templar knew this was a generous act on the part of her friend, but not one she could possibly accept. ‘No, I’ll work something out, thank you, Mary. You can guess what Ken suggested,’ she added dryly.

      ‘Oh, Ken!’ Mary dismissed him in disgust. ‘He’s no help at all.’

      Templar laughed. ‘Never mind that for now. I’ve brought some apples, so we can make a pie for tea. You make the pastry and I’ll prepare the apples. Deal?’

      ‘Deal. Leave Keri with Samantha, they can play together.’

      It was nice to forget their troubles for a little while, laughing like two schoolgirls as they both got flour in their hair. ‘We’re worse than the children,’ giggled Templar as she tried to get the flour out of her hair and off the tip of her nose.

      ‘You aren’t much more than a child yourself,’ teased Mary. ‘What are you? Twenty-one, twenty-two?’

      ‘Twenty-one,’ she confirmed. ‘A year older than Tiffany would have been. I often wonder what it would have been like if she’d lived. I could have worked and supported them both. I could, you know. My career was just expanding nicely. It seems so cruel that she had to die. She hadn’t even begun to live, she was just a child.’

      ‘And you’ve never heard from Keri’s father?’ put in Mary gently.

      Templar shook her head. ‘It’s as if he never existed,’ she laughed bitterly. ‘But I have her to prove that he did. I think he must be rather a handsome man if Keri’s looks are anything to go by. Oh, I know she has my colouring, but her features are nothing like mine, or Tiffany’s for that matter. And her complexion is much darker than either of us.’

      ‘Did you ever look through those letters of Tiffany’? You know, the ones in that carved box.’

      She shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t. It would be like violating Tiffany’s privacy. Those letters were addressed to her, and it would be wrong of me to read them.’

      ‘But you don’t actually have to read them,’ Mary pointed out. ‘Just look at the signatures and addresses. Surely you could do that without reading them?’

      ‘I suppose so,’ Templar agreed reluctantly. ‘But I just don’t think I can.’

      ‘Of course you can,’ her friend insisted impatiently. ‘This isn’t the time to worry about a little thing like privacy. Or pride either, for that matter.’

      Templar knew she was right. Tiffany had kept a box of letters, but Templar had never been able to force herself to look at them, although she felt sure Keri’s father’s name would be in there somewhere.

      Once she had settled Keri down for the night she took the box out of the cupboard, staring fixedly at it for several minutes before opening its wooden lid. She hesitated for a moment more, unwilling to delve into secrets that were perhaps better left alone.

      Taking a deep breath, she began flicking through the letters, only glancing fleetingly at the signature on each and ignoring their other contents. It didn’t take all that long to find the one she thought might be helpful. Never a secretive girl, Tiffany had spoken freely about her boy-friends, and so Templar knew most of the names on the letters. Only one was unknown to her, and she could only assume this was Keri’s father. It had been unlike Tiffany not to tell her sister everything, that was why it had been all the more surprising that she wouldn’t reveal the name of her lover.

      Templar put the other letters back in the box, putting off the moment when she would actually have to read the letter. It just didn’t seem right to read someone else’s personal letters. Finally, she couldn’t put it off any longer, slowly reading the slightly faded words. There were faint smudges on the two pages of the letter, as if someone had been crying as they read them, which Templar could well imagine was true after reading their contents. Alex Marcose had said quite plainly that he wouldn’t be seeing Tiffany any more. No mention was made of the baby, but the date at the top of the letter fitted in with the time Tiffany must have found out about her pregnancy, so Templar imagined the baby must have been the reason he had broken off the relationship. Well, she was afraid that things like babies had a way of making their presence felt. And Mr Alex Marcose was about to be informed of his daughter’s existence.

      She posted the letter to the London address the next day, informing Mr Marcose that she had something of import to tell him. But this didn’t stop her from searching for accommodation. Mr Marcose might not still live at that address, and even if he did, her name might be enough to put him off. The address was in one of the better parts of town, and people like that had a way of forgetting their responsibilities. He might even have forgotten Tiffany’s existence.

      It was three days since Templar had posted the letter, and she had received no reply, although she was sure it must have reached its destination by now. And she still hadn’t found anywhere to live! The situation was becoming desperate now, and she was hardly sleeping at night, and worrying incessantly by day. And Keri wasn’t helping either, being particularly fretful the past few days, sensitive to her aunt’s worry.

      She went in to her for the third time in an hour, soon quietening her and going back to her magazine. She tried to concentrate on the article she was reading, but the words seemed to make no sense, and putting the magazine down on the floor she curled her legs up underneath her and resting her head back on the chair, she fell asleep.

      She was woken up by the knock on the door, pushing back her untidy hair and smoothing down her creased denims. If it was Mrs Marks again, she’d—–

      The knock sounded again. ‘Miss Newman! Miss Newman! I have a visitor for you.’

      A visitor! Oh, God! Who on earth could it be? It must be someone Mrs Marks didn’t know or she wouldn’t have accompanied them up the stairs. Templar glanced apprehensively at the half-closed bedroom door, but couldn’t hear any movement from Keri. Thank goodness for that; she didn’t think she could stand for her to wake up again.

      She opened the door, her eyes opening wide with shock as they encountered the tall alien-looking man standing arrogantly at Mrs Marks’ side. Her landlady looked quite overwhelmed, and Templar wasn’t surprised. The man was looking down his haughty nose at both of them, his suit fitting him as if it had been tailored on him, and it probably had been.

      ‘You—er—–’ Templar hesitated. ‘You can go now, Mrs Marks,’ she said firmly, watching the landlady as she slowly began to descend the stairs, muttering to herself as she went. Templar looked at the man again, only to find herself the victim of a contemptuous perusal, his blue-grey eyes mentally noting each feature as if for future reference. ‘Would you like to come in?’ she asked nervously.

      ‘You are very trusting, Miss Newman,’ his accent was faintly clipped, as if English wasn’t his native tongue. ‘Considering you do not know who I am.’ He held himself erect. ‘My name is Leondro Marcose.’

      ‘Oh, but—–’

      He held up a hand for silence. ‘Before you say any more, Miss Newman, I think you should know that my brother Alex is dead.’ He said the words with no show of emotion.

      Templar paled. This wasn’t what she had been expecting at all. How could he cold-heartedly stand there and tell her such a thing! Her only chance of a future for Keri now in ruins. Tears filled her