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gazed up at from his crib, her face he had learned to love at such a tender age.

      And now, eighty-four years later, he was staring into that same face at this very moment. Of course it was not Emma he was looking at, it was Linnet, but to him she was Emma Harte reincarnated, and the resemblance between them was uncanny.

      ‘Gramps, are you all right? You’ve got such a funny look on your face,’ Linnet said, sounding concerned about him.

      Sitting up straighter, Bryan blinked several times, then smiled at her. He coughed behind his hand, and after a moment replied, ‘I have some photographs at home of your great-grandmother when she was about your age, maybe a couple of years older than you are now. And you are her, Linnet. Why, it’s as if Emma has been reborn in you. It’s not only that you’re the spitting image of her physically, as everyone tells you these days, but you have so many of her facial expressions and her gestures, and you think like her. Certainly you have her drive, energy and talent for retailing, and you’re a good businesswoman. You’ll get even better, too, with a bit of age on you.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re the best, in my opinion.’

      ‘You’re prejudiced, Gramps.’

      ‘Perhaps. But nonetheless, you’re going to be fine … another Emma Harte.’

      ‘I’ll try to live up to all of the things she was, and stood for. I know she had great integrity, that she was a most honourable woman, one who knew right from wrong, and was just and fair in all her dealings.’

      ‘That she was indeed, and you’ll do her justice. I’ve no qualms about you, mavourneen.’ He reached out, took her hand in his. ‘My money’s on you, Linnet, and in my opinion it’s you who should take over from your mother when she retires. Harte’s should be yours.’

      ‘I’d like that very much, but it really is up to my mother.’

      She’s probably chosen you already, Bryan thought, but for once he did not confide in his granddaughter. Instead he said, ‘I want you to have those photographs of Emma. I’ll bring them with me the next time I come over.’

      ‘Oh, thanks, Gramps, I’d love to have them. I’ll treasure them.’

      A moment later Margaret came hurrying into the Stone Hall, and in her usual quiet and efficient way, she said, ‘Lunch is ready, Mr O’Neill … Linnet. If you’d like to come into the morning room, I’ll serve it in there, it’s much cosier than the dining room, with the fire an’ all.’

      ‘Thanks, we’ll come right away, Margaret,’ Bryan said, pushing himself to his feet. ‘Linnet did tell me that you’d be rustling up something special for me. Well, that’s the way she put it. So what’s for lunch?’

      Margaret laughed and explained, ‘Oh, some of your real favourites, Mr O’Neill. I had a crock of Morecambe Bay potted shrimps put away for lunch tomorrow, but I thought you’d like to have them today with some of that nice thin brown bread and butter of mine, and I’ve made your real favourite, a cottage pie with fresh ground beef and a crust of mashed potatoes, puréed parsnips and peas. And for pudding you can either have freshly baked apple crumble with warm custard, just the way you like it, or trifle.’

      ‘Goodness, Margaret, you’ve done me proud! Everything sounds delicious,’ Bryan answered, smiling at the housekeeper. Then, turning to Linnet, as they walked together across the hall, he added, ‘I’m seriously thinking of moving in here.’

      ‘I wish you would, Gramps!’ Linnet exclaimed, tucking her arm through his, meaning every word she said.

      ‘The idea is tempting, mavourneen, but I think it’s best I remain in Harrogate. After all, Blackie built that house, and I’ve lived in it forever it seems, and I’m keeping it warm for Desmond, so to speak. It’ll be his one day, when I’m gone.’

      ‘Let’s not talk about you going anywhere!’ Linnet cried, bustling him forward in the direction of the morning room. ‘You’ve got lots of years ahead of you.’

      ‘I hope so, Linny, but as Blackie used to say, when you get to be over eighty, a man’s living on borrowed time.’

      The two of them sat down for lunch at the round walnut table which stood in the bay window of the morning room. Until very recently this had been an office, rarely used, which Paula had considered wasted space. A few months before Christmas she had turned it into a spot for intimate casual meals, such as breakfast and light lunches, or tea in the afternoon. Now everyone used it.

      The morning room had a springlike feeling because of Paula’s decorative scheme based on pale apple-green and white: green walls, green-and-white-striped balloon shades at the windows, green-and-white-checked fabric on the chairs around the table. Accentuating this look were a collection of thirty-six botanical prints hanging on one wall and jugs of yellow and white chrysanthemums which stood on a long, carved wooden sideboard and a Queen Anne chest placed in a corner of the room. Adding a welcoming, cosy touch on this snowy day was the blazing fire in the hearth; a small loveseat and armchairs covered in rose-coloured linen were arranged around a coffee table in front of the fire, and it was here that tea was often served.

      As always, Bryan admired Paula’s decorating. His daughter-in-law had a way of making a room look elegant, but it was never intimidating because she had the happy knack of creating a sense of comfort in the midst of the elegance.

      Linnet said, ‘A penny for your thoughts, Gramps.’

      He smiled at her. ‘Wasn’t thinking of anything much. But …’ He paused, leaned across the table and asked in a conspiratorial voice, ‘Any more information about Paula’s plans for Shane’s birthday?’

      Linnet nodded. ‘Mummy spoke to me about it the other day. Uncle Winston’s also going to be sixty in June, and she said she was considering making it a joint birthday party for the two of them. Actually, she told me she was going to speak to you about it, Grandfather.’ Linnet gave him a hard stare and her brows pinched together in a frown. ‘I guess she didn’t.’

      ‘No, she—’ Bryan broke off as Margaret came hurrying in with a tray; a moment later she was placing a plate of potted shrimps in front of him, then brought one over for Linnet. ‘The brown bread and butter is already on the table, Mr O’Neill,’ she said, then glancing from one to the other, she asked, ‘Do you need anything else?’

      ‘We’re fine, Margaret, thank you,’ Linnet replied. ‘Thanks very much.’

      The housekeeper nodded, then flashed a smile and disappeared.

      Bryan picked up a fork and plunged it into the tiny pale-pink shrimps encased in the round of hardened butter. ‘Mmmm. They’re delicious,’ he said after a moment. ‘A joint party, eh? And where does your mother plan to have it?’

      ‘Here at Pennistone Royal …’ Her voice faltered as she noticed that his expression seemed to change. ‘Don’t you like the idea of a party for the two of them?’

      ‘Sure an’ I do, I think it makes great sense, Linny, darlin’. Your father and Winston have been best friends all of their lives, since they were boys, and then as young men they shared Beck House in West Tanfield. What rascals they were when they were little,’ he said, chuckling, ‘and when they were young spalpeens chasing after the girls. Handsome they were, too.’

      ‘They still are,’ she shot back, laughter echoing in her voice.

      ‘True, only too true. But they got their wings clipped all right, that and they did! And by Emma’s favourites … your mother and Emily.’ Bryan grinned at her. ‘Fell like ninepins, the two of them, when those beautiful Harte girls batted their eyelashes.’ He shook his head, still smiling, and continued to spear the blush-pink shrimps with his fork.

      Linnet confided, ‘Mummy wants to make it quite a fancy bash, Grandpops. You know, a marquee in the garden, dancing under the stars, and all that stuff. I suppose the only thing that’s really worrying her is the weather. June can be cool, and sometimes rainy.’

      ‘Yes,