The Frenchman's Love-Child. Lynne Graham

humanly possible. Only then would Alison feel free to do as she liked with her own life and her own home. At the same time, however, she did not want the other woman to suspect that she might have overheard that revealing dialogue.

      ‘I’m afraid I still can’t stop wondering why some elderly French lady should have remembered you in her will,’ Alison Davies confided with a bemused shake of her head.

      Dragged out of her own preoccupied thoughts by the raising of that topic yet again, Tabby screened her expressive green eyes and looped a stray strand of caramel-blonde hair back behind one small ear. Some things were too personal and private to share even with her aunt. ‘Solange and I got on very well—’

      ‘But you only met a couple of times…’

      ‘You’ve got to remember that what she’s left me can only be a tiny part of what she owned because she was very well off,’ Tabby muttered in an awkward attempt to explain. ‘I’m over the moon that she’s left me the cottage but I suppose in her eyes…it was just a little token.’

      Tabby was reluctant to admit that, on each of the occasions she had met Solange Roussel, she had connected with the older woman on a very emotional level. The first time she had been bubbling with happiness and quite unafraid to admit that she adored Christien. The second time she had been a lot less sure of herself and she had not been able to hide her fear that Christien was losing interest…and the third and final time?

      Months after that fatal French holiday that had torn apart so many lives, Tabby had travelled back to France alone to attend the accident enquiry. She had been desperate to see Christien again. She had believed that the passage of time would have eased his bitterness and helped him to acknowledge that they had both lost much-loved parents in that horrendous crash. However, she had soon learnt her mistake for, if anything, the intervening months had only made Christien colder and more derisive. Even Veronique, who had once been so friendly towards her, had become distant and hostile. As Gerry Burnside’s daughter, Tabby had become a pariah to everyone who had lost a relative or been injured in any way by that car crash.

      On the day of that enquiry Tabby had finally grown up and it had been almost as cruel and life-changing an ordeal for her as the aftermath of that car accident. Even though the previous months had been a nightmare struggle for Tabby to get through, and she had had to borrow money from her aunt just to make that trip back to France, she had still been full of naive hopes and dreams of how Christien would react to the news that he was the father of her newborn baby boy.

      But on the day of that official hearing, her dream castles had crumbled into dust. In the end she had not even got to tell Christien that she had given birth to his son, for she had baulked at making that announcement in front of an audience and he had refused her request for a moment’s privacy in which to talk. Devastated by that merciless refusal to accord her even the tiniest privilege in acknowledgement of their past intimacy, Tabby had fled outside sooner than break down in tears in front of him, his relatives and friends. Out there in the street a hand had closed over hers in a comforting but shy gesture. In disconcertion, Tabby had glanced up to meet the look of pained compassion in Solange Roussel’s understanding gaze.

      ‘I’m sorry that the family should have come between you and Christien,’ the older woman had sighed with sincere regret. ‘It should not be that way.’

      Before Tabby had been able to respond and admit that she suspected something rather less presentable than family loyalties might ultimately have led to her having been dumped by Christien, Solange had hurried back into the building where the enquiry was being held. His great-aunt had doubtless been fearful of being seen to show sympathy to the drunk driver’s daughter.

      ‘You are planning to sell this French property…aren’t you?’ Alison pressed without warning.

      Tabby drew in a deep breath in preparation for breaking news that she knew would surprise the brunette. ‘No…I’m hoping to keep it.’

      Her aunt frowned. ‘But the cottage is on Christien Laroche’s Brittany estate…isn’t it?’

      ‘Solange said that Christien rarely went to Duvernay because he much prefers the city to the country,’ Tabby volunteered stiffly, for even voicing his name out loud was a challenge for her. ‘She also told me that the estate was absolutely enormous and that her little place was right on the very edge of it. If I keep myself to myself, as I plan to do, he’s not even going to know I’m there!’

      Alison still looked troubled. ‘Are you sure that you aren’t secretly hoping to see him again?’

      ‘Of course, I’m not!’ Tabby grimaced in embarrassment. ‘Why would I want to see him again?’

      ‘To tell him about Jake?’

      ‘I don’t want to tell him about Jake now. The time for that has been and gone.’ Tabby tilted up her chin for if Christien and his snobby, judgemental family had been affronted even by the sight of her at that accident enquiry, her son’s very existence would surely only further offend and disgust them. ‘Jake’s mine and we’re managing fine.’

      Alison said nothing, for she was not convinced and she knew just how vulnerable Tabby could be with her open heart and trusting nature. She had always felt very protective towards her late sister’s only child and she was well aware of the dangerous effect that her niece appeared to have on the opposite sex. Tabby had blonde hair the colour of streaky toffee, green eyes, dimples and an incredible figure that bore a close resemblance to an old-fashioned hourglass. The one quality that Tabby had in super-abundance was the sort of natural sex appeal that caused havoc.

      When Tabby walked down the street, men were so busy craning their necks to get a better look at her luscious curves that they had been known to crash their cars. In actuality misfortune did seem to follow Tabby around, Alison conceded ruefully, thinking of the amount of bad luck that had shaped her niece’s life in recent years. Yet, Tabby would still rush into situations where angels feared to tread and, even though the results were often disastrous, she remained an incurable optimist.

      Reminding herself of that fact, Alison rested anxious grey eyes on the young woman seated opposite her. ‘I hate to rain on your parade, but…I suspect you haven’t considered how expensive it would be to maintain a holiday home in another country.’

      ‘Oh, I’m not thinking of the cottage as a holiday home! My goodness, is that what you thought?’ Tabby laughed out loud at the very idea. ‘I’m talking about a permanent move…about Jake and I making a new life in France—’

      Startled by that sudden announcement, her aunt stared at her. ‘But you can’t do that—’

      ‘Why not? I can do my miniature work anywhere and sell what I make on the internet. I’m already building up a customer base and what could be more inspiring than the French landscape?’ Tabby asked with sunny enthusiasm. ‘I know that to start with things will be tight financially, but, because I own the cottage, I won’t need much of an income to get by on. Jake’s at the perfect age to move abroad and learn a second language as well—’

      ‘For goodness’ sake, you’re making all these plans and you haven’t even seen this cottage yet!’ Alison exclaimed in reproof.

      ‘I know.’ Tabby grinned. ‘But I’m planning to go over on the ferry next week to check it out.’

      ‘What if it’s uninhabitable?’

      Tabby squared her slight shoulders. ‘I’ll deal with that when I see it.’

      ‘I just don’t think that you’re being practical,’ Alison Davies said more gently. ‘Going to live abroad may seem like an exciting proposition, but you have Jake to consider. You’ll have no support network to fall back on in France, nobody to help out if you need to work or you fall ill.’

      ‘But I’m looking forward to being independent.’

      At that declaration, her companion looked taken aback and then rather hurt.

      Steeling herself to press home that point, Tabby swallowed hard for