‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! That was a nightmare. Where the hell are the authorities?!’

‘In this car?’ Jazz joked quietly, a ghost of a smile crossing her lips.

Patrick reached over and squeezed her hand, acknowledging the hard-won joke. ‘And why does this godforsaken country fall to its knees at the first sign of bad weather?’ He looked across at Jazz and saw how pale she was. He squeezed her hand again. ‘Not far now.’

She smiled wanly, wondering if, now they were nearing the hospital, she’d have preferred to be stranded on the motorway rather than face what lay ahead.

Chapter Twenty-One

Angelina paced the kitchen, a third cup of coffee nursed in her cold hands. She stared at the winter wonderland outside, picked up the phone from the table and dialled Julian’s mobile for the tenth time that morning.

Her call went straight through yet again to his voicemail. Angelina hung up. She’d already left three messages, one last night and two this morning.

She’d heard nothing back since they’d spoken on the phone the previous evening, and he’d said he’d call her back.

The thought running through her mind was a simple one: Julian was fed up with having to play second fiddle to Rory and had decided to make his feelings obvious by ignoring her calls.

Angelina bit her lip and sat down at the table. What was she meant to do? God, men could be so selfish! Was it her fault that Rory needed his mother, and peace and security to recover for a few days? The problem was, of course, that Julian didn’t have his own children, so he couldn’t understand the pure instinct of being a parent and needing to protect one’s young.

And . . . Angelina allowed herself to be indulgent for a second. What about her? To have your child kidnapped, then discover your ex-husband might be a murderer was a pretty tough call, too.

She stood up, suddenly angry. If this was Julian’s infantile way of punishing her, let him get on with it.

She heard the front doorbell ring. It was almost certainly the counsellor from London here to see Rory. She left the kitchen and walked across the hall to the front door.

A large lady wearing a wide-brimmed felt hat covered with snow stood on the doorstep.

‘Isabella Sherriff, pleasure to meet you. You must be Angelina, Rory’s mother.’

‘Yes.’ Angelina had a sudden urge to giggle. In the long velvet coat and hat, Isabella Sherriff reminded her of a snowman. ‘Do come in.’

‘Thanks.’ Isabella shook herself first, dusting the snow off her shoulders and removing her hat. ‘Thought I’d walk. Dumb idea.’ Her eyes twinkled as she unbuttoned her sopping coat and Angelina warmed to her immediately.

‘Why don’t you give that to me and I’ll put it on the Aga to dry?’

‘Good idea. Think I’d better take off these boots as well, before I make a snowy trail through your lovely house.’ Isabella hung on to the doorknob and removed her soaked boots, to reveal one red and one black sock. She smiled up at Angelina. ‘Sorry about the footwear. This trip was pretty short notice and I didn’t have much time to pack.’