Until Harry(12)

I was met with silence, so I balled my hands into fists as annoyance filled me.

“Why the hell was she even here?” I snapped, feeling exasperated they would even let her into the house after the hurt she caused me.

My nanny sighed. “She works for me, in the café.”

Stunned speechless, I could not get past my incredulity over what I was hearing.

“Lane,” my nanny prompted when I stared at her blankly, blinking. “Are you okay?”

I couldn’t respond to that in a way that wouldn’t have her smacking me around the head.

“So you’re recruiting staff from the forces of evil?” I asked, staring icily. “Nice, Nanny, real nice.”

My nanny brooded in silence, and it gave me some much-needed time to think. I couldn’t believe I didn’t recognise Ally at first. The last time I’d seen her was when we left secondary school nearly a decade ago. I heard she’d moved to London, but she was obviously back in York and working in my nanny’s café of all places!

I loved that café, and now it would forever feel tainted to me.

“Do I know the brunette?” I questioned, my jaw set.

“Yeah,” Lochlan answered me with a snarky tone. “She was in your school year, but you never hung around with her. She works in Nanny’s café too. They are our friends.”

I couldn’t remember a Samantha Wright, so I didn’t dwell on her; instead, I focused on Ally bloody Day.

“I just can’t believe you’re all friendly with Ally Day. Do you invite Anna O’Leary over for tea on the weekends too?” I sarcastically asked.

My father clucked his tongue at me. “You sound like a child, Lane.”

He was right; I was being bratty and rude. It was uncalled for and not needed, but I was hurt they could just forget what Ally had done to me. They’d seen first-hand what I’d gone through because of her; I didn’t understand how they could just get over that.

I glowered at him. “Good thing you only have to put up with me for a few days then, isn’t it?”

It was a low blow, throwing my departure in his face when I’d just arrived, but I couldn’t help it. It slipped out before I could stop myself.

“What do you mean a few days?” my mother snapped, speaking for the first time since we embraced in the parlour. “When are you leaving?”

I avoided direct eye contact with her as I softly muttered, “Sunday night.”

“Lane!” my family bellowed in unison.

I guess we’re over pleasantries.

“I have to go back,” I countered, trying to defend myself. “I have to work!”

“You’re a freelance editor,” Lochlan growled, barely able to hold his sitting position on the sofa. “Once you have Internet access, you’re solid to work wherever you are!”

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response because he was right, so I remained quiet.

“Lane,” my nanny said. “Kitchen. Now.”

I watched as my nanny got up and walked out of the sitting room, her body tensing with each step she took. “Crap,” I grumbled as I got to my feet and followed her into the kitchen, my eyes cast downward. I felt like I was little again, and she was about to tell me off.

I entered the kitchen and saw she was already seated at the kitchen table, so I walked over and sat across from her. I clasped my hands together on the surface of the table in front of me and stared down at them with intent.

“You’re me granddaughter, and I love ye with all me heart,” my nanny started, “but sometimes I want ta just whack ye with a common-sense stick right across that beautiful head of yours.”

Trust my nanny to keep things real.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping it would dampen her burning temper.

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” she clipped, then lowered her voice. “Me baby died, Lane. Your uncle died . . . and ye just want ta up and leave a day after we put ’im to rest? That’s not me grandbaby – she wouldn’t do that.”

Your grandbaby died a long time ago, a cruel voice in my head taunted.

Burning pain filled my chest. I glanced up to my nanny before quickly looking away from her aged but still graceful face. I saw my Uncle Harry when I looked at her; they shared the same aqua-blue eyes, high cheekbones and button nose. My brothers and I had inherited the very same features too.

“I can’t stay here,” I murmured, and took another glimpse up at her. “You know why.”

My nanny shook her head, disappointment crossing her features. “That’s not good enough, and ye bloody well know it,” she remarked. “Ye have ta act like the twenty-six-year-old woman ye are and push your issues with Kale ta the side and focus on Harry. He doesn’t deserve ta be pushed aside, Lane. You of all people know that.”