Tangled Emotions

‘A visitor at this hour?’ said Joe.

‘Never had one before. Certainly not at the front door. It opens into the sitting room, so I keep it locked—and bolted.’

‘Shall I get it?’

‘Of course not; it’s my door.’ Fen squared her shoulders. ‘Probably someone selling something.’ The bell rang again, and this time her caller kept a peremptory finger on it. She wrenched back the bolts and opened the door as far as the safety chain allowed. Then stiffened, her eyes hostile at the sight of her visitor.

‘Go away,’ she snapped, and tried to shut the door. But Adam Dysart stuck a long foot into the aperture and, angry though she was, Fen couldn’t bring herself to slam the door on it.

‘For God’s sake, Fenny,’ Adam said impatiently, eyeing what he could see of the room with incredulous distaste. ‘We need to talk. Will you stop behaving like a spoilt brat and listen to me?’

‘Problems, Fen?’ said Joe, coming up behind her. He slid a protective arm round her waist and held her close.

Adam’s jaw clenched, and suddenly Fen realised what kind of impression they were making. Joe was as dishevelled and untidy as she was from the day in the sun and wind, and due to the delay, she realised, exulting, Adam probably thought they’d had to get dressed to come to the door.

‘Nothing important, darling,’ she assured Joe, and felt his arm tighten. ‘Adam isn’t staying.’

A statement which took Adam Dysart so much by surprise she was able to slam the door in his face, then ram the bolts home to make sure he got the message.

When the doorbell remained silent afterwards Fen’s eyes filled, and Joe took her hand to lead her back to the kitchen, then held her close in his arms.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said into her hair. ‘And I won’t ask. Though I can’t help wondering why you hate this cousin of yours so much.’

‘You’ve got it wrong.’ Fen drew away, pushing a lock of hair back from her tear-stained face. ‘I don’t hate Adam. I love him very much.’

Joe stared at her narrowly for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Getting to know you, Fenella Dysart, is like trying to piece one of those huge jigsaw puzzles together.’