Page 26 of Lessons in Life

‘Your dad?’

‘I told you, hewasn’tmy dad.’ Lisa’s face began to close down, her eyes refusing to meet Fabian’s. ‘I once looked up the definition of adopted. Do you know what the dictionary definition is?’

‘Er, no, I can’t say I do.’

‘To legally take another person’s child into your own family and take care of her as your own child.’

‘Sounds about right.’

‘Take care of her as your own child?’Lisa gave a short laugh. ‘Despite the fact that they were both trained teachers – and Adrian Foley a headteacher whose job it was to care for, as well as educate, children – neither of them had a clue about caring for the little girl – me – they’d adopted at a few weeks old.’

‘I’ve always known you were adopted but Robyn’s never told me any of this about your adoptive parents,’ Fabian said gently.

‘Because I’ve never spoken about the Foleys. I didn’t want my girls tainted by who they were.’ Lisa broke off, frowning. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Fabian, my childhood and the Foleys are not something I talk about. I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this now. Your professional expertise, I guess, to wheedle things out of people?’

Fabian put up two hands in apology, but Lisa continued regardless.

‘I even made up a totally false story about my childhood, telling the girls I’d been at a local comp in Sheffield instead of St Mark’s, one of the most prestigious public schools in South Yorkshire, where Adrian Foley was head. And Jayden, for all his faults, did listen. And listen and listen. Which was probably because of the awful childhood he’d suffered himself…’

‘Robyn told me about Jayden’s father. Actually, in truth, she didn’t tell me until my brother, Julius, did the research. Easy enough to google the reggae artist Jayden Allen. Julius thought he’d hit the jackpot when it came up that Winston Allen, Jayden’s father, had murdered Jayden’s mother and her lover when Jayden was tiny. A black West Indian murdering his white wife and her lover back in the early seventies must have really hit the headlines?’

‘It sure did.’ Lisa appraised Fabian for a few seconds. ‘But your finding out that her grandfather was a double murderer didn’t stop you wanting to be with Robyn?’

‘Well, I wasn’t pleased that Robyn hadn’t told me herself. That it was Julius – he’s my half-brother, Lisa, and we’ve never really got on – who spilled the beans. He really thought I’d have nothing more to do with her when all that came out.’

‘As did the Foleys when they learned the truth about Jayden’s father,’ Lisa said. ‘When you love someone their family history’s irrelevant.’

Fabian gave a wry smile. ‘I’m not sure Robyn sees it that way. She finds it difficult to come to terms with the fact that my family were all educated at Eton.’ He paused. ‘You know, she sees them as white, entitled Tories…’

Lisa laughed. ‘Are they? Areyou? And now she knowsIwas educated at what is probably one of the country’s – certainly the north’s – most prestigious public schools, surely Robyn can’t still be hanging onto these ridiculous prejudices of hers?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not a political animal,’ Fabian said, neatly sidestepping any criticism of Robyn from her own mother.

Lisa hesitated. ‘You’ve done the right thing leaving London, Fabian. I think it all got too much for you?’

Fabian nodded, seemingly embarrassed. ‘My mother and brother think I’ve let the family down, abandoning the family firm.’

‘They blame Robyn? That you’ve followed her up here?’

He nodded.

‘I’m sorry about that. Never good to be at odds with your parents, no matter how old you are. Right, so, now that we know a little more about each other, how serious are you about turning the white house into a restaurant?’

‘The Eyrie, please.’ Fabian grinned, animated once more. ‘Don’t you think it would be fabulous, Lisa? I mean, do you realise just how talented Jess is?’

Lisa nodded. ‘I do. Trouble is, she doesn’t.’

‘D’you not think her coming first in the Yorkshire Christmas TopChef competition has given Jess some confidence about how good she is?’ Fabian asked.

‘I don’t know. If you did look into starting up a business with her, I’m not convinced she’d have the nerve to actually go in with you. If things went wrong, she’d never forgive herself.’

‘Better to have tried and lost than never to have tried at all…’ Fabian broke off as two designer-suited and booted men, probably in their early fifties, made their way to an adjacent table, sitting down and immediately perusing the menu.

‘The Sattar brothers.’ Lisa nudged Fabian meaningfully, murmuring their name in a low voice.

‘How do you know?’

‘Fabian,’ Lisa whispered, turning away from the men and continuing to talk in hushed tones. ‘This is a small village. Everyone knows everyone round here, but particularly those who employ half the people who live in it.’

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