A Rich Man's Touch. Anne Mather

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      ‘Well, I hope you let him see what you thought of him and his family.’

      ‘Mum!’ Rachel stared at her. ‘This is a café. Where would I be if I adopted that kind of attitude with my customers?’

      ‘Not all customers,’ retorted her mother shortly. ‘Just those you don’t like.’

      Rachel shook her head. ‘I can’t do that.’

      ‘Of course you can. Isn’t there some law about the management of an establishment reserving the right to refuse to serve unwelcome visitors?’

      ‘This is a café, Mum, not a public house.’ Rachel picked up a paper napkin and wiped her daughter’s chin before adding, ‘In any case, I had no reason to say anything. He was served—Patsy served him, not me—he drank his tea, paid his bill and left. End of story.’

      ‘Then why did you and Stephanie fall out?’ asked Mrs Redfern irritably. ‘I bet she doesn’t approve of him coming here.’

      ‘Who are you talking about?’ asked Hannah suddenly, belatedly realising she might be missing out on something here, and Rachel gave her mother an impatient look.

      ‘No one you know, sweetheart,’ she assured the little girl firmly. Then, ‘And I don’t care whether Stephanie approves of him or not.’

      ‘Ah.’ Mrs Redfern sniffed. ‘I knew he’d have something to do with it. Honestly, Rachel, you haven’t seen any of the Webbs for years, but no sooner do you get involved with them than they’re creating trouble.’

      ‘That’s ridiculous!’ Rachel didn’t honestly know why she felt the need to defend Gabriel Webb, but she did. ‘If you must know, Stephanie annoyed me because she made a comment about his appearance.’ She sighed, and then went on stolidly, ‘The man looked ill, Mum. And I don’t think a few late nights would do it.’

      Her mother looked offended now. ‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d care, one way or the other.’

      ‘Did I say I cared?’ Rachel was growing weary of this exchange. ‘For heaven’s sake, you’re worse than Steph. The man’s entitled to take a break when he feels like it, and if he chooses to come in here for it, who am I to object?’

      ‘Well, I never thought I’d live to hear you defending one of the Webbs,’ replied Mrs Redfern tersely. ‘I’d heard he’d come back to live at Copleys, but I would have hoped you’d have more sense than to have anything to do with him.’

      Rachel gasped. ‘I haven’t had anything to do with him,’ she protested. ‘I hadn’t even spoken to him before today. In any case, my quarrel wasn’t with him. It was with Andrew. And you’re right; I never want to see him again.’

      ‘Andrew only did what his father told him,’ retorted her mother impatiently. ‘I just wish I knew why the man’s suddenly decided to grace Kingsbridge with his presence again. The last I heard, he was spending some time in Italy. He should have stayed there.’

      Rachel didn’t say anything. If Gabriel Webb had been staying in Italy recently, it certainly wasn’t evident from his appearance. Far more likely that he’d been staying at the apartment he owned in London. But she doubted that would account for the pallor in his face.

      Although the original laboratory had been built at Kingsbridge, there were branches of Webb’s Pharmaceuticals all over the continent now, but the head office was still in London. She knew because Andrew had told her, and, knowing also what Andrew had said about how hard his father worked, it seemed much more probable that his strained look was due to exhaustion and not, as Stephanie had implied, from burning the candle at both ends.

      Whatever, she was more than content to change the subject, and when Hannah distracted her attention by proudly displaying her empty dish, Rachel hoped that, like her, her mother would consider the subject closed.

CHAPTER TWO

      THERE were a couple of occasions during the remainder of that week, when customers came into the café, that Rachel’s eyes were drawn to the door. Particularly if a man entered alone. But, although once she had thought it was him, her apprehensions were not realised. Gabriel Webb didn’t come back and she told herself it was just as well.

      On Sunday morning Joe Collins, who ran his own small electrical business, arrived to take a look at the faulty cooker. A divorcee, in his late thirties, Joe had expended considerable time and energy over the years trying to persuade Rachel to go out with him. But although he was kind and good-looking—and extremely good with Hannah—Rachel had no desire to get involved with anyone else. Her experience with Andrew Webb had made her wary and, despite her mother’s assertion that she’d never find anyone more suitable than Joe, she continued to turn down his invitations.

      And, as Mrs Redfern had surmised, he considered that Rachel ought to think about replacing the oven. ‘The trouble is, it’s not easy to get the spares for these old machines,’ he declared, after making a temporary repair. ‘It’s okay for the time being, but I can’t guarantee how long it’ll last.’

      Rachel sighed. ‘Well, I can’t think about getting a new oven at the moment,’ she confessed, as she made them both an espresso coffee. ‘They cost the earth, as you know, and I’m going to have to wait until my overdraft is a little more healthy before asking Mr Lawrence for another advance.’

      ‘Well, I might be able to get you a second-hand one,’ offered Joe, propping his hips against the counter and spooning two sugars into his coffee. ‘You’ve probably heard that Chadwick’s bakery is closing? Yeah? So, I’ve been offered the job of stripping out the old ovens. I’d make sure you got a good one. And I’d give it a full service before installing it here.’

      Rachel gave him a rueful smile. ‘That’s really kind of you, Joe, but even a second-hand one is beyond my means at the moment. Maybe in six months’ time…’

      Joe’s fair skin reddened. ‘You wouldn’t have to pay me straight away, Rach. We could say you’d taken it on approval and go on from there.’

      ‘I don’t think so.’ Rachel knew exactly what he was saying and she couldn’t agree to it. ‘Besides, if you pulled the old oven out, goodness knows what else might need doing. Those tiles above it are bound to need renewing, and then we’d need a whole new paint job. No, for the present I’m just going to have to make do. But thanks for the offer. I appreciate it.’

      ‘Do you?’ Joe regarded her without conviction. ‘I thought we were friends, Rach. Friends do stuff for one another. They don’t always have to have a reason for offering their help.’

      ‘I know.’ Rachel felt uncomfortable now. It wasn’t often that Joe stood his ground, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. ‘Well—I’ll think about it.’ She picked up her coffee and sipped the steaming liquid. Then, seeking an outlet, she added, ‘How’s your mother?’

      ‘She’s fine.’ Joe appeared to accept the diversion. ‘How’s yours? And Hannah, of course.’

      ‘Oh—they’re okay, thanks.’ Rachel relaxed a little. ‘Hannah’s doing really well at school. She got a gold star earlier in the week.’

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