Mistakes We Make Read Online Free PDF Page A

turning it round and round between his fingers. This was difficult. His father hadn’t exactly forbidden him to visit George at Forgie End Farm, but he’d felt bound to take his father’s side in the dispute that had opened a chasm between the two brothers. As a child, he’d adored the farm. Jean’s voice had brought the rich reek of it flooding back – the unmistakable warm smell of cowpats, of hay and meadow flowers, of baking and woodsmoke. He was unprepared for the profound sense of nostalgia. He clenched his fist so hard that the paperclip bit into his palm.
    ‘I’m so sorry.’ What a bloody useless remark. ‘Can I visit him? Where is he?’
    ‘He’s at home now. He’s been in and out of hospital for the last eight weeks, but he refuses to go to a hospice. We’re preparing for the worst with the help of a Macmillan nurse.’
    ‘Macmillan? Isn’t that cancer?’
    The word had slipped out and it lay like a stone between them. Adam cursed inwardly. Couldn’t he have been more tactful?
    ‘He was diagnosed with bowel and stomach cancer three months ago. There’s nothing they can do. If he’d discovered it earlier—’ Her voice shook again, an almost imperceptible tremor, then it had gone and the strong Jean came back. ‘I won’t bore you with the details. It’s all come as a bit of a shock. We haven’t had much time to prepare ourselves.’
    ‘I can imagine.’ Adam hesitated. ‘Do you need some legal help, Jean? I’d be very happy to make sure the paperwork is all in order. A will, for example—’
    He’d felt better offering practical help. He was a lawyer: taking care of people’s estates was what he did.
    ‘Adam, we moved our business from Blair King when – when Geordie and your father had their row.’
    She’d said it gently, but Adam had still cringed. The Great Family Rift. Two decades of bitterness and animosity.
    ‘Of course. I imagine it’s all taken care of. So what can I—?’
    ‘He’d like to see you. He really wants to talk to your father, of course, but he sees this as a preliminary.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘He’ll be gone soon, Adam. He has a million regrets and he wants to set them to rest. And he doesn’t want your father to have it all on his conscience after he’s died, with no opportunity to put things right.’
    ‘That’s a generous thought.’
    ‘Will you come out to the farm?’
    Adam had dropped the paperclip onto the desk and stared unseeingly at it. His father had made his views clear hundreds of times. I’ll never see the bastard again. He’d kept it up for years, with only two exceptions – the first at Adam and Molly’s wedding, at Adam’s insistence, and then at his nephew’s funeral as a result of Jean’s pleading. Even then, he’d not said a word to Geordie. Not one word. James Blair was made of steel.
    ‘I’ll come,’ he’d said quietly, ‘but I can’t promise that I can persuade Dad.’
    Predictably, it was Lexie who bounced out of bed first.
    ‘Great move, coming back here,’ she announced with horrible cheerfulness as she dragged back the curtains and sunshine flooded in.
    Molly groaned and rolled away. The earpieces were still wedged in place. She pulled them out and slipped the iPod under her pillow, but kept her eyes firmly closed.
    ‘Just look at that view! Fancy a cuppa? Or shall I order breakfast? What do you feel like?’
    Lack of sleep dragged at Molly. ‘Go for a walk, Lex,’ she mumbled. ‘Do some painting. Whatever. Come back in an hour.’
    Lexie laughed. ‘You’re grumpy.’
    Molly pulled the pillow over her head and curled up tightly. If she didn’t sleep a little longer, she’d be useless all day.
    Soon there was silence. The sunshine bathed her in its warmth and gently toasted her until she fell asleep again.
    An hour later, she lingered by the huge picture window as Lexie finished dabbing at the red wine stain on her eau-de-nil dress and hung it up to dry. Outside, a few wispy clouds scudded across an