Free The Corrigan legacy by Anna Jacobs Page A

no sound apart from that, no traffic noises, no sound of people's voices. They could have been alone in the universe. A minute or so later another snore followed the first and the man twitched, muttering something in his sleep. He was unshaven, his clothes crumpled, but he didn't look like a tramp. His shoes were new, even if they were muddy, and the leather jacket he was wearing was of good quality, showing few signs of wear and tear.
    Was she dreaming? What had this man been doing drinking himself senseless in her shed?
    She took another step forward, then a final movement brought her right next to him. On a sudden decision she shook his shoulder hard. 'Wake up!'
    'Go 'way.'
    His voice was husky and when he raised his head slightly his eyes were unfocused. Even as she watched he laid his head down and closed his eyes again. He was blind drunk! Had he consumed the whole bottle of whisky?
    Anger made her shake him harder and shout, 'Don't go to sleep!'
    'What?' He blinked at her, looking like all the mock drunks she'd ever seen in plays and films.
    'Who - are - you?'
    'Cal.'
    She didn't let him put his head down again. 'Get up and get out of here, Cal. This is my shed.'
    This time he seemed to consider what she was asking of him, she could see understanding dawn slowly, but then he shook his head. 'Can't.'
    'What do you mean, you can't?'
    It took a long time for the next words to emerge. 'Broke down.'
    Then she saw the motor cycle helmet on a chair beyond the table, the heavy leather gauntlets beneath it.
    'Even the Hog let me down,' he repeated, closing his eyes, an expression of pain on his face. 'Everything's gone wrong.'

    That didn't seem like a reason to empty a bottle of whisky, but as he muttered something indistinguishable and closed his eyes, she gave up and backed out, not allowing him a chance to jump her. But he didn't. He didn't even stir.
    When she'd closed the door she swung round quickly and set her back to it. But the garden was quiet, even the row of daffodils looking colourless in the darkness. And the wind was getting up, a damp, icy wind that promised rain. Fine spring weather this was! Shivering, she returned to the house, unlocked the back door and hesitated. He'd be cold in that shed.
    That wasn't her business.
    But what if he died of hypothermia?
    No, you didn't die of hypothermia in April. Did you? Anyway, it wasn't her business. She didn't know him from a bar of soap. He might be a dangerous lunatic or someone working for Des. But still . . . she watched her braatti cloud the air . . . it had got cold quickly, and the weather forecast said there was a possibility of snow on high ground.
    She couldn't leave him there.
    With a sigh she retraced her steps, shook the man until he was more or less awake, then hauled him to his feet. He seemed bewildered but docile, and when she tugged him forward, he stumbled along obediently beside her.
    "S'not fair, you know,' he said suddenly.
    'What's not fair?'
    'Taking my daughter away from me. It's just not fair.'
    He said nothing more, but she couldn't get what he'd said out of her mind. Was that why he'd been drinking? She knew how it hurt to lose a child because in one sense Mitch had been taken away from her, though he'd have gone anyway in a few months. But she'd have fought like a wildcat if anyone had tried to take him away from her when he was little.
    Horrible things happened between divorced couples and children suffered from it. This man certainly didn't look like a habitual drunkard, because he was scrupulously clean, apart from not having shaved. But stubble on the chin was fashionable these days, wasn't it?
    She propped him against the house wall while she unlocked the back door, then guided him inside.
    'I'm cold,' he announced suddenly.

    In the light she could see that his face was white and when she tugged him forward again, she touched one of his hands and found it clammy. She wasn't cold because the exertion of getting a tall, drunken man into