by Kate Hardy
Then again, she had friends who’d been trying for months to get pregnant. One night, one baby? It wasn’t that probable.
Though it was possible...
She took a deep breath, and headed for the toilets to skim-read the instructions.
She peed on the stick, then replaced the cap and stared at the screen. The hourglass symbol flashed to show that the test was working. Holly was sure it wasn’t going to be positive, but somehow adrenaline seem to be coursing through her fingers, causing her hands to shake.
The hourglass stopped flashing.
Shockingly, the word ‘Pregnant’ was displayed on the screen. In bold. Very clear. But the hourglass was still flashing, so maybe it was waiting for the word ‘not’ to show up.
Holly squeezed her eyes tightly shut, just in case, then peered at the screen again. The word ‘Pregnant’ was still there, but this time there was some extra text. Not the ‘not’ she’d been hoping for, but ‘3+’—meaning that she was more than three weeks pregnant.
So she really had had a fling.
And now she was pregnant, with absolutely no idea who the father was and no way of getting in touch with him.
What on earth was she going to do?
She texted her best friend.
Need to meet you for lunch. Urgent.
To her relief, a text came back almost instantly, but dismay flooded through her when she read it.
Shooting today—no time for breaks—can meet you after?
Holly really wanted to talk about it now, but this evening would have to do.
Thanks. Meet you at your office. Let me know what time.
Just gone six?
Great. See you then.
Somehow Holly got through her lecture, and then a pastoral meeting with one of her students who was having a wobble and panicking about Finals. She spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about her situation and making lists of pros and cons; then, at six, she waited in the reception at Natalie’s office.
Natalie came out, took one look at her and frowned. ‘From the look on your face, gin is required—and lots of it.’
‘No.’ Gin wouldn’t be good for the baby. ‘Can we get something to eat?’
‘Sure.’ Natalie led her to a tucked-away pizzeria. Once they’d ordered, Natalie said, ‘Out with it.’
There wasn’t an easy way to say this, so Holly got straight to the point. ‘It seems I wasn’t teasing you and I did have a fling.’
Natalie blinked. ‘He called you?’
‘No.’
‘Then how do you know?’ She looked hopeful. ‘You’ve got your memory back?’
‘Unfortunately not.’ Holly took a deep breath. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Natalie was silent.
‘Say something,’ Holly begged.
‘I don’t know what to say. This was the last thing I expected you to tell me.’ Natalie bit her lip. ‘Are you all right?’
Holly nodded. ‘No symptoms, apart from two missed periods—which I was too busy to notice. Shauna said I needed to do a pregnancy test before she could give me malaria tablets for the dig in Egypt. So I did.’ She spread her hands. ‘It was positive—which means no malaria tablets, and no Egypt.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Natalie asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Holly said, trying to damp down the panic. ‘I don’t have a clue who the father is. I don’t remember his name or even what he looked like.’
‘Dark hair, blond, red? Blue eyes, grey, brown?’
‘No idea,’ Holly said.
‘If your phone was out of charge,’ Natalie said, ‘maybe he wrote his number down for you?’
‘I looked through my handbag. There was nothing with a phone number on it,’ Holly said. It made her feel sick. ‘He hasn’t tried to ring me, so that proves he wasn’t really interested.’ She hadn’t been enough to make her mystery man want more than a one-night stand.
She pushed her pizza away, no longer hungry. ‘It’s all I’ve really been able to think about this afternoon. So I made a list. My options are termination, adoption, or keeping the baby.’
‘And have you decided what you want?’ Natalie asked gently.
‘I don’t want a termination,’ Holly said. ‘I know it’s mad, given I can’t remember a thing about the baby’s father. But it’s not the baby’s fault. And, if I’m honest, I was starting to get a bit broody when Simon left for New York.’
Natalie looked shocked. ‘You never said.’
‘I was hardly ready to admit it to myself, let alone to anyone else. Though I didn’t get pregnant on purpose.’ Holly sighed. ‘I’d never judge a woman for having a termination, because I think you should do what’s right for you. Nobody else has the right to tell you what to do with your own body. But a termination doesn’t feel right for me. Neither does adoption.’
‘So does that mean you’re going to keep the baby?’
Holly bit her lip. ‘I was supposed to get married to Simon and then have a baby with him. Except I wasn’t enough for Simon.’ Or her mystery man.
‘Simon is an utter...’ Natalie growled a pithy description. ‘Of course you were enough. He was the one who wasn’t good enough for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Though Holly didn’t believe her. ‘I know it’s not going to be easy, being a single mum. But I’ll have the support of my family and closest friends. I can juggle childcare with my job, provided I stick to digs within driving distance of home.’
‘I want to be the baby’s godmother,’ Natalie said. ‘And you can count on me for babysitting and holding your hand on wobbly days. No matter what.’
Holly scrubbed away the tears that suddenly threatened to fall. ‘Thank you.’
‘That’s what best friends are for,’ Natalie said. ‘But we need to try and find the baby’s father.’
‘How? That weekend’s still almost a complete blank, and it’s terrifying. I know some of what I did because there are photographs. But I don’t remember doing any of it.’
‘Maybe you could go and see a hypnotist to see if they can recover something?’ Natalie suggested. ‘Or ask the hall to put a message on their social media.’
‘Saying what? “Gentlemen! Did you come to a ball here ten weeks ago and have sex with a woman in a red dress? Because she has some interesting news for you...”’ Holly rolled her eyes.
‘Well, maybe not quite that,’ Natalie said with a grin. ‘But how about, “Did you dance with a lady in red at the ball? She needs to get in touch.” I bet it’d go viral.’ She drew an invisible banner in the air. ‘“Help the Lady in Red find her mystery man.”’
‘I don’t want it to go viral. I don’t want to live my life in public,’ Holly said. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Let’s say I gave him my number. It’s two months and he hasn’t got in touch. Which means he’s not interested in me, so he’s even less likely to be interested in the baby.’
‘It’s still worth a try,’ Natalie said.
‘I can manage on my own,’ Holly insisted.
‘You know, he must’ve been really amazing,’ Natalie said. ‘Because you’re not the sort to have a fling for the sake of it.’
‘If he was that amazing, surely I’d have remembered something about him by now?’ Holly pointed out.
‘You had a head injury,’ Natalie reminded her. ‘It might always be your lost weekend.’ She paused. ‘What about work?’
‘The university will be fine about it,’ Holly said. ‘But I can’t go to Egypt this summer. I also won’t be able to do any work that involves radiology, because it isn’t safe for the baby. I can do lectures, tutorials, and the desk side of things—and maybe the odd bit of work on a UK dig if I clear it with Health and Safety.’ She rested her hand on her not-yet-showing bump. ‘But hey. Nefertiti here—or Amenhotep—needs to come first.’
‘You
can’t call that poor baby either of those names,’ Natalie said, looking horrified.
‘Nefertiti was allegedly the most beautiful woman in the world, even more so than Cleopatra, and Amenhotep III is my favourite pharaoh—the one who made his country prosperous and built amazing monuments,’ Holly pointed out.
‘I thought it was Khufu who built the pyramids?’
‘He did,’ Holly said with a smile. ‘One of them, anyway.’
‘All your colleagues are going to call the bump Mini-Lara or Mini-Indi,’ Natalie said.
‘And make jokes that instead of studying mummies, I’m going to be a mummy.’ Holly swallowed hard. ‘Which is weird. It’s not quite how I thought things were going to turn out.’
‘You don’t have to make all your decisions now,’ Natalie said.
‘I kind of do. Two missed periods—that means I’m at least ten weeks gone. I need to see my GP, get booked in with the midwife, have a scan. And tell my family. And work. And...’ Suddenly, the decision she’d come to that afternoon felt really, really daunting. Was she up to it? Would she even make a decent mum?
She must’ve spoken aloud, because Natalie said firmly, ‘You’re going to be brilliant. And you’re not alone. You’ve got your family, you’ve got me, and you’ve got other friends who’ll be there for you, too. Even though this baby wasn’t planned, he or she is going to be really, really loved.’ She grinned. ‘And absolutely not called Nefertiti or Amenhotep...’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘SO YOU’VE GOT a team doing a dig at the abbey?’ Harry asked at Monday lunchtime as his sister parked her car on the gravel in front of the house.
‘When we started doing the footings for the Orangery extension, the team discovered bones. Luckily they turned out to be really old ones so it wasn’t a crime scene, but obviously the area needs to be excavated and then we’ll have the bones reburied in consecrated ground,’ Ellen explained. ‘The kids are all beyond excited and desperate to help—and the archaeologist in charge is absolutely lovely. She’s great with kids. She’s let them use brushes to help her team reveal little bits and pieces, and they’ve all decided they want to be archaeologists when they grow up, even though she’s warned them that half the time it means being on your knees and covered in mud and finding nothing but a couple of rusty nails.
‘George has been begging her to go to the British Museum with them to see the mummies, and Henry’s borrowed a book on hieroglyphics and he’s been writing notes to everyone in them. Even Alice and Celia want to dress up as Cleopatra all the time.’
‘It sounds as if the kids all have Egypt mania.’ Harry smiled. ‘Dare I ask if our parents are behaving?’
‘Once Pa finished harrumphing about the disruption,’ Ellen said, ‘Dr Weston got talking to him about the past and she’s drawn him sketches of what the abbey might have looked like. And he’s eating out of her hand. So is Ma. It’s incredible.’
‘The main thing is that they’re not giving you and Dom any grief.’
‘Apart from grumbling about how much money it’s costing to extend the Orangery for the tea rooms and shop, no,’ Ellen said. ‘And Dom pointed out that we’ll get extra visitors coming to see the dig. I think the figures have finally made Pa see sense. Any day now, he’ll start claiming it was all his idea.’
‘That’s terrible, Nell.’
Ellen grinned. ‘I don’t mind. If it means he lets us just get on with things, then he can claim just about anything he pleases.’ She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘Come and meet the team. And I can get to show off my brilliant baby brother. Thinking about it, we can use this for you, too. We could shoot a promo video of you playing something haunting among the ruins...’
Harry chuckled. ‘Are you planning to give up the biscuit business and become my manager?’ he teased. ‘Or are you planning it to be a biscuit promo?’
‘Now there’s an idea. We can rename Bach’s cello suite as the Beckett’s Custard Cream suite...’
They were still laughing when they rounded the corner and Harry saw the full extent of the trenches cutting across the area around the Orangery. The lawn was a wreck. There was mud everywhere. And then, emerging from a trench, there she was.
His mysterious Lady in Red.
Holly, the woman who had spent the night with him in Bath and then vanished.
It felt as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. Hard.
What on earth was she doing here?
All he could do was stare as his sister said cheerfully, ‘Holly, this is my baby brother, Harry Moran. Harry, this is Dr Holly Weston, who’s leading the team in the dig.’
There wasn’t even a flicker of recognition in Holly’s face as she looked at him. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Moran. Have you come to see the devastation we’ve wrought on your parents’ garden?’
‘I...’ This was unbelievable. How could she just stand there and pretend they’d never met? He’d thought they’d had some kind of connection. For pity’s sake, they’d spent the night together! Clearly he’d been wrong about there being anything between them. Lucy’s theory about a good reason for his mysterious date not meeting him was completely wrong.
The truth was very obvious: Dr Holly Weston was a game-player, and their night together had meant absolutely nothing to her.
It left him reeling. He wasn’t sure if he was more hurt or angry. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to show it. If this was the way she wanted it, he would pretend she was a stranger, too. He forced himself to smile. ‘Nice to meet you, Dr Weston,’ he said coolly.
She wiped the dirt off her hand onto her T-shirt and held out her hand to shake his.
And Harry was horrified to realise that his palm was actually tingling when it touched hers. The attraction was still very much there on his part. He remembered how she’d felt in his arms, and the warmth of her mouth as it had touched his, and he really wanted to feel that way again. But he’d just have to suppress the desire, because he didn’t want to get involved with a game-player. No matter if her hair was like ripened corn and her eyes were an unusual amber colour. His heart had already been broken, and he wasn’t letting that happen again.
* * *
Ellen’s younger brother was nothing like her or their older brother, Dominic, Holly thought. There was no warmth in Harry Moran’s smile, only a tightness. Great. Another member of the Moran family that she would have to charm. Clearly Harry took after his parents rather than his siblings when it came to being difficult.
‘Harry’s quite famous. He’s a cellist,’ Ellen said, sounding every inch the proud sister. ‘And he’s absolutely brilliant.’
So that was it. Harry Moran was put out because Holly hadn’t recognised him. Poor little rich boy: tall, dark and handsome, with those stunning midnight-blue eyes, he was probably used to women falling at his feet, all starry-eyed and thrilled to bits to meet him.
Well, tough. She didn’t fall at people’s feet. Especially someone as difficult and self-important as Harry Moran seemed to be. Even though he was gorgeous and her skin had actually tingled when he’d shaken her hand, she wasn’t going to do anything about the attraction. He was way out of her league, and she wasn’t in the market for a relationship anyway.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you,’ Holly said politely. ‘Nice to meet you, too.’
Why was he looking at her as if he’d seen a ghost? She was sure they’d never met before. Harry Moran was definitely not the sort of man you’d forget easily.
* * *
Sorry she didn’t recognise him? Oh, for pity’s sake. They’d spent the night together. Had breakfast together. Planned to have a touristy day together... Except then she hadn’t turned up.
There wasn’t the slightest hint of mockery in her eyes; but there was also no hint of acknowledging the night they’d spent together in Bath. Back then, he’d thought Holly was completely genui
ne, and his instincts were pretty good. So there had to be another explanation for why she was behaving as if she’d never seen him before in her life.
Did she have some kind of doppelgänger? A twin, perhaps? And, if so, was this Holly the good twin or the bad twin? Had he slept with a woman who looked like Holly but had borrowed her name for some reason?
‘I’d better get on,’ she said brightly. ‘Do let me know if you’d like me to talk you through any of the findings, Mr Moran.’
Harry opened his mouth to ask her if she had a twin, but nothing came out. Which was probably just as well, because a question like that was very, very incriminating, and it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss in front of his older sister.
‘It’s really interesting, Harry,’ Ellen said, clearly oblivious to the fact that Harry felt as if he’d just been flattened by a steamroller.
‘Holly! Holly! I made you a picture.’ George, Ellen’s eldest child, ran over and handed her a picture of a mummy. ‘It’s like the one you would’ve dug up in Egypt.’
‘That’s brilliant, George.’ Holly crouched down beside him, and went through all the things he’d included in the picture. ‘You remembered everything we talked about yesterday. Well done.’
‘Can I take it to show Henry?’
‘Great idea. And Henry might be able to do some hieroglyphics with you to help you label things. Have a think about what you’re going to name your mummy,’ Holly said. ‘Remember what we said about how their names were formed?’
‘Yay!’ George said, and rushed off.
His sister was absolutely right: Holly Weston was good with kids.
Not that that was an issue for him. He wasn’t planning on having a long-term relationship and children after his disaster with Rochelle.
But his nephew had raised an intriguing question. ‘Were you meant to be in Egypt?’ he asked Holly.
‘I was supposed to be on a team working in Egypt over the summer,’ she explained. ‘For various reasons, someone else in the department needed to swap with me. Though please don’t think I’ll do a poor job or regard this as a second-rate substitute, because what we’re finding here is utterly thrilling.’
