by Kate Hardy
If the baby made it through the pregnancy.
His and Rochelle’s baby hadn’t. OK, so it didn’t mean that history would repeat itself, but this time round he was more aware of the risks.
And then there was Holly herself.
How did you make a success of a relationship with someone you barely knew? He liked the woman he’d got to know so far, and the physical attraction was most definitely still there. But they barely knew each other, and he wasn’t great at relationships. He’d adored Granny and Grandpa Beckett—his father’s parents had died when Harry was small, so he couldn’t remember them—and he loved his siblings. But his relationship with his parents was strained to the point where he avoided them as much as possible. His marriage had been a disaster and he hadn’t let anyone close to him since.
He had no idea how this thing between himself and Holly would work. But he did know that they needed to have a very honest and potentially very painful discussion.
He checked his phone to find out exactly where the Japanese Garden was in Regent’s Park. After the taxi had dropped him at the entrance to the park, he headed through the Jubilee Gates and down a narrow path.
Just as she’d promised, Holly was waiting by the waterfall.
‘Good choice,’ he said, glad she’d found a quiet spot in the park. ‘Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I’m sorry about earlier. I really don’t want to fight.’
‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have walked out on you.’
Hormones, probably, though he wasn’t quite stupid enough to say that out loud.
‘And I owe you for lunch,’ she continued.
He flapped his hand. ‘No, you don’t. My suggestion, my bill.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about things from your point of view and you’re right. I should’ve told you as soon as I met you again.’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘I’ve been thinking about it from your point of view, too. When I didn’t turn up and the number you’d taken down turned out not to be mine, you must’ve thought I’d ghosted you.’
‘I did.’ He looked rueful. ‘But now I know you couldn’t remember a thing about me, so how could you possibly have got in contact with me?’
‘I still don’t remember anything from the few days before the accident,’ she said. ‘I think it’s always going to be my lost weekend. And that’s terrifying—reaching out for something and it’s just not there.’
‘It must be a horrible feeling. I read up about retrograde amnesia. That’s why I tried playing you some of the music from that night, in case it made a connection for you and helped you to remember.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps I should’ve come straight out with it.’
‘What were you going to say? “Hello, you don’t remember me, but I’m the father of your baby.”? I would’ve run a mile,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for throwing a hissy fit.’
‘I think we’re on the same side,’ he said. And there was one mistake he’d learned from. ‘The first thing I want you to know is that I’ll support you.’
She gave him a level stare. ‘You don’t want me to do a DNA test to prove the baby’s yours?’
‘No need. The dates tie up,’ he said. ‘And you give the impression that you’re not in the habit of sleeping around.’
Her smile was wry. ‘That’s correct. I’m much too beige for that.’
He frowned, not understanding. ‘Beige?’
She gestured to her hair and her eyes. ‘Beige. And most of the time I’m covered in mud, also beige.’
He smiled. ‘“Beige” isn’t how I’d describe you. Besides, you were wearing a red dress when I first met you. A Regency dress.’
* * *
A dress she couldn’t remember wearing, but she’d taken a mirror selfie for Natalie, so she knew that bit was true.
‘I think,’ Holly said, ‘I’d like to start by filling in the gaps in my memory, if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Do you trust me to tell you the truth?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘What reason do you have to lie to me about what happened?’
‘None whatsoever,’ he confirmed. ‘I have no idea what you did during the day before you arrived at the ball, but I noticed you sitting on the bank, watching us, wearing your red dress. I don’t normally even see the audience when I play, because I’m always so focused on the music, but I kept seeing you. So, when the set ended and we were back on dry land, I came to talk to you. It was getting a bit chilly, so I lent you my jacket. And you said I was very gallant.’
His jacket. Gallant. Goosebumps prickled over her skin. ‘Were you wearing Regency clothes, too?’
‘You remember?’ His voice held a note of hope.
‘No.’ Not quite. But she’d had that idea of him wearing a tailcoat and pantaloons. Was it the beginning of a memory resurfacing, or just coincidence?
‘We went into the house, where we stopped at the buffet table and then we watched the Regency dancers.’
She smiled. ‘I have two left feet, so I know we didn’t join them.’
‘Actually, we did,’ he corrected. ‘Not the Regency stuff—we went to the other ballroom, where they were playing slightly more modern dance music. We danced quite a lot. And then it all slowed down.’
Dancing with him. ‘I don’t remember,’ she whispered. ‘Did I tread on your toes?’
‘No. You followed my lead. It felt like dancing on air. The perfect fit. I’ve done a lot of formal dancing, in my time, and that kind of chemistry’s rare. And then...’ He took a breath. ‘I kissed you, and you kissed me back.’
His eyes had gone very, very dark. So did that mean he still felt that pull of attraction towards her? The same attraction that had sent fireworks flaring through her head the last time he’d kissed her?
‘Then we decided to get out of there. I drove you back to Bath, and I asked you to come back for a drink to the place where I was staying.’
Which was where his story stopped making sense. ‘I never go off with strangers.’
‘A stranger and his cello,’ he said. ‘Though I know what you mean. I don’t go off with strangers either, or ask them to go off with me. Just...’ He shook his head as if trying to find an explanation. ‘There was something about you. I can’t explain it. This doesn’t normally happen to me. But I didn’t want to say goodnight.’
She knew she must have felt the same, because she’d felt drawn to him ever since she’d seen him again. Even the first day, when he’d been formal and stuffy and cold, she’d noticed him.
‘One of my old school friends has a flat in the Circus. We went back there and I made you a cup of tea. Builders’ tea, no sugar.’
The bit about tea sounded accurate. But where they’d gone... ‘A flat in the Circus?’ She shook her head. ‘No way could I forget something like that. Nat—my best friend—is a huge Jane Austen fan. I would’ve told her all about it. Texted her. Taken a photo, at the very least.’
He coughed. ‘Neither of us looked at our phones. When we did, the next morning, your battery was flat.’
‘Uh-huh.’ That sounded accurate, too. Everyone nagged her about keeping her phone charged.
‘You asked me to play something for you.’
‘“Hushabye Mountain”.’
His eyes widened. ‘You remember?’
‘No. You played that for me at your brother’s house, and you just told me you tried to jog my memory with music, so I assume that was one of the pieces you played for me in Bath.’
‘But you didn’t remember it,’ he said.
‘It’s not your fault.’ Her breath caught. ‘And then I stayed the night.’ She’d had the fling she couldn’t remember. The thing that had changed her life. And, even though she knew intellectually how retrograde amnesia worked, emotionally she couldn’t quite get it. How could she possibly have forgotte
n the kind of feeling that was strong enough to make her act so far out of character?
He nodded. ‘I went out to buy croissants for breakfast. And strawberries. I asked if we could do something together. We planned to meet outside the Pump Room—but you wouldn’t let me drop you at your hotel. You insisted on walking.’
That sounded like her, too. Her mother always grumbled that Holly was too independent.
‘Because your phone was flat, you gave me your number. Except obviously I didn’t take it down correctly,’ he finished.
‘And then, on the way to meet you, I rescued a little boy from the road and got hit by a car. None of which I remember.’
‘Which must be really scary.’
He understood. He wasn’t judging her; he was trying to put himself in her shoes. ‘It is,’ she admitted. ‘It’s like a black hole. One that I’m probably never going to be able to fill. The more time that passes, the less likely it is I’ll remember.’
He took her hand and squeezed it briefly. ‘That’s hard. But it isn’t your fault, Holly.’
‘It doesn’t matter whether it’s my fault or not. It’s still a blank. And I hate it.’ She grimaced. He’d filled in some of the gaps, and right now she didn’t know what to think or what to feel. Everything was mixed-up and crazy. She rested her hand on her bump to ground herself.
‘It must’ve been a real shock when you realised you were pregnant,’ he said. ‘When did you find out?’
‘Two months later. I was busy at work—it was exam season—so I’d barely even registered the missed periods. I was all ready to pick up my malaria tablets for the Egypt trip, but the practice nurse asked me if I was pregnant. It was a routine question. Even then, I thought it must be the accident messing up my cycle—plus I didn’t remember you or anything else about that weekend.’ She swallowed hard. ‘She said I needed to take a test, just to rule it out. And I discovered that I’d forgotten even more than I’d thought I had.’
‘So you were prepared to bring up the baby on your own?’
‘I looked at all the options, and that was the one that worked for me. My family, friends and colleagues are all supportive.’ She paused. ‘Now we’re both up to speed with the situation, I guess.’
He raked a hand through his hair, and the dishevelled look suited him. It made him look younger and more approachable. ‘I want to support you and the baby. The tricky thing is my job, because I’m away quite a lot. But I think we can make it work if we both compromise a bit.’
Compromise? She was glad he’d said he’d be there for the baby—but what about her? How did he feel about her? She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What sort of compromise did you have in mind?’
‘I don’t want to be a distant parent.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I really wasn’t expecting to be a parent. Obviously you weren’t either.’
‘No. But I’ve had more time than you to get used to the idea.’
‘I’ve had a couple of days to think about it. And here we are. Near strangers. Expecting a baby together in about five and a half months.’ He looked at her. ‘I intend to be a good father. But I should warn you that I don’t usually do relationships.’
Which meant what, exactly?
He took a deep breath. ‘I’m divorced.’
She winced. ‘I know.’
His face shuttered. ‘You’ve seen the media?’
‘Obviously I looked you up on the Internet,’ she said. ‘I saw the headlines, yes, but I didn’t go into those sites to read the details because it felt like prying. I thought if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me.’
‘Give that today’s all about honesty,’ he said, ‘then, yes, you need to know. I met Rochelle when I was eighteen, when we were studying at the Academy, though we didn’t get together until after we graduated.’ He sighed. ‘She was a flautist. There are a lot more opportunities for cellists than there are for flautists. When you start out, you have to go wherever the work is. Although we were both based in London, if she had the chance of playing for a touring opera or ballet company, she had to go. She might’ve been playing in Glasgow while I had a contract down in, say, Truro.’ He shrugged. ‘If we’d both managed to play for the same orchestra, or seen each other for more than a snatched day here or there, maybe we could’ve made it work. But we didn’t. I was offered a lot more work than she was, so even when we were in London she didn’t see that much of me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It was messy,’ he admitted. ‘And I didn’t do enough to save my marriage. The quartet had started to take off, and we were getting regular bookings. I said I’d support Rochelle—I had family money—so she didn’t have to worry about struggling to find work. I said that maybe she could teach or something, be based in London all the time so we weren’t at opposite sides of the country and might see more of each other. And she accused me of putting my career before hers.’ A muscle worked in his jaw. ‘Up to a point, that’s true. I could’ve offered to stay in London and teach and let her be the one to go touring.’
‘But playing’s what makes you feel alive,’ she said. ‘I see your face when you play. It’s your heart and soul coming out of your fingers into the music.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for understanding that. Rochelle didn’t, even though she was a musician as well. Or maybe it was because we ended up in competition, instead of supporting each other. Though it must’ve been hard for her. She was just as good a musician as I was, and it must’ve felt bad to be the one who was struggling.’ He looked sad. ‘So it didn’t work out.’
Holly had a feeling that there was more to it than that. Those blue, blue eyes had darkened with pain, as if it hadn’t been an amicable split. Had his ex maybe had an affair? Though it would be unkind to probe. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘She wanted me to give it up and work on my family’s estate. Which meant I had a choice,’ he said. ‘My career or my marriage. I chose my career.’
Was that a warning? Or was it something he regretted?
He looked at her. ‘The night we first met—the night you don’t remember—you asked me if I was single. Which sounds to me as if maybe you’ve been let down by someone.’
‘Dated someone who turned out to be married, you mean? Not quite.’ She grimaced. ‘I was supposed to get married a couple of weeks after Bath.’
He looked horrified. ‘Are you telling me that you went off with me while you were engaged to—?’ He stopped. ‘No. Of course not. That’s not who you are. I don’t need you to confirm that. I apologise. I’m letting what happened with Rochelle get in the way, and that’s not fair to you.’
That definitely sounded like an affair. She knew how it felt to be cheated on. And she appreciated that he didn’t think she was the type to cheat. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘No. I was single, but I had been in a relationship for eight years. Simon went on secondment to New York for six months; and while he was there he fell in love with someone else. He called off the wedding three weeks before I went to Bath. I was supposed to go to Rome for my hen weekend that weekend, but obviously I cancelled that, too.’
He took her hand. ‘I’m sorry about your ex. That’s a really horrible thing to happen.’
‘I seemed to spend all my time either apologising to people or feeling like the world’s biggest failure,’ she admitted. ‘I never want to go through that again.’ She paused. ‘Fenella—the woman Simon fell in love with—was pregnant. Which is why he called it off between us.’
Harry winced. ‘That’s rough.’
‘It could’ve been worse. He could’ve left me at the altar,’ she said, ‘or told me after we’d got married. And then things would’ve been even more complicated.’
‘I’m so sorry someone treated you like that.’ Harry frowned. ‘Are you telling me that, even though he was the one to end things, he made you unpick all the arrangements?’
‘For someone who
had to be so precise in his job, he was hopeless when it came to organising things at home. If I’d left it to him, it... Well, things would’ve been forgotten or not cancelled properly, and...’ She grimaced. ‘It was just easier to sort it out myself.’
‘I’d call that adding insult to injury.’
‘It is what it is.’ She shrugged. ‘But I think it’s why I reacted so badly to you not telling me the truth. My tolerance for lies is pretty much at zero after Simon.’ She looked at him. ‘You didn’t tell me an untruth, but it was a lie by omission.’
‘Noted, and I apologise again. You deserve better than that. And you deserved better than that from Simon as well.’
‘My best friend said that, too. She wanted to do something nice for me, and she knew how much I’d been looking forward to Rome. The Roman Baths in Bath were her idea of the nearest substitute. And it was nice of her.’
He smiled wryly. ‘And to think I asked you if you’d visited the Baths.’
She smiled back. ‘Obviously I didn’t tell you I’d worked on the site as a student, or you would have had an idea what I did for a living and been able to look me up on the Internet.’
‘Indeed.’ He paused. ‘So where do we go from here?’
What did he want? she wondered. For that matter, what did she want?
‘Whatever you decide, I’ll support you and the baby. Though that doesn’t mean you’re tied to me,’ he added hastily.
So did that mean he wanted to try and make some kind of future with her, or not? Right now they were supposed to be being honest with each other. So she’d get this out in the open. ‘If I’d met you outside the Pump Room that morning—and I’m fairly sure I did intend to meet you, because otherwise I would’ve made an excuse and told you I had to get back to London,’ she said, ‘what do you think would’ve happened?’
