‘I’m sorry,’ he said, feeling genuinely sorry. ‘And I’m sorry to keep saying that. Can you talk to anybody?’
‘I’m talking to you, aren’t I?’ she said crisply. ‘It brought it all to a head seeing you again. It made me realize that if my mum hadn’t whisked me away then you and I would have got engaged and then married. We were a pair, Matthew, you and me. We were meant for each other. We would have been so very happy together.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ he said, trying to laugh that one off. ‘We were very young and I was about to go off to university. My mum reckons it would have faded away in any case.’
‘What does she know about it?’ The response was immediate. ‘She never liked me, Matthew.’
‘That’s not true. My mother likes everybody. At least she always looks for the good side of everybody.’
‘She did not like me. She thought I was too needy. She thought I was going to ruin your concentration. She once said as much in a roundabout way. But I think we would have found a way to be together, you and me. Didn’t it mean anything to you at all?’
He was starting to feel uncomfortable as memories stirred. She was his first girlfriend, his first lover; his mother had thought it a platonic friendship but it had been more than that. Supposed to be studying, they slept together in his bedroom with the door unlocked and that had added to the excitement, for it meant somebody could walk in at any moment and that had bothered him more than it had Chrissie. His parents never had disturbed them because they respected his privacy, trusted him when he said that Chrissie was helping him with the studying, but Lucy had once caught them together and he had to swear her to silence.
‘Lucy didn’t like me either,’ Chrissie said now, reminding him further. ‘But then the feeling was mutual. Who did she think she was? Your keeper?’
‘My sister,’ he said, and suddenly it was too much. He guessed she had chosen this venue deliberately because it was not the place for an argument. ‘And don’t bring her into it.’
‘I was sorry to hear about what happened to her,’ she said. ‘Bad luck.’
‘Bad luck?’ he echoed the words, aghast at the casual tone. ‘It was the worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life.’
‘Worse than me leaving you?’
‘For God’s sake, Chrissie, Lucy died. You can’t compare it.’ He paused, gathering himself together because he felt like leaving. ‘Why are we here? What’s the real reason? I’m not going to see you again, Chrissie. That would be one very bad idea.’
‘I know. Don’t worry, I’m not intending to harass you any more,’ she said, the slightest of smiles – or was it a sneer? – covering her lips. She was wearing very pale pink lipstick and a lot of dark eye make-up, giving her a ghostly appearance. ‘I just wanted to set the record straight.’
‘And…?’
‘I wanted you to know that I was pregnant when I left, pregnant with your baby.’
‘What?’
‘Why do you think we made such a quick move? It wasn’t just about my mum and my stepdad, it was about me too. Mum acted like she was in some sort of Victorian melodrama when she found out. She could not bear the shame of her 16-year-old daughter having a baby, she said, and my stepdad had the chance of this job in Kent so it was an ideal opportunity. We moved away and nobody, none of Mum’s friends, was any the wiser.’
‘You were very nearly seventeen,’ he said stupidly as if that made any difference, trying to take this in. A baby? He was a father already, then. ‘What happened?’ He was doing a quick calculation and fast coming to the conclusion that somewhere out there, there was a 14-year-old child belonging to him. ‘Where is it? Did you have it adopted?’
‘I lost it,’ she said. ‘So you needn’t look so worried. I never had any intention of having it and I managed somehow to give myself an abortion. It’s a wonder I didn’t kill myself or make it impossible for me to have more children. I suppose I was lucky there.’
His heart settled back into a steady rhythm. ‘Why are you bothering to tell me, then?’
‘Because I can’t keep it to myself any longer. I aborted your child and I think you ought to know, Matthew, that whatever it was between the two of us it was never just a teenage fling. It was much, much more for me. I’ve kept it secret from Marcus even though I sweated cobs when I did become pregnant in case there should be a problem, but there wasn’t. Nicholas, as you no doubt saw at the station, is a healthy little boy and so is Victoria.’
‘I’m sorry.’ It seemed inadequate but he was sorry, thinking about her, about how desperate she must have been, about how she risked her life because of that desperation, and in the end it was all down to him. ‘You should have told me,’ he muttered as the shock dissipated. Around them, the sounds of the busy restaurant, the clatter of dishes, the scraping back of chairs, the chatter, grew less as the enormity of what she was telling him hit home.
‘Why? What would you have done, Matthew?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I honestly don’t know. I expect I would have done the decent thing.’
She laughed. ‘Oh, really. Are you telling me you would have given up your place at university for me?’
‘We could have got round it,’ he said, not sure how, though. ‘I would have stood by you. I wouldn’t have let you face it on your own.’
‘You should see your face, Matthew Walker. And thank you, because I now know what I needed to know. You never loved me. Never. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you but I doubt you would have gone further than Exeter for me.’
He sighed. What now? He couldn’t make head or tail of this. What was she saying now? Why was she suddenly smiling?
‘There was never a baby. Do you honestly think I was that naïve? I had all that business sorted out even at sixteen. But I just wanted to test you, to see your reaction.’
He remembered now that she was always good at lying. After making love, she would go down to the kitchen and brazen it out with his mother when he was having kittens thinking about it, hoping against hope that they had been quiet enough, that nobody had heard them. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ He scrunched up the paper wrapping and left it on the tray, drained the last of his coffee. ‘I’m off.’
‘Goodbye.’ She looked as if she was staying. ‘Don’t bother to wait for me. I’m going to have another coffee.’
He reached for his overcoat that was draped around the chair. ‘How do I know what to believe any more? Are you really married to a pilot or is that a lie too? Do you have a house worth in excess of a million? Are those children yours?’
‘Of course the children are mine, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘And the rest?’ He held her gaze.
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
‘And is your mother really dying, Chrissie? Or is that another little lie?’
‘No, that happens to be true. But when it’s over I am going and I am never coming back. Good luck, Matthew, but just remember one thing.’
He leaned down a little as she looked up at him and this time he saw the pain in her eyes, helpless because there was nothing he could do to help, but he had to harden his heart to it because he had no other choice.
‘I love you. Goodbye Matthew.’ She mouthed the words, a blush staining her pale cheeks, and he just nodded, managing a tight smile before walking away. His mind was in a whirl. He had no idea how much of all that was true, whether the talk of a baby was really just a mischievous test or not. The fact was, if it was just a test for him, a very bitter sort of test, when she had talked about a pregnancy, about an abortion, she had just delivered an Oscar-winning performance.
He knew he had promised himself that there would be no more secrets between him and Nicola, but this time he would make an exception to that. He hoped that he might persuade his wife to put aside her very real fears and have a baby, but it would have to be her decision and he wasn’t going to put undue pressure on her.
If he was not meant to be a father then so b
e it. If Chrissie had had a baby then perhaps it had been adopted. Maybe there was a 14-year-old boy or girl – his child – living somewhere with someone else and he would never ever see it.
Chrissie had engineered this last meeting quite deliberately. She had planted that thought in his head – is it true or isn’t it? – just to make sure that he would never forget her.
But for his peace of mind he had to do just that.
Chapter Nineteen
AUTUMN WAS TUMBLING fast into winter, the days had shortened, storms had lashed the area, causing floods and severe wind damage, but mercifully their cottage and the trees along the banks of the river had escaped most of it.
And Nicola was pregnant.
Just. She had not yet told Matthew because she wanted to be a little further on before she did so. So far she had managed to contain the throwing-up to times when he was not around but it had not worked so well at work and Barbara had guessed – rightly this time – and offered her congratulations, although she was sworn to silence as yet. Damn it, she never meant to tell the woman before she told her husband but she could hardly deny it when she asked outright and she was being very considerate, bringing her a packet of ginger biscuits next day: Barbara’s remedy for morning sickness.
She would tell Gerry Gilbert in due time and of course it would be no surprise whatsoever to him for hadn’t he been willing a pregnancy on her for ages now? She could not keep the secret much longer from her mother, who was eyeing her up closely whenever she saw her, but Matthew should be the first to know.
How could she have ever thought that she did not want children? She was amazed at how quick the turnaround had been. Already, with the baby the size of a bean, she was feeling protective towards it and with Matthew getting people in to work on the cottage things were looking up. She had finally admitted to herself that she had been behaving like a spoilt child, wanting to run before she could walk.
Matthew was right. She had to remember how she felt when she first set eyes on this cottage. It was not as bad as all that, for after all, hadn’t she fallen in love with it back then? She had to return to that feeling and start thinking of it again as the sweetest little cottage imaginable. They just needed to get through the winter and keep warm and when spring came they would be fine for a while longer and the spare room would make an adequate nursery when baby arrived in summer.
She was mellowing and becoming more like Paula every day. It was very worrying. She was nest-building already and she was barely properly pregnant yet. What on earth would she be like by the end of it when she was the size of an elephant?
Rare for her, she had a Saturday free and it promised to be a lazy day for both of them but, to her surprise, after breakfast – the smell of Matthew’s bacon sandwich nearly made her throw up – he suggested they take a trip out.
‘Where?’ She could not hide her astonishment for, on his day off, he was usually perfectly happy to lounge around doing nothing.
‘Just out. It’s lovely out there, we don’t want to be cooped in all day long.’
‘It’s cold out there,’ she said, thinking that for once it felt much cosier indoors. Despite her complaints, it was proving warmer here than she had first thought, the thick walls keeping the heat in; a huge pile of logs had just been delivered and, to top it all, she had finally got the hang of lighting the fire.
‘Wrap up, then,’ he said, determined, it would seem, to get her out and about. ‘Come on and we’ll stop off for lunch later.’
‘Where are we going?’ she asked but infuriatingly he would not say, setting off across the bridge and passing the ‘Welcome to Devon’ sign. Feeling a little grumbly because she had got ready far too quickly and was feeling a touch nauseous already, she had to admit that it was a glorious late-autumn day, the trees slow to lose their leaves and outdoing each other with the blaze of oranges, yellows, and reddish browns.
Already her mother was talking about Christmas plans, something she liked to organize well in advance, and it was arranged that she and Matthew would be going to them on Christmas Day and to Paula and Alan’s on Boxing Day. That suited her fine as she was never absolutely sure whether or not she might be called in to work, as the Christmas schedule was always subject to sudden change. Being readily available when required was a prerequisite for future promotion although, as of now, with maternity leave looming, that was becoming an ever-fainter possibility.
And just now she could not care less.
‘I don’t fancy a long walk if that’s what you have in mind,’ she said, noting that they were approaching walking country. ‘I hate surprises. You should know by now that whenever you surprise me I’m always wearing the wrong things. Look at my boots. They are not made for walking.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry. There’s no serious walking involved.’
‘I hope you’ve not booked lunch at somewhere too posh,’ she went on, getting more irritated by his obvious amusement. ‘Because I would never have worn this jacket if I’d known.’
Matthew slowed, indicated and turned right and she realized that they were going towards the village, the village where she had dragged him a couple of times to view Tall Trees. For God’s sake, she did not want to be reminded of it, not when she was finally getting her head round living at the cottage.
They drove through the village and he drew to a halt, switched off the engine.
The For Sale board was still there, propped up beside the imposing gateway but this time there was something laid across it: an Under Offer sticker. Well, thanks a million for that. It would be some sodding London couple buying it as a second home, donning their country wellies a few weeks a year when they deigned to put in an appearance.
‘What have you brought me here for?’ She could not help the exasperation in her voice. ‘You know damned well we can’t afford it. You sat me down and talked me through the figures.’
‘It’s ours, darling,’ Matthew said. ‘We complete very soon. I made a very low offer but they accepted, delighted to have a sale at last and a cash one at that. I can’t have the keys yet but the agent is meeting us in a few minutes and she’s happy for us to have a look round without her. They’ve moved all the furniture out, by the way, so it’s not going to look quite the same as it did the first time we viewed it.’
‘But …’ she stepped out of the car and stood a moment gazing at it, the house she had dreamed of so often, the house they could not afford. It stood, an higgledy-piggledy stonebuilt house in grounds that wrapped round the property, and she could rhyme off the details in her head: square hall, sitting room with bay window, dining room across the hall, a large kitchen, study/music room, snug, conservatory, five bedrooms, three bathrooms. All this with a separate annexe in the former stable block that she had earmarked as having great potential for something or other.
Wow.
The agent was waiting for them by the entrance, her car parked round the back. She greeted them, all smiles, and handed them the keys, saying she would hang around until they were ready.
Matthew opened the door and she followed him into the echoey space. The previous owners were gone and it was empty, their footsteps loud on the tiles of the hall. It looked different without the rugs and the pictures and the ornate mirror but the red carpet on the stairs was still there and they had left the glamorous if slightly incongruous modern chandelier that was either a pièce de résistance or a disaster. She would have to reserve judgement on that.
‘I know,’ Matthew said, following her gaze. ‘Horrendous, isn’t it?’
‘Matthew, what on earth are you doing? How much did you offer? How can we afford it?’ she said, commonsense taking over. ‘We did the sums and we decided we couldn’t. And we haven’t sold the cottage either. And what’s this about a cash sale?’
‘Mum’s given us some money so we can do this,’ he told her. ‘I’ve gone through the sums and it’s OK. And I think she might have half an eye to her and Dad moving into the annexe one day. It will make a great
self-contained granny flat and I can draw up the plans for that in no time. It’s already got the green light so there won’t be a problem.’
‘Wait a minute. You mean they might want to move in with us?’
‘Maybe. Someday. She’s had second thoughts about moving just at the moment. She likes her house. I know that might surprise you but she does. And Dad’s in no hurry to give up the business and it’s better for him to be living in the city to do that. The bulk of his business comes from students.’
The thought of Paula and Alan living in the annexe was not ideal but Nicola concentrated on the words ‘maybe’ and ‘someday’. She could live with that thought, for it was so far into the future it hardly counted. Paula and Alan were hardly in their dotage, not yet.
‘She’s been very generous,’ she said as the enormity of what Paula had done started to sink in. She had thought Paula meant a few hundred not several thousand. ‘She said something last time I saw her about giving us something but I didn’t think you would be too keen on that.’
‘I wasn’t at first but she was very persuasive. What’s the point, she said, of you being left a load of money when we die when you need it now? You’re right, I would much rather do this ourselves but it’s going to be a very long time before we can afford to buy something like this and so we have to be realistic.’
‘You mean you have to swallow your pride,’ she said with a small smile. ‘Thanks for that, Matthew.’
‘Thank my mum. She’s really happy to do it.’
‘What about your father? You haven’t mentioned him.’
‘It was Mum’s idea that we have the money but he’s fine too. He wants us to have this house. He knows what it means to you and he told me that we should keep the ladies happy if we can.’
‘It’s still a lot of money and we shouldn’t take it from them.’ She was weaving her way through the rooms, decorating them already in her head. Five bedrooms were more than they needed but they could do them one at a time. Now that the dream was coming true, she was oddly more hesitant than Matthew. ‘Is Paula sure about this?’
A Close Connection Page 17
