The Blackmail Baby

by Natalie Rivers

  Frustration coiled through him, mixed with anger at his own inadequacy.

  Why was he so incapable of taking care of an infant? He wanted to be able to do it—but no matter how hard he tried he always messed it up.

  Suddenly he couldn’t bear it any longer. He reached out and drew Chloe to his side, then cupped his large hand around Emma’s head as they walked together.

  He felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

  ‘What’s that?’ he demanded, stopping in his tracks and studying Emma. ‘It’s coming from her ear!’

  He swore in Italian, and reached out to take her from Chloe. Fear for the baby suddenly gripped him, and he strode through the doors of the emergency unit knowing implicitly that he would gain the doctor’s attention more quickly.

  ‘I need a doctor.’ His voice cut through the background buzz of the waiting room. ‘My baby is not well.’

  Later that night Lorenzo watched Chloe lay Emma down to sleep in her cot in the glass-walled house. She was suffering from a nasty ear infection, and, although she probably still felt poorly, her temperature was down and the acute pain she had been experiencing had passed, since her eardrum had perforated and released the pressure.

  ‘It must have hurt so much,’ Chloe said, rubbing her hand over her own ear, as if she was suffering in sympathy.

  ‘Yes, it must have been excruciating. And I can’t believe that it could happen again,’ Lorenzo replied, remembering what the doctor said about some children being prone to ear infections. ‘I don’t think I can stand to imagine how much pain she’s in if she starts crying like that again.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s a one-off thing,’ Chloe said. ‘The doctor said that boys have a greater tendency to ear infections than girls.’

  She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. There was an interested light in her green eyes, and suddenly he realised she was watching him pace up and down the bedroom.

  He was showing a degree of agitation that she had probably never seen in him before. Hell—he’d rarely seen it in himself before.

  ‘That was unbearable,’ Lorenzo said. ‘But at least if it does happen again I’ll know what’s going on. I have never felt so helpless and scared as when I saw that ooze coming out of her ear.’

  He shuddered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

  ‘I think you are starting to feel like a parent,’ Chloe said gently.

  He stopped pacing and stared down at her, thinking about what she had said. Maybe she was right.

  Earlier, when he’d carried Emma into the examination room with ooze seeping from her ear, his heart had thudded painfully hard in his chest, and a terrible tightness had gripped his throat, making it hurt to speak. He’d waited in a state of agony, until the doctor had said that Emma would be all right, and explained what had happened.

  Lorenzo sat down on the bed next to Chloe without speaking and looked at Emma, who was now sleeping in the cot.

  ‘I think that maybe you are starting to love her,’ Chloe added quietly, reaching out and taking his hand in both of hers.

  A tremor passed through Lorenzo. And he squeezed Chloe’s hands with his.

  Over the next few days Chloe spent all her time caring for Emma. The antibiotics seemed to do their job and the baby quickly bounced back from her ear infection, becoming her normal sunny self in next to no time.

  Unfortunately Lorenzo also reverted back to his typical character—emotionally withdrawn and uncommunicative—leaving Chloe feeling confused and lost.

  When they’d flown back from Venice, she’d been convinced that their marriage was at breaking point—that he was bringing her to England to divorce her and cut her and Emma out of his life. She was no longer worried about that, because Lorenzo finally seemed to have made a genuine connection with Emma.

  The night they’d returned from the hospital and sat together holding hands, Chloe had also felt that they’d made real progress in their personal relationship. Lorenzo had begun to reveal the depth of his concern for Emma, and for the first time ever he had not rebuffed Chloe’s suggestion that he was starting to experience parental feelings—and possibly even the beginnings of love for the baby.

  Chloe had fallen asleep that night with a newfound hope warming her heart. Of course it was wonderful for Lorenzo and Emma, but she also dared to believe it would bring them all closer together as a family. And if Lorenzo could feel the beginnings of love for Emma—maybe there was a chance that he could grow to love her too.

  But she had been mistaken.

  As the days went by Lorenzo never mentioned the conversation that had given Chloe such hope again, and his taciturn mood meant she didn’t dare to raise the subject. He did start spending extra time with Emma—but his attitude towards Chloe did not appear to change at all, apart from becoming even more reticent if that was possible.

  She began to feel a shadow of despair creeping over her. It was as if as soon as Lorenzo’s emotional barricades had started to break down, he had deliberately set about building them up again.

  Chloe spent her time wandering around the house and garden with Emma. After a while she started to feel cooped up and claustrophobic—it was a large property, but there was nowhere else for her to go. The winding country lane had no footpath beside it, and wasn’t suitable for walking along, especially with a pushchair.

  She began to feel her life was on hold. Lorenzo wasn’t communicating with her, and she found herself seeking Mrs Guest’s comforting presence more and more.

  ‘Emma looks so much better now,’ the housekeeper said, looking across from the kitchen sink, where she was preparing vegetables.

  ‘Yes, she does,’ Chloe agreed, pausing for a moment to wipe a splodge of apple purée off the baby’s cheek. She had taken to giving Emma her meals in the kitchen—it made her feel less lonely.

  ‘A much better appetite,’ Mrs Guest added.

  ‘Yes, she’s nearly finished this,’ Chloe said. ‘Do you know if Lorenzo has any other cars here, besides the limo and the convertible?’ she added, suddenly changing the subject. ‘Something a bit more ordinary?’

  Mrs Guest laughed.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can ask my husband if you’d like. Are you thinking of going out on your own with Emma, and want to drive something you’re more used to?’

  ‘It was just an idea,’ Chloe replied, popping the last tiny spoonful of fruit into Emma’s mouth. ‘There’s no need for you to ask—I can do that myself.’

  ‘I’ll clean up here,’ Mrs Guest said, crossing the room to wipe over the high chair. ‘Why don’t you take Emma out into the garden? The forecast said rain later—so you might not have a chance if you wait.’

  Chloe followed Mrs Guest’s suggestion, and went outside with Emma to continue their exploration of the garden. She was so grateful that it was a vibrant time of year in nature, with long daylight hours ensuring plenty of growth and changes in the garden every day. It gave her something to concentrate her attention on—and Chloe realised it was something she had missed living in the city.

  The purple irises beside the pond had faded, but the water lilies had come out in a mass of impressive cream and white flowers. And the buds she’d seen on the roses climbing over the pergola had opened into full, wonderfully scented blooms.

  Mr Guest had put up bird-nesting boxes in a couple of big trees near the pond, and Chloe loved to see the acrobatic blue tit parents coming and going with a flash of blue and yellow feathers. She sat down on a bench with Emma on her lap to watch them. Mr Guest had told her he expected the young birds to fledge any day—and Chloe thought it would be amazing to catch sight of the fledglings leaving the nest box.

  A few minutes later a crunch on the gravel path told her that someone was approaching. It was probably Lorenzo, because the friendly gardener usually went about his work whistling cheerfully.

  Her stomach turned over with nerves, and then she looked up straight into Lorenzo’s blue eyes.

  ‘He
llo,’ he said, sitting down beside her and reaching for Emma. ‘How is she today?’ he asked, turning Emma round to face him with none of the awkwardness he’d displayed only a few days before. Then he held her standing on his knees, so she could partially take her weight with her own legs and bounce up and down, as if Lorenzo’s lap was her own private trampoline.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Chloe said shortly, unaccountably irritated by how natural Lorenzo now seemed with Emma.

  It didn’t seem fair that her stomach screwed up in knots when he approached, and yet apparently he’d completely got over his uncertain floundering with the infant.

  ‘I have been thinking about our plan to have more children,’ Lorenzo said.

  ‘Our plan?’ Chloe turned sideways on the bench and stared at him. ‘I thought our plan was to wait until things are settled—until we are properly used to our new circumstances.’

  Lorenzo’s comment seemed to be completely out of the blue. Surely he was not about to say that he thought they should start trying for a baby. They’d only been back together for a few weeks. To Chloe it still seemed as though everything was up in the air.

  ‘We agreed that we want children,’ Lorenzo said, ‘and I can’t see any point in waiting. It would be better for Emma if our first biological child is as close in age to her as possible.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re serious!’ Chloe gasped. ‘Have you forgotten what you said to me just before we left Venice? You were ready to give up on this marriage. In fact I thought that was why you’d brought me back to England—so you could leave me here, then go and get on with your life.’

  ‘I have not forgotten.’ Lorenzo’s voice was strained, as if he did not appreciate being reminded of that particular conversation. ‘But things are different now.’

  ‘No, they’re not!’ Chloe exclaimed. ‘Just because you’ve had your own personal epiphany—realising you are capable of basic human feelings towards a baby—doesn’t mean we are ready to bring more children into this marriage.’

  ‘You are a natural mother. I thought having your own baby would give you a focus in your life. Help you move on after losing your friend,’ Lorenzo said calmly, despite Chloe’s rising agitation.

  ‘Don’t patronise me!’ Chloe gasped. ‘I’ve got Emma to look after. I don’t need another baby to help me forget my friend.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that—of course I am not telling you to forget your friend. But it doesn’t seem as if you have fully committed to this marriage. I thought maybe a baby—’

  ‘No!’ Chloe interrupted. ‘You can’t solve our problems with a baby. How can you even think of using an innocent baby like that?’

  She reached across and took Emma back, then cradled her protectively in her arms.

  ‘You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to this,’ Lorenzo said harshly. ‘Nothing has changed. Whatever misunderstandings we may have had in the past—this time you knew for certain exactly where we stood.’

  ‘How could I have known?’ Chloe cried, jumping to her feet and looking Lorenzo straight in the eye. ‘I mean, really known. Until you’ve lived in a loveless marriage you can’t know what it’s like.’

  ‘You told me to my face, the night you agreed to stay in this marriage, that you did not love me.’ Lorenzo stood abruptly, towering over her once more. ‘Don’t start this nonsense about love again.’

  ‘It’s not nonsense!’ Chloe cried.

  She turned away, feeling tears stinging her eyes. She’d chosen to stay in the marriage because she loved Lorenzo, and she couldn’t imagine not being with him. But she’d never guessed how hard it would be.

  And now, knowing he loved Emma seemed to be making it even harder. Emma wasn’t his natural child, and she’d only been in his life a few weeks, and yet he’d already opened up his heart to her. But Chloe had been in his life for more than two years. If he didn’t love her by now—then she knew that he never would.

  ‘I want this marriage to work.’ Lorenzo’s deep voice rumbled through her. ‘But that is never going to happen if you keep throwing obstacles in the way.’

  ‘Love is not an obstacle!’ Chloe gasped, spinning round to face him once more. ‘Most people would think it’s essential!’

  She glared up at him, and saw he was looking down at her angrily.

  Suddenly she couldn’t bear to talk about it any more. There was no point. Nothing was going to change Lorenzo’s point of view and the only possible outcome was further humiliation and heartache for herself.

  ‘I need a car,’ she said abruptly, changing the subject completely.

  ‘What?’ Lorenzo burst out. ‘What do you need a car for?’

  ‘The same reason anyone needs a car,’ she said tersely. ‘I want to be able to get around the area independently.’

  ‘The driver will take you anywhere you want to go,’ Lorenzo said.

  ‘I said independently,’ she replied, holding his gaze crossly.

  ‘We already have the limo and the convertible here. I can’t see any need to keep another car at this property.’

  ‘I’m not asking for anything flashy,’ Chloe said, ‘just a cheap second-hand car. But if you won’t get me one, I can take the convertible.’

  A flash of irritation passed across Lorenzo’s features.

  ‘That is a powerful vehicle—dangerous if you’re not used to driving it,’ he said.

  ‘Worried I’ll drive your precious car into a ditch?’ she said sarcastically. ‘I do know how to drive.’

  ‘I’m not worried you’ll drive into a ditch,’ Lorenzo grated. ‘I’m afraid you’ll go right through the hedge—or wrap it around a tree.’

  ‘Well, buy me a little run-around. I need to go back to the cottage before the lease runs out.’

  ‘I’ll take you—in fact we’ll go together right now,’ Lorenzo said.

  ‘I want to go on my own,’ Chloe replied, looking down at the baby in her arms. ‘It’s personal.’

  ‘If you don’t want my company, the driver will take you,’ Lorenzo said stiffly. ‘He will have instructions to wait for you outside until you are done.’

  Then he turned and walked away along the gravel path.

  The following morning Chloe stood at the window, watching the limousine drive away through the wrought-iron gates. Lorenzo had a business meeting in London, and Chloe assumed he intended to utilise the travelling time working on his laptop in the back of the limo.

  She frowned, thinking that this was another day gone by when she couldn’t go back to Liz’s cottage. If she didn’t go soon, she wouldn’t have another chance. Gladys, Liz’s kindly neighbour, would have had to return the keys to the letting agency.

  Gladys had already been in and cleared the few remaining things that Chloe had left behind when Lorenzo whisked her away so suddenly. There had not been much to do—they’d already taken care of nearly everything in those heartbreakingly hollow days before the funeral.

  But Chloe still had to pick up a box of letters and mementoes that Liz had packed for Emma before her illness had progressed too far.

  ‘Let’s go and get you some breakfast,’ she said, scooping Emma up from where she was playing happily in her cot. ‘Then we’ll think of something to do today.’

  But as soon as she’d spoken a plan was already forming in her mind. She would take the convertible and drive herself to the village. Lorenzo didn’t need it that day—and, more importantly, he wasn’t there to stop her going.

  ‘Chloe!’ Gladys exclaimed as she opened the front door of her cottage. ‘What a lovely surprise. Oh, look how much Emma has grown! And you’re looking well too. Come in—come in for a cup of tea, and tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself.’

  ‘It’s lovely to see you, too,’ Chloe said, giving Gladys a hug. Then she followed her into her cheery front room, which was full of knick-knacks and drawings done by her many grandchildren.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Gladys said. ‘Then you can tell me everything.’<
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  Half an hour later Chloe gave the old lady another hug and stepped back out onto the street, carrying a sleeping Emma in her portable car seat.

  ‘It’s been lovely to see you,’ Gladys said warmly. ‘I wish we had longer to catch up, but I’ve got to pop out now. If I’m not back when you’re ready to go—just put the key through the letterbox. And promise to come back and see me soon.’

  ‘I will,’ Chloe assured her. ‘Thank you for the tea.’

  Chloe hugged the old lady one more time and went next door to Liz’s cottage, carrying Emma extra-carefully to avoid waking her up. As she opened the front door the familiar scent of Liz’s essential-oil burner wafted over her, sending her straight back to the time she had lived there with her friend.

  She sat down on the sofa and pulled Liz’s box of memories close to her. Up until that moment she hadn’t had the heart to open it. But now she realised that she should do it here—where she had shared Liz’s last few months.

  She lifted the lid gingerly, and right on the top was an envelope addressed to her in Liz’s handwriting. Her heart constricted and her hand was shaking as she lifted the letter. It was not a long letter, and the handwriting was spidery, as if Liz had struggled to find the physical strength to write it.

  Dear Chloe

  You have always been my best friend, and it has meant so much to me having you with me these last few months.

  You are a wonderful person, with a kind, true heart, and I wish you only the best in life.

  There are no words to express what it means to me, knowing that Emma will be with you when I am gone. There is no one in the world I would rather bring up my precious daughter, and I trust you completely to do what is right for her.

  But Chloe, promise me that you will not give up on your own happiness. I know you have been hurt in the past, but don’t let that stop you taking a chance on love. I truly believe that it’s better to regret the things that don’t work out in the way you’d hoped, than regret not taking a chance on something that could be amazing.