The Trouble with Great Aunt Milly

by Alice Ross

  Matt couldn’t move. His head told him one thing, his body quite another.

  ‘Come on, babe. You know you can’t resist me.’ She sat up and popped open the front fastener of her bra.

  Matt groaned. Jesus Christ! What the hell was he supposed to do now? Maybe if they just got the sex thing out of the way, he could think more clearly. He’d only have to do it once, then-

  The front door clicked open. Shit! Olga! His ardour shrivelled as effectively as if he’d been plunged into a freezer. Before he could say or do anything, she appeared in the open doorway. He watched as the smile slid from her face, replaced by a look of horror and bewilderment. She stared first at the bare-breasted Francesca, then the equally bare-breasted Matt.

  He opened his mouth to explain but, before he could say a word, she disappeared.

  ‘Olga,’ he shouted, hobbling after her as quickly as his crutches permitted.

  But he was too late. The door slammed shut.

  ‘Who was that?’ demanded Francesca.

  ‘Olga.’

  ‘And who’s she when she’s at home?’

  ‘She’s-’ He stopped. Who was she exactly? She was a friend. But, after the lingering kiss they’d shared just hours before, was she more than that? He’d been hoping to find out the answer this morning. But now, thanks to Francesca, she probably wouldn’t want to see him again. Not that he intended telling Francesca any of this. He didn’t owe her an explanation. He owed her nothing at all. While she, on the other hand, owed him rather a lot.

  ‘She’s my housekeeper,’ he informed her tartly.

  ‘Huh, is that all?’ she sniffed, shaking back her mane of lustrous locks. ‘By the look on your face I thought she must be more than that. Anyway, if you ask me, she’s got the hots for you. Why else would she storm out like that? But who cares about a little maid? Come on, baby. Lie down here beside me.’

  Matt couldn’t believe the audacity. ‘For God’s sake,’ he snarled. ‘Do you honestly think that flashing your tits makes everything okay?’

  ‘No. Of course not. I know what I did was pretty bad but-’

  ‘Pretty bad? You think standing me up at the altar without a word of explanation to shack up with some low-life bloody footballer is pretty bad? Oh, and well done on the spread in Hello! by the way. Very convenient that. Not only did it save you the trouble of telling me what you’d done, but it also let everyone else in the world know too.’

  She refastened her bra.

  ‘Have you any idea how humiliated I’ve been?’ he continued. ‘But no. How stupid of me to ask. You won’t have any idea because you won’t have given me a second thought. As usual it’s all about you and sod everybody else.’

  She gazed up at him, tears running down her cheeks. ‘Look, I know I’ve hurt you. I made a stupid mistake. I wasn’t thinking straight. It was the stress of the wedding and my agent sacking me and you losing your job. And Antonio … Well, he was just there … when I needed someone.’

  ‘I was there when you needed someone,’ hissed Matt. ‘But you were never there for me, were you? Not once. I needed someone when I lost my job. But where the hell were you?’

  ‘I know I’ve been a selfish bitch,’ she sobbed. ‘Which is why I want to make it up to you. Let’s get married. As soon as we can, without all the fuss. And … if you still want to … we can have that baby.’

  His jaw dropped. ‘Wh- what?’

  ‘A baby. If you still want to, we should have one.’

  *

  Anya’s termination was due to take place the day after tomorrow. In forty-eight hours she’d be free again. But free to do what? Still she’d made no decision about her future. But what she did know was that she’d never been more miserable in her entire life.

  *

  James arrived at the hospital just before noon to collect Alex. The moment he set eyes on her a rush of love suffused him. He wanted to scoop her up and magic her away to a place where horrible things like this didn’t happen. But he couldn’t. Because this wasn’t a fairy tale. This was real life. And in real life shit happened, as he knew all too well. But he couldn’t say any of that to Alex. He had to be strong – for her sake. He sucked in a deep breath as she climbed into the car. She looked exhausted.

  He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. ‘You okay, Miss Corr? Given the circs.’

  Her attempt at a smile caused his heart to flip. ‘Given the circs, Mr Pinkerton, I’m okay,’ she said, raising his hand to her lips and returning the gesture.

  ‘So when will you get the results?’ he ventured, forcing himself to voice the dreaded question.

  ‘In two days.’

  Two days! He couldn’t stand it. But he had to – for her. ‘Two days, huh? Well, we’ll have to keep you suitably occupied between now and then. How about we go out for lunch?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. It’s a lovely idea but I’m shattered. I really can’t face people at the moment. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Of course, I don’t,’ he replied, swinging the jeep around. ‘I can’t face people either, which is precisely why we aren’t going to.’

  James stopped the car in a lay-by right next to Buttercup Meadow. From the back of the jeep he produced a picnic-rug, hamper, and cushions. ‘We, Miss Corr,’ he announced, ‘are going to have a picnic. All by ourselves.’

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘Oh, James,’ she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘You’re brilliant. Do you know that?’

  ‘You may want to hold back on the compliments until you’ve tasted the food,’ he chuckled, breathing in the scent of her hair. ‘Now, are you going to help me carry some of this, or do I have to pretend to be a gentleman and do it all by myself?’

  In the meadow they spread out the rug under a large oak tree, lay down and, within minutes, fell soundly asleep. When they awoke, they made a small inroad into the food, before driving back to Little Crumpton. James pulled up outside the Palmers’ cottage.

  ‘Would you like to come in?’ Alex asked diffidently.

  ‘I don’t know. Would you like me to?’

  She ran a hand through her hair. ‘Of course. But I’m completely exhausted. I don’t think I’d be much company.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Look, why don’t you have a nice soak in the bath and an early night. Call me if you want some company later. I’m available day or night. Although I should make you aware that after six o’clock my evening call out rate applies.’

  She giggled. ‘Thanks. And I should make you aware that you’re worth every penny of your evening call out rate.’

  Chapter 26

  The piercing pain in her belly woke Anya at two thirty-five in the morning. A rush of panic surged through her. Oh my God. Was she losing the baby?

  Thirty minutes later the pain subsided and she found herself crying - tears of relief. Firstly that she hadn’t miscarried, and secondly that she’d decided her future would definitely include her child. Whatever happened, she didn’t want to lose this baby. As the consequences of her decision hit her, her relief was replaced by a queue of other emotions: excitement, anticipation and terror. She would be a parent. A single parent. There’d be no one else in the world upon whom her child could depend. And that was the most terrifying notion of all.

  *

  Francesca’s reappearance had hit Matt with all the impact of an atomic bomb. Not only did she want to marry him, but she’d completely changed her mind on the baby issue. It was too much for him to take in, as were the two suitcases she’d dragged along with her. How bloody presumptuous could you get? He was surprised she hadn’t brought Mimi too. But even she must’ve considered that a step too far. Still, that minor consideration aside, did she honestly think a couple of hours in the sack would sort out all their problems? Obviously she did. Consequently, her expression when he’d informed her that she couldn’t stay, had been priceless. It was too much, too soon, he’d explained. Reluctantly, she’d agreed, kissing him on the cheek and waltzing out the door
with a victorious flick of her hair.

  But Francesca’s victory wasn’t as clear-cut as she imagined. Matt wasn’t stupid enough to believe she’d left Antonio Fernandez. Fame-hungry women like her never walked away from a celebrity catch. A brief internet search had provided the answer to the mystery: in the shapely form of a nubile Danish tennis player, who’d seamlessly taken Francesca’s place in Antonio’s bed.

  What Francesca was doing now was salvaging what she could of her media reputation. The tabloids would be watching her every move, desperate to snap her broken-hearted, mooching about the supermarket in slippers. But Matt knew her better than that. She was probably on the phone to Hello! right now, spinning some yarn about how she’d realised Matt was the love of her life, and how she hadn’t be able to bear being with Antonio a minute longer. She was a manipulating cow. So why then, hadn’t he simply told her where to go?

  Because he had his reasons: tens of thousands of pounds worth of reasons, lurking in a drawer in the sideboard in the form of unpaid bills. If Francesca could use him, then he could use her. If they did marry and have a baby, he’d inherit Great Aunt Milly’s shares; all his money worries would be eradicated; and he’d have a child – the idea of which he’d really warmed to. But, as he sat on the kitchen stool deliberating this solution, he realised it didn’t fill him with excitement. There was a very large fly in the ointment. A very large Polish fly. And it was one he had no desire to swat.

  *

  For the first time in her life Anya had rang into work sick. Not that she was sick. She just couldn’t face it. And in another first, she’d spent the entire morning in her pyjamas, watching daytime TV. Then, early that afternoon, curled up under her duvet on the sofa, she’d fallen asleep. The sound of her doorbell ringing woke her. In something of a fug, she stumbled over to the door and pulled it open. There before her stood Jakov.

  *

  James had to go into work. In a rare occurrence, Anya had phoned in sick. But James didn’t have time to worry about Anya. His every waking thought was concerned with Alex. He’d planned on taking her out for the day to try and take her mind off things, but now he had to work. He really didn’t want to leave her on her own. But maybe he didn’t have to …

  ‘Good morning, Miss Corr,’ he said, affecting his poshest accent. ‘This is the Little Crumpton Veterinary Practice. We are a vet short today and wondered if you’d like to step into the breach.’

  ‘Doing what?’ she giggled.

  ‘The list is endless. We have a guinea-pig that needs feeding, a rabbit that needs mucking-out, and I think some serious chatting may well be required with our receptionist. So are you in or out?’

  ‘I’m in.’

  Much to James’ delight, Alex loved helping out at the practice, even accompanying him on a couple of farm visits during the afternoon.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said when he dropped her off at the cottage. ‘I’ve had a great day.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘I was, um, wondering if you’d like to come round for a bite to eat tonight. It won’t be anything exciting, but-’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘And would you … mind staying with me?’

  ‘Do you really have to ask?’ he said, before taking her in his arms.

  *

  Matt ran over the facts: he was in dire financial straits and a beautiful woman was offering to carry out the terms of Great Aunt Milly’s will thereby solving all his monetary worries. So why, then, was he dithering?

  The phone rang - the agency informing him Olga wouldn’t be in that evening. She was sick. Would he like a replacement? No, he bloody wouldn’t. What he would like was Olga’s telephone number so he could enquire about her health. Completely out of the question, came back the reply: data protection. He hung up and ran a despairing hand through his hair.

  His mobile beeped into life again with a text. From Francesca. Would he like some company tonight? Yes he would, he mused, an image of Olga’s huge brown eyes flashing before him.

  With a great deal of effort and an almighty sigh, he texted back: OK.

  *

  The moment Anya had opened the door to Jakov, yet another rush of emotions had overtaken her, resulting in yet more tears.

  He’d wrapped his arms around her, making her feel safe and protected.

  ‘What is it?’ he’d gently pressed.

  I’m carrying your child she longed to tell him. But she hadn’t. There was no point. He was with Imogen.

  She was just a bit under the weather, she’d said instead. Before falling asleep in his arms on the sofa.

  *

  James had slept on Alex’s sofa. After their impromptu dinner of quiche and salad, she’d struggled to keep her eyes open. He’d sent her to bed.

  ‘God, some girlfriend I am,’ she sighed. ‘You must think I’m a complete wuss.’

  ‘You are. But because you’re so gorgeous, I’ll let you off.’

  ‘You’re too good to me,’ she giggled. Then, the smile slipping from her face, ‘I really mean that, James. You are good to me. And I want to say thanks.’

  ‘What for?’ he asked, brushing his hand gently against her cheek.

  ‘For just being here. When I’ve needed you. ’

  ‘I’ll always be here when you need me. Unless you decide to trade me in for a younger model.’

  ‘Somehow,’ she replied, pulling his head down towards hers. ‘I really don’t think that’s going to happen.’

  *

  Francesca had evidently had a busy day - at the beauty salon. Arriving at the apartment that evening she positively shimmered in what there was of her leopard-print dress.

  ‘We’ll have to call in a takeaway,’ Matt informed her as she strutted up the hall on pencil-thin stilettoes.

  ‘Why? What happened to the little maid?’

  ‘She didn’t come back,’ he muttered, hobbling along in her perfumed wake.

  She came to an abrupt halt and spun around so quickly he almost fell off his crutches. ‘Good,’ she purred, wrapping her arms around his waist. ‘That means I can take care of you all by myself.’

  Matt cocked an eyebrow. The notion of Francesca taking care of anyone other than herself was laughable.

  ‘And,’ she murmured, nuzzling into his neck and pushing her breasts against his chest, ‘we can have a really long lie-in in the morning. A really, really long lie-in.’

  His senses rocketed.

  ‘Let’s pass on the food,’ she whispered, slipping down the straps of her dress as she headed for the bedroom.

  Matt was so turned on he could hardly move.

  She waited for him at the bedroom door. ‘You know I love you, babe, don’t you?’ she said, curling her arms around his neck.

  Matt didn’t reply. Reality smacked him in the face. She didn’t love him. And he didn’t love her. All they were doing was using one another for their own ends. It was sick and shallow and … wrong.

  He took a wobbly step back and said, ‘I think you’d better go.’

  Chapter 27

  Anya hadn’t been to work for a week. Nor did she have any interest in returning. Still coming to terms with keeping the baby, she needed to figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

  Jakov had visited every day. They’d developed something of a routine. For the last three evenings they’d eaten together – beans on toast, pizza, pasta. Then they’d curled up on the sofa and watched old movies. And each night, before he left, he kissed her gently on the cheek.

  Anya never wanted him to leave. She liked the way he made her feel: happy and safe. Her curiosity about him and Imogen had got the better of her, so she’d asked him. He’d been surprised. Yes, they’d gone out a couple of times, he explained, but Imogen was just a kid. He liked his women more worldly – more like Anya.

  *

  Matt hadn’t slept a wink all night. He’d lain on the bed staring at the ceiling, contemplating the mess that was his life. What the hell had he done? He’
d chucked out Francesca – a sex goddess and the answer to all his monetary worries - and he didn’t even care. The minute she’d stalked out of the apartment, he’d closed the door on her – literally and metaphorically – and heaved a sigh of relief.

  He didn’t love her, and he wasn’t sure he ever had. Their relationship had been based purely on sex and, as mind-blowing and plentiful as it had been, it was not enough. There were no foundations to support it. Living the high-life, they’d merrily sailed along but the minute the waters had turned choppy, they’d well and truly sunk. Indeed, upon further contemplation, Matt wondered if he’d ever even liked Francesca. Of course he liked the way she looked. What bloke wouldn’t? But scratch beneath the fake tan and you’d find a vacuous, selfish, egotistical bitch, who wouldn’t cross the road to help a member of her own family; the complete antithesis of Olga who was funny, clever, capable and caring. And who, he now realised, he’d fallen head-over-heels in love with.

  *

  At the hospital James and Alex waited for her name to be called.

  ‘Alex Corr, please,’ eventually announced a petite nurse.

  James’ heart increased its already furious hammering.

  Alex’s face turned a shade paler. She stood up.

  ‘Good luck,’ he whispered.

  She fixed him with a beseeching look. ‘Would you come in with me?’

  His blood ran cold. Shit. He hadn’t been expecting that. A flood of memories swam before him. He’d been with Olivia when she’d received her results. It had been horrendous. Could he put himself through that again?

  He looked at her terrified face.

  And knew he could.

  *

  Matt didn’t care that he’d let Francesca – and the solution to his monetary problems – go. Nor did he care that he still owed thousands of pounds. All he wanted was to see Olga again and tell her how he felt. He didn’t care that she was still married, or that she could have no more children, meaning he’d never get his hands on Great Aunt Milly’s money. If he had to choose between a life of luxury with Francesca, or living in a cardboard box with Olga and Maria, it would be the latter every time.