by Kim Lawrence
‘You’re wrong, my dear; I do have an idea—a very good idea.’
‘You do...?’ Perplexed by this statement, Georgina stared at her grim-faced parent.
‘Before I met your father I knew Oliver Mallory. I knew him very well.’ She eyed her daughter almost apprehensively.
Georgina sat in stunned silence. ‘Why didn’t you say when I went to work for him?’
‘Because I asked Oliver to give you the clerical job.’
‘You mean I became his personal assistant because you once slept with him?’ Georgina choked.
‘No...no, I didn’t interfere after that. He wouldn’t have given you the first chance if you hadn’t been up to it,’ she said urgently, kneading her elegant hands in anguish. ‘Oliver never was one to tolerate incompetence.’ She gave a small, brittle laugh. ‘It’s just that I wanted to give you a head start; you seemed to want it so badly. There were so many who were just as qualified as you were... I just wanted to help.’
Georgina raised her fingers to her temples and shook her head, still trying to assimilate these revelations. ‘He remembered you after all those years?’
‘We didn’t have a casual affair, Georgie; I almost married him.’
‘You and Oliver...’ she mumbled in disbelief. ‘He wasn’t my...?’ She swallowed, not quite able to say the word.
‘Father?’ Lydia gave a bitter laugh. ‘No, he wasn’t. But he might well have been if things had worked out differently. Oliver was a very ambitious man,’ she recalled. ‘He felt a wife and children at that stage in his career would slow him down. I gave him an ultimatum; in my youthful arrogance I thought he’d choose me.’ Her voice cracked with emotion. ‘Oliver was always in a hurry,’ she reflected, with a small, bitter smile that spoke volumes.
Georgina felt a surge of compassion, feeling closer to her mother than she ever had before.
‘I married your father, had you, and then Oliver came back. We resumed where we’d left off.’
Georgina felt a lot less shocked than she would have a few weeks before. ‘Did Father know?’
‘Oliver made sure he did. He could be quite ruthless and he wanted me to leave your father and...you. I couldn’t.’ She blinked back tears and, reaching for her handkerchief, sniffed delicately into it. ‘I never saw him again after the final row and we tried, your father and I, to patch things up, but he never really forgave me and he left. So, you see, in his own way—the only way he knew how—Oliver was trying to make up for what he did to us.’
‘I thought Dad left because of me,’ Georgina said, her voice almost suspended by tears.
‘I know it was selfish of me to let you think that but I knew how badly you’d think of me if you knew the truth. It wasn’t as if Paul didn’t want to keep in touch. He was working abroad and when he came back he had his new family to consider.’
‘I was surplus to requirements.’
‘No, darling, it wasn’t that; it’s just he felt a stranger after all those years. He always remembered his financial commitment to us.’
Knowing this might have helped all those years ago when she’d felt abandoned and obscurely responsible. But it was too late to speculate now and too late to know her father, she thought sadly; he had died three years before.
‘I never contacted Oliver all those years, or asked him for anything until you were looking for a job...I swear!’
Georgina had fallen to her knees on the hearth rug to catch the soft words. She reached out, and her mother, after a moment’s hesitation, caught her hands. Georgina found it was she offering the comfort as they hugged.
These revelations made her see the past in quite a dif ferent light. She was learning that things were never as black and white as they appeared. Her father hadn’t just upped and left without an explanation, and her mother, whom she’d always imagined to be the most superficial person she knew, had spent years trying to forget a tragic love affair in the arms of other men.
They talked more than they ever had done before that afternoon, but by an unspoken agreement neither mentioned the men in their lives.
The only person at Mallory’s who knew about the baby was Mary. Dear, discreet and supportive Mary, Georgina thought affectionately. These days her social contacts were slender; the temp work had dried up now that her pregnancy was well advanced and she missed the stimulation of work. She looked forward to the evenings she spent with the older woman and her husband. Their teenage children periodically appeared between their own hectic social arrangements and she watched with a mixture of envy and bewilderment the dynamics of a large family. Her own childhood seemed stark in contrast to the loud altercations and noisy jokes.
Georgina glanced at her watch. Mary must be working late. She was waiting as arranged in the underground car park at Mallory’s. She could imagine the comments her presence would provoke if she chose to walk through the building right now. Her hand went to the expanding mound of her belly, no longer disguised by the oversized shirt and cardigan she wore.
If news of her condition should reach the wrong ears... An expression of cold determination hardened her features. Would Callum even acknowledge his relationship to the unborn child? She didn’t want to know, she thought grimly. This was her baby! He’d already implied she was basically unfit to be a mother; she wasn’t letting him have any say in the matter.
‘Well, well, well!’
She jumped as if stung. ‘Simon!’ Her heart dropped as she looked around the empty basement, hoping to see Mary.
‘Come back to grovel for your old job?’
Even before he got nearer Georgina. could see that he was drunk. ‘I’m waiting for someone,’ she said shortly.
‘Mr Great-and-bloody-perfect Stewart, I s’pose...’ he shared.
The knowledge that Callum was in the building filled Georgina with a panic that made her blind to the insulting way the man’s eyes were running over her body. Simon dropped his car keys on the floor as he lurched closer and the noise drew Georgina’s attention back to her immediate predicament.
‘I hope you’re not going to drive in that condition,’ she said, her nostrils flaring in distaste as the raw smell of alcohol wafted towards her when he straightened up.
‘Hope you’re not going to drive like that,’ he mimicked. ‘I’ll do what I bloody well like. Do you hear me? You stuck-up little...!’
Georgina let out a startled shriek as he lunged forward and caught her by the hair. His velocity sent her hard against Mary’s car. The contact of his heavy body made her feel like retching.
‘Let go of me!’ she yelled, turning her head to one side to avoid the malicious glitter of his eyes. But she knew it would be fatal to show any fear; a man like this would feed on it. He was leaning heavily against her, against her baby. She wanted to scream but there was no one to hear her. She had to protect the baby!
‘Too good for me, weren’t you? Well, I’m calling the shots now.’
He twisted his fingers in her hair, and his mouth, wet and hot, covered hers. Her body was rigid with rejection and shock. Instinctively she bit down hard on his lip, revolted and terrified by the assault. Simon lifted his head, cursing as he touched the blood dripping from his mouth. Raising his arm, he struck her, backhanded, across the cheek, sending her head sideways. He would have done it again to stop her screams if he hadn’t been lifted bodily off her.
Georgina slid to the floor as her legs collapsed beneath her, numb and shaking. Mary was there beside her before the noises of the brief scuffle stopped.
‘Something’s wrong,’ she said. Her eyes were darkly tragic as she lifted her head off the other woman’s shoulder. ‘The baby...’ she said, her voice shaking with fear.
‘Is she all right?’ Callum materialised at their side. He was rubbing the grazed knuckles of his right hand and his face looked like thunder.
‘We need an ambulance,’ Mary replied urgently.
‘What did the bastard do?’
‘No, it’s the baby,’ Mary said, running
a soothing hand over Georgina’s clammy forehead.
Callum froze, and went an unhealthy grey beneath his dark tan. His eyes moved over the still form of the girl slumped on the floor until they reached the definite expansion around her middle.
‘No time; we’ll use my car,’ he said, life suddenly returning to his limbs. He bent down and scooped Georgina up. She felt as limp as a rag doll in his arms. Her waxen eyelids flickered open and for a moment their eyes met; she looked at him blankly as if she didn’t recognise him.
The journey to the hospital was a blur. She knew Mary was beside her and that she kept saying comforting things, but Georgina was convinced that something too terrible for words to make better was happening. Mary gasped occasionally as the car made some unorthodox manoeuvre through the heavy traffic but Georgina was oblivious to all external matters.
Callum carried her into the casualty department, undeterred by official attempts to halt his progress. She didn’t know what he said or did, but very soon she was in a cubicle, being seen by a distinguished-looking man with a carnation in his lapel.
His hands moved clinically over her body and his smile was professionally noncommittal. ‘Pain?’
‘Not now,’ she said flatly. ‘My baby’s dead, isn’t it?’ she said hoarsely.
‘Did your companion do that?’ he asked sternly, touching the bruised side of her face.
Georgina looked at him with frustration; she wasn’t concerned about her face. ‘Callum?’ she asked with amazement. ‘Of course not!’ she said indignantly, colouring as she realised the direction her thoughts were going. ‘There was a drunk in the car park.’
‘In that case I’ll let him in whilst we listen for the heartbeat,’ he said, his manner visibly relaxing. ‘Security will be relieved,’ he observed wryly, half to himself.
‘The baby’s alive...?’ she said incredulously. She was too relieved to tell him that Callum didn’t belong here at all. When the electronic monitor picked up the swift sounds of the baby’s heartbeat it was the sweetest music she’d ever heard. She closed her eyes and large, silent tears ran down her face. She didn’t look at Callum quietly standing in the corner of the tiny room.
‘But I was bleeding,’ she said as her anxiety returned.
‘A very slight loss; no need to panic. We’ll send you for a scan immediately. Then I’ll see you on the ward a little later.’
She gave a quivering sigh and smiled faintly. ‘Thank you.’
The doctor disappeared behind the curtain and they were alone. Just the two of us—no, three, she thought, her hand going to her stomach in a protective gesture. She turned her head slowly to look at him, defiance and caution in her eyes.
He looked so bleak, so incredibly grim that she shuddered apprehensively. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. ‘I... Thank you for getting rid of Simon; you can go now. Tell Mary I’m all right, will you?’
‘Thank you for giving me permission,’ he drawled with savage sarcasm, ‘but I’ll go when I damned well want to and not before. You know they thought I’d attacked you?’ he said, disgust curling his upper lip. ‘What in God’s name possessed you to start seeing May? I wouldn’t have thought you’d believe in rekindling old flames.’
She blinked, startled by the explosive question. ‘I wasn’t—’
‘You were waiting for him in the bloody car park. Pregnant. How stupid and thoughtless can you get? A man who beats you and you get pregnant. If you want to put yourself in that position, fine! But exposing a child to that sort of abuse is criminally irresponsible!’
It was ironic when she considered how terrified she’d been of him finding out about the baby. He actually thought she and Simon... She ought to feel relief but she felt a lick of pure rage. How dared he think she...? She had quite absurdly expected him to know instinctively that the child was his and perversely she felt furious with him for not realising it.
‘I’ll naturally cherish your opinion,’ she drawled, shaking with reaction. She’d forgotten how intensely blue his eyes were; they were cold and furious but still capable of making her stomach tighten.
She despised her weakness, aware of the danger it represented. Even now she was conscious of every minute detail of his appearance—the way his hair curled against his collar, the shadow his eyelashes cast along the slant of his cheekbones. Concentrate, Georgie, she told herself, lowering her gaze with an enormous effort. ‘Go and tell Mary; she’ll be worried.’ And she gave a sigh of relief when, amazingly, he did as she requested.
Callum calmly walked into the room just as the technician was beginning the scan. ‘Sorry I’m late; I was getting Mary a taxi. I told her I’d keep her up to date with any news.’
The technician smiled, accepting his right to be there. Georgina could have wept with frustration; she ought to have known he’d been too uncharacteristically docile in disappearing. She could have made a fuss and had him expelled but she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. She had to know if everything was all right!
‘Sit here; you’ll be able to see better,’ the young woman said helpfully.
This was too much! Georgina had just turned her head to glare at him when the girl’s next words glued her eyes to the screen.
‘There’s the heart beating...just there.’
Georgina was hooked as the commentary continued, fascinated by the grainy images on the screen. Words like bonding took on a new meaning as the emotions rose within her and tears welled in her eyes. ‘Is everything all right?’
She relaxed at the cheerful reply, her tears obscuring her vision. She turned her head and discovered Callum’s chest. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to seek comfort in hard solidity. For a few moments she burrowed, clutching at handfuls of his shirt with trembling fingers. His fingers were in her hair, kneading the strained muscles of her neck.
‘Let me see, you must be twenty-nine weeks by now,’ the girl observed, oblivious to the sudden tension in the room. Georgina straightened up, not daring to look at Callum. A frisson of pure dread lanced through her.
‘No, I. . .I don’t think so,’ Georgina stammered, trying desperately to retrieve the situation. She couldn’t hope that Callum hadn’t picked up on that; he was far too astute not to draw the obvious conclusions from this fact.
‘You’d be amazed how many people don’t have their dates right,’ the girl said with a laugh, wiping the gel off Georgina’s stomach and readjusting the white hospital gown. ‘But the measurements give a very accurate estimate.’
He didn’t say a word—just gave one fierce, accusatory glare. Anticipation of what he would say was almost worse than the actual event; she could read menace in every line of his body. The baby is alive—that’s all that matters, she kept telling herself.
She was tucked up in bed by the time the doctor reappeared. ‘Let’s have Dad in on this, shall we?’ he said cheerfully, and Georgina almost groaned out loud as Callum appeared on cue.
The technical details were vaguely confusing but Georgina hung onto the words ‘no reason why you shouldn’t have a perfectly healthy baby’. The mention of total bed rest for two weeks and careful monitoring made her thoughts become frantic as she pondered with dismay the practical implications of this news.
The obvious solution was to go home, but her mother had never really been good at the nursemaid side of maternal responsibility. She had been a firm believer in illness being very much a question of mind over matter. As far as Georgina could recall, a brisk walk had been her answer to most of the childish ailments she had suffered.
‘I’ll see she looks after herself and the baby.’
Georgina shot Callum a startled look. Circumstances and the fact that she’d been too gutless and embarrassed to tell the doctor she didn’t want him here might have meant that Callum had been privy to this consolation but she’d have to make it plain to him that his involvement ended here.
‘I’ll see you both in the morning,’ the doctor said, leaving them.
�
�I didn’t know consultants were so accessible,’ she observed with a frown as he closed the door. She looked around the room with sudden suspicion. ‘Why aren’t I in the main ward?’
‘I thought you’d prefer some privacy.’
‘I can’t afford to pay for privacy.’ Her voice felt thick where her mouth was beginning to swell. I must look quite awful, she thought, touching the bruised skin experimentally and wincing.
‘I can,’ he said, his expression tightening as he watched her grimace of pain. ‘And as it’s my child we’re talking about it’s my right. You have a peculiar view about my rights, don’t you, Georgina?’ he accused her grimly. ‘Did you ever intend telling me?’
His softly furious question stilled her instinctive protest at being in any way in his debt. ‘It’s none of your business,’ she said stubbornly, covertly studying his face to judge the degree of anger in his reaction to learning he was to be a father. What she saw didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.
‘My child is none of my business?’ The fact that he didn’t raise his voice only served to emphasise his anger. His blue eyes glittered ferociously.
‘Biologically you’re the father,’ she admitted hoarsely. ‘But your part was over with a long time ago. What we had was casual, a brief moment of madness.’ Despite the sensation of dread that crawled in the pit of her stomach she tried to sound as impersonal and sensible as possible. I can’t be seen to waver, she told herself firmly.
Callum’s head jerked as though she’d struck him but his face was as hard as rock. ‘The baby changes things.’
‘Not for you.’
‘You can’t really think I’m willing to let you deny me contact with my child?’
‘I find your possessive attitude a little difficult to take,’ she snapped, feeling close to exhaustion by this point. ‘Until a few minutes ago you didn’t know the child existed and you cared less.’
‘And whose fault is that?’
‘I want this child and you’re not going to take him from me!’ Knuckles clenched bone-white on the counterpane, she glared at him defiantly.
