The Pregnancy Affair

by Anne Mather

  Seeing her again had definitely unsettled him. When he’d agreed to go and meet her, he’d anticipated coming away with a certain smug satisfaction that he’d done the right thing all those years ago. What he’d expected, he realised, was that the image he’d kept of her all this time would have been flawed by age and experience. But it wasn’t true. Instead, she was just as lovely, just as sexy, as he remembered.

  Which annoyed the hell out of him. Dammit, just because she’d taken care of her appearance didn’t change the woman she was inside. The most beautiful creatures in the world could be deadly. Even so…

  He scowled, rubbing his free hand over his jaw that was already rough with stubble. Then, swallowing a mouthful of his coffee, he turned away from the window and started towards the door. He needed a shave and a shower, not necessarily in that order. He’d probably feel better if he could look at himself without immediately noticing the bags beneath his eyes.

  He’d made it as far as the stairs when the doorbell rang. He glanced at his wrist, realised he wasn’t wearing his watch, and cursed under his breath. What the hell time was it? Not later than seven-thirty, surely. It had to be the mail, but he wasn’t expecting any parcels as far as he knew.

  He set his cup down on the second stair and trudged back to the door. The wooden floor was cold beneath his bare feet and he wished he’d stopped to put on a robe. But who knew he was going to have to face a visitor? he thought irritably. Particularly this morning, when he was feeling so bloody grumpy to begin with.

  The door was solid oak so he couldn’t see who it was until he’d released the deadlock and swung it open. Then his eyes widened and he stared disbelievingly at the child who was standing outside.

  ‘Sean!’ he exclaimed blankly. But then, noticing that the boy was shivering, Joel hurriedly stepped back and invited him in. He closed the door as Sean moved inside, dropping a backpack he’d been carrying on the floor. His brows drew together. ‘How the hell did you get here?’

  Sean shrugged. He was tall for his age, lean and wiry, with Joel’s dark hair and colouring and his mother’s blue eyes. He was approaching his eleventh birthday, and in recent months Joel had noticed he’d developed an increasingly stubborn attitude.

  ‘I caught the bus,’ he said at last, moving into the kitchen. ‘Got any cola?’

  Joel paused in the doorway, watching as his son took a can of cola out of the fridge and flipped the tab. ‘There are no buses this early in the day,’ he said, as Sean swallowed thirstily. ‘Does your mother know you’re here?’

  ‘She will soon,’ said Sean, removing the can from his lips and glancing about him. ‘Can I have something to eat?’

  Joel sucked in a breath. ‘What does that mean, exactly? She will soon.’ He repeated what his son had said. ‘Come on, you might as well tell me.’

  Sean shrugged. ‘I’ve left home,’ he said, opening the fridge door again and pulling out a pack of bacon. ‘Can I make myself a sandwich? I’m really hungry.’

  Joel stared at him. ‘Hold it,’ he said. ‘Before we go any further, I want you to explain how you got here and why your mother doesn’t know yet. Then I’ll ring her and put her mind at rest.’

  ‘I shouldn’t bother.’

  Sean was fiddling with the plastic wrapper of the bacon but before he could go any further his father stepped forward and snatched it out of his hands. ‘Answers, Sean,’ he said. ‘Then we can talk about breakfast. Why are you shivering? For God’s sake, have you been out all night?’

  ‘No.’ Sean was indignant, but Joel didn’t believe him.

  ‘So where have you been?’ he demanded.

  ‘I can walk, you know.’ Sean hunched his shoulders. And then, seeing his father’s expression, ‘All right, I spent the night in the barn up the road.’ He grimaced as Joel showed his horror. ‘It wasn’t so bad. There was some straw in the loft and a horse blanket. It smelled a bit, but it wasn’t bad.’

  Joel stared at him. ‘So how come your mother doesn’t know yet?’

  ‘How’d you think? She and the hulk went out last night and they don’t usually check on me when they come in.’

  ‘Don’t call Stewart “the hulk”,’ said Joel, though he had to admit Louise’s second husband did have a beer belly. ‘And what are you saying? That they went out and left you in the house on your own?’

  ‘Hey, I’m old enough,’ protested Sean, eyeing the bacon enviously. ‘Look, couldn’t we just have something to eat before you phone Mum?’

  Joel hesitated, then he tossed the bacon back to him. ‘I’ll ring your mother,’ he said resignedly. ‘Don’t set the place on fire.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ Sean grinned now. ‘D’you want some, too?’

  His father shook his head. ‘I’m going to take a shower after I’ve made that call. If you’re cold, just adjust the thermostat on the Aga. You know how, don’t you?’

  Receiving his son’s assurance that he did indeed know how to adjust the stove which heated the entire house, Joel went across the hall to the stairs again and rescued his coffee. As expected, it was cool now, but he intended to ring Louise before doing anything else. And from his bedroom. He had no intention of allowing Sean to listen in.

  His ex-wife answered the phone with a note of irritation in her voice. ‘Yes?’ she said, and Joel guessed she’d probably had a late night. For the first time, he resented the fact that she and Stewart had custody of Sean. What kind of role models was he being faced with every day?

  ‘It’s me,’ he said abruptly. ‘Do you know where Sean is?’

  ‘Still in bed, I expect.’ Louise didn’t sound worried. ‘I’ve banged on his door and told him he won’t have time for any breakfast, but does he listen? No way. Anyway, if you want to speak to him, Joel, you’ll have to wait until tonight.’

  The temptation to say ‘OK’ and ring off was appealing, but the last thing Joel needed was for Stewart Barlow to accuse him of kidnapping his son. ‘He’s not in bed, he’s here,’ he said, without preamble. ‘As you’d know, Louise, if you’d bothered to check on him last night.’

  Louise was briefly silenced. She wasn’t used to Joel criticising her and he guessed she was wondering how to respond. ‘Are you saying he’s been with you since yesterday evening?’ she demanded, after a moment. ‘Don’t you think you should have taken the trouble to let me know before this?’

  ‘How do you know I didn’t ring last night?’ asked Joel flatly.

  Another silence. Then, ‘So he has been with you all night? Oh, Joel—’

  ‘No.’ Joel interrupted her. ‘I was only making the point that you weren’t there, even if I had phoned.’ He sighed. ‘I thought children had to be at least thirteen before being left alone.’

  Louise sighed. ‘We weren’t out for long—’

  ‘Even so…’

  ‘What’s he been telling you?’ She sounded suspicious now. ‘He can be a little monkey, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ Joel was reluctant, but he had to be honest. ‘As a matter of fact, he only arrived on my doorstep a few minutes ago.’

  ‘So where did he spend the night?’ She sounded worried now.

  ‘He says in a neighbour’s barn.’

  ‘My God!’ Louise was horrified. Then she hesitated. ‘So why didn’t he come to you last night?’

  ‘I’m afraid I was out, too,’ said Joel unwillingly. ‘I had a meeting at the college. I didn’t get back until late.’

  ‘So you weren’t part of the welcome-home committee for Olivia Foley?’ teased Louise, not without a touch of jealousy. ‘I expect you’ve heard she’s come back to see her father.’

  Joel quelled his impatience. He had no desire to discuss Olivia’s return with his ex-wife. ‘If I’d known Sean was likely to turn up, I’d have been here,’ he retorted shortly. ‘And I don’t think you should have left him alone in the house.’

  ‘I don’t, usually.’ Louise was defensive. ‘But Stewart wanted to go out and I didn’t think there was any harm in it. We were only do
wn the road, for goodness’ sake! If he’d needed anything, he had the pub’s number.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Joel wasn’t prepared to discuss it over the phone. ‘Look, I haven’t had time to talk to him yet. I need to find out why he decided to do a bunk. Give me the rest of the day, can you? I’ll give you a ring tonight.’

  ‘But what about school?’

  ‘He can take a day off, can’t he? It wouldn’t be the first time, I’m sure.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Joel backed off. ‘Come on, Louise. Give the kid a break.’

  Louise was obviously not happy about the situation, but she decided not to be awkward. Perhaps she was afraid Joel might report her to the authorities. The custody order could be changed in his favour if he chose to complain.

  ‘Well, OK,’ she said at last. ‘But I think you should bring him home tonight.’

  ‘We’ll see.’

  Joel didn’t argue, but he didn’t promise anything either. He still had to find out why Sean had chosen to run away.

  Fortunately, he only had one tutorial this morning and he could take his son to the university with him. Sean could play on the computer in his office while he was in the lecture hall.

  His coffee was cold now, and, putting it aside, he studied his reflection in the mirror above the bathroom basin. He didn’t look good, he thought ruefully. He looked as if it were him, and not Louise, who’d had a heavy night.

  He wondered now why he’d married her in the first place. It wasn’t on the rebound. Well, not precisely, anyway. After Olivia left, he’d wasted no time before applying for a place at university, and the next four years had passed with the minimum amount of pain.

  It wasn’t until he’d returned to Bridgeford that the whole sorry mess of his marriage to Olivia had come back to haunt him. Had he thought that marrying someone else and having a child would make him happy? It hadn’t, although the son they’d had meant everything to him. And he was determined to ensure that Sean didn’t suffer because of his mistakes.

  CHAPTER THREE

  OLIVIA was in her room, sorting through the clothes she’d brought with her and wondering whether a trip to the nearest town for reinforcements was needed, when Jayne knocked at the door.

  Since her arrival a few days ago, her niece had become a frequent visitor, always making some excuse for disturbing her, finding reasons to stop and chat. Olivia guessed the girl found the fact that her aunt had lived in New York for several years fascinating, and her obvious admiration was reassuring in the face of her brother-in-law’s hostility.

  Not that Olivia had seen that much of Martin Dempsey, thank goodness! Apart from the evening meal, which they all shared, he spent much of his time outdoors.

  ‘Hi,’ Jayne said now, coming into the room at her aunt’s summons and casting an envious eye over the clothes spread out on the bed. The girl was tall and slim, much like Olivia herself, but her hair was russet-coloured, like her father’s, and her features were almost completely his. ‘Oh, my, what are you doing?’ She fingered the ruched sleeve of an ivory tulle shirt. ‘You have such beautiful clothes.’

  ‘Thanks. I think.’ Olivia pulled a wry face. ‘I was just wondering if I ought to buy myself some jeans and a couple of T-shirts. I didn’t bring a lot of clothes with me and those I have brought don’t seem appropriate somehow.’

  ‘Who says?’

  Jayne spoke indignantly, but Olivia could tell she wasn’t really interested. And Olivia knew better than to say the girl’s father resented her being here. Martin apparently didn’t like women who showed any independence, and her clothes seemed to be an added source of aggravation.

  Jayne perched herself on the end of the bed and regarded her aunt consideringly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘You can ask.’ Olivia was half amused.

  ‘Well, were you really married to Joel Armstrong?’ she ventured, and Olivia was taken aback.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at last, warily. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Oh…’ Jayne looked a little embarrassed now. ‘I just wondered. I mean, Mum said you were and I believed her. But since I’ve got to know you, you don’t seem the type to—well, play around.’

  ‘Play around?’ Olivia caught her breath. Was that what they’d told her?

  ‘Yeah, you know. There was another man, wasn’t there? Or so Mum says.’

  ‘There was no other man.’ Olivia spoke tersely. ‘We were just—not compatible. It didn’t work out. That’s all.’

  ‘Really?’ Jayne stared at her. ‘Cos, like, he’s really hot, don’t you think? Or no, I suppose you don’t. But he drives that really powerful SUV, and I think he’s, like, totally the man!’

  Olivia was stunned. Did Linda know her daughter thought of Joel in this way? Obviously she didn’t share her confidences, and the last thing Olivia needed was one of his groupies on her own doorstep.

  ‘I think I ought to finish sorting these things,’ she said at length, not wanting to offend the girl, but not wanting to continue this conversation either. For heaven’s sake, Joel was old enough to be Jayne’s father.

  ‘Oh—yes.’ The girl got up from the bed now and pressed her fingers to her mouth. ‘I’ve just remembered. Grandad wants to see you.’ She pulled a face. ‘He said to say he’d like you to come down.’

  Olivia didn’t know whether to be glad of the invitation or sorry. She’d been looking forward to finishing this task and then taking a bath. She’d discovered it wasn’t wise to expect to have the bathroom to herself in the mornings. Someone was always hammering on the door, asking how long she was going to be.

  ‘OK,’ she said now, and, seeing Jayne admiring a silk camisole, she picked it up and tossed it across the bed. Perhaps it would take her mind off other things, she thought hopefully. ‘It’s yours,’ she told her when Jayne looked up at her with disbelieving eyes. ‘If you’d like it.’

  ‘Would I?’ Jayne was evidently delighted, cradling the scrap of lace to her chest. ‘Thanks so much, Aunt Livvy,’ she added gratefully. ‘I’ve never worn anything as sexy as this.’

  Olivia managed a faint smile at her pleasure, and, passing the girl, she opened the door and allowed her to precede her from the room. But she hoped it wouldn’t prove another black mark against her. With a bit of luck, Martin Dempsey might never find out.

  Downstairs, she bypassed the dining room, where Linda and Martin were still sitting. She could hear their voices, though not what they were saying, and instead she made her way along the hall to her father’s room. She’d visited him several times in the last few days, but this was the first time she’d been on her own. Usually, either Linda or Jayne was with her, ostensibly to ensure that the old man didn’t upset her.

  Tonight, however, Jayne had scurried off to her room. Probably to try on the new camisole. Which meant Olivia entered her father’s room without an escort, feeling almost conspiratorial in consequence.

  He wasn’t in his chair tonight, he was in the bed across the room, and, closing the door behind her, Olivia crossed the floor. ‘Hello,’ she said, when she saw his eyes were open. ‘How are you tonight?’

  ‘Better for seeing you,’ he muttered, and, although his words were slurred, they were perfectly audible. ‘I see you managed to shake off your watchdog.’ He lifted his good arm and gestured for her to take the chair nearest to him. ‘Come and sit down where I can see you.’

  Olivia didn’t know if he was joking about her having a watchdog, but she acknowledged that Linda and Martin did want to know where she was every minute of the day. ‘Thanks,’ she said, deciding not to take him up on it. ‘I must admit, I’ve wondered how you felt about me coming back.’

  Her father frowned. ‘Because of what happened with young Armstrong?’ he demanded.

  ‘Well, yes.’

  He nodded. ‘That was all a long time ago.’

  ‘You never answered any of my letters,’ she reminded him painfully. ‘According to Linda, you rarely mentioned my
name.’

  ‘Yes, well, we all make mistakes, Liv. Mine was in not seeing you were too headstrong to take any advice from me.’

  Olivia sighed. ‘If it’s any consolation, I haven’t exactly made a success of my life.’

  ‘No?’ Her father’s lids twitched in surprise. ‘I heard you were doing well in London. Of course, then you upped and went off to America with that man, Garvey. I gather that marriage wasn’t happy either.’

  Olivia bent her head. For a moment she’d been tempted to say that her marriage to Joel Armstrong had been happy. Until she’d discovered she was pregnant, that was, and panic had set in.

  She could remember well how she’d felt at that time. It wasn’t how she’d have felt now, but that was irrelevant. Then, all she could think was that they were both too young to have a baby, that they couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. She’d wanted Joel’s baby, of course she had. She’d spent hours—days—trying to find a way out of their dilemma that wouldn’t entail her losing the child. Like any other would-be mother, she’d fantasised about what it would look like, whether it would take after him. But the problems had seemed insurmountable at first. After all, they could barely support themselves.

  But her father wouldn’t want to hear that. He and Joel had been on the same side and she had no intention of trying to change his mind now. So instead, she said, ‘I should never have married Bruce. I made the mistake of thinking that because he said he loved me, I’d have everything I’d ever wanted.’

  ‘Was he wealthy?’

  Olivia shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘Was that really why you married him?’

  ‘No.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘Believe it or not, I was lonely. I needed someone who’d care about me. He was smart and good-looking and it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

  ‘You were lonely?’ Her father picked up on that. ‘So why didn’t you come home?’