The Fiancé He Can't Forget

by Caroline Anderson

  She changed Josh’s nappy, and the baby, full and contented, didn’t even stir as she put him in the Moses basket. And the bed looked so inviting. Could she snatch half an hour?

  Sure she could. Why not?

  She slipped off her shoes, climbed onto the bed fully clothed and fell straight asleep.

  The house was in silence when he got back. He’d put the car in the car port at the back, and carried the shopping through to the kitchen via the conservatory, so he hadn’t used the front door, which was right under her bedroom.

  Maybe she hadn’t heard him come in—and maybe she was resting?

  He crept upstairs as quietly as he could and stuck his head round the door, to find her lying curled on the bed, fast asleep, the baby flat out in the Moses basket next to her. It made him smile, but it brought a lump to his throat as well.

  How was it possible to love someone so small so very, very much? And so soon? Or still to love a woman for all these years, even though she’d made it clear she didn’t want to spend her life with him? Or hadn’t. Maybe now it would be different, but maybe only because of Josh.

  Maybe if she changed her mind now, it would be for practical reasons, perhaps the same reasons she’d agreed to marry him last time? And as soon as that reason had no longer existed, she’d called off the wedding.

  She surely wouldn’t have done that if she’d loved him.

  He backed out of the room and went downstairs, his heart suddenly heavy. He’d managed to convince himself that it was going to be wonderful, but now he felt a flicker of doubt.

  Well, more than a flicker. Oh, hell.

  He needed to do something, something concrete rather than wandering around on a knife edge. If the garden hadn’t been largely paved, he’d go and dig it or mow the lawn or something, but there was nothing to do.

  But there was something he could do, something he needed to do, no matter what happened with him and Amy, because he had a son, regardless, and that was already making its impact felt.

  He’d put the kettle on already, so he made himself tea, went out into the conservatory with his laptop and started researching estate cars.

  They heard his parents arrive the next day—the sound of the doorbell ringing faintly in the distance, the cries of delight as they went through to the garden and found Daisy there with the baby.

  She met Matt’s eyes, and he smiled reassuringly and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ he promised her.

  It was. He gave them twenty minutes, then got to his feet and headed for the garden, dropping a fleeting kiss on her head in passing. She could see him as he stuck his head over the fence and grinned. ‘Permission to come aboard?’ he asked, and Ben opened the gate in the fence to let him through.

  She could hear them laughing, hear the warmth of their greeting from her seat in the conservatory, and her palms felt suddenly prickly with nerves. She hoped—she desperately hoped—that they wouldn’t come as a tribe, all the Walker clan in force to overwhelm her.

  She should have known Liz, of all people, would have had more common sense. Matt’s mother slipped quietly through the gate on her own, came into the conservatory and bent to gather Amy into her arms for a motherly hug.

  ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you,’ she said softly, then let her go and sat beside her, holding her hand. ‘How are you? Matthew said you’d had a dreadful time.’

  She gave a quiet laugh. ‘Apparently. I don’t really remember very much about it.’

  Liz smiled. ‘Lucky you, from what I gather. You had both my boys worried there. And are you OK now?’

  She nodded. ‘I think so. Getting there.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘Pick him up, see for yourself. He’s about to wake up anyway.’

  ‘Sure?’

  She smiled, feeling herself relax. Liz was a midwife, too, and she knew she could trust her absolutely with her precious son. ‘Sure,’ she echoed, and Liz turned back the little cover and pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes flooding.

  ‘Oh, he’s so tiny! Oh, bless his little heart, what a beautiful baby. Oh, Amy. You must be overjoyed.’

  She nodded, but then for some inexplicable reason she started to cry, and Liz crouched beside her, rubbing her back and making soothing noises.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart,’ she murmured. ‘It must have been so scary for you on your own—you’re a silly girl, you should have told us, we could have looked after you. I could have come down.’

  She sniffed and stared at her, the tears welling again at her kindness. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘Oh, poppet, do you need to ask? You were going to be my daughter, and I’ve never forgotten you. I’ve worried about you all these years, and I worried about you at the wedding, too. I could see how strong the pull was between you—and to be honest I never believed that cock-and-bull story of Matthew’s about getting something from his room. A blind man could have seen the way it was with you that night, and it was only going to end one way. It was what might happen afterwards that worried me most, because I thought it had the capacity to hurt you both dreadfully, and I wasn’t sure who I was most worried about, you or him.’

  ‘Why would you worry about me? He’s your son.’

  ‘Because you left so much unfinished business between you,’ she said quietly. ‘So much sorrow and pain. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t think Matthew’s ever really dealt with it.’

  She nodded. ‘I think you’re right. I don’t think either of us have really dealt with it.’

  ‘You need to. And Joshua will help you—he’ll help to heal you.’

  ‘He already is,’ she said, her eyes going automatically to her little son. His legs were starting to go, his arms flailing, and any moment now he’d begin to wail. ‘I think he needs a cuddle with his grannie,’ she said softly, and Liz got to her feet again and picked him up, crooning to him as she cradled him in her arms and introduced herself to him.

  ‘Oh, he’s so like Matthew.’

  ‘Not Ben?’

  She laughed. ‘Not so much, no. They were different, even at Josh’s age—but only I could see it. He lies in the same way, with his arms flung up. Ben never did that.’

  He started to grizzle and turn his head towards her, and Liz smiled and held him out to her. ‘Yours, I think,’ she said, and handed him over. ‘That’s the wonderful thing about being a grandmother, so I’m told. You just hand them back when they need attention.’

  Why on earth had she worried?

  They were lovely. The visit was only short, and they all ended up having lunch under the tree in Ben and Daisy’s garden, the two proud grandparents cuddling the babies in turn while Amy sat with Daisy and enjoyed the luxury of being redundant for a few hours.

  Florence was there, too, pushing her own ‘baby’ round in its buggy, and she announced that Mummy was having a new baby for her, so she’d have two brothers soon. She seemed utterly delighted at the idea, and she was sweet with the babies, and with Daisy.

  And there it was again, the knowledge that Samuel was missing from the scene. He would have been a little older than Florence, and Amy could imagine them playing, the four children growing up together. But it would never be…

  ‘What’s up?’

  Matt’s voice was soft in her ear, and she turned her head and found him crouched behind her, her eyes searching. ‘Nothing,’ she lied, but his smile told her he knew she was lying.

  ‘Can I get you anything?’

  She shook her head. ‘Actually, I think I might have a lie down. I’m feeling tired.’

  He laughed softly. ‘Me, too. These ruptured nights are a bit wearing.’

  ‘Ruptured?’ she said with a smile, and he smiled back and leant over and kissed her cheek.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he said, and straightened up. ‘I’ll take him, Dad. I think he probably needs feeding, and Amy’s ready for a rest, so we’ll leave you to it. Thanks for coming, it’s been lovely to see you.’ />
  ‘Come up soon,’ his mother said, and he nodded, but he wasn’t making any promises. It all depended on Amy, and Harrogate—well, Harrogate held all manner of memories.

  They were hugged and kissed, and then they made their escape. And somehow, after she’d fed him and Matt had put him back in the Moses basket in the bedroom, he ended up lying down on the bed next to her, the soft sound of his breathing somehow soothing.

  ‘I’m glad they came,’ she murmured. ‘It was so nice to see them again. Your mother was lovely to me.’

  He turned his head. ‘Why wouldn’t she be?’

  ‘No reason. She’s been worried about me, apparently.’

  ‘Of course she has. We all have.’

  ‘She’s worried about you, too.’

  He sighed. ‘She’s got a point, Amy. We’re both in limbo, have been for years.’

  He turned so he was facing her, lying on his side just inches away, his head propped on his hand. ‘Why don’t you come back with me to London tomorrow for a couple of days? I only have to pop into the hospital for a short while, and you could sit in my garden and watch the birds while I’m out, and then we can take Josh for a walk in the park.’

  She frowned. ‘You don’t have a garden.’

  ‘Yes, I do—I don’t live in the flat any more. I thought you realised that. I moved to a mews cottage just a few doors from Rob.’

  That surprised her. They’d often visited his friend, and she’d always said how much she loved his house. It wasn’t large, but it had a garage and a garden, unusually for London, and the little cobbled lane that ran between two streets was filled with flowers and potted plants outside the houses.

  They’d even talked about moving there, but then she’d lost the baby and everything had stopped.

  Except he’d done it, anyway, bought one of the houses and was living their dream alone.

  Why?

  Because it had made economic sense, or because he hadn’t been able to let the dream go?

  Only one way to find out.

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ she said, feeling—excited? Maybe. She hadn’t felt excited about anything in this way for years, and she smiled at him. ‘Really lovely. How did you know I had cabin fever?’

  He smiled back and reached out a hand, touching her face. It was the lightest touch, the merest whisper of his fingers over her cheek, but it set all her senses on fire, and for a breathless, endless moment she was frozen there, eyes locked with his, her entire body motionless.

  And then he dropped his hand and rolled off the bed.

  ‘I’ll leave you to rest. I’ve got things to do. Give me a call if you need anything.’

  Only you, she thought, but she said nothing.

  It was too soon, and this time, she was going to make absolutely sure of what she was doing before she committed herself to Matt again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THEY left for London after the travel system was delivered.

  Matt spent an hour trying to work out how to put it all together, then eventually, temper fraying, managed to get the frame and the carrycot into the boot of his car. There was no room for their luggage except on the back seat beside the baby, and he frowned at it.

  There was nowhere else he could put it, so he made sure there was nothing heavy loose in the cabin, squashed their bags behind the seats and resolved to get an estate car at the first possible opportunity.

  Tomorrow would be good.

  Then as soon as he was fed and changed, they strapped Josh into the car seat and set off.

  ‘It’s like going on an expedition to the Antarctic,’ he grumbled, sounding so exasperated and confused that Amy laughed.

  He shot her a dirty look, sighed and then joined in, his bad mood evaporating rapidly. Why would he be grumpy? The woman he loved was in the seat beside him, his baby son was in the back, and they were going to see the house where he hoped—please God not in vain—that they’d live together.

  No. He wasn’t grumpy. He was just driving the wrong car. Easily fixable. The accommodation issue was far harder, and he ran his eye mentally over the house. Was it clean? Tidy? He’d issued the invitation without a thought, but he couldn’t remember how he’d left it and his cleaner came in once a fortnight. Had she been?

  No idea. The days since Josh had burst into his life had blurred together so he didn’t have a clue where he was any more. With Josh and Amy, he told himself. That was the only thing that mattered. The state of the house was irrelevant.

  The house was lovely.

  It was just a few doors from Rob’s, and it was bigger, the one they’d often talked about because it looked tatty and run-down and in need of love.

  Well, not any more. It looked immaculate, the sash windows all renovated, by the look of it, the brass on the front door gleaming, and she couldn’t wait to see what he’d done to it, especially the garden. It had had the most amazing wisteria, she remembered, sprawling all over the garden. Had he been able to save it? He pressed a button on his key fob and the roller-shutter on his garage door slid quietly up out of the way, and he drove in and cut the engine.

  ‘Home,’ he said with satisfaction, and she felt a strange and disorientating sense of loss. How odd. She had a home. Except of course it wasn’t hers, not really. She was only living there on a temporary basis, on Ben’s insistence, but now that Matt was back in her life, there was no need for that.

  ‘What’s up?’

  She opened her mouth to tell him, and thought better of it. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It’s the house we used to talk about. You didn’t tell me that. It took me by surprise.’

  ‘It didn’t look like a very nice surprise,’ he said quietly, and she realised he sounded—what? Disappointed?

  ‘It’s a lovely surprise,’ she assured him. ‘I can’t wait to see it.’

  ‘I can’t guarantee what it’s like, it might be a tip,’ he warned, unclipping Josh’s seat and heading for a door. ‘Come on in.’

  It was beautiful. They went straight into the kitchen, a light and airy room with doors out into the garden. There was a sofa at one end, and a television, and she guessed he used this room more than any other. She could see why, with the garden just there, and it looked lovely. Far less overgrown, of course, but lush and inviting, a real oasis in the middle of the city. It was a little smaller than Daisy’s, and the painted brick walls that surrounded it gave it a delightfully secret feel.

  He opened the doors and they went out, and she could hear birds singing and smell the most heavenly scent—from the old wisteria scrambling up the back wall of the house.

  ‘You saved it!’

  His mouth twisted into a smile, and he reached out a hand and touched her cheek. ‘I had to keep it after everything you’d said about it. It reminded me of you.’

  What could she say to that? Nothing. She was picking her way through a minefield again, and she felt suddenly slightly nervous. ‘Can I see the rest?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He left the doors open, and they went past a cloakroom and upstairs to the hall. The front door came in there, accessed from the mews by old stone steps that she’d noticed were covered in pots, and off the front of the hall was a study, and behind it a sitting room.

  ‘You haven’t got a dining room,’ she said, and he gave a wry smile.

  ‘I don’t really need one. I’ve got a breakfast bar, and I eat there. I don’t really entertain like that. Come and see the bedrooms.’

  She followed him up and found three rooms, two small ones over the front, and a larger one, obviously his, next to the bathroom at the back.

  ‘It’s lovely, Matt. Really, really nice. I love the colours.’

  ‘Yes, they’re your sort of colours,’ he said softly, and she noticed he wasn’t smiling. Why? And why put it like that, as if he’d chosen the colours because she’d like them—unless…?

  ‘I’m glad you like it. I was sort of hoping that maybe one day you might—’ He broke off, shrugged and turned away, headi
ng back down the stairs. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Sounds lovely.’ Might what? She followed him thoughtfully.

  ‘Why don’t you have a potter round the kitchen and make us some tea while I bring in all the luggage?’ he suggested, putting Josh down on the floor by the sofa, and she filled the kettle and searched through the cupboards.

  It was logically organised, as she might have expected from Matt. Mugs over the kettle, tea and coffee beside them in the next cupboard, cutlery in the drawer underneath.

  Nice mugs, she thought. Plain white bone china. She looked around, frowning slightly. The kitchen was the sort of kitchen she’d fantasised about, a hand-built painted Shaker kitchen, with granite worktops and integrated appliances. The garden was heavy with the scent of the wisteria she’d said she loved. Everything about it—everything—was how she would have done it.

  Had he done it for her? she wondered, and she felt her eyes fill with tears.

  ‘You haven’t got very far with the tea.’

  She switched the kettle on to boil again and reached for the mugs. ‘When did you buy the house?’ she asked, turning to look at him, and he went still.

  ‘Um—it came on the market just after…’

  ‘After we lost Samuel,’ she finished for him softly.

  He nodded. ‘I thought…’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘I think it does. I think it matters a lot.’

  He let his breath out very slowly, and turned to face her, his eyes wary and yet revealing. ‘I hoped—one day—that you might come back to me. That we might live here, together, as we’d talked about. Build a new life, start again. Then I realised it wasn’t going to happen, but I finished it anyway, because it was handy for the hospital and—well, I loved it.’

  She didn’t know what to say, because it hadn’t been an invitation, as such, more a statement of why and how he’d done it. And she wasn’t sure if it was still current, if the hope was still alive. And if it was, she wasn’t sure what her answer would be, so she just nodded slowly, and turned her back on him and made the tea, and by the time she’d finished, he’d found some biscuits and taken Josh out into the garden so they could sit near the wisteria and soak up the last of the sunshine.