A little more than a month after their return from Bali she took the difficult decision of booking in for a pregnancy test. The mere act of making the appointment seemed to set all her chaotic feelings in motion again. She was exhilarated, terrified, apprehensive. And on the morning of the fateful day her hands were shaking with panic—or excitement?—as she dressed. The result was that she dropped her jewellery case and spilled a cascade of necklaces, rings and bracelets all over the carpet. Richard gave a groan of laughter and shook his head, then, as she stood there motionless, fell to his knees and began to pick them up. His hand closed on a heavy gold bracelet studded with rubies and Emma caught her breath in a sharp gasp. As she stood staring down at him, she felt her entire body go as cold and rigid as if she were turning to stone. How could she ever trust him again with that cruel reminder of the past lying so carelessly in his large, open palm?
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, intercepting her stricken stare. ‘Emma, what’s wrong?’
‘Don’t you know?’ she whispered.
‘No. Should I?’
She closed her eyes briefly and shuddered.
‘I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that bracelet,’ she accused.
He shrugged, clearly mystified.
‘I suppose I must have,’ he admitted. ‘I certainly don’t know why you’re staring at it as though it’s a poisonous snake. Did I give it to you?’
‘Not to me. No.’
Richard gave an exasperated sigh.
‘Damn the bracelet!’ he announced, flinging it into her jewellery box and rising to his feet. ‘If I’ve offended you somehow over it, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for riddles about such trivial rubbish. Are you having lunch with me today or not, Emma?’
Trivial rubbish! Emma’s eyes filled with hot, stinging tears and she bit her lip, trying hard to contain her turbulent feelings. That was another thing that made her feel certain she was pregnant. Normally it took a lot to make her cry, but these days she forever seemed to be going to pieces about some stupid thing or other. Although this time she had good reason to feel upset.
‘No, I’m not!’ she flared. ‘I have a doctor’s appointment at twelve.’
‘Doctor’s appointment?’ His voice was harsh and there was no mistaking the flare of alarm in his blue eyes. ‘I thought you were feeling better.’
‘Well, you were wrong.’
Her stormy tone didn’t seem to annoy him in the least. Quite the reverse. The look of concern in his face was unmistakable as he stepped towards her and took her in his arms.
‘Emma,’ he said hoarsely, ‘if you’re ill, if there’s something wrong with you, we should be sharing the problem, not bickering like this. Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong?’
‘Sweetheart’. It was years since he had called her that with anything other than sarcasm in his voice. And his face was so tense, so filled with apprehension, with fierce, protective tenderness, that her heart began to hammer violently. Was this the moment she had been waiting for, the moment when they would end their war? A painful, fluttering hope rose inside her and she swallowed hard.
‘Richard,’ she began. ‘I think I’m—’
The telephone rang.
Without taking his eyes off her, Richard moved sideways and snatched the receiver.
‘Fielding,’ he said curtly.
There was a long torrent of speech from the other end of the line. Richard sighed, scowled, pressed his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose.
‘All right, Amanda,’ he replied at last. ‘I agree that it’s urgent. The easements over the property could be a major headache. ‘Tell the vendor—’
Emma’s mouth set in an ugly line. Flouncing across to the dressing-table, she sat down and pretended to be absorbed in applying her make-up, although she had to make a conscious attempt to stop gritting her teeth. Damn Amanda! Why did she have to keep telephoning Richard at home? And even if it was only a business call, why couldn’t Richard put her off, especially at such an important moment? She dabbed some blusher high on her cheeks, applied her lipstick with unsteady fingers so that it smudged and then scowled at herself horribly. Richard, his telephone call finished, came over and put his hands on her shoulders again.
‘There are things we ought to talk about,’ he said curtly. ‘This doctor’s appointment—’
Emma’s heart was still hammering violently and for a moment she simply felt tempted to blurt out all that was worrying her. The fact that she loved him, that she wanted a genuine marriage, that she might even now be expecting his baby. But she had too much pride to go around indulging in fits of hysteria when at the end of the day Richard was all too likely to run off with Amanda. If I have nothing else left, vowed Emma grimly, at least I’ll hold on to my dignity. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she rose to her feet and shook off Richard’s hands.
‘Not now!’ she said with a calmness she did not feel. ‘I want to go into the city and you’ve got work to do. Don’t worry, Richard! It’s only a routine check-up.’
Richard offered her a ride into the city, but she preferred to take her own car in order to have more freedom of movement. By the time she reached the doctor’s surgery at Bondi Beach, she had almost forgotten about Richard and Amanda amid a haze of incoherent hopes and fears about the forthcoming pregnancy test. When at last she was shown into the doctor’s office half an hour late and stammered out her explanation she was disappointed by his matter-of-fact manner. As he looked down at the Petri dish in his hand, she could no longer contain her impatience.
‘Well?’ she blurted out.
He gave her an amused smile and nodded slowly.
‘Congratulations, Mrs Fielding. I think we can safely book you in for the maternity hospital about the ninth of November.’
With a squeal of shock and excitement, Emma leapt up out of her seat and beamed joyfully at the doctor. Even her apprehension about Richard seemed to have vanished in a positive tidal wave of euphoria.
‘That’s wonderfully’ she cried.
She still felt as if she was dancing on air as she came out of the surgery and made her way around to the side-street where she had parked her car. To her chagrin, she realised that she must have been so overwrought earlier on that she had forgotten to put any money in the parking meter. Inevitably a council meter man was already busy writing out an infringement ticket for her. A momentary spark of irritation flared through her and then was gone. What did it matter anyway, today of all days? She was pregnant! She was going to have a baby! Beaming hugely, she made her way up to the parking meter attendant.
‘This your car?’ he asked.
Emma nodded.
‘Sorry, love,’ he said, tearing off the ticket and handing it to her. ‘I’ve already written your registration number in. Can’t change it now.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Emma, still beaming. She flung her arms around him. ‘Guess what? I’m going to have a baby!’
The startled council man took a step backwards with an uneasy expression on his face.
‘Well, it’s not mine!’ he said.
Once she was inside her car, Emma began to giggle. He must have thought I was quite madl she said to herself. Poor man. But I feel mad—in fact I feel delirious with joy! I just couldn’t believe this would ever happen to me and now it has. If only Richard were here to share it with me… That thought brought her down to earth with a bump. Richard! What on earth was she going to tell Richard? Starting up the car, she began to drive, but found she could not concentrate. She was tempted to go straight to the Prero’s building, burst into Richard’s office and tell him the news at once, but common sense restrained her. It wasn’t something that she wanted to discuss amid the uproar of an office environment with employees likely to come in at any moment. No. Better to stay calm and wait until he came home. And then they really must try and solve their problems.
It wouldn’t be easy, but she was sure it was the right thin
g to do. Deep in her heart, she knew that she loved Richard and would like nothing better than to be a genuine family with him and the coming child. Then the thought of Amanda rose to torment her and her mouth hardened as if she were negotiating a settlement in a tough business meeting. She could not, would not go on as they were at the moment. If Richard really was involved with Amanda, he must swear to give her up and be faithful to Emma alone. Or this ridiculous farce of a marriage must end immediately. The mere thought of a divorce sent a pain like a knife stabbing through her breast, but she knew it would be better than the lies and deceit, the web of intrigue which seemed to have strangled her marriage from the very beginning. If Richard could not love her and her alone, it was better that she should have a clean break and make a new life alone with her child.
As she drove towards Vaucluse, her natural optimism slowly began to reassert itself. Like a ship battered by the onslaught of too many furious waves, she had been in danger of going under, but now she was slowly regaining her equilibrium. That strange tranquillity was descending on her once again. ‘Maternal placidity’, the doctor had called it, and told her that it was nature’s way of ensuring that expectant mothers didn’t worry too much. Well, if anybody needed a strong dose of maternal placidity, Emma certainly did! The thought that Richard might elope with Amanda and leave her and the baby alone was more than she could bear. And yet, deep down, some blind, hopeful instinct told her that she would never have to bear it.
Oh, there were problems between her and Richard, no question of that—problems which would have to be resolved. But when she stopped trying to force her tired brain to think about it all, some primitive certainty whispered in her ear the reassurance that he still loved her. Dozens of images flashed before her mind, repeating the message. Richard bringing her early morning cups of tea, Richard worrying over her health and her gruelling work schedule, Richard making love to her in the glowing lamplight with an expression of hungry longing in his face, Richard quarrelling with her as if he really cared about the outcome. He might tell her that he hated her, he might even believe it himself, but it wasn’t true! It could not, must not be true! And somehow she would find a way to reach him again, to rekindle the damped-down fires of love that she passionately believed were still smouldering in his heart. Somehow she would do it. For her own sake. For her baby.
As she parked the car on the brick patio at the rear of the house and strode indoors, a surge of confidence and affection swept through her. Everything would come right between them, she knew it would! She was surprised to see Richard’s BMW parked by the conservatory and realised that he must have come home early from work. Perhaps he had done it for the very same reason that she was here—to hack a pathway through the thorny hedge of problems that had grown up between them, to gather her in his arms and never let her go. She tiptoed into the house, hoping to surprise him, then noticed that the sitting-room door was open. With a mischievous smile, she peeped in.
‘Richard?’
Suddenly the smile froze on her face. For on the gold and white sofa sat Amanda Morris with Richard crouched on the floor in front of her, holding both her hands in his. At the sight of Emma he sprang to his feet with a ludicrous expression of dismay on his face. But his momentary alarm and apprehension was soon replaced by an air of arrogant challenge. Shocked beyond measure, Emma took a step forwards.
‘What’s going on here?’ she demanded sharply.
‘Nothing,’ insisted Richard. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, Emma.’
‘Don’t say that!’ cried Amanda, jumping to her feet and seizing him by the arms. ‘Don’t say that I’m nothing! I love you, Richard.’
Emma took a step backwards, shaking her head in a dazed fashion.
‘You can’t do this to me, Richard!’ she said in a voice that wobbled on the edge of hysteria. ‘You can’t flaunt your mistress at me in my own home. I won’t stand for itl Make her leave.’
Richard disengaged Amanda’s grip on his aim and looked from one woman to the other with an inscrutable expression. Then he gave the young lawyer a brief, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
‘You’d better go now, Amanda,’ he ordered curtly. ‘We’ll talk about this later.’
‘She’s the one you should be telling to leave, not me!’ protested Amanda. ‘You know you love me more than her, Richard. You do, you do!’
‘Amanda!’ Richard’s voice cut through the room like a whiplash. ‘Control yourself. I’ll talk to you about my plans when you’re calmer. In the meantime, remember I’m counting on you to go to Gosford and handle that property deal. Don’t let me down.’
Amanda crossed the room and stood in the doorway, her shoulders heaving.
‘I’ll never let you down, Richard!’ she said in a throbbing voice. Then her face crumpled and she fled from the room.
Richard heaved an exasperated sigh, ran his fingers through his curly hair and took a step towards his wife.
‘Emma, I can explain—’ he began.
‘I’m sick of your threadbare explanations, Richard,’ blazed Emma. ‘You’ve just used that unfortunate girl as callously as you’ve used me. But never again. I don’t care what it costs, you can bankrupt me ten times over, but it’s finished between us, finished! Do you hear me? Now take your ring and get out of my life!’
With a desperate, wrenching movement she tore off her gold wedding-ring and flung it at him. Then, after uttering a single low, unearthly cry, she ran from the room. Her heart was pounding and she could hear Richard’s echoing footsteps in hot pursuit by the time she reached the top of the staircase. Sobbing for breath, she ran the full length of the upstairs corridor, flung herself into the bedroom and slammed the door. With shaking fingers she turned the key in the lock and, careless of her condition, began to drag one of the heavy bedside tables into place beneath the door-handle. Moments later a thunderous knocking began.
‘Let me in, Emma, or I swear I’ll break this bloody door down!’
‘Break it down, then! That’s just what you’d enjoy, wouldn’t you? Coward, bully, liar, womaniser!’
‘Emma, listen to me, damn you! There’s a perfectly simple explanation—’
‘Sure! If only I were simple enough to believe it. But I’m not any more. I’ll never believe another word you say, you bastard! You lying, deceitful, heartless bastard…’
A sudden convulsive sob rose in Emma’s throat, threatening to choke her. Collapsing on the bed, she howled like an injured child, rocking backwards and forwards, gasping and shuddering for breath.
‘Hell, Emma, are you crying? Let me in! Sweetheart, it’s all just a stupid mistake! There is nothing for you to cry about, I swear it.’
Even now that husky baritone had the power to weaken her defences. For a moment she almost rose to her feet and unlocked the door, then the memory of her grievances rose again and with a furious movement she thrust out her arm, sending a crystal vase on the bedside table shattering to the floor.
‘Emma, what happened? Are you all right?’
His voice was sharp with alarm. The hypocrite, the traitor!
‘Yes, I’m all right. No thanks to you,’ she said through her teeth.
‘Let me in; I can sort this out in two minutes!’
Unable to bear another word of his lying blandishments, she was seized by a sudden inspiration. Shooting to her feet, she ran across the room and grabbed the portable CD player. Then, with trembling fingers, she rifled through Richard’s box of CDs. The Ride of the Valkyrie—that should shut him up!
It did, but it almost deafened Emma in the process. As the tempestuous flood of Wagner’s music thundered into the room at top volume, she stuck her fingers in her ears. Beneath the uproar, she could still hear Richard hammering and shouting at the door, but only an occasional word penetrated the noise.
‘Amanda … love … stupid … you … door … Gosford … now…!’
After a long time, she no longer heard anything except the Wagner
. Taking her fingers out of her ears, she cautiously lowered the volume on the CD player and listened again. Nothing. She tiptoed across to the door and waited. It might be a trick. Then from outside the house she heard the engine of Richard’s BMW being gunned into life. Hastily she ran to the window and looked out just in time to see the car vanishing up the driveway with Richard at the wheel.
Richard! she said soundlessly, her fists raised and her face pressed to the glass.
As she turned away, a feeling of terrible desolation and emptiness gripped her. She had told him to go, but somehow she hadn’t believed he would. Deep down she realised now that she had been hoping for a miracle. That he really would produce an explanation so watertight she would have to believe it. Instead, she had exactly what she deserved for being so naive. He had abandoned her without any explanation at all.
Hours later, when she lay staring into the darkness, her face swollen and blotchy from crying, the phone rang beside her. Feverishly she leapt to answer it. It was him, it must be! He was going to apologise, explain, make everything come right.
But it wasn’t Richard’s voice on the line, it was Amanda’s. Cool, mocking, unmistakably hostile.
‘Emma? Amanda here. I’ve just rung to say that Richard and I are at Gosford together. Don’t expect him home any time soon. He’s staying with me.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMMA acted instinctively to silence that hateful, triumphant voice. Crashing down the telephone receiver, she held it in place as fiercely as if she were squashing a scorpion. Then the thought occurred to her that Amanda might try to ring back. Or, worse still, that Richard might do so. And she no longer had even a faint lingering wish to hear the sort of lying excuses that Richard would invent…’Emma, I can explain… Sweetheart… There is nothing for you to cry about…’ Damn him! Snatching up the receiver again, Emma left the phone off the hook. Then, rising to her feet as weakly and shakily as if she had suffered a bad bout of influenza, she stumbled around the bed to the door. The bedside table was still jammed in place under the door-handle and there were fragments of the broken crystal vase all over the floor. With a furious gesture she picked up the bedside lamp and hurled that on the floor for good measure. The crash of breaking porcelain made her feel marginally better. But only marginally.
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