Best of Virgins Bundle

by Cathy Williams

  ‘I’m not interested in where you’ve been or who you’ve been with,’ said Jake, pressing one hand against the panels and propelling the door open. ‘We’re going to talk, Cassandra—or should I say Cassie? That is what your daughter calls you, isn’t it?’

  Cassandra’s mouth fell open, and for a moment she did nothing to stop his advance into the apartment. But then she seemed to come to her senses and made a futile attempt to obstruct him. ‘You can’t come in here now,’ she said. ‘I—I’m not alone.’

  ‘Do I look like I care?’ Jake moved her aside with the minimum amount of effort and glanced round what was probably the main room of the apartment. Running from the front to the back of the building, it appeared to be half-kitchen, half-living-cum-dining-area. And, typical of Cassandra, it was grossly untidy, with articles of clothing and magazines strewn haphazardly across the floor.

  ‘You have no right to force your way in here,’ she exclaimed, bending to pick up what looked like a man’s shirt and stuffing it behind one of the cushions on the sofa. ‘This isn’t funny, Jake. I don’t barge into your hotel suite without an invitation, and you should do the same.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve been invited here many times,’ said Jake carelessly. ‘So let’s pretend I’m just taking you up on it.’

  ‘Let’s not.’ Cassandra cast another nervous glance towards what could only be the door into her bedroom. ‘I don’t want you here.’

  ‘Too bad, because you’ve got me.’ Flinging himself onto the sofa, he linked his hands behind his head and crossed his feet at the ankles. ‘Now, isn’t this cosy?’

  Cassandra seethed. ‘What do you want, Jake?’

  ‘Ah, that’s better.’ He was complacent. ‘So, why don’t you sit down and I’ll tell you?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to sit down.’ Another glance at the bedroom. ‘I don’t have time to sit. I have to be at the studios in an hour.’

  ‘That should be enough time.’ Jake regarded her through his dark lashes. ‘So, tell me about your daughter.’

  Cassandra swallowed. ‘I don’t have a daughter.’

  ‘Liar.’

  Cassandra scowled at him. ‘I don’t know where you’ve got this preposterous story from, but—’

  ‘Try your daughter.’

  ‘Eve told you?’

  Jake’s expression hardened. ‘Did I say her name was Eve?’ he queried coldly, and Cassandra turned away to fuss with a pair of stockings that were draped over the arm of a chair.

  ‘Well, who else could have told you such a ridiculous story?’ she demanded, purposefully avoiding his eyes as she spoke.

  ‘How about your mother?’

  ‘My mother?’ Cassandra did turn then. ‘Oh, Jake, you know what that old witch thinks of me. How can you believe anything she says?’

  Jake’s gaze was intent. ‘So it’s not true?’

  ‘No.’ But her eyes shifted past him as she spoke. ‘No, of course it’s not true. Good heavens, Eve’s—what? Twenty-five? I’d have had to be an adolescent when I had her.’

  ‘Your mother says you’re forty-six,’ said Jake bluntly. ‘Quite old enough to have a twenty-five-year-old daughter.’

  Cassandra gasped. ‘I’m not forty-six!’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  Jake sat up then, spreading his legs and resting his forearms along his thighs. ‘So the birth certificate your mother showed me is a forgery?’

  Cassandra stared at him. ‘What birth certificate? How can you have seen a birth certificate?’ She paused. ‘Are you telling me you’ve been to Watersmeet? Without asking me?’

  ‘I didn’t know I needed your permission to visit a sick old lady,’ said Jake harshly, pressing his hands down on his knees and getting to his feet. ‘So? Is it a forgery?’

  Cassandra hesitated. ‘Whose—whose birth certificate have you seen?’

  Jake shook his head. ‘Well, not yours,’ he said scathingly. ‘But perhaps you could explain how a—let me see—how a thirteen-year-old girl, such as yourself, was pretending to be a twenty-year-old living and working in London at the time Eve was born?’

  Cassandra’s shoulders sagged. ‘I don’t see that it’s anything to do with you,’ she said bitterly. ‘I think you’d better go.’

  ‘Oh, not yet.’ Jake’s eyes were hard. ‘I want to hear the story from your lips. I want to know how you could abandon your daughter to the care of people you knew virtually nothing about?’

  ‘I didn’t abandon her,’ said Cassandra defensively, clearly deciding there was no point in continuing to lie. ‘The Fultons were very good to me, actually. If it hadn’t been for them I’d have been out on the street.’

  ‘But you didn’t know them. Not really,’ said Jake harshly. ‘You’d met them in a pub, for God’s sake!’

  ‘Yes, well…’ Cassandra struggled for words. ‘I could have had an abortion, you know.’

  ‘But they persuaded you not to?’

  ‘I was upset. They said they’d help me.’

  Jake’s contempt was palpable. ‘Where was the baby’s father?’

  ‘Oh, he didn’t want to know,’ said Cassandra at once, wrapping the kimono closer about her. ‘After—after I discovered I was pregnant, I never saw him again.’

  Jake looked sceptical. ‘Did you ever tell him you were having a baby?’

  ‘Of course.’ Cassandra huffed. ‘As I say, he didn’t want to know.’

  ‘According to the enquiries your mother made after she discovered she had a granddaughter, you told the registrar you didn’t know who the child’s father was.’

  Cassandra’s face blazed with colour. ‘What else could I do? I had to say something.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell your mother you were pregnant?’

  ‘You’re joking!’ Cassandra stared at him. ‘Can you imagine what would have happened if I had?’

  ‘She says she would have been quite happy for you to come home and have the baby.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Cassandra was contemptuous. ‘I’d spent half my life wanting to get out of Falconbridge. Do you really think I’d have given up everything I’d worked for the past four years to go back there because I’d been stupid enough to get myself pregnant? No, thanks.’

  ‘You didn’t even tell your mother about the baby!’

  ‘No.’ Cassandra nodded. ‘How could I? She’d have insisted on me keeping it.’

  ‘And would that have been so bad?’

  ‘Are you kidding? We’re not talking about the way things are today, Jake. Twenty-five years ago single mothers had a pretty tough time, socially and financially.’

  ‘So you sold your baby?’

  ‘I—I didn’t exactly sell her.’

  ‘No? What would you call it?’

  ‘After Eve was born, the Fultons came to the poky bed-sit where I was living and suggested that they could look after her. They’d been trying for years to have a baby of their own, but it just wasn’t happening. They said they’d give her a good home and—and give me a certain sum of money, if I agreed to let them keep her.’

  ‘So you sold her?’

  ‘If you insist on being pedantic, all right. I sold her.’

  ‘To a man who tried to abuse her when she was twelve years old.’

  Cassandra sniffed. ‘We only have Eve’s word for that.’

  ‘She ran away. Three times. She told me that.’

  ‘So?’ Cassandra turned away. ‘Lots of kids run away from home.’

  ‘The authorities must have believed her eventually. She was put into care, wasn’t she?’

  ‘She was uncontrollable.’

  Jake wanted to hurt her, badly, but he kept his temper with an effort. ‘Whatever—she spent the next three years with Social Services.’

  ‘Until she ran away again, with some boy she’d taken up with,’ Cassandra put in spitefully. ‘When my mother found them they were living in a squat in Islington.’

  ‘So your mother said,’ said Jake, amazed that h
is voice sounded so unthreatening. ‘I’m interested to know how the old lady came to find out she had a granddaughter.’

  ‘Didn’t she tell you that, too?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she told me. I’d just like to hear your take on it. As I understand it, you weren’t averse to returning home when you thought you were dying.’

  ‘That’s a cruel thing to say.’ Cassandra cast another apprehensive glance towards the bedroom door, almost as if she was more afraid of her visitor finding out that she’d once been diagnosed with a potentially terminal kidney disease than the fact that she’d sold her baby. ‘I—I needed help.’

  ‘Yeah, you needed help all right.’ Jake spoke contemptuously. ‘You needed a transplant. And because you were afraid your mother’s kidney might not be good enough you had to tell her that you’d once given birth to a child, but that you didn’t know where that child was, right?’

  ‘Why ask me? You seem to know all the answers.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Jake felt sick. There was no remorse in Cassandra’s tone at all. ‘But your mother’s kidney was good enough, wasn’t it? You must have been kicking yourself when you found out you’d made your confession for nothing.’ He made a helpless gesture. ‘I don’t know how you live with yourself.’

  Cassandra’s lips tightened. ‘So? What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘What am I going to do about it?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’ Cassandra’s face mirrored the uncertainty she was feeling. ‘You’re not going to tell anyone else, are you?’

  ‘Who else?’ Jake was scornful. ‘Who would be interested?’

  Cassandra shrugged, but she still looked wary. ‘Nobody, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, I get it.’ Jake had caught on. ‘You’re afraid I might give this to the tabloid press, aren’t you? Well, don’t worry, Cassandra. I won’t tell anyone your dirty little secret. You’re not the only person who’s involved here.’

  Cassandra stared at him. Then she uttered a scornful sound. ‘Of course. I should have known. It wasn’t concern for my mother that took you up to Northumberland, was it? It was Eve. My sainted daughter.’ She gave a harsh laugh. ‘My God, you’re no better than me.’

  ‘Oh, I am. Believe me, I am.’ Jake couldn’t control his anger now, and Cassandra hurriedly put the width of the sofa between them. ‘As far as Eve is concerned, you’re her mother, and that makes any relationship between us taboo.’ He scowled. ‘But you know what? That’s okay. I don’t need another woman like you in my life.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE aircraft began its decent into San Felipe in the late afternoon, local time. She had been flying for hours and hours, first in a huge jet and then in this small turboprop, and Eve, who hadn’t yet set her watch for San Felipe time, saw it was already after nine o’clock back in England. But she wasn’t tired. She was too excited for that. Excited, but apprehensive, too. This was such a big step, and, while her grandmother had urged her to take it, she couldn’t help the uneasy thought that Jake wouldn’t really be glad to see her.

  So much had happened in such a short time, and she was still reeling from her grandmother’s decision to sell Watersmeet Hall. But the old lady had decided she was getting too old to stay there with only Mrs Blackwood for company when Eve was at work. And, as it seemed that if Eve wanted to continue teaching she would have to get a job in Newcastle, Ellie had decided to accept Adam’s invitation and live with them.

  Mrs Blackwood didn’t mind. She was elderly herself, and had been thinking of retiring for some time. Only Eve presented a problem, and, although Adam had offered her a home too, Eve had decided to get a place of her own.

  And that was when the letter from the school authorities in San Felipe had arrived. Apparently, there was a small school on the island, and they needed a teacher. They’d be happy to offer the position to Eve, they’d said, with a two-months probationary period on both sides. If it didn’t work out, Eve would be given a return ticket to England.

  She’d known at once that Jake had to be behind the offer. What she couldn’t understand was why he would feel the need to do such a thing. She’d been left in no doubt about his reaction when he’d discovered Cassie was her mother, and she hadn’t been surprised that she hadn’t heard from him since.

  Her grandmother hadn’t hesitated in urging her to take the job, however, at least for the probationary period. ‘What have you got to lose?’ she’d demanded, when Eve had expressed her doubts to her. ‘Just because he was foolish enough to get involved with Cassie doesn’t make him a bad person. He obviously liked you, and when I told him you were losing your job at Easter he must have wondered if you’d like a change of scene.’

  ‘When did you tell him I was losing my job at Easter?’ Eve had asked warily, but for once her grandmother had been unusually vague.

  ‘Does it matter?’ she’d protested. ‘This is a wonderful opportunity, Eve. You deserve it. And if you don’t like living in the West Indies you can always come home.’

  Which was true, Eve thought now, as the misgivings she’d had ever since she’d written and accepted the offer asserted themselves again. She was afraid what she was really doing was just building up more misery for herself in the months to come.

  Naturally, Cassie hadn’t approved of the idea. When Ellie had rung her daughter to tell her where Eve was going she had been at pains to remind Eve—via her grandmother—that Jake couldn’t be trusted. He’d apparently visited Cassie again, before he left for San Felipe, and Eve got the impression that their affair was by no means over.

  Of course she’d told no one what had happened in the stables the evening Jake had arrived to see her grandmother. Indeed, there’d been times since then when she’d wondered if she’d just imagined the whole thing. But then she’d wake in the morning with her pillow clasped in her arms and drenched with tears, and she’d know that no fantasy could have created such physical despair.

  She wondered if Ellie would have been so keen to send her off to San Felipe if she’d known what had happened. If she’d known how Eve really felt about Jake. Eve doubted it. As far as the old lady was concerned this was an unexpected solution to all their problems, and Eve hadn’t had the heart to tell her how she really felt.

  Yet how did she really feel? Eve wondered now, as the shape of San Felipe solidified below them. Wasn’t she secretly looking forward to seeing Jake again, whatever happened? You couldn’t care about someone and not care if you never saw them again. However impossible any relationship between them might be, she still wanted to see him, to show him, if nothing else, that she was nothing like her mother.

  The plane flew in over white roofs and rich green vegetation, with the white sandy beaches and deep blue waters of the Caribbean framing the exotic picture. There was no airport as such, just a cluster of colour-washed buildings surrounded by a metal fence, with what might have been a barn—or a hangar—at the end of the short runway.

  ‘This is it, folks.’

  The flight attendant, a young man dressed in an open-necked white shirt and black pants, got up from his seat before the plane had taxied to a halt and began dragging hand luggage from a locker set at the front of the plane. Apart from himself and the pilot there were no other attendants, but that was okay. There were only a dozen passengers on the flight.

  The plane stopped, the door was opened, and Eve joined her fellow passengers as they got up to disembark. A flight of steps had been pushed up against the door, and although she’d earlier experienced the intense heat of the islands in Grand Cayman, it hit her again as she stepped down onto the hot tarmac.

  ‘Have a good holiday,’ said the grinning attendant, and Eve didn’t bother to correct him.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, her eyes already searching the group of people waiting at the gate. But there was no one there she knew, and she looped her haversack over her shoulder and pushed through into the excuse for a customs hall.

  Seconds later she’d had her passport checked, and was waiting to coll
ect her luggage when a hand touched her bare arm. ‘You must be Miss Robertson,’ said a soft, attractive voice, and she turned to find a slim, dark-skinned young woman standing beside her.

  ‘I—yes,’ she said, dropping the heavy haversack on to the floor with some relief. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hello,’ responded the woman, her smile warm and friendly. ‘Jake asked me to meet you. I’m Isabel Rodrigues.’

  ‘Miss Rodrigues!’ Eve was taken aback. She knew from the letter she’d had from the education authorities in San Felipe that the head teacher at the school was called Rodrigues. But she’d never expected anyone like this—as young as this. A vision of Mrs Portman intruded—middle-aged and portly, with greying hair and horn-rimmed spectacles. Isabel Rodrigues was beautiful, and Eve couldn’t help wondering exactly how well she knew Jake Romero. ‘Um—it was good of you to come and meet me.’

  ‘No problem.’ Isabel’s voice had a musical quality to it. ‘Did you have a good journey?’

  ‘A long journey,’ said Eve wryly. ‘But, yes, it was good. Interesting. I’ve never made such a long journey before.’

  ‘So you’ve never been to the islands before?’

  ‘No.’ Eve refrained from saying that most teachers didn’t have the funds to holiday in the West Indies. ‘I’ve never been that fortunate.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Isabel nodded. ‘Well, I’m sure you won’t find it difficult to get used to. The heat may be a problem to begin with, but we start school fairly early in the morning and finish at lunchtime, so you won’t be required to work at the hottest time of the day.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Eve fanned herself with a nervous hand. ‘It is rather enervating, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not to me,’ Isabel assured her, as a trolley containing the luggage from the small plane was wheeled into the area. ‘How many cases do you have?’

  ‘Oh—only one,’ said Eve ruefully, guessing that Isabel Rodrigues would never dream of travelling with only one suitcase. Her slim-fitting slip dress was simple enough, but made of silk, its colours a vibrant blend of orange and yellow that complemented her dark colouring.