Just One Last Night

by Helen Brooks

  Walking through to the dining room, he found the table was relatively clear, just a file or two piled in one corner. Placing these on the floor, he dug and delved until he found cutlery, place mats, napkins and glasses. Then he returned to the kitchen and poured himself another coffee.

  Ridiculously he found he was nervous, his stomach full of butterflies as it had been on their first date. It had been the evening after they had met at their mutual friend’s wedding; he hadn’t been able to wait for more than twenty-four hours to see her again. He had wined and dined her in a plush restaurant, playing up to the image of wealthy, successful tycoon while being inwardly terrified the whole time she wouldn’t want to see him again. She had invited him in for a coffee when he had dropped her back to her bedsit—just a coffee, she’d emphasised.

  They had talked for three hours.

  He smiled to himself, remembering how it had been. He had never talked to a woman like that before in the whole of his life but with Melanie it had seemed right, natural to keep nothing back. And she had been the same. Or he’d thought she had.

  Restlessly, he walked over to the back door and opened it, stepping into the tiny garden. The night was chilly but not overly cold, and from the light of the house he saw the small space had been trimmed and manicured for the winter. The heady scent of the roses was gone but a softer perfume was in the air and he saw several shrubs in large pots were flowering.

  He wasn’t aware of Melanie behind him until she said, ‘I still like splashes of colour in the winter. That’s a Viburnum bodnantense in the corner. Pretty, isn’t it, with those clusters of dark pink flowers? And the Oregon grape is about as robust as you can get and I love the way its foliage turns red in winter. I’ve planted several in Isabelle’s garden.’

  He glanced down at her as she moved to stand with him. She had dressed in a soft white woolly jumper and jeans, and her pale blonde hair was pulled into a shining ponytail. She wore no make-up and she looked about sixteen, he thought shakily, swamped with a love so fierce it took a moment before he could say, ‘Is that where the scent is coming from?’

  ‘Oh, you mean the winter honeysuckle.’ She pointed to a shrub close to the wall of the house. ‘It’s called Winter Beauty and it flowers right through the winter into the spring. Beautiful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, not taking his eyes from her face. ‘Very beautiful.’

  She looked up at him and he saw a tremor go through her. ‘You’re cold.’ He took her arm and turned her into the warmth of the house. She felt fragile under his fingers, as though if he pressed too hard she’d break. Warning himself to go carefully, he kept his voice light when he said, ‘There’s plenty of coffee left. Shall I pour you a cup?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d love one but I’m limited to one or two cups of tea or coffee a day now. Caffeine, you know.’

  It brought back memories of what had seemed like an endless list of dos and don’ts when she’d been pregnant before, and not for the first time he reflected that there were women who ate and drank what they liked, smoked, even took drugs, and went on to have healthy babies, whereas Melanie… Not that he agreed with such a selfish approach, of course, but Melanie had done everything right first time round. It seemed the height of unfairness she’d lost Matthew the way she had. Quietly, Forde said, ‘Juice, then? Or shall we open that bottle of fizzy grape juice I brought? Non-alcoholic, by the way.’

  She had walked into the kitchen so that the breakfast bar was between them, and everything about her suggested she wasn’t about to lower her guard in any way. Her body language was confirmed when she said, ‘Forde, I agreed to see you tonight but I don’t want you to think it means anything other than I recognise we must talk. This baby is as much yours as mine. I know that.’

  It was something. Not much, but better than having to persuade her to face that very fact.

  ‘The thing is,’ she began hesitantly, only to pause when he lifted his hand palm up.

  ‘We’re not talking about “the thing” or anything else until we’ve eaten.’ He was going to have to fight to get through to her and he was quite prepared for that, but he was damned if he was going to do it on an empty stomach. ‘The food should be here any minute, OK?’

  As though on cue the doorbell rang.

  Within a minute or two the table was groaning under an array of fragrant, steaming foil dishes and a positive banquet was spread out in front of them.

  Far from picking at her food, as Forde had feared, Melanie ate like a hungry cat, delicately but with an intensity that meant she more than did justice to the meal. There were only a few morsels left by the time they were both replete, and as Melanie leant back in her chair she sighed blissfully. ‘That was delicious. I didn’t realise I was so hungry.’

  He grinned. ‘Eating for two, sweetheart.’

  A shadow passed over her face. ‘Forde—’

  ‘Or maybe three. It could be twins. There are twins on my father’s side, remember, so who knows?’

  Her eyes wide with something like alarm in them, Melanie said weakly, ‘I’m going for a scan this week. I’ll let you know if there’s two.’

  ‘Twins would be great,’ he said, tongue in cheek. ‘Double the joy.’

  ‘And double the feeding, changing nappies—’ She stopped suddenly, as though she had been reminded of something. ‘Forde, we have to talk. Now.’

  ‘OK.’ He smiled as though his heart hadn’t gone into spasm at the look on her face. Whatever she was going to say, he knew he wouldn’t like it. ‘Let’s go into the sitting room with our drinks, shall we?’

  She had relaxed when they were eating, even allowing herself to laugh a few times at the stories he’d purposely told against himself, but now she was as stiff as a board as he followed her into the other room. She chose to curl up on one of the sofas in a way that meant he was forced to take the other one.

  ‘So?’ He found he was done with prevaricating. ‘What do you want to say, Nell?’

  He watched her take a deep breath and it caused him to tense still more.

  ‘I—I can’t keep this baby when it’s born. If—if you want to I think you should take it.’

  Whatever he’d prepared himself for, it wasn’t this. He knew his mouth had fallen open, and shut it with a little snap, trying desperately to hang onto reality. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘It would be better if it was brought up by one of its natural parents,’ Melanie said woodenly. ‘And you have your mother and a whole host of relations. It—it would have roots, a sense of belonging, and you’re wealthy enough to hire the best nanny, and there’s Janet too—’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Only the sure knowledge this wasn’t really what she wanted enabled Forde to keep his temper. ‘The best nanny in the world is no compensation for a child’s mother, a mother who would love it beyond imagination in your case. You were born to be a mother, Nell. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘No,’ she said in a stony voice. ‘I can’t keep it.’

  Struggling for calmness, he said, ‘Why not? Explain. You owe me that, not to mention our unborn child. Have you considered how our son or daughter is going to feel when it finds out its mother wanted nothing to do with it after it was born?’

  She shut her eyes for an infinitesimal moment. ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘The hell it isn’t. Face facts, woman.’

  ‘I am facing facts. ‘

  The loss of control was so sudden he jumped visibly as she sprang to her feet.

  ‘If I keep it, if I’m its mother, something will happen. Like it did with Matthew. Or to you. Something will happen to stop us being a family and it will be because of me. Don’t you understand that yet? It’s because I love it I have to stay out of its life.’

  He stared at her. She was standing with her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body as straight as a board, and he could see she believed every word. Softly, he said, ‘And that’s why you walked out on me, on our marriage.’
It was a statement, not a question. But he had to make her hear herself, acknowledge the enormity of what she had confessed. ‘Because you’ve told yourself this lie so often you believe it.’

  It was dawning on him just how much he had failed her. He should have insisted she went for counselling after Matthew’s death, forced her to confront the gremlins, but he had been so frightened of causing her more pain. Of losing her. Ironic.

  ‘It’s not a lie.’ She drew in a shuddering breath.

  ‘Oh, yes, it is.’ He stood up and crossed the space between them, taking her stiff, unyielding body into his arms. ‘Life doesn’t come in neat, sanitised packages, Nell. People die in accidents, of diseases, of old age, in—in miscarriages and stillbirths and a whole host of other medical issues. It isn’t nice and it isn’t fair but it happens. You weren’t to blame for Matthew’s death. I don’t know why it happened and I have to confess I’ve shouted and railed at God ever since because of it, but I do know you weren’t to blame. You’ve got to get that into your head.’

  ‘I can’t.’ She pulled away, stepping back from him. ‘And I’ve got to protect this baby, Forde. If you take it and I stay out of your lives it will be all right.’

  Her white face and haunted eyes warned Forde that he had pushed her to the limit of her endurance. His mind now working rapidly, he kept his voice steady and low. ‘It goes without saying I’ll take our baby, Nell. But I think you owe it one thing. I want you to go and talk over how you feel with someone who is completely unbiased and who has experience in the type of grief you’re feeling. Will you do that for it? And me?’

  She’d taken another step backwards. ‘A doctor, you mean? You think I’m crazy?’

  ‘Not in a million years.’ He wouldn’t let her retreat further, covering the distance between them in one stride and taking her cold hands in his. ‘But I know someone, a friend, who’s trained in this type of counselling. She offered to talk to you months ago in a professional role, just you and her and everything confidential between the two of you, OK? You’d like Miriam, Nell. I promise.’

  She extracted her hands from his. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then trust me to know. Will you do that? And what have you got to lose? I love you, Nell. I’ll always love you. If you won’t do this for yourself, do it for me.’

  He saw the confusion in her eyes and, acting on instinct, he reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was soft like raw silk and as warm as liquid honey. Leaning closer, he bent his head and kissed her, a gentle, undemanding kiss, before drawing her against him.

  They stood together in the quiet room, Forde nuzzling the top of her head and Melanie resting against his chest without speaking. Her hair smelt of the apple shampoo she favoured and there was the faintest scent of vanilla from her perfume. Why two such fairly innocuous fragrances should make his blood pulse with desire he didn’t know, but then Melanie had always had that effect on him. He wanted her so badly he ached with it, but he steeled himself against betraying it, knowing at this moment she wanted nothing more than to be held and comforted.

  After a minute or two, he murmured, ‘I’ll ring Miriam tomorrow and ask her to see you. She’s a busy lady but we go way back and I know she’ll find time.’

  Melanie was quiet for a moment, then her voice came faintly muffled from his chest. ‘Way back? What does that mean?’

  He caught the tinge of jealousy she was trying to conceal and almost smiled. ‘She’s the mother of a close friend, grandmother of six and has been happily married for forty years.’ Miriam was also much sought after and at the top of her field professionally, but he wasn’t about to mention that.

  ‘Forde, it won’t change anything. You know that, don’t you?’ She raised swimming eyes to his. ‘You have to face the inevitable. I have.’

  ‘Go and see her, that’s all I’m asking,’ he said softly. He kissed her again, and in spite of telling himself to go carefully it deepened into something more than comfort. A restless urgency surfaced and he knew she felt it too by the way she clung to him in a hungry response that took the last of his control. His hands roamed over her body, touching her with sensual, intimate caresses, and then he scooped her up in his arms as he murmured against her lips, ‘I want you. Tonight. But if you want me to leave now, I’ll go.’

  Her answer was to kiss him with a desire that was unmistakable, and with a small growl Forde carried her up the stairs to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and in frantic haste and without speaking they tore off their clothes and then he lay down beside her, cupping her face in his palms and kissing her deeply and passionately.

  She had always been a lover who gave as much as she got and now her hands and mouth explored him as hungrily as his did her, twisting and turning with him as they moaned their pleasure. Her breasts felt fuller in his hands and as he took one rosy nipple in his mouth she arched with a little cry.

  ‘They—they’re more sensitive now,’ she gasped against what he was doing to her, and as his mouth returned to hers he swept his tongue inside and then pulled back and bit her bottom lip gently.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, my love,’ he murmured shakily. ‘I don’t think I can wait much longer.’

  ‘Then don’t.’

  She was wet and warm for him when he entered her. She hooked her legs round him and raised her hips and they moved together in perfect unison towards a release that had them both calling out as they tipped over the edge into white pleasure. Then he circled her in his arms, one thigh lying over hers as she opened drugged eyes. ‘You don’t know how many cold showers I’ve taken in the middle of the night recently,’ he murmured wryly.

  She half smiled, but he could see she was thinking again. ‘Forde, we shouldn’t have—’

  ‘Yes, we should.’ He brushed back a strand of hair from her face. ‘I wanted you and you wanted me. It was that simple. Don’t try to complicate it.’

  ‘But it doesn’t—’

  ‘Change anything,’ he finished for her. ‘Yes, I know. Don’t worry. Go to sleep.’ He pulled the duvet over them.

  Her expression was one of total confusion and remorse. ‘It’s not fair to you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Nell, believe me, I can live with this sort of unfairness,’ he said drily.

  She smiled again but a proper smile this time and he grinned back at her. ‘Go to sleep,’ he said again, kissing the tip of her nose and then her mouth. ‘Everything’s OK.’

  She was asleep within moments, snuggled close to him, but Forde lay and watched her for a long, long time. Everything’s OK. What a stupid thing to say, he thought ruefully. His wife had told him she was going to hand over their baby to him at birth and then disappear out of their lives, and he’d said everything was OK. But he had no intention of letting her do that, not for a second, so maybe everything was, if not OK, then clearer than it had been for a good while.

  With a feather-light touch he reached out his fingers and ran them across her belly. It might be his imagination but already he thought he could feel a slight swell. His child was alive in there, tiny now but each day gaining strength.

  Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes. It had been a long, hard road since they’d lost Matthew, and they still weren’t at the end of it yet, not by a long chalk, but against all the odds a miracle had happened and Melanie was pregnant. That one night of loving had produced this baby and no matter what he had to do to achieve it, they were going to be a family. If he had to kidnap Melanie and take her and their baby to some remote place in the back of beyond until she accepted that, he’d do it.

  She stirred in her sleep, murmuring his name before breathing steadily and quietly once more.

  It was a tiny thing, but it cheered him. She was his. End of story, he thought fiercely. And promptly fell asleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MELANIE woke first the next morning, aware she was wonderfully warm and cosy and sleepy. Then her eyes snapped open. Forde. He was curled into her back, one male arm resting possessively across h
er stomach.

  Very, very carefully she eased his arm off her and then turned to face him. He was fast asleep, the duvet down to his waist revealing his wide, muscled shoulders and the black curly body hair covering his chest. She drank him in for some moments and then slid silently out of bed. She didn’t intend to sneak away like the time before, she wouldn’t do that to him again, but neither did she want to pretend they were like any other couple waking up together.

  Gathering her clothes in her arms, she padded through to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. When she emerged, fully clothed and coiffured, she glanced through the open bedroom door. Forde was sitting up in bed, his hands behind his head, and her heart raced like a runaway horse. He looked like every woman’s fantasy of what she’d like to find in her Christmas stocking.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said lazily. ‘All finished in there?’

  She nodded jerkily. And then found she couldn’t tear her eyes away as he flung back the duvet and stood up. She had seen him naked many times but she didn’t think she would ever grow tired of looking at him. The flagrant maleness was intoxicating and he moved as beautifully as one of the big cats, his muscles sleek and honed and not an ounce of fat on his hard frame. He had almost reached her before she pulled herself together, but as she went to disappear down the stairs he turned her round with his hand on her arm. His kiss was firm and sweet but he didn’t prolong the embrace, although as he turned away and strolled into the bathroom Melanie noticed a certain part of his anatomy was betraying his desire for her in the age-old way.

  Heat slammed into her cheeks as she scurried downstairs, but then the faint feeling of sickness that would gather steam throughout the day before dispersing round seven or eight o’clock in the evening made itself felt. It was the one thing about pregnancy she truly hated, she told herself, forcing down a couple of dry biscuits once she reached the kitchen. Before she had become pregnant with Matthew she had always imagined morning sickness was just that—you woke up, you vomited, and then you got on with the rest of the day as right as rain. Instead this horrible nausea and the overall feeling of being unwell dogged her all day, but if this baby followed the same pattern as Matthew it would only be another two or three weeks before she felt better.