St Piran's: The Wedding of The Year / St Piran's: Rescuing Pregnant Cinderella

by Caroline Anderson / Carol Marinelli

  ‘They can’t do it that quickly. I can get you a car today—or at least organise it.’

  She sighed again. ‘Nick, it’s very kind of you, but I don’t really need it in a tearing hurry if I’m going to be stuck here for days.’

  He shrugged. ‘So you can have one in days. Just tell me what you want.’

  She gave up. Sort of. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she told him, and changed the subject.

  The doctors were pleased with him. The blood setback seemed to have been resolved—routine, as Martin Bradley had said—his wound was healing well, and he was happy for them to leave the hospital—for a short while.

  ‘Don’t be too long,’ Jem said, having a little wobble just as they left, and she hesitated, but Nick’s hand on her arm was firm, and she promised they wouldn’t be long and let him lead her out.

  They went via the police station to pick up her keys and the items that had been in her car, and Nick put the bag in his boot and drove her home. It was the first time she’d been back since the accident, and it felt like for ever. She walked inside, picking up the post as she went, and then looked around.

  The place was littered with Jem’s things. A book on the stairs, his sports bag in the hall, a jumper dropped on the floor in the sitting room.

  It caught her totally unawares, and she stared at the things numbly. What on earth would it have been like to come back to this if he’d died?

  ‘I need a shower—put the kettle on and make yourself a drink,’ she said, and hurried upstairs, needing to get away from Nick, to hide herself away in the shower where the sound of water might drown the threatening sobs that were rising in her throat.

  She stripped her clothes off, the sobs starting to break free, and stepped into the shower, turning her face to the wall and slumping on it, her hands pressed over her mouth to hold in the pain that had been bottled up for days, the pain she couldn’t hold inside any longer.

  She could so easily have lost him. Just another couple of miles an hour…

  A wrenching sob ripped through her, and she folded over, propping herself up under the pounding spray.

  She was crying.

  He’d heard the sound before. She’d done the same thing when James had died, and he’d brought her home from the headland and sent her to shower and warm up.

  He couldn’t go there again—not in the shower with her, holding her—but how could he leave her? How could he have left her then, torn apart by grief?

  He went up.

  She hadn’t locked the bathroom door, and he opened the shower cubicle and turned off the water. She was huddled in the corner, and he reached for a towel and crouched down, draping it round her as he lifted her out, sitting down on the floor with her curled into his lap, her tears giving way slowly to fractured sobs that tore at his heart.

  ‘He could have died,’ she said at last, her voice fragmented by emotion. ‘I came in and saw all his things, and I thought, What if I’d come back here, like I did when James died, and his things were everywhere—and…’

  She broke off, fisting her hands in his shirt, and he held her closer, rocking her gently, hot tears scalding his eyes again as she clung to him, sobbing. ‘Shh. He’s all right, Kate, he’s getting better now. He’s going to be all right, sweetheart, he really is. You have to believe that.’

  She nodded and sniffed, the sobs dying away to random hiccups. Every now and then there was another little bout, but he just held her close and let her cry, let her get it out of her system until at last she lifted her head and let go of his shirt, then swiped the tears from her face with shaking fingers.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  ‘I always do this, don’t I? Hide in the shower to cry.’

  He shushed her again, smoothing the damp strands of hair back from her face and pressing his lips softly to her tear-stained cheek.

  ‘All right now?’

  She nodded slowly, and he eased her out of her arms, rescuing the towel as it slid down and tucking it back round her.

  ‘I’ll leave you to wash. I’ll be downstairs,’ he told her, and, standing up, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her cheek again. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  She came down a few minutes later just as the kettle boiled, dressed in clean clothes, her hair still damp and combed out over her shoulders and her smile wry.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she said, looking a little sheepish. ‘I just lost it.’

  ‘Don’t apologise, you’ve had a hell of a couple of days. You needed to get it off your chest. And talking of which, I’m a little underdressed. There’s a bag of clean clothes in my car that I keep there for emergencies—could you do the honours while I shower? Since I’m already drenched?’

  He’d taken off his sodden, crumpled shirt, but the trousers clung to his legs and her eyes scanned his body. Comparing him to Rob? He wouldn’t come off well. He took care of himself, but Rob was a fitness fanatic and a PE teacher. And an ex, he reminded himself, and took small comfort from that.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, and took the keys, and he went upstairs to the bathroom. When he emerged from the shower a few moments later, the bag was there, just inside the door, with a clean, dry towel. She’d come in, and he hadn’t noticed. Just as well, he decided, because when that towel had slipped he’d had a whole plethora of inappropriate thoughts and frankly he wouldn’t trust himself with her at the moment.

  He went back downstairs and found her sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, and she ran her eyes over him again and smiled.

  ‘It’s a good job you keep spare clothes in your car,’ she said, pushing a mug of tea towards him, and he gave a rueful laugh and sat down.

  ‘Well, more or less. Trousers and shirt, at least, for predictable accidents. I don’t tend to carry underwear.’

  She chuckled, then sat back and eyed him thoughtfully. ‘Are you telling me you’re going commando, Dr T.?’ she asked softly, raising an eyebrow and trying to stop her mouth from twitching, and the inappropriate thoughts leapt into his head again.

  ‘That depends who wants to know,’ he murmured, feeling the smile tug his own mouth, and the twitch got worse.

  ‘Are you flirting with me?’

  He felt his smile fade and searched her beautiful, teasing brown eyes. ‘Would that be such a bad thing?’ he asked softly.

  The teasing look vanished, and there was a moment of breathless silence. ‘I don’t know—would it?’

  ‘I’m not sure. It might be fun. It would make a change—we haven’t had fun like that since our teens.’ He glanced down at the mug, lined the handle up carefully exactly at right angles and then met her eyes. ‘How about it?’

  ‘How about what?’ she asked carefully, and he thought she was holding her breath.

  ‘Us.’

  ‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea,’ she said, after a seemingly endless pause. ‘Maybe we’d just better concentrate on Jem for now.’

  She’d hesitated, and in that time he’d held his own breath. He let it out now and gave a little shrug. ‘If you want.’

  ‘I want. Things are complicated enough.’

  He nodded, and she gave a quiet sigh of relief. She didn’t want to rush into anything. There was, however, another worry that was playing on her mind, a more immediate problem, and she raised it now.

  ‘Nick, how am I going to manage when he comes out of hospital? I don’t have a downstairs bathroom, or even a cloakroom, and stairs could be really difficult at first.’

  ‘You could come to mine.’

  She shook her head instantly. ‘No. Not to Annabel’s house,’ she said softly, and watched the guilt flash across his eyes before he looked away.

  ‘No. You’re right, it wouldn’t feel appropriate and, anyway, it’s not exactly off the beaten track. So—perhaps we could rent somewhere? A bungalow or something, neutral ground. Just for a while, until he can manage the stairs again. I’m sure there are th
ings out there. It’s only April. It might be harder in August with the tourists, but I’m sure we could find something now and it needn’t be for long. A few weeks, maybe.’

  A rental property? ‘It’s worth a try,’ she said, feeling the weight of that worry lifting from her shoulders with relief. ‘I would never have thought of that.’

  His smile was a little crooked. ‘You see? I can have my uses, slight though they might be. I’ll call the agents now.’

  He made a couple of calls while she dried her hair, and when she came down he was fizzing with suppressed excitement.

  ‘There’s a single-storey barn conversion. They’ve been trying to sell it, but it hasn’t gone because it’s quite pricy and the owners have been unrealistic, but they’ve now decided to let it, but only to people who don’t want a long lease, which we don’t.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘OK. Where is it?’

  ‘On the way to Ben and Lucy’s, so only about three miles out of the village. It’s got a distant sea view, apparently—it’s U-shaped, two-storey in the central section, with a courtyard garden and surrounded by farmland. Worth a look?’

  ‘Definitely,’ she said, then hesitated, not sure how to ask but just knowing that she had to, that this needed to be set out in black and white. ‘Nick—is this just for me to stay in, or were you thinking of being there, too?’

  He gave an enigmatic shrug, his eyes veiled. ‘That depends.’

  ‘On?’

  ‘You, Jem? I don’t know. If you want me there, I’d like to be there, but I don’t want to confuse him or preempt any decision you might make in the future. I know Rob lived with you, but—’

  ‘No,’ she corrected hastily. ‘Rob didn’t live with us. He and Matt came to stay after I came out of hospital, but the boys shared Jem’s room and Rob was on the sofa bed downstairs. We didn’t share a room. It didn’t feel right, when it came to it.’

  He wasn’t sure why, but that made him feel better. Not much. He knew they’d had an intimate relationship, because he’d gone to talk to her one night about a year ago and seen them through the window. He could still picture Rob bending his head to kiss her in the kitchen, and then the lights going off and coming on upstairs. Not that there was any reason why they shouldn’t, but that had been before her surgery. Maybe that had changed things. Was that what she had meant about it not feeling right?

  ‘I don’t have any ulterior motive, Kate,’ he told her. ‘There are four bedrooms there. Two upstairs, each with en suite, and an en suite guest room, another bedroom or snug and a study downstairs in one of the sides. It’s got a big open living space with a sitting room one end, a kitchen at the other and an open vaulted dining hall in the middle, with the stairs off it, and the third side is utility, workshop and garaging, apparently. We’d have plenty of space.’

  She blinked. ‘It sounds amazing.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. I’ve asked the agent to meet us there in twenty minutes.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Wow. OK. You don’t hang around, do you?’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘No. No, no problem, it’s been worrying me to bits. It would be great if it was any good. The only thing is, how much is the rent, because I can’t afford a fortune.’

  ‘You let me worry about that.’

  ‘Nick, I can’t—’

  ‘You can. It’s not for you, it’s for our son, and God knows I’ve done precious little for him in the last eleven years. Just let it go, Kate. Please. Don’t argue.’

  She opened her mouth, thought for a moment and then gave in. ‘OK. But don’t get in the habit of doing this.’

  ‘What? Caring for my son? Why the hell not?’

  There was a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen for years, a purpose, a passion, and it was as if this whole course of events had brought him back to life.

  She smiled. ‘Shall we go and look?’ she said, and he grinned and tossed his car keys in the air.

  ‘After we’ve been via mine and I’ve got some underwear on,’ he said with a mischievous twinkle that gave her heart an unexpected lurch, and he ushered her out, closing the door firmly behind them.

  It was fantastic. Perfect.

  Built of granite, it was solid, tucked down in a fold of the land to shelter it from the prevailing south-westerly wind, and he couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.

  It was to let fully furnished with every necessity and equipped to a very high standard, with king-size beds in the main bedrooms, lovely battered leather sofas in the sitting room and invitingly luxurious bathrooms with showerheads like dustbin lids.

  He hadn’t felt so excited about anything for years. He’d made his mind up after the most cursory walkthrough and an exchanged glance with Kate, who was looking slightly stunned. It was wonderful, and he couldn’t imagine why it hadn’t sold instantly.

  He said as much to the agent, who just shrugged. ‘I don’t know, either. It’s been a second home and their circumstances have changed and they want to sell it, but they want a lot for it. The only thing I can assume is that it’s too expensive for a holiday cottage and there aren’t enough people living around here who can afford to buy it. As far as I can see, there isn’t a single catch apart from the price, but the market’s been a little odd recently. Maybe that’s it.’

  Maybe. And it was expensive, but Nick was doing some quick calculations. He wasn’t a big spender. He’d been careful over the years, he was sitting on the cash he’d got for his parents’ house when Ben had bought it at auction for Lucy, and if he sold his own house, he’d have enough to buy it.

  Not that he was going to do anything rash just yet, but it might be worth having a word with the agent to see if he could have the option on it as they were renting. And maybe, if things went well…

  ‘What do you think, Kate?’

  Her smile was enigmatic. ‘I think we need to talk.’

  He frowned, as if he couldn’t see what on earth they might need to talk about, and then with a slight shrug he turned to the agent.

  ‘Can we have another wander around for a few minutes, talk this through?’ he asked, and the agent nodded.

  ‘Sure. Take your time. I’ve got a few calls to make, I’ll be in the car.’

  He left them, and Nick turned to Kate.

  ‘Well? Come on, let’s hear it, you’ve obviously got something you want to say.’

  She smiled at his impatience, but she wasn’t going to be railroaded, no matter what she thought of the house. ‘I think it’s wonderful,’ she told him honestly. ‘Absolutely gorgeous. I also think it’d be impossible going from this back to my house when he’s better.’

  He gave her a level look. ‘Maybe you won’t have to.’

  ‘Because I’ll sell up and move away?’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking you might stay on, live here.’

  ‘Nick…’ She gave a little, despairing laugh and shook her head. ‘We can’t just live here for ever.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She felt her eyes widen. ‘Why not? Because it’s outrageously expensive! I can’t even afford to rent it, let alone buy it—’

  ‘But I can. I could buy it, and you could stay here.’

  ‘No.’ She backed away from him a step, shaking her head again but in denial this time. ‘Nick, no. Don’t try and buy me, please. Or Jem. Especially not him. I’d rather carry him up and downstairs or put his bed in the sitting room with a commode beside it than let you do that. Please. I mean it.’

  He sighed and rammed his hand through his hair. ‘Kate, I’m not trying to buy you, don’t be silly. I’m just talking through the possibilities.’

  ‘Well, how about possibly finding a simple, small bungalow somewhere with three bedrooms while he recovers?’ she suggested bluntly, not sure she could picture him in that setting but pushing him just to see if he’d go for it, for his son’s sake. For hers.

  He stabbed his hand through his hair again and gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Look, forge
t the money, forget the value, because it’s not about that, it’s not about impressing you, or Jem. It’s about giving us somewhere to get to know each other, all of us, somewhere calm and safe, tranquil, somewhere we can all heal, because I’m under no illusions about it. When we tell him I’m his father there will be some wounds that need healing, Kate, and we’ll need somewhere to do that in peace.’

  He was so right—of course. He took her hands, meeting her searching gaze with troubled eyes, eyes that were filled with sincerity and pain. ‘That’s why I’ve held back, Kate, why I haven’t involved myself with Jem, not because I didn’t want to rock the boat with my other kids, but because of what it would do to him. I thought, when there was a possibility that you’d marry Rob, that he might not ever need to know, that he could have a stepfather who’d love him and keep him safe, and the knowledge that his father had died a hero. But now you aren’t going to marry Rob, and it was only with the blood group thing that I realised there was no question that he was mine, and that he had to know.’

  He dropped her hands and turned to the window, gesturing at the courtyard garden. ‘Look at it, Kate. It’s warm, sheltered, with flat paths where he can walk safely while he heals. Your garden’s terraced at the back, your drive slopes up to the house and there are steps to the front door. My garden’s the same, and it’s so public there—so many people who’d make it their business to have an opinion and to express it. If I’m ten minutes late taking the milk in, there’s someone there with it in their hand, ringing the bell and checking up on me.’

  ‘And you don’t want people to see us together? Is that it?’ she asked, a hideous sinking feeling in her chest. ‘Are you ashamed of him, Nick? Because if you are, this stops now. I’m not having my son thinking you’re ashamed of him—’

  ‘Kate, no!’ he exclaimed, his face horrified, and she knew instantly that he wasn’t lying. ‘Of course I’m not ashamed of him! I think he’s a great kid—and I’m really proud to be his father. I just dread the impact it’ll have on him when it gets out, and if there was anything I could do to protect him from that, to prevent it happening, I would do it, believe me, but I can’t. I can just be there for him, to fend off the gossips, and the easiest way to do that is to avoid them. At least here we’d be free to explore our relationship in peace, and can you think of a better place to do it?’