by Daphne Clair
Annys hesitated, then took the plunge. ‘The father is my ex-husband,’ she said. ‘And he wants to move in with me. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.’
‘Go with your instincts,’ Kate advised her. ‘You know, there are going to be times when you get the blues, wonder what you’re doing carrying this great lump about for months on end. And you’ll be tired. Before and afterwards. It’s kind of nice to be able to unload on the father. No one else really wants to know, for one thing.’
Annys laughed. ‘You’re always so practical.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ Kate added. ‘There’s nothing like having the father there when it comes to actually producing the baby. Nurses, doctors, they’re OK. A friend or relative, I’m sure that’s nice. But the father—it’s a part of him, just as it’s a part of you. No one else has the same emotional investment. Gives you a great sense of partnership.’ She smiled. ‘Well, you’ll see for yourself.’ A flood of emotion overwhelmed Annys at the thought of having Reid’s baby with him by her side, both of them waiting to see what they had made together. Tears unexpectedly filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Wiping them away, she said in a voice of muffled surprise, ‘Sorry, I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’
Kate put an arm about her and gave her a quick hug. ‘Pregnancy,’ she said succinctly. ‘It does tend to make us emotional.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Annys had forgotten that. She felt unnaturally fragile and vulnerable these days. She hoped the feeling wasn’t going to last.
Maybe that was why, when two evenings later Reid turned up on her doorstep holding two suitcases and asked, ‘Are you going to let me in?’ she did so without a murmur of protest. It seemed too much trouble to argue, and if she was honest she really didn’t want to. ‘Where’s your spare room?’ he asked, and she silently directed him to it.
‘The bed’s not made up,’ she said as he put down his cases on the floor and turned to her. ‘I’ll do it. Where are the sheets?’ She produced some from a cupboard in the hallway. When she bent to help him tuck them under the mattress, he said, ‘I said I’ll do it.’
‘I’m not helpless.’ She smoothed a corner and moved to the other one.
‘I didn’t say you were,’ he told her, throwing a blanket over the sheet. Annys pulled it straight.
‘How have you been?’ he asked when they’d finished. ‘You look like a rose in bloom.’
‘Thanks.’ She glanced at him warily as they left the room. ‘I’m very well most of the time. A little bit of nausea occasionally. I really don’t need a nursemaid.’
He cast her an oblique glance. ‘I promise not to fuss, if you’re sensible.’
She might have taken offence at that. Instead she had that warm feeling of being cared for. She said, ‘Do you want a drink or something?’
‘Coffee,’ he said. ‘I’ll get it.’
Annys waited for him in one of the deep chairs. He handed her a cup, coffee made the way she usually liked it. She sat with her legs curled under her, sipping it. Outside darkness was falling, and lights came on in the houses. She ought to draw the curtains, but she felt too lazy.
‘Do you mind if I give your phone number to some people who may need to contact me?’ he asked her.
‘Feel free.’ She sipped at the drink. She wondered if she ought to cut down for the baby’s sake. ‘I often work with the answering machine switched on,’ she warned him. ‘They may have to leave a message.’
‘I’ll be in our Auckland office most of the day. I’ll answer all calls in the evenings, if you like.’
She thought about that. ‘I haven’t told my parents yet,’ she said.
‘About me being here? Or about the baby?’
‘Both. Neither. My mother will be pleased. She wants a grandchild.’
‘Youdidn’t think of that before?’
Annys flicked a glance at him. ‘What was I supposed to do?’
He looked grim. Then he shrugged. ‘OK, let’s not open old wounds.’
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but it seemed a good principle to abide by. He’d hardly walked in the door, and she was taking an extraordinary and rather shameful pleasure in having him here, sitting opposite her with his jacket and tie off, appearing relaxed and at home. She certainly didn’t want to start any rows.
‘We could drive up at the weekend and visit them, if you like,’ Reid suggested.
‘I’ll think about it.’ She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. Her parents would assume this meant that her marriage to Reid was all on again. Annys was still feeling her way.
She ran a finger round the rim of her cup, thinking.
‘Finished?’ Reid asked, standing up.
‘No.’ She drank the rest and made to get up, but he held out his hand for it. ‘Don’t move.’
Bemused, she watched him go to the kitchen. When he came back she said, ‘Maybe I could get used to this treatment. Is it your intention to spoil me rotten?’
Still on his feet, he smiled down at her. ‘Isn’t that the accepted treatment for expectant mothers? Outlandish snacks in the middle of night, their every whim indulged?’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Annys uncurled her legs and stretched, a hand lifting her hair from her neck. ‘How come I never got this treatment before?’
Reid’s smile died. A brief flash of awareness lit his eyes as he watched her. ‘I don’t think you wanted it before,’ he said. ‘Did you?’
Not that she’d ever admitted, Annys acknowledged silently. Aloud she said, ‘You never asked, did you?’ She stood up, facing him.
‘My mistake?’ he said on a soft, querying note.
‘Maybe.’
She had a strange impression that he was almost holding his breath. ‘Tell me more,’ he said.
But she was afraid now. Afraid of breaking the precarious peace between them. Anything, she thought, could tip that delicate balance. ‘I’m tired,’ she said. ‘I know it’s early, but I’ve been going to bed early a lot lately.’
‘We never had that talk.’
‘You want to talk now?’
‘Not if you’re tired,’ he said very evenly. ‘There’s plenty of time. I’m going to be here for a while.’
How long was a while? she wondered. Until the baby was born, he had implied. And afterwards, did he plan on sticking around? Maybe he was leaving that decision until later. He had said he wanted to give the child a father, but that didn’t necessarily mean they must be living in the same house.
So many unanswered questions. Questions on the future. Questions from the past.
In the middle of the night she had to get up. That was another symptom she had forgotten about. There was a light under the spare-room door. On her way back to her bedroom she heard a sudden thump, and a grunt.
She hesitated. It was one o’clock in the morning. She tapped on the door, then opened it.
Reid lay on the bed, still dressed in trousers and shirt, although he had undone most of the buttons on the shirt. He was surrounded by files and papers, and held a hefty folder in his hand.
He looked at her, dressed in a thin silk wrap over her nightgown, and a faint smile hovered on his mouth. ‘Dare I hope this is an invitation?’
‘I heard something... but you’re obviously all right.’
‘I dropped this.’ He lifted the folder in his hand. ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’
‘I needed the bathroom. Are you working?’
‘Good guess.’ He looked around at the cluttered bed. ‘If you were issuing invitations,’ he said hopefully, ‘I could move it.’
Annys shook her head. ‘You could use my workroom in future,’ she said. ‘There’s a desk in there.’
‘Thank you. Sure I won’t be in your way?’
‘Not at this time of the night. I’ve given up burning midnight oil.’
‘Have you? Pity you didn’t do so a bit earlier. When we were still married.’
‘All the time we were married I had to juggle my time to fit in
with you.’
Reid put down the folder, shoved aside some papers and stood up, coming towards her.
‘How’s that again?’
‘Never mind. I didn’t mean to dredge it up now.’
‘You’re saying that it was my fault you worked impossible hours?’
‘I’m not saying it was anyone’s fault,’ Annys protested. ‘I just said that it needed to be done.’
‘And fitted around my supposed needs? Is that really what you were doing?’
‘Often, yes.’ She faced him stubbornly. ‘I tried to allow time for us to be together.’
‘I was trying, too, Annys. So how did we lose the lines of communication after all?’
‘I... don’t know,’ she said. ‘But at the end they just weren’t there, were they?’
She looked at him sadly, and saw an answering sadness in his eyes. Surprised, she said, ‘Did you really care?’
His reply came slowly. ‘If you don’t know that, then we had really lost each other. What on earth could make you think for a minute that I didn’t care?’
‘Well, if you did,’ she cried, all the remembered pain and anger suddenly surging together and spilling out, ‘why were you making love to Carla?’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Reid looked absolutely astounded. ‘Why was I what?’
‘You thought I didn’t know,’ Annys said, ‘but I saw you with her. If you’re looking for reasons, Reid, try that. I’m not such a fool as you thought.’
‘I never thought you were, until this moment,’ Reid said, his voice harsh. ‘What exactly are you accusing me of?’
‘I just told you! I saw you together.’
‘We were together quite often,’ Reid said. ‘You know we worked together on several projects. That doesn’t make me an adulterer!’
‘You weren’t working when I saw you—’
‘Wait a minute,’ Reid said slowly. ‘Tell me what you saw. When—and where. You do remember?’ he added sarcastically, as she hesitated.
‘Vividly,’ Annys snapped. The scene was painfully etched on her memory. She would never be able to forget it.
They’d had a row the night before. She’d woken late, feeling muzzy and sick. For the first time ever Reid had left their bed, and the house, without saying goodbye to her.
She had looked for a note, or some sign from him. There had been nothing. She’d made herself breakfast, listlessly, and tried to interest herself in some work in the room they had converted from a spare bedroom. And found herself sitting with a pencil in her hand, staring into space and wondering what it was that had gone so wrong with their marriage.
The sickness that usually faded after breakfast had persisted that morning, and she’d had to leave her drawing table and hurry to the bathroom. Afterwards she hadn’t gone back to work, but had lain on the bed for a while. She had been eight weeks pregnant, and with her hand on her stomach she could feel the slight roundness that as yet hardly showed, although the test kit she had bought from a chemist had definitely shown positive.
Her mind had gone back to the night before, when she had told Reid about the baby. She had closed her eyes, holding back tears.
Nothing had gone quite as she’d planned it. She’d cooked a special meal, but he’d phoned to say he was held up and not to wait for him. In the end she’d emptied the meal down the waste disposal. It wasn’t the kind of thing that kept well, and she’d only eaten a little herself before nausea had risen in the throat and she couldn’t swallow any more.
When he finally came in she was in bed with the light out, but she turned as he entered the bedroom, ready with a smile for him.
He didn’t see it, because he didn’t switch on the light. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Did I wake you?’
‘I wasn’t asleep.’
She waited for him as he undressed in the dark and slipped in beside her. He lay on his back, a foot away from her, and propped an arm behind his head, letting out a long sigh.
‘Heavy day?’ Annys asked.
‘You could say that. How was yours?’
‘All right. I didn’t get much work done. I...went to the doctor.’
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, quickly swivelling his head to look at her.
‘Well,’ Annys said, trying to sound casual, ‘nothing, really. I’m pregnant.’
Reid was silent and still for a long time. So long that her heart began to die inside her. Obviously the news didn’t bring him any pleasure. Then he said, his voice flat and expressionless, ‘You’re what?’
‘Pregnant,’ she said, her own voice rising with tension, because the news that had filled her with joyful trepidation was being greeted so curtly. ‘As in with child. Going to have a baby!’
Again he seemed to hesitate. ‘Did you...plan it?’
‘No, of course I didn’t plan it!’ Did he think she’d have done that without consulting him?
‘I see,’ Reid said. ‘So it’s not something you meant to happen.’
‘I didn’t do it on my own,’ she said. ‘You’re partly responsible too, you know!’
‘I’m not denying responsibility,’ he said. ‘So. It isn’t the end of world. Inconvenient, maybe—’
‘Inconvenient!’ Annys wanted to howl, or hit him. Was that all it meant to him? An inconvenience?
They had only once discussed the possibility of having children, in some vaguely foreseen future. There was no hurry, they’d agreed. Annys was at the start of a promising career, Reid was heavily involved with his which often took him away on business, and they wanted time with each other first.
‘We’ll get round it,’ Reid assured her. ‘We can afford to pay for good childcare. Maybe even a nanny. You won’t have to give up your work, though it’ll take a bit of adjusting.’
Driven by an obscure sense of outrage that he was already consigning their unborn child to the care of strangers, trying to minimise the inconvenience, Annys said, seething, ‘And what adjustments will you be making? Or am I supposed to make them all?’
‘Not at all.’ His voice was cool and even. ‘I was planning anyway to cut down on my overseas trips,’ he said. ‘We’ve just headhunted a very promising young engineer. He’s single, with no family commitments. I’m hoping to groom him to take my place on some projects. I thought that you and I could have more time together, just the two of us.’
‘It won’t be just the two of us,’ she reminded him. ‘And baby makes three, remember?’
‘I haven’t forgotten. All the more reason for me to be around. If our family is going to arrive sooner rather than later, well... it’s not a tragedy.’
‘Just a disaster?’ Annys said sarcastically. Obviously that was how he thought of it, something that had to be ‘got round’. ‘It doesn’t need to be. How are you feeling?’
‘I was feeling fine,’ Annys said bitterly. ‘Considering I’ve still got seven months to go. You’re not helping much.’ She was feeling sick now, with disappointment at his grudging acceptance.
Reid said, ‘Look, we’re heading for another row, and that won’t help much, either. I know you’re fed up with me at the moment. And frankly, I’m dead tired. It has been a long and difficult day.’
‘Sorry if I added to it,’ Annys said stiffly. ‘I suppose this has been the last straw.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Reid said wearily. ‘I’m glad you told me.’ He reached out and found her hand, holding it tightly for a moment. ‘And I’m sorry I can’t entirely share your feelings. Let’s sleep on it, shall we?’
‘It won’t go away by morning,’ Annys said resentfully.
She wished passionately that he would take her in his arms and assure her that really he was delighted. Instead, he leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the forehead and said, ‘Go to sleep.’
She wanted to, but she lay awake for hours instead, going over the conversation, listening to Reid’s steady breathing, and getting more and more depressed.
And in the morning she could scarcely believe
that he’d left without a word. Lying on the bed while the sickness receded, wondering if the faint fluttering she felt in her stomach could possibly be her baby’s movements, although she believed it was far too soon, she came to a decision. They had to make time for each other, she and Reid. And they’d have to do it before the baby was born. Because if they hadn’t sorted out their problems by then, things would only get worse. Always their times together were snatched from their commitment to their jobs. A baby would take more time, leaving them even less for each other.
Last night Reid had said he was already making some move towards resolving that. He’d been expressing a willingness to alter his life for her, and he was willing, if not eager, to include the baby. In her disappointment over his reaction to her momentous news, she’d brushed that aside. And that wasn’t fair. She owed it to him and to their marriage to make up for it and meet him halfway.
And maybe he’d have had time by now to come to terms with his impending fatherhood and begin to look forward to it, rather than accept it as something that must be dealt with in the best way possible.
She was feeling better by the minute, and as she dressed carefully in one of her most flattering dresses, smoothing it anxiously over her stomach, slipping her feet into high-heeled sandals that she seldom wore, she planned how she would kidnap him from his office and take him out to lunch. It was a long time since they’d done that, and usually it had been Reid who’d called in on her and persuaded her to abandon work for a proper, leisurely meal.
Maybe they’d take a stroll afterwards along the waterfront, maybe they’d even go back to the apartment and spend an hour or so in bed, as they used to sometimes, scrambling into their clothes afterwards to return late to their respective desks, and working overtime in the evening to make up for their truancy.
Her step quickened as she entered the lobby of his office building, and instead of taking the lift she ran lightly up two flights of stairs, arriving at his floor pink-cheeked and breathing a little quickly.
She stopped to regain her poise, and a woman hurrying past to the lift gave her the faint, puzzled smile of someone who’d seen her before but didn’t recall her name. Annys had reached the outer office of Bannerman International before the penny dropped and she remembered who the woman was. The receptionist, of course. They’d met only once—Annys didn’t often drop into Reid’s office.
