by Jill Mansell
“And he was going to leave Antonia and marry you?”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me before,” said Grace, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “I’d have been so pleased.”
There was no point in keeping any of it from her now, decided Mattie wearily. She’d certainly have to know sooner or later, anyway.
“And I’m pregnant,” she said, reaching for Grace’s hand, seeking its reassuring warmth. She had Grace and she had the baby. The only person she didn’t have was Richard.
Chapter 51
Hunter’s Lodge echoed with the emptiness that had, until very recently, seemed oppressive. Now, however, Ross welcomed it. Holly had tried her best to cheer him up during those brief periods away from Antonia, but the last three days had been an exhausting nightmare, and since Tessa was still up in Edinburgh, all he craved was solitude. And maybe a large scotch…
When the knock came at the front door less than ten minutes later he swore quietly, wondering who on earth could be wanting to see him. Only Holly knew he was here.
But since not answering the door would be pointless—dusk had fallen, the sitting room lights were on, and his car stood outside on the drive—he rose to his feet and made his way through to the hall.
“Oh, great.”
“I have to talk to you. It’s very important.”
He shook his head, pushing his fingers through his hair with a weary gesture. “Look, contrary to what you may think, sacking members of my staff doesn’t give me a great deal of pleasure. But if you’ve come here to ask for your job back, it’s been a wasted trip. Do you seriously think you deserve it?”
Grace, her chin jutting in defiance, shook her head, and at that moment he realized why she looked so different. Gone was the shoulder-length, mousey-brown hair; she had had it bleached and cut short, and it didn’t particularly suit her. She was also wearing rather too much makeup, inexpertly applied. What, he wondered despairingly, had he done to deserve this useless confrontation? Why the hell couldn’t people leave him alone?
“I don’t want my job back,” said Grace, determined not to be intimidated. “I need to speak to you.”
“What about?”
“It is very important.”
Ross sighed. “You’d better come in then.”
“Thank you.” She followed him into the sitting room, struck by the silence, struck by her own daring. At last, at long last she was actually doing something. And it felt great.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here,” said Ross abruptly, pouring himself another drink and deliberately not offering her one. Grace observed the slight and smiled to herself. She didn’t want a drink anyway; she’d already had several.
“I want to tell you how stupid I think you’ve been,” she said brightly, digging her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “You should be married to Tessa now, but you couldn’t resist playing around with Antonia Seymour-Smith. And then you slept with that actress, Francine Lalonde. And now,” she said quickly, before he could stop her, “you’re still playing around with Antonia. Don’t you ever stop to think about how stupid it all is?”
Ross couldn’t believe he was hearing this. The girl was off her head. “That’s it,” he said sharply, moving toward her. “You can leave now.”
Grace took a couple of steps backward and smiled at him. “How about me, then? Wouldn’t you like to sleep with me?”
The expression in his eyes was chilling. “For Christ’s sake, do you think I’m completely desperate?”
“I think,” she retaliated bitterly, “that you are an all-time selfish bastard who’d sleep with any woman as long as she had a pulse.”
This was ludicrous. What the hell was he supposed to do, call the police? “Now look, this has gone far enough.” The girl obviously was deranged; he had to exercise a bit of diplomacy. “I realize that losing your job has upset you, but this is no way to—”
“No!” shouted Grace, her gray eyes blazing, her temper snapping like elastic. “It’s the way you treat women that upsets me. It’s the way you treated my mother!”
Ross held up his hands in an attempt to persuade her to lower her voice. If he didn’t calm her down somehow, she was liable to do something really stupid. “Grace,” he said in soothing tones, “I’ve never even met your mother.”
“Oh yes you have.” Aware of the momentousness of what she was about to say, even more aware of the way her heart was pounding against her rib cage, Grace took a deep breath. “Her name’s Mattie Jameson.”
Ross looked blank. The name meant absolutely nothing whatsoever to him. Then, his expression conciliatory, he said, “What happened? Did I turn her down for some job at the hotel?”
She might have known that he wouldn’t remember. Biting her lip, she said evenly, “No. You knew her a long time ago.”
“And?” he said, looking puzzled but not particularly concerned.
To be so carelessly, completely forgotten by someone whom you knew so well was, Grace felt, the ultimate humiliation. How dare this man treat her mother—and herself—so shamefully?
“And,” she replied, her own voice echoing in her ears as her rage and long-suppressed frustration finally spilled over, “you slept with her. Made her pregnant. And then dumped her.”
Wary now, his dark eyes registering genuine disbelief, he said, “Look, this is wrong. You’ve made a mistake. I’ve never in my life had a girlfriend, pregnant or otherwise, called Mattie.”
“I didn’t say she was a girlfriend,” Grace countered icily. “I said that you’d slept with her. She didn’t realize that it was only a one-night stand. She waited for you…”
Then, seeing the expression on his face, she shouted, “You still don’t understand, do you? She’s my mother! And it was you, you who slept with her and got her pregnant and didn’t even give her a second thought. So think about it—what does that make you? You’re my father, Mr. Monahan. My father.”
There was a brief, eerie silence during which she realized—quite superfluously—that it had grown dark outside. But she had said it, at long last he knew, and all she had to do now was wait for his reaction. One thing, though, was for sure: he could no longer ignore her.
She was prepared for any reaction except amusement. When Ross laughed, she felt as devastated as if he had taken a knife and cut out her heart.
The next moment, abruptly, he stopped smiling. “Of course I am. We look so much alike. Now come on, this has gone far enough. You’re leaving…and so am I. I’d offer you a lift,” he added derisively, “but I’m going back to The Grange.”
“You bastard!” screamed Grace, realizing that he wasn’t even going to take her seriously, and that if she didn’t act quickly he would grab her and throw her out of the house.
Without even pausing to think, she darted sideways out into the hall, heading toward the staircase. Before Ross could stop her, she raced up the stairs. Reaching the top step, she glanced at the painting hanging on the wall before her—one of Tessa’s, probably—then turned and gazed triumphantly down at him. “I’m your daughter, and you aren’t going to get rid of me. You treated my mother like dirt, abandoning her…and now it’s happened again… She’s been abandoned all over again…and you can’t go around doing these things! It’s time you realized that. Oh shit, you’re my father and you aren’t even pleased…”
“You’re completely mad,” said Ross, his tone flat, dismissive. “And if you don’t get down these stairs this minute—”
“You don’t even recognize the truth when you hear it,” screamed Grace, beside herself with fury. “But then how could you, when you never tell the truth yourself? You’re a liar and a cheat, and I’m going to make you sorry you ever met my mother!”
This was ludicrous, bizarre. Knowing that he should be humoring her, calming her down before he phoned for a doctor, Ross kept the th
ought to himself that if he had ever met her mother, then he was already sorry. But the girl, seemingly able to read his mind, let out a howl of anguish and ran along the landing in the direction of the bathroom. And realizing that she could be in real danger of harming herself, he went after her.
He caught up with Grace seconds later, grabbed her around the waist and half dragged, half carried her back toward the staircase.
“I hate you!” she yelled, hitting out, kicking him, and wriggling like an eel. Ross, saying nothing, grimly withstood the flailing assault and maneuvered himself into position at the top of the stairs.
But whereas he was only attempting to restrain Grace, she was fighting with every ounce of strength in her body. Kicking out wildly, she wrenched free and lunged at Ross, both arms outstretched, clawing fingers aiming for his face. The suddenness of the attack, the expression on her face, the earsplitting, unearthly scream all caught him momentarily off guard, and he took a steadying step backward.
Except that the ground had disappeared. His foot searched for reassuring solidity but found only thin air. All sense of balance lost, he fell backward. And then, with Grace’s terrible screams still filling his ears, his back hit the unyielding, carved-oak edge of one of the stairs, and pain radiated through his body like an explosion. The excruciating pain increased, terrifyingly, as he hit each consecutive step. And everything—his surroundings, that hideous noise, his mind—was dimming, fading into grayness…
Mercifully, by the time he reached the foot of the stairs, he had lost consciousness.
• • •
I’ve killed him, thought Grace, staring down at the immobile body. Slowly, shakily, she descended the broad staircase and knelt at Ross’s side. He was lying on his front, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was dead. His body, clad in a white sweatshirt and faded denims, was so still. He didn’t appear to be breathing at all. And when she leaned over him to look at his face in profile, the dark eyelashes didn’t even flicker.
“Oh God,” she whispered, gazing down at her father and realizing that it had all gone horribly wrong. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill you. All you had to do was believe me…”
Chapter 52
“If I’d known this was all I had to do to win you over, I’d have thrown myself down the nearest staircase months ago,” murmured Ross with a ghost of a smile.
Tessa, determined not to cry, stroked his warm, tanned forearm. “What makes you think you’ve won me over?” she demanded lightly.
He glanced down at her hand. “You were never this affectionate before.”
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed, hard. “Can you feel it?”
“No, but please don’t stop. It looks wonderful.”
She didn’t understand how he could be so brave, so philosophical, so goddamn cheerful. When Holly had phoned her this morning and told her that Ross was in the hospital, she had flown down from Edinburgh immediately, unaware of the extent and potential seriousness of his injuries.
Now, having seen him and listened to the doctor’s guarded prognosis, the enormity of what had happened—what might happen—was still only just sinking in. For although there had been no actual fracture, they had explained carefully, the cervical section of the delicate spinal cord had been so badly jarred that it had bruised and become swollen, effectively robbing Ross of the use of his arms and legs. In such a case of “spinal shock,” all they were able to do now was attempt to reduce the swelling with anti-inflammatory drugs. And wait. Only time would tell whether the damage was irreparable. And if the damage was irreparable, Ross would be paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life.
“I still don’t understand how it happened,” said Tessa slowly, continuing to stroke his arm. “How on earth could you have fallen down those stairs? You aren’t the falling-down type.”
Ross, unable to shrug, raised his eyebrows. “Must have had an off day. I suppose I just wasn’t looking where I was going. One slip…and that was it. I’m just grateful that Holly turned up when she did; otherwise, I suppose I could still be lying there now.”
Tessa shuddered at the thought. Evidently Antonia, screaming for Ross, had ordered Holly out to look for him, which was how he had been found. She supposed that in a convoluted way she should be grateful to Antonia, but she far preferred to save her gratitude for Holly, who had overcome her shock at seeing Ross in such an appalling state and had acted with commendable coolness and presence of mind.
Hit suddenly by a fresh wave of panic, unable to keep up the facade of cheerfulness for another second, Tessa felt her eyes fill with hot tears.
“Oh, Ross, what’s going to happen? I’m so afraid…”
“Shh.” At the sight of her distress, his own guard nearly dropped. He longed so much to be able to take her in his arms, to hold and console her. But nothing worked. Nothing moved. And the doctors had already warned him that the paralysis could be permanent. “Don’t cry. I’m just glad you’re here, that you came back.”
“Of course I came back! Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
He grinned, doing his best to dispel her tears. “I thought that maybe you might have stayed with Theo. It must have crossed your mind too. He’s rich, Tess. Very, very rich.”
“And very, very short,” she replied, wiping her eyes and managing to smile because it was so obviously what Ross wanted her to do.
He gave her a look of mock relief. “So, no contest.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say no contest…”
At that moment he grew serious, his dark-brown eyes searching her face for reassurance.
“Tess, I want to ask you one thing. Could you make me a promise? A promise that you really won’t break?”
She squeezed his hand, barely able to speak. “Yes. Of…of course I will.”
“Great,” said Ross, breaking into his widest, wickedest smile. “As soon as I’m out of this bed and in full working order again, you’re going to seduce me. No holds barred. And it has to last at least twenty-four hours, or I’ll want my money back.”
“You blackmailer!” exclaimed Tessa, praying only that his optimism wouldn’t be unfounded. “I thought you were serious!”
“Never more so,” he replied with injured innocence. “If that isn’t an incentive to get better, I don’t know what is. But in the meantime, my mouth is in perfect working order. If you want to start getting into practice, you could try giving me a kiss.”
• • •
Throughout each day, Ross received far more visitors than he was officially entitled to. During the gaps between visitors he was subjected to the various attentions of nurses, physiotherapists, doctors, neurophysiology technicians, and more physiotherapists. A lone psychiatrist, brought in to discuss with him the possibility of having to come to terms with permanent and devastating disability, lasted less than five minutes. Ross informed him that since he had no intention of remaining disabled, counseling was a ludicrous waste of both the psychiatrist’s time and his own, so would he please get the hell out of his room.
But alone each night in the clinical, white, single-bedded side ward, breathing in the antiseptic hospital smell and staring up at the pitted, polystyrene ceiling, he had plenty of time to think. And plenty of things to think about. The only thing he didn’t need to think about was how he would begin to come to terms with permanent disability. Because although he loved Tessa and Olivia with all his heart—or maybe because of it—he knew he would rather die than spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.
• • •
On the sixth day, Mattie came to visit him.
“Thanks for coming,” said Ross, studying her carefully, seeing a plump woman in her early forties wearing a dark-blue dress, sensible shoes, and rather nice perfume. Her eyes, wary yet at the same time proud, scrutinized him in return.
“You said on the phone that it was
important,” she replied quietly. “I assume it concerns Grace.”
“Yes. Well. She came to see me a week ago. She told me something I didn’t believe.”
“And?” said Mattie unhelpfully.
Ross sighed. This was proving even more difficult than he had imagined. “And,” he said, meeting her cool, unblinking gaze, “if you understand what I’m talking about, maybe you could tell me whether or not it’s true.”
“If I understand what you’re talking about,” she replied stiffly, “then you must realize that it is. Grace is hardly likely to make up a story like that and try to persuade me that it’s the truth, is she?”
There was a long silence while Ross digested—and at the same time couldn’t help admiring—the simple logic of her statement. Finally, he said, “So I am her father. God, this is a weird situation. I’m sorry, but I really can’t remember you at all. Where did we…meet?”
“At a summer ball, in Bristol,” said Mattie with a brief gesture of dismissal. “Look, it really isn’t important. You were drunk, and I was unhappy. I didn’t blame you for what happened.”
“I am sorry, though,” repeated Ross. “It can’t have been easy for you. If you’d contacted me I would have…helped.”
I didn’t want you to help me, thought Mattie, remembering the terrible humiliation she had felt at the time. I wanted you to love me as much as I thought I loved you.
Aloud, she said, “It doesn’t matter now. And it wasn’t always easy, but I managed. We managed. Of course, all the upset could have been avoided if only Grace hadn’t taken the job at your hotel. That certainly wasn’t my idea.”
Ross frowned. “If you felt that strongly about it, I don’t understand why you told her who I was. Wouldn’t it have been simpler just to—?”
“Of course it wouldn’t!” Mattie burst out, then she saw the look of genuine incomprehension in his eyes and realized in a flash that he had never even been aware of the existence of Grace’s teenage crush on him. Color rushed to her cheeks, and she sank down onto the chair behind her. “I’m sorry,” she amended, flustered. “No, maybe it would have been simpler not to tell her, but at the time I just felt that I should.”
