The Blackmail Pregnancy

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  After a quick shower, she came downstairs. Byron’s mother handed her a bowl and directed her towards the breakfast buffet she’d laid out on the sideboard.

  The kitchen table was surrounded by the rest of the family in the process of eating breakfast, and she murmured a shy greeting.

  ‘Mummy, Aunty Cara is telling us a story,’ Katie said with her mouth full of scrambled eggs.

  ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full, darling,’ Sally said before adding, ‘That’s nice of her. What’s it about?’

  ‘It’s about a little girl who doesn’t have anyone to love her,’ Kirstie put in.

  ‘How sad.’ Sally flicked a brief glance towards Cara before turning back to her daughters. ‘Does it have a happy ending?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ Katie said dramatically. ‘It’s to be continued.’

  ‘I love happy endings,’ Kirstie said dreamily. ‘Does she get to kiss a handsome prince in the end?’ she asked Cara, her chin on her hands.

  Cara smiled wistfully. ‘Yes, she does.’

  ‘Yuk!’ Katie said, screwing up her face. ‘I hope it’s not one of those kisses like Megan and Uncle Byron had.’

  ‘Katie!’ Her mother’s face was bright pink as she scolded her daughter.

  ‘It’s all right, Mummy,’ Katie reassured her guilelessly. ‘I’ve already told Aunty Cara about it.’

  The silence was deafening.

  Cara bent her head to her plate and pretended to be interested in the food still sitting there untouched.

  ‘Girls—’ Sally’s voice was tight ‘—please finish your breakfast. Pop said he’d take you to the Victoria market while I help Granny with the party preparations.’

  The little girls jumped down from the table and took their grandfather’s hands, following him out of the room chattering animatedly as they went.

  ‘Cara, I’m sorry—the girls can be precocious at times.’

  ‘Please don’t worry.’ Cara smiled at Sally hesitantly. ‘It’s fine—really.’

  She felt Byron’s hooded gaze on her and made another attempt at her muesli.

  ‘Byron, dear.’ His mother handed him a plate of bacon. ‘Have some more. You too, Cara. You don’t seem to be enjoying that muesli. What about some eggs and bacon instead?’

  She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. It seemed like every eye was trained on her, trying to gauge her reaction to Katie’s bombshell.

  Byron took the plate and helped himself to a portion before handing it back. He turned to glance at Cara.

  ‘I’ve got a few things to do in town this morning,’ he said. ‘Do you want to come with me? You could have a wander around the shops and galleries if you like.’

  ‘I…’ She put down her spoon and glanced uncertainly at Byron’s mother. ‘Perhaps I should stay and help your mother and Sally with the party?’

  ‘No.’ Jan scooped up the discarded plates. ‘You go and explore the shops. Sally and I have got this covered. Mrs Timsby is coming at eleven to help as well.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’ Cara glanced between Sally and Jan Rockcliffe.

  ‘Go.’ Jan waved a teatowel at them both. ‘It will do you good. Catch up on old times, or whatever it is divorced couples do these days.’

  Cara’s face felt hot.

  ‘Come on.’ Byron got to his feet. ‘Let’s go.’

  She waited until they were in the car, out of earshot of the house, before she spoke.

  ‘What did your mother mean by that?’

  ‘By what?’ He looked at her briefly before checking for traffic as he backed out.

  ‘Her comment about “whatever it is divorced couples do”. What did she mean?’

  ‘Who knows?’ He shrugged.

  Cara chewed one of her nails.

  ‘Perhaps she saw us,’ she said.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘You know. Kissing in the bedroom. I thought I heard someone go past the door.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,’ he reassured her. ‘I’m sure my mother can handle it.’

  ‘No doubt she’s got used to you kissing all sorts of women,’ she put in, pleased at how nonchalant she sounded.

  She felt his glance rest on her.

  ‘Megan and I are just friends.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t see.’ His voice hardened. ‘You want to make me feel guilty for daring to replace you, don’t you?’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Did I what?’

  ‘Replace me.’

  There was a taut silence.

  ‘If you’re asking have there been other women—yes, there have.’

  Cara’s chest felt tight, as if someone had thumped her, winding her so badly that every subsequent breath she took hurt.

  ‘What about while we were married?’ she asked through stiff lips. ‘Were there other women then?’

  He gave her an incredulous look before turning back to face the traffic.

  ‘I can’t believe you just asked that,’ he said heavily.

  ‘Why? Because you thought I didn’t know?’

  ‘No, because I can’t believe you would be so stupid as to throw away our marriage on petty suspicion. I take it you’re referring to Megan?’

  ‘I saw you with her,’ she said in a cold, hard tone. ‘The day I left.’

  ‘And?’

  Cara flicked her eyes his way, noting his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

  ‘You were up close and personal.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So I decided to leave and give you both some room.’

  ‘Cara, I’m finding this hard to take in. Are you saying you left me because you thought I was having some sort of clandestine affair with Megan Fry?’

  ‘It wasn’t the only reason I left. I was tired of the fights, the way your family demanded so much of you all the time. We never had a weekend to ourselves in the whole time we were married.’

  ‘We weren’t married all that long,’ he pointed out wryly.

  ‘We didn’t even have a proper honeymoon,’ she continued bitterly. ‘You were so absorbed in your work you didn’t even see what was happening.’

  ‘Cara, running a business takes time and effort. I’d just got the thing up and running when we met. I couldn’t abandon ship just then to go off on an extended holiday. I told you that at the time and you seemed to accept it.’

  ‘Your parents wanted you to marry Megan, not me. I knew it from the very first day.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake! You’re making them sound like tyrants. They’ve only ever wanted what was best for me. They’d never dream of coming between us like that.’

  ‘You surely don’t deny that everyone expected you and Megan to get together?’

  ‘No, I don’t deny it. But it didn’t happen. I married you.’

  ‘Unfortunately.’

  ‘As it turned out. But at the time I thought I was doing the right thing,’ he said. ‘We both made mistakes. It was a long time ago and we’ve both moved on—surely?’

  Cara didn’t answer. She hadn’t moved on. That was the trouble. She couldn’t. She felt stuck, as if her life had been on pause since she’d left him seven years ago.

  ‘I’ll be about two hours,’ he said into the silence. ‘I’ll drop you off near the mall. I’ll meet you at one on the corner near the tram stop.’

  Cara got out of the car when he pulled into the kerb. She watched as he drove on, deftly manoeuvring his mother’s BMW back into the flow of traffic. Once he’d disappeared from sight she turned and sighed.

  The mall was bustling with people and trams. Buskers were littered about, their various genres of music filling the air with a cacophony of sound. Several people with promotional brochures approached her, but she ignored them.

  She headed towards the larger department stores, taking her time wandering through the floors, stopping to look at various things along the way. She wanted to buy a gift for Byron’s parents and after an hour found it
. It was a glass dome with a perfect dandelion puff encased inside, where it was totally safe; no wind or breath could disturb the tiny seed formation. She turned it over in her hands and smiled wistfully. It was perfect.

  Byron was waiting for her when she got to the corner. He was on foot, having left the car at his office. He eyed the package in her hand as she joined him.

  ‘Is that all you could manage in two hours?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I wanted to buy your parents a gift.’

  He looked surprised.

  ‘I’m sure they don’t expect—’

  ‘I wanted to.’

  He took her arm and led her away from the milling crowds to a quiet coffee shop in a nearby arcade. Once they were seated he looked at her across the table, his expression suddenly serious.

  ‘Cara, I think we need to talk about—’

  ‘Byron! Fancy meeting you here.’ A female voice spoke from just behind Cara.

  ‘Hello, Sandra.’ Byron’s greeting wasn’t enthusiastic. ‘Cara, this is Sandra. Sandra, this is Cara.’

  Cara turned in her seat to offer a hand, but Sandra was looking at Byron, seemingly ignoring her presence. She dropped her hand and sat watching the interaction between her ex-husband and the other woman.

  ‘Megan tells me you’ve offered her a job,’ Sandra said. ‘Some run-down business that needs picking up?’

  Cara stiffened.

  ‘Yes, I have offered her a position,’ he said, avoiding Cara’s heated glare to face Sandra. ‘What are you up to these days?’

  ‘Oh, this and that,’ she said with a flirty little smile. ‘You didn’t call before you left for Sydney.’ Her full mouth pouted. ‘Did you lose my number?’

  Byron looked uncomfortable.

  ‘No, I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Sandra tilted one voluptuous hip. ‘You know where I am when you need me.’

  Cara didn’t care for the sound of that little statement. Jealousy ripped through her as she watched the other woman run a finger down Byron’s forearm in a suggestive manner.

  Byron shifted slightly and Sandra’s hand fell away. She turned to look at the silently fuming Cara, her eyes running over her assessingly.

  ‘So, do you work for Byron too?’

  ‘In a fashion,’ Cara answered coldly.

  Sandra seemed satisfied with that, and after a few more desultory words went on her way.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Byron said once she’d gone.

  Cara lifted one finely arched brow.

  ‘Another one of the replacements?’

  He rolled his eyes and picked up the menu in front of him.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to change the subject. Sandra Hollingsworth was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.’

  ‘Even bigger than me?’

  He put the menu back down.

  ‘You weren’t a mistake,’ he said.

  ‘What was I?’

  He gave her question considerable thought.

  ‘You were the best and the worst thing ever to happen to me.’

  Cara’s mouth twisted ruefully.

  ‘I suppose I asked for that.’

  He smiled lopsidedly.

  ‘You did, didn’t you?’

  The conversation moved on to other topics, to Cara’s immense relief. She found the thought of Byron with any other woman a total anathema to her. She hated to think of him in the throes of passion with anyone else. She hated to think of him kissing another mouth, caressing someone else, loving someone else. It didn’t seem fair when she still loved him after all this time.

  She stared at the menu in her hands, the words blurring. She still loved him. It was as clear to her as if it were written on the menu in front of her. She loved Byron Rockcliffe and had never ceased doing so.

  ‘Cara?’

  She put the menu down and looked across at him. He indicated the hovering waitress and she rattled off an order she knew she wouldn’t be able to force past the huge lump in her throat.

  She loved him. She still loved him.

  The waitress left with their orders and Byron sat back in his chair, surveying her troubled expression.

  ‘What’s going on in that head of yours?’ he asked.

  Cara blinked at him.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I said, I wonder what’s going on inside your head.’

  ‘Nothing much,’ she answered. ‘I was thinking of your nieces. They’re cute, aren’t they?’

  ‘Very,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise you had such magnetism where children are concerned. I thought you hated kids.’

  ‘I don’t hate kids,’ she said. ‘I just choose not to have them. I quite like other people’s.’

  ‘And they have certainly taken a shine to you.’

  ‘Yes, well, I didn’t have much choice. They came in and started telling me things I didn’t want to know. I tried to distract them with a story but you interrupted it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you continue?’ he asked. ‘I wouldn’t have stopped you.’

  She gave him an ironic glance.

  ‘I’m sure you know how the rest of it goes—although I’ll have to give the girls a sanitised version. I can’t have their innocence shattered by having the prince and princess getting divorced.’

  She sneaked a look at his face, but he was frowning as if deep in thought.

  The waitress came with their order and Cara did her best to rearrange the food on her plate in a semblance of eating. She looked at Byron once or twice and he seemed to be doing exactly the same thing. The foccacia melt shifted position several times without actually making it to his mouth.

  After a few minutes he pushed the plate aside.

  ‘Cara?’

  She looked across the table at him, her expression guarded.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I want you to tell me about your mother,’ he said. ‘Not just her name, not just her occupation, but everything. I want to know what she did to you to make you so unhappy. I think I have a right to know.’

  Cara pushed her own plate away and avoided his eyes.

  ‘She’s dead. That’s all you need to know.’

  ‘No, damn it, it’s not.’ His tone was impatient. ‘The more I think about it, the more I get the feeling you’re hiding something—something important.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ she hissed at him, conscious of the other diners seated around them.

  ‘Was she abusive?’

  Cara’s hands tightened in her lap.

  ‘Did she hit you?’

  She got to her feet and left him sitting at the table surrounded by their untouched food.

  He joined her in the mall a minute later, after he’d thrown some money at the cashier.

  ‘Cara, I realise how difficult this must be for you, but—’

  ‘You know nothing of what I feel. Nothing.’ Her voice was cold and unemotional.

  ‘So tell me.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I…’ She looked away into the crowds, her eyes becoming distant.

  ‘Tell me, Cara.’

  She turned and faced him, her expression blank, her voice devoid of all feeling.

  ‘I spent twenty-two years of my life pretending I had a mother who loved me. I spent another four years after our divorce coming to terms with the fact that she had never done so. My mother hated me. I have to live with that every day of my life. Please don’t ask me to talk about something which causes me so much distress.’

  She heard him sigh, felt his warm hand reach for hers, felt his fingers squeeze her hand briefly.

  ‘Come on, honey.’ He tucked her arm through his. ‘Confession time over. Let’s go shopping.’

  Cara fell into step beside him, her brow furrowing slightly. His casual endearment tortured her in its poignancy. He’d been the first person ever to call her that, and even though she knew he no longer loved her it comforted her a little to think h
e’d allowed his resentment to fade just enough to address her in such a manner now.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘HOW about this?’ Byron held up a sheath of silk georgette. ‘You’d look sensational in this.’

  ‘It’s nice.’ Cara fingered the silky green and silver fabric and wondered how she’d allowed him to talk her into this. They’d spent the last hour touring the designer boutiques, stopping occasionally for her to try something on so Byron could give his verdict.

  She tried on the green and silver dress and twirled in front of him for his inspection. She hoisted up the hem and stood on tiptoe as she eyed her reflection in the full-length mirror.

  ‘I need higher shoes,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’

  His eyes burned as he ran them over her. She felt her skin prickle. It was as if he touched her all over, his warm hands cupping her flesh, stroking her in places no one but him had touched her before.

  ‘I think that dress should come with a warning.’ His tone was wry.

  She tilted her head questioningly and he smiled.

  ‘Wearer beware. Men are likely to act with uncontrollable lust when this dress is worn by a petite brunette with golden highlights.’

  She turned back to the changing room without responding, but a tiny smile tugged at her mouth and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  She came out to find him with the dress in a designer bag, which he handed to her. She took it hesitantly, her eyes meeting his as he smiled down at her.

  ‘Now for the shoes.’

  He insisted on paying, and bustling her in and out of shops like a whirlwind, coaxing her into choosing lacy underwear, sampling heady perfumes and hunting down the perfect pair of shoes for her new dress. She worried about the amount. Every time she protested about the expense of an item he held up to her he’d roll his eyes and take it straight to the cashier. She soon learnt to keep her mouth shut, and secretly she was pleased. She knew he was trying in a roundabout way to apologise for pressing her about details of her childhood, but it didn’t take away from the enjoyment of indulging herself at his expense—especially when he smiled at her encouragingly as she showcased yet another outfit.

  As far as retail therapy went, Cara was sold. She hadn’t realised how distracting spending money could be. The fact that it was Byron’s money and not hers didn’t totally dampen her pleasure in being spoilt, however it made her feel slightly uneasy all the same. She felt like a cheat. She wasn’t playing by his rules at all, and the thought of him finding out secretly shamed her.