The Unexpected Pregnancy

by Catherine George

  ‘Stand up, Harriet,’ he ordered.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just do it.’

  As soon as her feet touched the ground James pulled her into his arms and kissed her until her head was reeling.

  ‘A little something to remember me by,’ he said roughly. ‘Arrivederci!’

  Harriet lay very still for a long time after he’d gone, bitterly regretting the pride that had made her cut off her nose to spite her face, as Livvie used to say. It had forced her to lie to James about not wanting him in her life. Now she had the rest of the week alone to regret it, or maybe not alone if Tim and his innamorata were staying until she left.

  A miserable hour went by before Tim came strolling round the side of the pool to wish her good morning.

  Harriet gave him a frosty nod and went on reading.

  ‘Where’s Jed?’ he asked.

  ‘He left for Pisa an hour ago.’

  ‘He’s keeping to it, then.’

  She looked up wearily. ‘To what?’

  ‘Opposition to my marriage.’ Tim gave her a hopeful smile. ‘Could you put in a good word for me when you see him next?’

  She stared at him incredulously. ‘After the way you turned on me last night? Not a chance!’

  ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he said, flushing.

  ‘I’m not stupid, Timothy Devereux! You meant every word. Not that it matters. I can’t help you with James because I won’t be seeing him again.’

  Tim’s eyebrows shot to his hair. ‘You mean that was just a one-off I interrupted yesterday?’

  ‘It’s not against the law! Now I’m not playing your stupid game any more I’m free to do that kind of thing as much as I like,’ she reminded him. ‘Where’s Francesca?’

  ‘She’s getting ready to face Jed. We thought he was still in bed. I’d better go and tell her he’s gone. Then we’re going back to Florence. You’ll be all right here on your own, will you?’ he said, as such an obvious afterthought Harriet almost pushed him in the pool.

  ‘I dare say I’ll manage,’ she snapped.

  ‘Good,’ Tim said absently, all his attention on the woman coming towards them.

  Francesca was dressed to impress in an exquisitely plain linen dress, delicate kid sandals and cosmetics applied with a skill Harriet could appreciate from long association with Dido.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Harriet politely.

  ‘Buongiorno,’ said Francesca, and looked nervously at Tim. ‘Caro, where is your brother?’

  ‘On his way to catch a plane to London,’ said Tim, kissing her.

  ‘You did not talk to him this morning?’

  ‘No. He left early, darling.’

  Francesca looked deeply relieved. ‘Then we may leave also.’ She turned to Harriet with a warm smile. ‘It was so good to meet you at last. Next time you come, you must make a visit to my house and see my paintings.’

  After the farewells were over Harriet watched the pair leave, finding their body language very illuminating. Tim was quite right about their relationship, she admitted reluctantly. Francesca Rossi’s feelings for her young lover were in no way maternal. His passion was returned in full.

  Once she heard the car leave Harriet went indoors to clear up after the late breakfast, waving aside Anna’s objections when she came running into the kitchen with an armful of bed linen. Harriet insisted on loading the dishwasher and putting things away, and with much hand waving and smacking of lips complimented Anna on the torte and pudding eaten at dinner the night before. Later, she thought with satisfaction, she could console herself by pigging out on the remains of both in peace.

  She was in the courtyard after a solitary dinner that evening when her phone rang.

  ‘I’m back,’ said James.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ she said coolly, her hostility flaring up again the moment she heard his voice.

  ‘Is Tim there?’

  ‘No. He went back to Florence with Francesca. She seemed relieved that you’d left without saying goodbye.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. I had a pretty blunt talk with her last night. She knows damn well I disapprove.’

  ‘It won’t make a scrap of difference. You’ll just have to bite the bullet and accept her as a sister-in-law.’

  ‘It worries the hell out of me.’

  ‘It’s Tim’s life.’

  ‘I know you’re right, but it goes against the grain to stand by and let him make a mess of it.’ He paused. ‘So you’re on your own, then, Harriet, just as you wanted.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’

  ‘No. In a beautiful place like this it’s sheer bliss.’

  ‘With no more intruders in your bedroom to spoil it.’

  ‘You said it.’

  ‘Harriet, listen to me—’

  But she disconnected deliberately, taking petty satisfaction in cutting him off.

  Harriet drove back to Florence at the weekend, left the car with the hire firm and took the train to Pisa in pensive mood. There had been no more phone calls from James, but Tim had rung the night before to say he’d wheedled a couple of extra days’ holiday out of Jeremy Blyth, and wouldn’t be seeing her until he got back to London. He told her to leave the key with Anna, wished her a safe journey home and promised to call in to see her as soon as she got back.

  ‘Don’t bother.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t want to see you, Tim. I need some space.’

  ‘You’re that mad at me?’

  ‘Not mad. Hurt. I need time to lick my wounds.’

  ‘If you ask him nicely, maybe Jed will lick them for you,’ he snapped, and rang off.

  Harriet sat staring through the train window, seeing very little of the passing scenery on the return journey. She couldn’t blame Tim for being crude. Finding her in bed with James would have been a shock to his system. It was still a shock to her own every time she thought of it, which was most of the time. She sighed. She was fed up with Tim right now, but she still cared enough to hope that the affair with Francesca wouldn’t end in tears. Harriet shrugged the thought away impatiently. It was high time she concentrated on her own life and stopped mollycoddling Tim Devereux. At least one good thing had come out of it all. James knew beyond doubt that his brother wasn’t gay.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HARRIET had dreaded telling her friend that Tim was engaged to someone else, and went straight to Bayswater from Heathrow to get it over with. She did her best to break the news gently, but just as anticipated, Dido was utterly devastated.

  ‘I can’t believe it! You two were stringing me along all this time just because Tim’s involved with someone older than him?’ she said, on the verge of tears.

  ‘It’s not like that, Dido. Francesca may be older than Tim, but she’s a beautiful woman, and a talented artist. And he’s madly in love with her.’

  ‘But you seem so calm about it!’

  ‘It’s not a shock to me, love. I’ve known about Francesca for ages.’

  ‘That’s what really hacks me off.’ Dido glared at her. ‘You could have trusted me, Harriet. Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’

  Harriet sighed. ‘I wanted to, believe me, but Tim swore me to secrecy, in case James found out and tried to put a stop to it.’

  ‘Does James disapprove of this Francesca person so much, then?’

  ‘Yes. He knew her first, even introduced Tim to her in the first place.’ Harriet pulled a face. ‘He regrets that now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Until recently the love of Tim’s life had a husband.’

  ‘Good grief,’ said Dido, looking sick. ‘No wonder James is upset.’

  Harriet nodded. ‘He’s convinced that Tim’s heading for disaster. But I think Francesca’s just as mad about Tim as he is about her. And why shouldn’t she be? Her husband was much older than her. Tim’s young and fun to be with, nice to look at, he loves her to bits and he’s probably good in bed, too.’

  ‘Probably?’ Dido stare
d, flabbergasted. ‘Are you saying you’ve never found out?’

  ‘Never have, never will. I love Tim, but not in that way.’

  ‘You know that I do,’ said Dido forlornly.

  Harriet nodded sympathetically. ‘But give it up, love. It’s never going to happen.’

  Dido sighed despondently, and then eyed Harriet in sudden suspicion. ‘You seem remarkably clued up about his brother’s views on the subject.’

  ‘James made a flying visit to the villa on his way home from Umbria,’ said Harriet and diverted her friend by producing the handbag she’d bought for her in Florence.

  It was strange to leave later and go on to the flat in Clerkenwell, but Harriet breathed a sigh of relief when she shut her new door behind her at last. She unpacked the clothes Anna had insisted on laundering, made a snack from supplies Dido had bought for her, and when she went to bed later made a conscious effort to put both Devereux brothers from her mind.

  By the end of her first, frantically busy working day, Harriet felt she’d never been away. But over supper in the new flat that evening it gradually became clear that she couldn’t live with the cobalt blue of the walls. At the weekend paint would be on her shopping list.

  When Harriet got home on the Friday evening she found Tim waiting for her, clutching a bunch of flowers.

  ‘I’ve given you space,’ he informed her.

  ‘Not much of it!’ She unlocked the entrance door, utterly delighted to see him, but unwilling to let him know how much yet. ‘Are those for me?’

  ‘No.’ Tim grinned. ‘They’re the latest accessory for us trendy guys. Jeremy carries a nosegay around with him all the time.’

  ‘I can well believe that,’ she said, and shrugged, resigned. ‘Oh, all right. Come up, then. When did you get back?’

  ‘This morning.’ When they got to the flat Tim put the flowers down and caught her in a hug. ‘I’m sorry for the things I said. To you, of all people, Harry. I was completely out of order.’

  ‘You certainly were, you pig. But I had no right to lecture you, either,’ she said, her voice muffled against his jacket. Then she looked up. ‘Though you should have been straight with me about Francesca.’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Tim penitently. ‘But if I had, you wouldn’t have agreed to the con.’

  ‘You’re dead right,’ she said with feeling.

  ‘Friends again, then?’ he said, his eyes so anxious Harriet smiled affectionately.

  ‘Friends,’ she agreed. ‘Officially friends now, thank heavens. Masquerading as your significant other had certain drawbacks.’

  ‘Bad for your sex life,’ Tim agreed as she arranged the lilies in a vase. ‘Talking of which—’

  ‘Let’s not, please!’

  ‘If you mean Jed we can’t forget he exists.’ Tim pulled a face. ‘He gave me absolute hell for not taking better care of you.’

  Harriet snorted inelegantly. ‘He can talk! He gave me hell, too.’

  ‘About Francesca?’

  ‘That, too. But strangely enough I think our cute little double act infuriated him most.’

  Tim nodded sagely. ‘Nothing strange about it. Jed wants you bad, my pet. But what’s going on? He says you refuse to see him any more.’

  Harriet slumped down on the sofa. ‘That was my stupid pride talking. I didn’t enjoy the row he gave me.’ She gave him a wry little smile. ‘And between you and me, I didn’t care for his high-handed assumption that he could automatically take your place in my life as my, um—’

  ‘Lover? You looked pretty comfortable with the idea when I found you in bed with him,’ said Tim slyly, sitting beside her.

  She reddened. ‘That just sort of happened. Like an avalanche happens. But in normal circumstances I require some creative courtship before letting things get that far with a man, James included.’

  ‘Shall I tell him that?’

  Harriet gave him a menacing glare. ‘One word and you die!’

  ‘Whatever you say, angel.’ Tim smiled at her hopefully. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any food?’

  ‘Lord, you’re predictable. No, I haven’t got any food. No time for shopping. Does Francesca know you eat like a horse?’

  ‘Yes. She’s got a great cook, thank God.’ Tim paused. ‘By the way, Harry, Francesca was nervous as hell about meeting you.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  ‘She’s a tad jealous.’ Tim smiled fondly. ‘She just can’t believe that I prefer her to someone young and delicious like you. She says that I’ll tire of her, and it won’t last.’ He sobered. ‘But it will. Until death do us part.’

  Harriet smiled at him, touched. ‘But where on earth did you get the money to buy that ring she was wearing?’

  He grinned. ‘Are you kidding? It’s her mother’s. Normally she wears it on the other hand, but I made her swap it over when I found James there.’

  ‘Talking of James, has he stopped your allowance?’

  Tim looked sheepish. ‘Surprisingly enough, no. I went to see him as soon as I got back, pretty sure he’d cast me off with the proverbial shilling now he knows about Francesca. But he was quite mellow about it, even when I told him I’m going to share her studio after the wedding, and get down to some serious painting at last.’

  ‘Mellow, was he?’ Harriet’s eyes flashed dangerously. ‘So that stupid charade of ours was unnecessary after all.’

  ‘I disagree there.’ Tim tapped his nose. ‘He was so bloody relieved when he found you weren’t going to marry me it took the heat right off Francesca.’

  She sniffed. ‘He’s made no effort to contact me since I got back.’

  ‘Are you in love with him?’ asked Tim bluntly.

  About to deny it hotly, Harriet stared at him, arrested, as the truth hit her between the eyes. The reason for her current lack of joy in life was suddenly obvious. For the first time in her life she was in love. Deeply, desperately in love. And, fool that she was, had demonstrated how much she cared by ordering James out of her life. She groaned in despair. ‘Of course I’m in love with him—for all the good it’ll do me.’

  Tim looked troubled. ‘Can’t I help things along somehow?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. Love unsought is better and all that.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ He gave her a hug. ‘Right, then, friend. If you won’t let me play Cupid let me feed you instead. Chinese, Indian, or fish and chips?’

  Feeling more at peace with the world after making it up with Tim, Harriet went out shopping for paint next morning. She gave in to Dido’s pleas to hit the sales with her in the afternoon, but resisted all her friend’s coaxing to join her in a spending spree, and went straight back to Clerkenwell afterwards instead of going to a party thrown by one of Dido’s friends.

  ‘I must be up bright and early to start painting,’ Harriet said firmly.

  ‘Do you have to start right away? Let me treat you to lunch somewhere nice on the river tomorrow instead,’ coaxed Dido as they parted at the underground, but Harriet shook her head.

  ‘It’s very sweet of you, but I’ve just got to make a start on those walls.’

  Next morning, arrayed in shorts and vest and ancient pink basketball boots, Harriet opened all the windows and moved the furniture to the middle of the room. She pushed her hair up under a baseball cap, veiled the furniture with towels in lieu of dust-sheets, and wrenched her new folding stepladder into position. She filled her new pan with white emulsion, armed her new roller and set to work, but soon found that painting a ceiling took a lot longer than expected because she was obliged to hop on and off the ladder far too often for speed. Wishing vainly that she were taller, with a longer reach, she shifted furniture round from time to time to get better access. Ignoring a crick in her neck, she carried on doggedly, determined not to stop until the ceiling was finished, and only then took time off for a sandwich and a cold drink.

  Lunch over, she carried on with the undercoat for the walls, and soon found that the smell of paint had not combined wel
l with her tuna sandwich. She was queasy, sweating, her eyes stinging and her roller arm aching by the time she’d finished the last wall, and said something very rude when the doorbell rang. Dido, she thought, resigned. But when she heard a familiar male voice over the intercom her heart missed a beat, then resumed with a sickening thump.

  ‘May I come up, Harriet?’ asked James.

  No! Not now, when she was looking such a mess! But instead of banging her head in frustration against her newly painted wall Harriet consented politely and pressed the release button.

  When she opened her door to James she stared at him in despair. He was everything she was not. Black hair glossy, olive-skinned jaw newly shaven, casual shirt and khakis immaculate, and above all clean. He stood utterly still at the sight of her, his face rigid with the effort to keep it straight.

  ‘I’ve obviously come at a bad time.’

  ‘You could say that,’ she agreed, pretty sure she had a smudge of paint on her nose. ‘I can’t even ask you to sit down.’

  ‘Could I come in just the same, Harriet? I won’t keep you long.’

  Without a word she stood aside and motioned him through. ‘Wait a moment while I rinse the roller.’ She escaped into the tiny cupboard of a kitchen, held the roller under running water until it ran clear, took a despondent look at her paint-splashed face as she washed her hands and decided to stay with the baseball cap rather than struggle with sweat-soaked hair.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she said brightly, returning to James.

  ‘How are you, Harriet?’ he asked.

  ‘As you see, busy. What brings you to this neck of the woods?’

  ‘To see you, what else?’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Tim came round to my place today. He says you’ve relented towards him.’

  She nodded, resigned. ‘It’s hard to stay angry with Tim for very long, but this time it took a bit longer than usual. I dislike being conned, even by Tim.’

  ‘I felt the same about you,’ said James grimly. ‘Did you really agree to Tim’s idiotic scheme just to make sure I didn’t stop his allowance? Am I such a petty tyrant, for God’s sake?’

  ‘I knew nothing about the money until that evening at La Fattoria,’ snapped Harriet. ‘I agreed to the stupid charade because Tim said you disapproved of Francesca. I realise why, now,’ she added darkly. ‘Tim said it was the age gap, so I took it for granted she was too young for him, not the other way round.’