Then Fliss popped in on Saturday to report on Tom’s progress just as Sally was getting to the end of her shift, and asked her over for supper.
‘I can’t,’ she said regretfully. ‘David and Wendy are away tonight—they’re going to a play and staying over in a hotel—and I said I’d have the boys and Harriet.’
‘So bring them. I’m sure Abby and Michael would be delighted to have company their own age, and Abby certainly would be thrilled to have a girl to balance the books a bit.’
‘But you’ll be visiting Tom,’ she said, not wanting to take that away from her, but she shook her head.
‘His parents are doing it tonight and, anyway, he’s exhausted, he’s had so many visitors. They let the kids in today, so tonight will be brief and quiet. I’ll pop in later to say goodnight, but you’re more than welcome. In fact, why don’t you stay over? The pool’s up and running, and tomorrow’s supposed to be a scorcher for May.’
It sounded as if Fliss really wanted her there, and maybe she did, for moral support. And why not go? She wasn’t working on Sunday, there was nothing to prevent it, and, knowing Jack was there, and how much he wanted to see Alex, she agreed. At last, with the tension about Tom’s condition finally easing, maybe their attention could switch back to his relationship with his son.
‘Thanks—we will,’ she said, hugging Fliss and noticing how thin she’d got over the last few days. ‘I’d better clear it with Wendy first, though, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. And I’ll make sure you eat,’ she added, and Fliss laughed.
‘Oh, I had lunch today. Tom was so much better, and suddenly I realised I was starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten since Tuesday lunchtime.’
‘Idiot,’ she said affectionately. ‘I’ll go and fetch the children and come over now.’
It was another chaotic evening, with the four lively youngsters being joined by Harriet, and after a noisy and rather boisterous supper Jack found himself being pressed into service again as football coach to the three boys while the girls went into the tree-house Tom had built and giggled a lot.
The two youngest, not more than babies really, had been carted off by Fliss to be bathed and put to bed, Catherine, the oldest, was out with friends, Andrew was upstairs on the internet and that left Sally, sitting on the terrace with a glass of wine, watching Jack.
So he did what any red-blooded male would do, and showed off his skills.
Badly.
The header came straight in her direction, knocked the wine all down her front and left her soaked and spluttering.
‘I’m sorry!’ he yelled, running over and looking down at her, but her T-shirt was soaked, her eyes were filled with laughter and he suddenly realised it had been a week since he’d made love to her.
A week that had changed his life.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Alex asked, running up to her and staring at her in horrified fascination. ‘Oops. She’ll kill you,’ he said, tipping his head back and looking up at Jack with a mischievous twinkle he recognised only too well. He swallowed the lump in his throat, ruffled his son’s hair and retrieved the ball.
‘I think I’ll probably get away with it. Have to do a lot of grovelling, though.’
‘Grovelling doesn’t work,’ Alex said. ‘She gets cross if you grovel. She says you have to face the music.’
Jack pulled a doubtful face. ‘Oh, dear. Sounds serious.’
But Alex laughed. ‘Nah. She’ll just give you jobs to do. I expect you’ll have to wash the car.’
‘Forfeits, eh? I like forfeits,’ he said, and Sally bit her lip to trap the laughter he could see in her eyes.
He grinned, dropped the football on his foot and bounced it in the air a few times, winked and headed it back to the boys on the lawn, then followed, leaving her to blot up the wine because, frankly, if he’d touched her, he would have made an utter fool of himself.
‘What happened to your T-shirt?’
Sally pulled a wry face and nodded towards the football team. ‘It seems the coach isn’t as good as he thought.’
Fliss chuckled, then tipped her head on one side and gave Sally a searching look. ‘Tom told me you used to know each other years ago.’
She looked at Fliss and wondered how long it would take her to work it out. ‘Yes, we did,’ she replied softly. ‘And he’s been wonderful with the children this week.’
‘Oh, tell me about it. I’ve been hearing his virtues extolled by all and sundry. And yours. I owe you both a massive thank you—and not just for saving Tom’s life.’
‘Rubbish,’ she said, still plagued by guilt that Tom had become embroiled in someone else’s fight but relieved that the conversation had moved on. ‘You do know that low-life was after me and Jack? We treated him on Saturday night after what was probably a knife fight and all but handed him to the police on a plate. They didn’t have enough to make it stick, though, and he came back looking for us. Made some excuse about his cut hurting, apparently, hoping to run into us, but unfortunately it was Tom.’
Fliss shivered and hugged her knees. ‘Well, they’ve got more than enough to make it stick now. I’m just so glad it hasn’t ended up a murder charge. If Jack and Ben hadn’t been there…’
She shuddered, and Sally reached out and squeezed her arm. ‘Don’t. They were, and he’s going to be all right. Don’t dwell on it.’
‘Oh, I try not to, but at night, when I’m lying in our bed all alone and there are six children in the house, all potentially fatherless—it’s not so easy to forget that.’
‘But he’s better now.’
‘Oh, yes, he’s better, and he should be home next week. He’s very fit—since we put the pool in he’s been in it every day, summer and winter. Having it enclosed in a retractable canopy has been wonderful for that. And safer, because it’s enclosed. And he insisted on the cover on runners that seals the pool completely, so nobody can fall in. He says he’s seen too many children brought in drowned from falling into ponds and pools.’
Her eyes swivelled back to Jack, and she said, ‘So tell me about you two.’
Sally felt the tension return instantly, and tried to make her voice casual. ‘Oh, we’re old history.’
‘Really?’ Fliss said. She sounded sceptical. ‘So what happened on the walk last Sunday? One minute you were all getting on fine, the next you could cut the tension between you with a knife.’
Her heart skittered. ‘Really? I didn’t notice,’ she lied, and Fliss snorted.
‘Rubbish. It must be difficult conducting an affair in private with the children around—but I suppose you’ve got the weekends?’ she probed carefully.
‘So soon after David? Whatever do you think I am?’ she flustered, trying to cover herself, but Fliss just laughed softly.
‘A woman?’ she said, her voice gentle, and Sally felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘A woman still in love with the man who gave her her first child?’
She turned to Fliss, her eyes wide with shock, and Fliss smiled wryly. ‘I thought so. Oh, Sally. Are you OK?’
‘Does everyone know? Oh, lord, are they all talking about it?’
Fliss laughed. ‘I have no idea what they’re all talking about, I’ve been sitting at Tom’s bedside, but, no, I don’t think they all know, and I’ve only just guessed. I was watching them from the bedroom window a minute ago, and they’re just so alike I can’t believe I didn’t see it at the wedding.’
‘You weren’t expecting it.’
‘No.’ She reached out a hand and touched Sally gently. ‘Does Jack know?’
She nodded wordlessly.
‘So are you OK? And how’s David with it?’
She rubbed her arms briskly for something to do. ‘He’s been fine. Worried for me, worried for Alex, but he’s always known there’d come a time when Alex would have to find out.’
‘Does he know?’ Fliss asked, her voice shocked, but Sally shook her head hastily.
‘No—absolutely not, and we don’t want him to. Not yet. Not until the time’s
right.’
‘And when will that be?’ Fliss asked thoughtfully. ‘Gosh, how hard for you all. Sally, if there’s anything I can do to help…?’
‘No, we’re fine. For now. If there ever is a time, maybe you could have Ben over, invent some excuse so they can be alone and get to know each other.’
‘Of course. Just say the word. Right, time to get this lot into bed and then I can slip back and say goodnight to my husband. And Catherine’s home, so why don’t you take a bottle of wine and go up to the flat with Jack and spend some time together? The kids’ll be fine for a little while, and you look as if you could use some down-time. Jack does, anyway. He must be exhausted.’
Down-time? With Jack?
Oh, what a wonderfully tempting thought. Time just to be together, after all the stress and trauma of the week, with Tom hugely improved and out of the woods and her fear for their lives retreating to a manageable level.
She wasn’t sure about the wine, though. It had been less than a fortnight since she’d sworn she’d never drink another drop, and here she was, on her second drink this evening. Although, to be fair, she was wearing most of that one.
Fliss hailed Jack and the boys, sent Michael up into the tree-house to bring the girls down and suggested a shower.
The girls were keen enough, but the boys looked unimpressed—until Jack said, ‘I tell you what, Sal. Why don’t you take the girls and I’ll take the boys? And Fliss can sort out towels and PJs and file them all in the right beds, and we’ll have a race to see which team gets finished first.’
‘Us!’ the boys yelled, heading for the house, and the girls ran after them, with the adults trailing a useless third.
‘You and your good ideas,’ Fliss said, laughing, but between them they had all the children showered, teeth cleaned and into bed within ten minutes. The girls’ hair hadn’t been washed, but Harriet didn’t seem to care and Abby was only too glad to be at home with her father on the mend and was happy to do anything she was asked, so she hadn’t presented any problems.
Then she heard Jack’s low, rumbling voice as he read the boys a story. ‘I haven’t heard this book before,’ she said to Fliss, but Fliss shook her head.
‘He doesn’t read them, he makes them up. He’s brilliant. He’d be a really good father.’ That last so softly that only Sally, standing right beside her, could hear.
Oh, if only. She felt her heart hitch and, telling herself not to be a sentimental fool, she found a book in the bookcase and sent Fliss off to see her beloved Tom, then snuggled down with the girls and read to them.
When she looked up Jack was standing in the doorway, his eyes gentle on her, and she gave him a smile, finished the book and then kissed both girls goodnight before heading for the stairs after him.
‘Fliss has left us a bottle of wine and instructions to drink it in my flat,’ he murmured, and she felt heat flow through her like melted chocolate, warm and sweet—and addictive.
‘Is that a good idea?’
His smile was wry. ‘Probably not, but it’s a great one.’
So they took the bottle and went up to the little flat over the kitchen, and there in the privacy of his sitting room they sat down on the sofa, snuggled up together and sipped the wine.
‘Australian. It’s a good one,’ he said, studying the label when he topped the glasses up. ‘Nice.’
He put the bottle down, then glanced at her, took the glass from her hand and put it down on the table next to the bottle and drew her into his arms.
‘Jack, we can’t!’ she protested, but he just kissed her lightly and shook his head.
‘It’s OK. I’m not going to make love to you. I just want to hold you.’
So she relaxed against him, letting him kiss her, his lips trailing over her face, her eyes, her cheeks, down the side of her neck, back up over her chin to her mouth, then brushing lightly over her lips until she opened to him.
After a while he lifted his head, brushed her hair gently off her face and sighed. ‘Do you know we’ve never done this? Just sat together? We’ve worked together, and we’ve slept together, and we’ve made love in every known position, but we’ve never just sat together quietly and talked.’
‘What do you want to talk about?’ she asked, and his mouth twisted a little.
‘My son?’ he said softly. ‘He’s such a great kid. And he’s really nice to his little brother. As a little brother, I can appreciate that.’
She laughed. ‘He isn’t always nice to him.’
‘Oh, of course not, that wouldn’t be human, but by and large he seems to be. The only time I’ve seen him lose it was when Ben put an earwig in his drink.’
She laughed again. ‘Sounds like Ben. He can’t understand that not everybody likes bugs.’
They fell silent for a while, and then Jack said quietly, ‘Is he going to hate me when he knows I’m his father?’
She turned her head. ‘Hate you? Why should he hate you?’
‘Because I wasn’t around?’
‘No. He’ll hate me, if anyone, because I didn’t tell you, but Alex isn’t a person who hates. He’ll just want to love you, too.’
Jack’s face twisted, and he turned away, his jaw working.
‘I need to tell him, Sal,’ he said gruffly. ‘I need him to know, because I love him already, and I can’t imagine loving him any more if I’d known him all his life. I watched all those videos. Some of them didn’t make much sense, but it didn’t matter. It was just seeing him. Watching him grow up. Without me.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want that happening any more.’
She felt panic rising in her chest. ‘Jack, we can’t rush him. Let me talk to David. We need to do this right.’
His eyes were sad. ‘Is there ever going to be a right way to tell a little boy that the man he’s known as his father isn’t his father, and a total stranger is? I don’t think so.’
She closed her eyes.
He was right. There was never going to be an easy way to do it, but right then she couldn’t see any way at all.
CHAPTER TEN
HE’D promised he’d give her time and he’d meant it, but every moment of it was bitter-sweet.
They had a great day on Sunday in and around the Whittakers’ pool, and he discovered that his son—his son, for goodness’ sake, that was so hard to get used to!—was a natural swimmer, as he had been. They’d played and wrestled in the water, Alex determined to get the ball off him, and when he’d eventually done it, his cocky pride was one hundred per cent familiar. Jack had to admit to feeling a matching pride for him, but the physical contact with the boy’s lithe, muscular young body was curiously painful.
He’d been nine years too late to hold him at birth, to feel his strength grow, to watch the first wobbly efforts at holding his head up, the first time he’d rolled over, the first shaky step. And now Alex was fit and athletic and growing like a weed, and Jack had an overwhelming urge to protect him from any harm that might befall him. He just wanted to take him in his arms and hug him, to have the right to do so, the right to tell him how much he was growing to love him.
He was hugely conscious, though, of not singling Alex out for more than his share of attention and, in fact, Ben in his very different way was just as delightful. He was like Sal, mischievous and full of fun, and yet curiously studious. Fixated on anything small and creepy, of course, and Jack thought that if the budding entomologist went into a career in some sort of biological science, he wouldn’t be surprised.
And the Whittaker kids were great, too, and at one point he ended up with the littlest on his lap, just over a year old and utterly enchanting, if a bit wriggly. He wanted to get down, to go and do things, and Jack ended up walking round the garden with him, holding him by the fingers and showing him things.
He handed him back, though, when the nappy needed attention. He wasn’t that great with other people’s kids! Besides, that meant taking him inside, out of sight and sound of Sal and her boys—the people he was fast beginning
to think of as his family.
When she took the children home at the end of the day, he went with her, stayed for supper and then dropped in on Tom on the way back. It had been a day or two since he’d seen him, and he wanted to check up on his patient, friend and colleague.
Jack found him propped up against the pillows, his colour considerably better than the last time he’d seen him, and he greeted Jack with a smile.
‘Well, if it isn’t my saviour,’ he murmured, and moved the newspaper so Jack could sit down.
‘How are you?’
‘Bloody sore. You could have made a smaller incision.’
Jack laughed, glad to see he was recovering his sense of humour. ‘No way. Sorry. There wasn’t time to fairy about with keyhole surgery.’
‘I’ve noticed,’ Tom said drily. ‘Every time I move.’
Jack winced and apologised again, this time with feeling, but Tom just shook his head, his face taut with emotion.
‘Don’t apologise,’he said gruffly. ‘I’ve got six kids, and thanks to you I might get to see them all grow up and graduate and get married. I can’t tell you what that means.’
‘You don’t need to,’ Jack replied, just as gruffly. The thought of missing the rest of Alex’s life was too hard to contemplate.
Tom tipped his head on one side and studied him for a moment, then said softly, ‘Fliss is right, he is like you.’
His jaw dropped and he hauled it back up. ‘Pardon?’
‘OK, if that’s the way you want to play it, we’ll pretend we don’t know.’
Don’t know? That took a moment to get used to, but Tom just lay there watching him, waiting, and after a moment Jack sighed.
‘Is it going to be a problem for you?’
‘What—that Alex is yours? Why should it?’
Jack shrugged. ‘Patrick had a problem at first, but he’s OK now. He’s appointed himself Sal’s champion.’
‘Oh. He giving you a hard time?’
‘He has done—for all the right reasons—but I don’t think he trusted me to do the decent thing. He’s OK now, though, but don’t forget, we go back years. He’s like a brother, and brothers can get a bit heavy.’
His Very Own Wife and Child Page 14
