by Kris Pearson
“I asked how much, Kerri.”
She gritted her teeth. What did it matter to him? It was her life, her mistake. He didn’t need to get so worked up about it—no-one else would. No-one else ever had. Not since Grandpa had read her the riot act the day he died.
“Just over five hundred dollars,” she admitted. “But I only need a hundred for Sarah.”
“How much do you need for you?”
“I told you I’d survive...”
“Not if you’re desperate enough to try and borrow a hundred dollars. How much do you owe?”
She wrapped her arms across her midriff and rocked to and fro with embarrassment, looking down at her half-eaten quiche, and wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of her remaining coffee. Finally she raised her head and risked a glance at him.
“In the whole wide world? Eleven thousand.”
“Total?”
“Yes.” She grimaced, wishing so much she didn’t have to tell him. “I bumped my credit card limit up a bit to buy that dress for dinner, and to have some spending money with you, and...”
She shrugged, and he stared her down with eyes of deepest freezing blue.
“So every month you’ve been paying exorbitant interest on ten thousand dollars, and now it’ll be eleven? How much do you earn, Kerri?
“Enough.”
“Not to service a sum like that—for nothing in return. You pay how many percent?”
She shrugged again, utterly mortified to be grilled like this.
“Around twenty?” she hazarded.
She watched as his clever brain ticked over.
“Nearly two hundred dollars every month in interest. And are you paying any of the balance back?”
“Sometimes.”
“But not often, I suspect. Any other debts?”
“No!”
“Well, that’s a mercy. So you’ve no money at all until your next payday. Not even enough to pay your airport taxes, hmmm?”
Kerri swallowed again. She’d forgotten those.
“Well, could you make it a bit more a hundred, then?” she tried gamely.
Alex exhaled in a rush. He pushed back in his chair and glowered at her. She felt as though she was some loathsome insect all lined up for a scientific experiment.
A painful one.
“Give me your credit card.”
Not knowing what else to do, she rummaged in her bag and handed the card across to him.
His strong fingers bent it in half, rendering it useless.
“Hey—I need that!”
“No Kerri, I need it. I shall be cancelling it, and instructing your bank not to issue you with another one under any circumstances.”
“You bastard! You can’t do that.”
“And I shall pay off the balance for you,” he continued implacably, “to take away the worry, and to leave you more money to live on. You will not be gambling again—that’s my only condition.”
Kerri lifted her chin, ready to fight. Disbelief that he could do this danced alongside the possibility that the burden might really be gone.
“You can’t pay off eleven thousand dollars.”
“Oh, you’re cheap at the price—the building cost me more than six million.”
She sat there gaping, feeling as though he’d flung a bucket of cold water over her. So as far as Alex was concerned she was worth about the same as a small office or a half a bathroom...
He tossed some notes onto the table.
“Perfume for Sarah, and enough to take care of your transport to the airport and the departure tax.”
“You’re not driving me back to Tontouta?” Her brain dived dizzily from relief to affront to sharp regret.
“No Kerri, not after this. I’m disappointed in you beyond belief. Maybe this will bring you to your senses.”
He added another couple of notes. “And for the Wellington end as well.”
She parted her lips to speak, and then pressed them closed again. “You’ve made me feel like a prostitute,” she eventually whispered, feeling cold, and ashamed and small.
He pushed back his chair even further, making it rasp on the pavers, then rose, reached over and touched her face.
“Your take on it, not mine,” he said.
And left.
He drove aimlessly around the twisting sun-soaked roads above Anse Vata, then into Noumea proper and along the city streets. Without knowing quite how he’d got there, he slowed and braked to a halt on a hilltop with a magnificent view out over the water. Boats scythed through the dappled sea. Windsurfers angled their small craft against the fresh breeze.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, and behind his sun-warmed eyelids Kerri’s face swam into sharp focus. Her bouncy dark hair with its fine strands of scarlet. Her sparkling brown eyes. Her cheeky smile—and then the woebegone expression that had been his last glimpse of her.
He cursed out loud and fired up the engine again. Drove further into the countryside. Driving for the sake of driving. Killing time.
There was no joy in the sporty car now. No lift in his heart, and no hope he’d ever forgive Kerri for pulling a stunt like that. Sneaking off when he wasn’t looking. Gambling—when she knew how much he disapproved of it. Knew how long and hard he’d worked to help people with the addiction because of the anguish he’d gone through with his mother. God, she really was Isabelle all over again! He’d had a lucky escape.
Not that I’d intended starting anything serious.
Well, he would pay off her credit card debt and hope she somehow found the fortitude to stay on the straight and narrow from now on. Unlikely, in his experience.
But it felt good to have done that for her. And considering where his initial money had come from, it felt oddly appropriate, too.
Kerri cried most of the way home. Silent desperate dry sobs, which she hoped the man sitting two seats away didn’t notice. She was grateful for the empty seat between them, and turned her face to the window, staring at the clouds far below for the whole trip.
The hurt welled up so strongly that all of her skin felt exhausted, all of her bones felt soggy. She seemed to be in the grip of a strange fierce lethargy, drained of energy and purpose.
Alex had been wonderful. And cruel. And generous. And so damned sexy she wanted to howl her loss out loud as the plane ripped them ever further apart.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
If the week after Sylvie had been bad, the week after Noumea was horrendous. Kerri yawned and grouched and sighed repeatedly, and felt so tired, so touchy, so guilty as Alex swam through her thoughts every moment of every day.
Bet he’s living it up in Paris. Bet he’s out with some showgirl. Bet he’s acting smug because he thinks he’s bought me off and reformed me.
And by Friday evening there was still no sign of her period.
“God!” she snapped at Sarah. “If only the damn thing would arrive I’d feel so much better.”
“There’s no chance...that you might be pregnant?”
Sarah asked this with caution. She’d had her head bitten off at least a dozen times since Kerri had returned late on Monday night with the promised perfume.
“Not a hope in hell. This is probably too much information, but Alex was fanatical about using condoms all that day on the boat.”
“And in Noumea?”
“Well—no—because my period was so close. I was scared it was going to arrive any minute. My boobs were sore and my temper was foul.”
“So maybe a little tadpole sneaked out of one of those condoms on the boat and now you’re about a fortnight pregnant? Your breasts are the first sign. That, and being tired. Are you tired?”
“Utterly wrecked,” Kerri confessed, feeling the panic starting to spiral up her spine. Was it possible? Even remotely possible? Her life was chaotic enough without adding a baby to the mix.
“You weren’t on the pill?”
“Who for? Of course not. There’s been no-one...”
No-one else who ever made
me feel that alive. No-one who annoyed me so much, and pleased me so much, and bossed me round, and somehow got his way too often, and made me mad for his body. No-one ever like Alex.
“You need to buy a test and check.”
“No way. It’s totally not happening.”
She stared at Sarah, wide-eyed, desperate to demolish the possibility, even as some tiny corner of her mind acknowledged it might be true.
“If you were expecting your period a few days ago,” sensible Sarah said, “then you’d have ovulated just before the boat trip. Sorry—the timing kind of fits. The test would put your mind at rest.”
Bet it’s a boy, flickered across Kerri’s brain.
She turned away from Sarah’s concerned gaze and looked down at the sketch she’d been working on. Alex—a better version than her quick effort on the galley’s small notepad. There he lay on smooth ivory card, bare-chested and sleepy-eyed, the man who might have made her pregnant just minutes before she’d captured him on that first scrap of paper. The man she’d never see again.
“He’d make beautiful babies,” she murmured, tilting him so Sarah could see. “But he’d better not have!”
“He’s hot,” Sarah agreed, appreciating the man in the intimate sketch. “Stop trying to change the subject, though. You need to do a pregnancy test.”
Kerri shook her head.
“It’s best to know,” Sarah insisted, “and they work really early these days. I’ll pop down to the pharmacy before they close. I’ll buy two, just in case, okay?”
“In case of what?” Kerri squeaked.
“In case the first one’s positive. You might want to re-do it to check in a while? To be sure? I’ll buy you a Lotto ticket as well, for good luck,” she added.
“No, just the tests, thanks. I promised Alex I’d try not to gamble, and I’ve lasted a whole week so far. I’ll get my wallet.”
“My shout,” Sarah offered.
“No way. I can afford my own pregnancy tests, thanks. But maybe a very little bar of chocolate? I could kill for chocolate right now.”
“Cravings already?” Sarah joked, stepping sideways to avoid the jab that was sure to follow. She dropped her hands onto Kerri’s slight shoulders and gave them a brief squeeze. “Chin up, Kerri-babes. It might be just a bug you’ve caught.”
A tall, dark and devastating French bug, Kerri thought. A bug that’s going to stick around for my whole life.
The first test came up positive. She crept out of the bathroom and held the stick towards Sarah. Then she hiccupped out a couple of disbelieving laughs and collapsed in a sobbing heap on the sofa while Sarah bustled around offering sympathy, tea, tissues, anything that might help.
God— her life had just gone down the plughole. She’d have to give up work some time in the winter, and suffer the scorn and pity of her workmates. Or keep working while most of her wages went on childcare and someone else had all the joy of caring for her baby.
She’d get fat and frumpy and feel sick all the time. Have to give up her lovely high shoes and never have enough money to buy pretty clothes again. Her mother might send her expensive baby clothes from Dubai, but she couldn’t imagine any other help being forthcoming. She could easily picture Edward wrinkling his supercilious nose in distaste.
No-one would want to seriously date her—not if they felt she was on the prowl for a surrogate father for Alex’s baby.
She cried for a solid half-hour. Wept until her eyes were red and stinging, and her make-up smeared and smudged. Until there were no more tears left to cry.
And then small cracks began appearing in the wall of misery she’d built. She began to imagine Alex’s baby. A piece of him to keep now he’d gone. A dark-haired blue-eyed replacement for the man who’d stolen her heart and introduced her to pleasure she’d not known was possible.
The sparks they’d struck off each other had burned very hot—apparently hot enough to fan a whole new life into being—and to burn a gaping hole in her existence.
How ironic Alex had insisted on being so careful on the boat. Despite all his caution, the mail had somehow got through.
She waited a few days before repeating the test, but the second result was the same.
“So...?” Sarah asked the following Saturday morning, having just returned from a few days on her parents’ farm. She’d left the topic alone for as long as she could bear to, but now both girls were in their pajamas, breakfasting in the sun. They’d unfolded a couple of beach chairs and an old card table in the little courtyard garden behind their flat. An olive tree flourished in half a wine barrel, and terra-cotta pots full of pansies and succulents sat beside it.
Kerri nodded as she nibbled toast. “It’s for real. Still no period, and I did the other test.”
“No question then,” Sarah agreed. “What will you do?”
Kerri looked at her sharply.
“No question there, either. Keep it of course. I couldn’t do anything else.”
“It’ll be hard for you.”
“It’s do-able. I really think it is. I’ve worried all week of course. Juggled options. Hardly slept. You were well out of it at your parents’ place.” She sighed and stretched. “I thought I’d spent a lot of time thinking about Alex. This beats it hollow.”
She took another bite of toast. “I’m so scared, Sarah, but I’m excited, too. I know it’s a huge step. I know I might fail—given my track record so far, I have to be realistic about that.” She drew a long slow breath of resolve. “I told you I promised him I’d give up gambling. So far I’ve managed that at least.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Two whole weeks now. It’s a start anyway.”
“A good start,” Sarah agreed, privately wondering how long Kerri could keep her promise.
“Not long I know, but I’ve got a great reason to stay with it. A new person who’ll need looking after. Someone who’ll stick around. Someone who won’t leave me—like Dad or Mom, or my grandparents, or Alex all did.”
“Someone who’s so dependent on you, though.”
“I know I’ll need every cent, so maybe that’ll make me grow up a bit. My Grandfather left me most of his money. Did I ever tell you that?”
Sarah’s eyebrows rose.
“Mum lives in fine style with her second husband,” Kerri continued. “So Gramps made me his heir. I don’t think they liked Edward Browne too much, and Mum seemed to find a lot of excuses not to come home and visit, so maybe they were getting even for that.” She took another bite of toast and chewed for a while. “I’m not allowed to touch any of it until my twenty-fifth birthday—the old boy didn’t trust me the tiniest bit. I was so mad when the lawyer first told me.”
She sent Sarah a sad smile. “My grandparents wouldn’t have expected to die for years of course, but the accident got them early.”
She gazed down at her toenails to gain a little time. Today they were strawberry pink, shot with gold flecks. She nibbled on her bottom lip and finally looked up at Sarah again. “I think,” she added slowly, “that if I’d been less of a tearaway, they’d still be alive. We had an awful row that last day.”
Sarah made a noise halfway between sympathy and disbelief.
“Seriously,” Kerri continued. “They were careful people and I...wasn’t that careful. I pushed the boundaries all the time. Behaved like I was about fifteen for far too long.” She took another bite of toast and looked away to where a huge bumble-bee was nosing into the pansies. “Maybe Grandpa was thinking about that argument and lost his concentration on the road.”
“Kerri, don’t you dare think like that!”
“Can’t help it. What if I’m right? And I got rewarded with his money. Not fair, is it?” She glanced back at Sarah, not bothering to hide the fact she was wiping away tears with the fingers of her free hand.
“And not provable, either. Stop worrying. Lucky you, I say. Well—rotten luck for them of course.” She left a short silence. “How much, um, more or less, if you don’t mind me asking?”
K
erri managed a slight grin. “I’ll have to find out what the interest has added, but enough for a house or apartment. I’ll be twenty-five next year, Sarah. I’ll get the money exactly when I need it.”
“It’ll still be hard. Think of the solo mums at work. Julie has a rotten time of it.”
“Julie’s got three children and she’s paying a lot of rent on that place,” Kerri said, reaching for the marmalade.
“And Megan. She’s always on the bones of her bum.”
“A baby born when she was seventeen, and a dogs-body job where she earns almost nothing.”
“Which is about how much you’ll be earning, too. If you put the baby into childcare it’ll wipe out heaps of your wages. And if you don’t, you won’t have any wages to wipe out.”
“I might have a flat-mate paying rent? Would you be interested? Could you stand the thought of living with a baby?” She turned dark questioning eyes on Sarah. “You can say no—I won’t be offended. I’m sure I can do some freelance writing. And I’ve got another little scheme I’ve been thinking about. I can draw. Maybe do a storybook.”
“Ambitious, but good on you. What about Alex? You’ll have to contact him.”
Kerri’s face clouded over.
“Not yet—not for months. Anything could happen in the meantime. I wouldn’t want to…alarm him unnecessarily.”
“You can’t keep him in the dark forever. If he has a child, you have to tell him.”
Kerri shrugged.
“I’m serious,” Sarah insisted. “Fathers have the right to know. When I had that scare with Jeff last summer he was furious I hadn’t told him until I miscarried. He accused me of terrible things, including plotting a termination without his permission.”
“But you weren’t.”
“No—not fair is it? I wasn’t, and he insisted I was, and it split us up.”
“At least this possible baby won’t break me and Alex up,” she said. “We’re already broken.”
“Both tests positive. That makes it probable rather than possible. You’d better give up alcohol.”
“No gambling, no drinking,” Kerri mock-grumbled. “No sex either. It doesn’t leave me much fun.”
