Baby Out of the Blue

by Anne Mather

‘You did, too, before you went to see your ex-husband,’ said Alex at once and Jane sighed.

  ‘He’s not my ex-husband yet,’ she corrected him, not really knowing why she bothered. Just because she’d heard no more from Demetri’s solicitors didn’t mean the divorce wasn’t going ahead. ‘And that’s not true, Alex. My relationship with Demetri hasn’t changed.’

  Alex regarded her disbelievingly. ‘So why can’t we continue seeing one another? I thought you liked me. I thought we had some good times together.’

  ‘We did.’ Jane could so do without this. She wrapped her arms about herself over the clipboard. ‘It’s just—well, I don’t think it’s fair to you to go on pretending that we’ll ever be more than friends.’

  Alex scowled. ‘It apparently didn’t matter to you before.’

  ‘That was before you told me how you felt,’ Jane reminded him unhappily. The clipboard was digging into her stomach and she adjusted it before continuing, ‘I never intended to hurt you, Alex. Honestly.’

  ‘But you have.’ Alex shifted restlessly, and then, totally without warning, he snatched the clipboard out of her grasp. ‘For goodness’ sake,’ he exclaimed, ‘can’t you put that damn thing down while we’re talking?’

  He flung the offending item onto the floor and it skittered away across the polished boards. He watched it go and so did Jane, though for different reasons.Alex looked as if he was trying to control his temper, whereas Jane just felt totally exposed now.

  She was wearing linen trousers and a rose-patterned smock top that fastened beneath her breasts and flared over her waistband. It was the kind of outfit lots of young women wore. It didn’t necessarily spell pregnancy. But the swell of her stomach did. She’d always been so slender before and the distinct bulge was unmistakable.

  It apparently was to Alex. His eyes seemed riveted to it. Jane was embarrassed. This was the last thing she needed. She wished he would just go and leave her alone.

  ‘Are you pregnant?’ he asked at last, in a dazed voice. Then, with some bitterness, ‘I bet Demetri knows about this!’

  ‘He doesn’t.’ Anger came to Jane’s rescue. Walking swiftly across the floor, she bent and picked up the clipboard. ‘In any case, it’s nothing to do with you, Alex. I think you’d better go.’

  Alex’s brow furrowed. ‘You haven’t told Demetri he’s going to be a father?’

  ‘Did I say this baby was Demetri’s?’

  ‘No. But I just assumed—’

  ‘You assume a lot of things,’ said Jane tersely. ‘Why don’t you do as I asked you and leave?’

  He didn’t move. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Jane couldn’t believe his audacity. ‘I think that’s my business, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, are you going to marry the baby’s father? Whatever you say, it is Demetri’s, isn’t it?’

  Jane gasped. ‘You have no right to say that.’

  ‘I assume that means you’re not. Getting married again, I mean.’

  ‘I am married and, as I said before, you assume too many things. Now, please, I want to close the gallery. I’d like you to go.’

  Alex moved a little nearer. ‘Don’t be like that, Jane. I only want to help you.’ He paused. ‘I care about you. I still do, even if you have betrayed me with someone else.’

  ‘I did not betray you.’ Jane wished desperately that someone would come and interrupt them. ‘Alex, this is silly. I’m sorry if you think I’ve misled you. But talking about it isn’t going to change anything.’

  ‘It could.’ He was just a few feet away now. ‘You could marry me instead. I think I’d make a good father. And a child needs a father, don’t you agree?’

  Jane was horrified. ‘But I don’t love you, Alex.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘Then—’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘No—’

  ‘I always have. Right from the first time I came here to do Mrs Ivanovitch’s accounts. She knew how I felt. She was the one who told me what a pig your husband had been to you. She said I should just be patient. That sooner or later you’d realise I was nothing like him.’

  Oh, Olga!

  Jane closed her eyes for a moment, wishing her employer were there. Obviously the conversation Alex was talking about had taken place some time ago. If only Olga had been here, she could have explained that to him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I—I appreciate the compliment, Alex, I really do, but I can’t marry you.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You know why not.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’ve given the matter enough thought. I know you don’t love me now, but give it time. We’ll have years to—’

  ‘No, Alex.’

  She spoke firmly, but all he did was move even closer and put his bony hands on her shoulders. ‘Come on, Jane. Give me a chance. Let me show you how good it could be…’

  ‘No, Alex.’

  She was getting scared now. It was obvious she wasn’t getting through to him and, whatever she said, he simply refused to listen to her.

  ‘I don’t think you appreciate the position you’re in,’ he went on, smoothing her arms in a way that made her skin crawl. ‘A divorcee. A single mother. There aren’t that many men who are prepared to take on another man’s child.’ He bent his head and, although she fought him, he succeeded in nuzzling her shoulder. ‘Let me care for you, Jane. You know you want to.’

  ‘I don’t.Alex, please!’She pressed her hands against his chest, the clipboard falling between them. ‘You have to let me go!’

  ‘I don’t have to do anything,’ he retorted, moving in closer and pinning her back against an oil painting of the last tsar of Russia. It was one of Olga’s favourites, and wasn’t for sale, and the heavy gilt-edged frame dug painfully into Jane’s spine. ‘I can do what I like. Who’s going to stop me?’

  ‘Alex, for God’s sake…’

  Jane was losing hope. With the frame digging into her back and the clipboard digging into her ankle, she had never felt more helpless. And then she had an idea. She lifted her foot and kicked the clipboard hard into Alex’s leg.

  He swore, but for a moment his hold slackened and Jane took the opportunity it gave her. Shoving him away from her, she ran half sobbing towards the door.

  The distinctive sound of the door opening halted her headlong flight. It was late afternoon and the sun filtering through the blinds threw the visitor’s face into shadow. All Jane could tell for certain was that it was a woman and her initial thought was that Olga had come back.

  ‘Thank God you’re here,’ she got out unsteadily hurrying, towards her. ‘Please—you must get Alex to leave me alone.’

  ‘Alex?’

  The voice was unfamiliar at first and Jane closed her eyes for a moment, praying she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself in front of one of Olga’s more influential clients. Then she opened her eyes again, realising she knew that accent. Ianthe Adonides of all people was standing staring at her, slim and elegant in a cream Chanel suit and pearls.

  The house owned by the Souvakis family was in Bloomsbury. An elegant Georgian townhouse, overlooking Russell Square, it had three floors, a basement and an attic. It had once belonged to some minor member of the aristocracy, Jane remembered Demetri telling her. It had amused him to keep the area ‘below stairs’ for his own use.

  Of course, that had been in the days when his mother and father had been frequent visitors to London. He’d first furnished the basement rooms when he was a teenager and that was where he’d taken Jane when they’d first become lovers. It was where he’d asked her to marry him, she remembered, her heart quickening instinctively. They’d been so happy in those days. How could she have let her own jealousy destroy what they’d had?

  Why hadn’t she believed him?

  She asked the taxi driver to drop her at the corner of Bedford Place and walked the last few yards to the house she remembered so well. There were s
teps up to the glossy green door and a fanlight glowing with the light from inside. So someone was at home, she comforted herself. Of course, it could be just the housekeeper. Or even Theo Vasilis. Ianthe had told her she’d flown to England with both men, her growing relationship with Demetri’s assistant the reason why she’d been invited along on what was primarily a business trip.

  It was getting dark and, not wanting to be taken for a wouldbe intruder, Jane climbed the steps and rang the bell. Then, to give herself something to do while she waited, she checked that the belt of the loose-fitting woollen jacket she was wearing was securely tied about her waist. Until she was absolutely sure that Demetri wanted to see her again, her pride wouldn’t let her use her condition to influence the outcome of this visit.

  She seemed to wait for ages and only a grim determination forced her to stay the distance. Imagining Demetri checking some security monitor, and discovering it was her, tormented her. What if he refused to speak to her? What if what Ianthe had told her—that he and Ariadne were no longer seeing one another—simply wasn’t true? Would she lie?

  She’d certainly lied before.

  The sound of a key turning put all these anxieties on hold. The deadlock was released and the door swung open on oiled hinges to reveal a rather plump, attractive woman in her late thirties. Jane’s first devastating thought was that this was why Demetri and Ariadne had split up. He’d found someone else. But then the woman spoke and Jane realised that once again she was jumping to conclusions. Besides, Demetri would never allow a girlfriend of his to answer the door.

  ‘May I help you?’

  The woman’s voice was polite, deferential, and Jane drew a breath. ‘Um—is Mr Souvakis at home?’

  The woman frowned now. ‘Is he expecting you, Ms—Ms—’

  ‘Souvakis,’ said Jane at once and saw the way the woman’s eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. ‘I’m—Mrs Souvakis. Demetri’s wife.’

  The woman blinked. Then, glancing nervously behind her, she murmured, ‘I’m sorry. Mr Souvakis didn’t tell me you were joining him.’

  Jane wished she had the nerve to just walk into the house. But it was five years since she and Demetri had lived together and this woman didn’t know her from Adam. Or should she say Eve?

  ‘He’s not expecting me,’ she admitted uncomfortably. Then, in an effort to establish her identity, she added, ‘Where is Mrs Grey?’

  ‘Mrs Grey?’ The woman looked a little less doubtful now. ‘You know Mrs Grey?’

  ‘Mr Souvakis’ housekeeper, yes.’ Jane nodded. ‘Is she still here?’

  ‘Mrs Grey retired three years ago,’ the woman answered. ‘I’m Mrs Sawyer. I took her place.’

  ‘I see.’

  Jane was feeling slightly reassured when a man’s voice interrupted them. ‘Who is it, Freda?’ he called; from upstairs, Jane surmised. ‘Ineh, Theo? Tell him to come in.’

  ‘It’s not Mr Vasilis, Mr Souvakis,’ Mrs Sawyer replied, raising her voice so he could hear, and Jane’s heart almost stopped beating when she heard someone coming down the stairs.

  ‘Well, you know I’m going out,’ Demetri was saying as he reached the bottom of the stairs and strode along the hall towards the door. And then he saw Jane, and the silence that ensued was almost deafening.

  ‘Hello, Demetri.’ Jane knew it was up to her to say something. ‘May I come in?’

  Demetri exchanged a look with Mrs Sawyer. ‘This is my wife, Freda,’ he said, unaware that they had already introduced themselves. Then, without meeting Jane’s eyes, he stepped back and gestured her inside. ‘Neh, come in. I am going out, but I can spare you a few minutes. If it’s urgent.’

  ‘It is,’ said Jane, giving the housekeeper an apologetic smile. The door closed and she nervously moistened her lips. ‘How are you, Demetri? You look well.’

  In actual fact, he looked anything but, she thought. The strain of his father’s illness was obviously taking its toll on him. Ianthe had told her that Leo Souvakis was still alive, but very frail. Jane imagined he was very disappointed that Demetri’s relationship with Ariadne had come to nothing.

  Demetri didn’t answer her and she wasn’t really surprised. He must know she hadn’t come here to enquire about his health. He was probably wondering why she was here, for, despite what Ianthe had said, he had made no attempt to see her during his visit.

  ‘We’ll be in the upstairs sitting room,’ he told the housekeeper now. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, ‘Would you like coffee? Or something stronger?’

  ‘Um—tea would be nice,’ murmured Jane, still unable to face the former. ‘If it’s not too much trouble—’

  ‘Tea. For one, Freda.’ Demetri gave the order. Then, indicating the staircase, ‘Parakalo: you know where the sitting room is.’

  Jane glanced behind her as she climbed the stairs. ‘You—er—you don’t live in the basement these days?’ she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  ‘Freda and her husband have their apartment in the basement,’ Demetri replied flatly. ‘I haven’t used it for years.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Jane couldn’t think of an answer to that and instead tried to distract herself by familiarising herself with her surroundings. Silk-lined walls, hung with priceless paintings, cushion-soft carpets, a crystal chandelier. And that was before she entered the family sitting room, with its Bokhara rugs and curved leather sofas, its elegant marble fireplace and exquisite works of art.

  She paused in the doorway, where pocket doors could be slid aside to create a larger space for entertaining. When Demetri’s father had been in London, the Souvakises had enjoyed a busy social life. Jane remembered parties where finding a guest without a famous name had been quite a feat.

  She turned to remind Demetri of this, but he was already easing past her, crossing the room with the evident intention of getting himself a drink.And not tea, she speculated, aware that he looked much leaner than she remembered. Although his black pleated trousers and white silk shirt fitted him with glove-like precision, he had definitely lost some weight. There was more grey in the sleek beauty of his hair now and surprisingly he needed a haircut.

  ‘So,’ he said, at last, turning to rest his hips against the cabinet behind him. He was holding a glass with what she suspected was whisky in it. ‘To what do I owe this unexpected appearance?’

  Jane came slowly into the room. ‘I notice you don’t say “unexpected pleasure”,’ she said lightly, resisting the urge to wrap her arms about her waist. Then, because it was easier than getting to the real point of her visit, ‘How is your father?’

  ‘He’s—as well as can be expected, isn’t that what they say? Thank you for asking.’ He paused. ‘But you could have rung the villa and found that out for yourself.’

  Jane didn’t think so, but she didn’t want to get into that now. Instead, she let a little of her emotions show. ‘Oh, Demetri—’

  ‘Please.’ The look he directed towards her would have chilled an ice cube. ‘You can’t turn up out of the blue and expect a welcoming committee. Not after leaving Kalithi as soon as my back was turned.’

  Jane’s jaw dropped. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘No? You knew Stefan and I were flying out to the Artemis. Didn’t it occur to you that it might be dangerous?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Or didn’t you care?’

  ‘Of course I cared.’

  ‘Psemata?’

  ‘Yes, really!’ she exclaimed. ‘But you knew I couldn’t stay there indefinitely.’ She was reluctant to mention his mother’s part in her departure, but there was something she could say. ‘I did ring the villa after I got back to England, but—well, I couldn’t get through.’

  Demetri’s lips twisted. ‘Do you expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It’s the truth!’

  ‘So why couldn’t you get through? Had you forgotten the number?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Jane sighed. ‘Perhaps Angelena didn’t understand what I wanted.’

 
Demetri’s scepticism was evident and, in another attempt to explain her behaviour, she said unhappily, ‘Ariadne resented me, you know she did.’

  Demetri’s brows drew together. ‘Did Ariadne say something to make you leave?’

  ‘N…o.’

  ‘I thought not.’

  ‘Demetri, please—’

  ‘Please what?’ He swallowed the remaining liquid in his glass in one gulp and turned to refill it. Then, with his back to her, he said, ‘What do you want, Jane? Are you worried because I’ve let the divorce stall these last few weeks?’ His shoulders rounded. ‘You have to understand, I’ve had other things on my mind.’

  ‘I know that.’ Jane drew her lower lip between her teeth. Then, because she had to know if Ianthe had been telling the truth, ‘Are you still seeing Ariadne?’

  He swung round then, his expression violent. ‘What’s it to you?’he demanded harshly. ‘You don’t care what happens to me.’

  ‘I do!’ Jane couldn’t let him think that, even if his response was no answer. ‘I’ve never stopped caring about you.’

  Demetri was bitter. ‘Then you have a bloody funny way of showing it.’ He shook his head. ‘Why don’t you tell me what this is all about and get it over with?’ He glanced at the slim gold watch circling his narrow wrist. ‘I’ve got a dinner engagement in exactly forty minutes.’

  ‘Ianthe came to see me.’

  Jane hadn’t intended to be so direct, but it was too late now. He was staring at her with hard, disbelieving eyes and she wondered painfully if the Greek girl’s confession had come too late, also.

  ‘Apokliete!’ he muttered at last. No way!

  ‘It’s true.’ Jane gazed at him despairingly. ‘She—she came to the gallery. She told me that you and Ariadne were no longer together.’

  ‘Ariadne and I have not been together, as you put it, since I came to your apartment over three months ago,’ he told her coldly. ‘That should hardly be news to you.’

  Jane was confused. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She frowned. ‘When I arrived in Kalithi, Ariadne let me think—’

  ‘That she and I were sleeping together?’ Demetri was bitter. ‘And you, of course, believed her.’ He spread his arm dramatically. ‘My wife,’ he said contemptuously, ‘who still thinks I’ll sleep with any woman who’ll have me.’ He downed another mouthful of his whisky. ‘And you say you care about me. Forgive me if I say that’s bloody pathetic!’