The Baby Verdict

by Cathy Williams

  ‘You can consider it anything you want to. As far as I’m concerned, it just means that you’re not my woman.’

  He let the words sink in, in all their brutal simplicity. She was his employee, and that was the full extent of it. Beyond that, she meant nothing at all to him, and so whether she made him a meal, or he cooked her some eggs, was irrelevant. Theirs was not a relationship and so was not threatening.

  ‘But that’s not why I came here. I came here to congratulate you on the court case, and found you ill and clearly incapable of looking after yourself...’

  ‘I am perfectly capable of looking after myself!’ Jessica retorted indignantly.

  ‘So you’ve told me. Is that why you looked as though you hadn’t eaten for a week?’

  ‘I didn’t get around to it...’ she returned, feeling more and more like a charity case, and hating it.

  ‘So I made you something to eat.’ He shrugged and stood up.

  Does he think that I’m trying to attach significance to that? she wondered, with a growing sense of shame. Did he think that she was after him, looking for ways of misinterpreting simple actions into something meaningful?

  Yes. Of course he thought that. She could feel herself getting hot and flustered and horribly embarrassed.

  He was the archetypal eligible bachelor. She suspected that he would have spent his entire adult life being pursued by women. It would hardly surprise him if he thought that she had joined the queue. She cringed inwardly. Good Lord, he was warning her off him!

  ‘Yes, I know. I know, I know, I know. I’m being a bore. It’s this inactivity. I hate it. I need to be doing.’ She transferred tray from lap to table.

  ‘Makes you feel like a worthwhile member of society, does it?’

  Jessica closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the sofa. ‘Something like that. Either that or I’m an undiagnosed hyperactive and in desperate need of medication.’

  ‘You should try slowing down now and again.’

  She half opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Do you?’

  ‘No, but I’m a man.’ He waited for her expression to change and then burst out laughing. ‘Works a treat every time! Now you have a steaming cold to contend with and high blood pressure from trying to stifle your little flare of self-righteous anger at my remark, but at least the wallowing inclination’s disappeared for the moment. Now, doctor’s orders: I shouldn’t bother coming into work for the rest of the week.’ He eyed her up and down in the manner of a scientist sizing up a particularly stubborn strain of bacteria.

  ‘I’ll see how it goes,’ Jessica said vaguely, not caring for his jovial brand of high humour. Of all the things he made her feel, feminine was not in the list and she wondered whether it was his deliberate ploy to remind her that any concern for her was purely altruistic.

  She remembered Rachel, with the flaxen hair and babydoll look; Rachel who had made the mistake of becoming a little too clingy and therefore had had to be dispensed with. Did he imagine that she might have seen his small act of kindness as encouragement?

  She began standing up and he waved her down.

  ‘Actually, I haven’t quite said what I came to say,’ he informed her, slinging on his jacket.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘You and your team have done a fine job, and I want to recognise that.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s enough for you to tell them that personally,’ Jessica said, omitting to mention that a bonus would probably do the trick even more.

  ‘Which is why,’ he carried on, ignoring her input, ‘I wanted to ask your advice.’

  ‘My advice? Where’s my diary? I should make a note of this red-letter day.’

  ‘I’ll put that remark down to ill health.’ He gave her another wolfish grin. ‘You know your team far better than I do.’

  ‘True.’ She nodded sagely, then, unable to resist the temptation, added, ‘They really don’t see much of you, considering you are their boss.’

  He frowned, and she smiled placidly at him.

  ‘I thought a weekend away might be a nice idea...’

  ‘A weekend away? Where?’ She hoped he wouldn’t suggest a health farm. She couldn’t think of a single member of her staff who would appreciate a weekend at a health farm. They were all far too young to see the advantages of a place that offered only nutritional food on their menu and a complete absence of alcohol.

  ‘Somewhere hot, I think, don’t you?’

  They both automatically looked in the direction of the bay window, through which leaden skies promised the worst of English weather.

  ‘I’m sure they would be thrilled,’ Jessica said, with genuine sincerity. ‘This weather’s awful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Grim.’

  ‘When did you have in mind?’

  ‘This weekend, actually. If the office could do without manning for a couple of days.’

  ‘This weekend?’ The man obviously had no touch with reality if he thought that tickets to anywhere in the Med could be bought at such short notice. ‘And of course the office would be manned. Why shouldn’t it be?’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Well, me for a start, and then there are the secretaries and all the other people who have had nothing to do with the lawsuit...’

  ‘Fourteen in all, including yourself.’

  ‘You want to take the entire office on a weekend to somewhere hot?’ She gave an incredulous laugh.

  ‘What are your objections?’

  ‘Oh, none at all!’ Jessica informed him airily. ‘Of course, the airlines might have a few. I doubt any of them could fly thirteen people over to sunny Spain at a moment’s notice!’

  ‘Whoever mentioned sunny Spain? Which, incidentally, wouldn’t be all that sunny at this time of the year. And what do airlines have to do with anything?’

  ‘Well, how else would you suggest they travel?’ she asked, with a hint of saccharine sarcasm in her voice. ‘Swim?’

  ‘I own a small private jet’

  ‘You...own...a...private...jet... Of course, don’t we all? What household is complete without one?’

  ‘I also own an island in the Caribbean,’ he drawled.

  ‘You own an island in the Caribbean?’ She stared at him, open-mouthed.

  ‘Of course. Don’t we all? What household is complete without one?’

  Jessica went pink. Why was it that her mouth seemed to develop a will of its own the minute this man was around?

  ‘So you’re planning on whisking my entire office off to your private island, in your private jet, for a long weekend.’

  ‘That’s about the size of it. Do you think that they would appreciate the gesture?’

  ‘Appreciate might be understating their reaction.’ She thought that they might just keel over from shock, and one or two of the older ones, Mary and Elizabeth, in their fifties, might well have to be resuscitated.

  ‘And what about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’re included in the list of invitees. I take it you’ll be over your cold by Friday?’

  She didn’t want to go. Private jets to private islands with Bruno Carr lurking in the background somewhere were not her idea of a relaxing time.

  ‘I’m not sure that it’ll be possible for me to come as well.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because...I’ve already missed enough work, what with having to do so much on this court case. I need to get back to the office and catch up with what’s been going on.’

  ‘It can wait a few more days.’

  She fidgeted in silence for a while, unable to pinpoint why she felt so apprehensive at a free weekend break in the sun.

  ‘When was the last time you had a holiday?’ he asked lazily, and she frowned and thought about the question.

  ‘Some time ago,’ she finally admitted. ‘My lifestyle doesn’t seem to accommodate holidays.’

  ‘Your lifestyle doesn’t seem to accommodate holidays?’ She heard the irony in his voice and
flinched.

  ‘I’m a very busy woman,’ she told him stiffly. ‘I haven’t got the time to go gallivanting around the world at a moment’s notice.’ What she found she meant was that the years seemed to have rushed by. She had been so wrapped up in her exams, then in her jobs, proving her worth, working all out so that she could stake her claim for financial independence, that she had barely noticed the passing of time. It had been five years since she’d had anything resembling a real holiday. Yes, she had had the occasional long weekend, and a few days off around Christmas, but a fortnight relaxing somewhere, far away from the madding crowd, was a luxury she had almost forgotten existed.

  ‘Of course, it’s a very generous offer...’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ he said coolly. ‘But not one you feel you can accept...’

  ‘If I hadn’t had these past couple of days off work, ill...’

  ‘In that case, I’m sure you won’t mind breaking the news to the rest of your staff that you rejected my offer on their behalf. I’m sure they’ll understand.’

  He turned around and was heading towards the door, and she scrambled after him.

  ‘What do you mean? Are you telling me that if I don’t come, then the bonus break’s off for everyone else?’

  He stopped abruptly and swung round to face her, so that she very nearly catapulted into his chest.

  ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Why not? I won’t be there for the first day or so, if at all. I need the security of knowing that there’ll be someone loosely in charge.’

  ‘They’re all adults!’

  ‘Your choice.’ He shrugged and looked at her, and eventually she sighed.

  ‘Okay. I’ll go. I should be fine by then.’ Besides, if Bruno Carr wasn’t going to be there, then she would be able to relax, and she needed a rest. Her body was telling her so.

  ‘My secretary will contact you with all the details by Thursday afternoon.’

  He rested his hand on the door handle, and then said, in passing, ‘It’s gratifying to know that you are capable of thinking of someone other than yourself.’

  ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’ she demanded as he opened the door and began heading towards his car.

  He didn’t bother to turn around. He just called out, in the voice of someone utterly indifferent to what she might or might not think of his remark, ‘Why don’t you take to your bed and think about it?’

  Then he was gone, leaving her speechless with indignation. Yet again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BRUNO CARR was beginning to occupy quite a bit of space in Jessica’s head. But he wouldn’t be around and the change in weather would do her good.

  She kept those two things uppermost in her mind as she boarded the private jet on the Friday.

  It was cold and blustery, and, not quite knowing what the temperatures would be when they landed, she had bundled herself up in jeans, a tee shirt, long-sleeved shirt and thick jumper.

  Not everyone in the team of eleven was quite so restrained. Ronnie, the youngest of the secretaries, had braved the British elements in a short, flimsy skirt, which blew around her as she climbed the metal staircase, causing great jollity amongst the six young men behind her, and at the top of the stairs she posed, giggling, in an imitation of Marilyn Monroe until Jessica called dryly for her to get in before she caught her death of cold.

  ‘I’m so excited,’ she confided to Jessica as they buckled in. ‘I’ve never been abroad before.’

  ‘Never?’ Jessica asked incredulously. True, Ronnie was only eighteen, but she was still surprised that there were people left who had not had a holiday abroad at some point in their lives.

  ‘My dad hates flying,’ she explained in a high, breathless voice, peering out of the window even though the view was nothing more impressive than the runway, barely visible in the darkness. ‘So we always took our holidays in England.’

  ‘What happened to the rest of the skirt, Ron?’ one of the men asked, pausing to grin at the blonde teenager, and she stuck her tongue out. ‘Did it go on holiday ahead of you?’ General guffaws all round, and Jessica rested her head back and closed her eyes with a smile.

  Thank goodness she had made the effort. She would never have been forgiven by her staff if she had squashed the idea flat.

  The bonus, when it had been put to them, had been met with uncontainable enthusiasm. Even Mary and Elizabeth, after tut-tutting about short notice and wondering what their respective husbands would do for supper, had greeted the scheme with delight.

  They all needed a rest. They had worked hard over the past few weeks, and they deserved a break. And, Jessica thought as the plane slowly began its ascent, as breaks went, they didn’t really get more impressive.

  Four days of tropical bliss. They wouldn’t even need to think about cooking, because housekeepers would be there, taking care of the food, the cleaning and, from the sound of it, pretty much everything else.

  She heard the excited chatter around her as the plane cut a path through the sky, and decided that this was going to do her the world of good after all.

  Her flu was on the way out, but she still felt lethargic, and work would have been a strain had she gone back. It also occurred to her that it had been a very long time since she had relaxed totally. Over the past couple of years, her breaks had tended to involve decorating the house. Enjoyable enough, because she quite liked the mindless physical exertion of wallpapering and painting walls, but she would hardly describe it as flaking out.

  Before that, she dimly recalled a disastrous week in Portugal with her boyfriend at the time. After only nine months of going out, it had been a last-ditch attempt to energise their love life. Instead, he had fallen head over heels in love with a girl on holiday from Manchester, and Jessica had spent the week sunbathing on her own and listening patiently to his attempts at apology.

  Holidays had always made her apprehensive. She could remember going on holiday with her parents, fearfully trying to have a good time with her brother in an atmosphere of frozen politeness, waiting for her father to do something to break the temporary cease-fire.

  This short break would be different. She was not expected by anyone to have a good time. She could do precisely as she pleased. Lie on the beach with a book, or else doze with her hat over her face, and let time sweep past her, for once. She had brought a couple of novels with her, making sure to leave behind any law books.

  The background noise of the engines eventually lulled her into a kind of sleep, and she was roused when they were told to fasten their seat belts in preparation for landing.

  Then she sat up, and peered curiously through the small window as a small island took shape. There seemed to be nothing to it. A dot of land in the middle of sea. There were some lights to indicate the landing-strip, but the darkness prevented her from making out any details, and she settled back as the plane bumped along the ground and finally screeched to a stop.

  There was a chorus of voices as everyone reached for their bags, and Ronnie said, grinning, ‘I can’t believe we’re here!’ Her blue eyes gleamed. ‘Can you believe Mr Carr—oops, Bruno—actually owns an island?’

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ Jessica said, half smiling and half yawning, as she stood up. ‘The lengths some people will go to to guarantee a bit of privacy for themselves.’

  ‘I don’t even have privacy in the bathroom at home,’ Ronnie was saying cheerfully to her as she yanked out her enormous holdall from underneath the seat in front. ‘You wouldn’t believe how long teenage boys spend preening themselves!’

  ‘I can imagine!’ Jessica returned with a laugh. Her father had been a stickler for timekeeping. She and Jeremy had never seen the bathroom as somewhere to indulge. There had been no preening in front of the bathroom mirror, or reading a book in the bath. Life had always been too disciplined for such indulgences. Most of all, mess had been unacceptable. Every morning, before school, her father would push open the bathroom door and
check that everything was spick and span, or else there would be hell to pay, and such lessons were to be avoided at all costs.

  Outside, there were two Jeeps waiting for them, but the very first thing they all noticed was the incredible heat. Even at this hour of the night the air was warm, with a lazy breeze doing its best to keep the temperature down. Jumpers were pulled off and shoved over handles of holdalls, and Ronnie, with gleeful satisfaction, raised both arms in the air and asked who was laughing at her outfit now. In her frothy short skirt and skimpy top, she was certainly the most sensibly dressed for the weather, albeit a bit on the overdressed side.

  They climbed onto the Jeeps, chatting, and as they bumped along the makeshift road, through a forest of tall, swaying palm trees and bush, Jessica could feel the heat turning her jeans into rubber and her tee shirt into cling film. She hadn’t travelled with much. One small case with the barest of essentials. A couple of tee shirts, some shorts, some swimsuits and a cardigan, just in case, although, feeling the heat, she had no idea what had possessed her to include this last item in the packing.

  The house was a matter of a few minutes’ drive away, and it was already so late by the time they arrived that they were shown immediately to their rooms, none of which was shared.

  Lord only knew how many rooms the place had. Jessica, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, vaguely noticed lots of wood everywhere: wooden floors, wooden ceilings, and a labyrinthine network of areas, leading to various different parts of the house.

  Her room was large and airy with an overhead fan and a soft mosquito net draped over a double-sized bed. There were rugs on the floor and through an opened door she saw an en suite bathroom. It was all very luxurious, she thought, dumping her bag on a chair. The thought of having a shower was tempting, but the thought of changing into her pyjamas in under five seconds and flopping on the bed underneath the mosquito net was even more so.

  She switched on the fan, felt obliged to peer through one of the large, veranda-style windows, then slipped on her striped pyjamas, and within ten minutes she was asleep.