The Patterson Girls

by Rachael Johns

  Yet most of these curses seemed to relate to unfortunate deaths, nothing at all like their situation. Lucinda scrolled through the next few entries—most of which were biblical sites talking about people living under bondage because of the sins of their forefathers—but all these curses seemed wishy-washy, bad luck passed on through generations. The Patterson curse was more like a personal vendetta.

  She refined her search to ‘gypsy curse’ and waited. There were pages and pages of information once she started clicking. There were articles, links to books she could download, forums for people who believed their family had been cursed by gypsies … it just went on and on and on. But had Wanda’s mother been an actual gypsy?

  ‘Dinner’s ready,’ Joe announced, popping his head around the corner of the study door.

  She glanced longingly at the screen, riveted by an account of a woman in New Jersey who believed her miscarriages were caused by a gypsy curse bestowed upon her great-great-grandparents. Although different to the Patterson curse, it was the closest story she’d found so far. ‘Be there in a minute,’ she called back, deciding it wouldn’t take long to finish reading.

  When she emerged from the study almost an hour later, Joe shook his head at her and stood up, lifting his empty plate off the table. ‘It was hot half an hour ago,’ he said, gesturing to the plate of bacon carbonara in front of her seat. ‘Heat it up in the microwave if you want. I’m going to watch TV.’

  Lucinda could tell he was pissed off but her energies were too focused on thinking about the curse to agonise over Joe’s anger. She waited until she heard the sound of the television in the front lounge room and then picked up her plate and took it back into the study. It didn’t matter if the pasta was cold. She had more important things on her mind.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  ‘Are you all right, Abigail? You seem kind of distracted today.’

  Blinking at the sound of the little voice, Abigail realised she’d drifted off into her own little world. She summoned a smile as she looked down at Livia, the daughter of Nigel’s boss and her first ever music student. ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she reassured her. ‘I was just lost in that beautiful music you were playing.’

  Turned out Livia was a total child prodigy. At eight years old, she’d only had violin lessons with another teacher for eight months but was already better than many people who’d been playing for years. Abigail had thought teaching might be a drag, but Livia was a super-bright delight who oozed enthusiasm for music in much the same way Abigail had at her age. Even the few other children she’d picked up through word-of-mouth, although not as talented as Livia, were still fun to teach, but she’d need quite a few more students before she could stop worrying about living expenses.

  The little girl frowned and put down her violin on the padded window seat beside them. ‘I stopped playing about thirty seconds ago, but you were off on some other planet. You know, if there’s something you need to get off your chest, I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.’

  Abigail swallowed. Caught by a gifted and highly empathetic child. She fought the urge to chuckle at Livia’s grown-up offer, but part of her was tempted to sit down and spill her guts. Truth was she was distracted. Early that afternoon, she’d done her fifth pregnancy test in twenty-four hours. The fact that they were all negative shocked her perhaps more than that first negative result a month ago.

  Although her encounter with Nigel in Hong Kong airport had been right in the middle of her menstrual cycle, they had only done it once during that time. But this last month, she’d gone all out. She’d bought an ovulation test kit and also, after much reading on the internet, been taking her temperature every morning before she got out of bed. Using these two methods, she’d been almost certain she’d predicted the accurate window for conception and she’d engineered seeing Nigel every night for those few key days.

  Sex with him still blew her socks off so spending time together was never a hardship, yet despite her efforts, only one line had appeared on each of the five different tests she’d bought.

  ‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ she said, gesturing for Livia to pick up her violin, ‘but we’ve only got a few more minutes of your lesson and I want to make the most of them.’

  Livia sighed, still looking at Abigail with grave concern, but she picked up her instrument, got into position and turned her attention back to the sheet music in front of them. Abigail tried to focus on the music, ready to correct any slight errors, but she found it difficult to concentrate with the burden of disappointment.

  A little voice in her head said maybe this was a good thing, a sign she should quit this ridiculous quest to get pregnant while she had the chance, but something had occurred over the last few weeks. The crazy concept of a baby that had once been her get-out-of-London card had blossomed into something else; a deep yearning need. Wherever she went—be it on the Tube or in the local Tesco—she saw babies and pregnant women everywhere. She’d caught herself looking at maternity clothes in Marks and Spencer the other day, and had been surprised at how fashionable some of the outfits were. And whenever she was with Nigel, she looked into his big blue eyes and wondered if their baby’s eyes would be the same amazing colour. She simply couldn’t help herself.

  ‘How was that?’ Livia asked, lowering her violin and bow and looking to Abigail for approval.

  ‘Fantabulistic.’ Abigail injected enthusiasm into her voice and grinned down at the child. ‘Shall we try a duet before I go?’ It was an ambitious suggestion despite Livia’s talent, but Abigail hoped playing for a few moments would help stop the thoughts churning in her head.

  ‘Really? Awesome,’ Livia said, bouncing a little in her excitement.

  Abigail flicked through the pages of Livia’s music book and chose a piece the little girl already knew that they could play together. ‘This one?’

  Livia nodded and Abigail stooped to retrieve her violin from its case. She lifted it to her chin and gave the nod for Livia to start. It wasn’t the smoothest she’d ever played but it felt good to be playing with someone else again, to be playing for purpose. Just before the end of the piece, she became aware of another presence in the room. Thinking it was Livia’s au pair or the housekeeper, Abigail continued and Livia followed her lead.

  The moment they finished, applause erupted behind them and they turned to see Daniel and Nigel standing there grinning. Abigail’s heart hitched a beat at the unexpected sight of Nigel. He wore a dark navy suit and a crisp white shirt, loosened at the collar and looked like he’d stepped right off the cover of GQ magazine. As her hormones stood to attention she fought an intense urge to go over and snog him silly.

  ‘Bravo,’ Daniel said, stepping further into the room. ‘That was brilliant, darling.’ He beamed down at his daughter, patting her on the head like she was some kind of pet. ‘Aren’t we lucky Nigel found Abigail for us?’

  Nigel sidled over to Abigail and put his arm around her. ‘Not as lucky as I am.’ He kissed her on the forehead and warmth spread from that spot.

  She half-laughed, not sure how to respond. He said stuff like that often, stuff that caused her stomach to flip and made her question the casual nature of their relationship, but she couldn’t help liking the way it made her feel. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’ She slipped out of his arm and began packing away her violin.

  Nigel grinned. ‘We had a meeting in Chelsea and when Daniel said you’d be here with Livia, I thought I’d come see if I could whisk you away for an early dinner.’

  As if it could hear him, her stomach rumbled quietly. ‘I could be tempted.’

  ‘Make sure he takes you somewhere good,’ Daniel said with a chuckle.

  ‘Oh, I will.’

  They all laughed again and then Abigail and Nigel said their goodbyes. They emerged from Daniel’s large terrace house in well-to-do Holland Park to find a black car waiting for them. For Abigail, who’d been taking the Tube more than ever lately, it felt like such a luxury to climb into the back seat with Nigel.r />
  He barked the address of a restaurant in Knightsbridge to the driver and then slid as close as he could to her, placing one hand on her thigh and the other on her neck as he leaned over and drew her lips to his. Abigail sank into his kiss, pleasure rippling through her body. He was just the tonic she needed after those five disappointing tests.

  ‘You are possibly the best kisser in the universe,’ she whispered when they finally came up for air.

  He inched his thumb seductively a little further up her leg, drawing tiny circles on her inner thigh. ‘It’s easy to be good when the subject turns me on as much as you do.’

  Glowing, she glanced down at her thigh, something low in her belly tightening at his teasing touch. If only they were in one of those limos that had a privacy screen to hide them from the prying eyes of their driver. Her mouth went dry and her spine tingled at the thought. Suddenly the hunger she’d felt when he’d suggested an early dinner turned into another kind of hunger altogether.

  ‘Shall we bypass dinner and head back to your place?’ she asked, her voice breathier than she meant it to be.

  Nigel chuckled and squeezed her thigh. ‘Steady on, vixen. A man needs to keep his strength up for what you have in mind.’

  She swallowed her pout and asked, ‘Where are we going then?’

  He named one of London’s top restaurants and she thanked God she’d dressed up a little for the music lesson. If she was ever to teach violin back in Meadow Brook she’d likely wear yoga pants and a sloppy joe, but Livia lived in a fancy neighbourhood and she’d wanted to blend in.

  ‘Wow, is it a special occasion?’

  ‘I got a promotion.’ He beamed at her. ‘With a corner office and everything.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ she said, genuinely happy for him. ‘What exactly does it entail?’

  His fingers still trailing leisurely up and down her leg, he told her about the new role. Although she knew next to nothing about advertising, Nigel spoke about it with such zest and passion, she found herself hanging on his every word. At the restaurant, their driver leapt out of the car and opened the door for them but it was Nigel who offered his hand to assist her. Despite being a hot, smart, ambitious sex god, he was also a gentleman and the more time she spent with him, the more she liked him.

  ‘What?’ Nigel asked when she giggled at that errant thought.

  ‘Nothing.’ She bit her lip and shook her head. Nigel took her violin from the driver and they walked the few steps to the restaurant.

  ‘You and Livia sounded amazing back there,’ he said as they waited for the maître d’ to seat them.

  She blushed. ‘Oh, that was nothing.’

  ‘Will you play for me later?’

  ‘What will I get in return?’ she teased.

  He rolled his eyes but then leant towards her and whispered exactly what he could offer.

  ‘Hell … For that I’ll play for you naked.’

  ‘I’m holding you to that,’ he promised as a man wearing a tuxedo approached them.

  The man bowed his head. ‘Good evening, do you have a reservation?’

  Nigel nodded. ‘Under Lewis.’

  They were led to a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant and offered the drinks menu. When Nigel ordered a bottle of expensive sparking wine, Abigail decided as she was not yet pregnant, she could indulge this once. So far, whenever she’d been with Nigel and he’d offered her a drink, she’d either made up some excuse or taken the drink and then poured it down the sink or into a pot plant when he wasn’t looking. She’d gotten quite skilled at the art of deception.

  Once the waiter had retreated, Abigail lifted her glass. ‘To your promotion.’

  ‘And to your naked violin playing,’ Nigel added.

  ‘You’re incorrigible,’ she said, giggling before taking her first sip.

  ‘But you like me.’ He winked and then also drank.

  Yes, she thought. I do. Perhaps a little too much for their agreement and definitely too much to be trying to have his baby without his knowledge. If only she could get a few more violin students, maybe she’d get enough income to live comfortably in London. Maybe eventually she could tell her family that being in the orchestra hadn’t been all she’d imagined it to be and so she’d chosen another direction. They didn’t need to know she’d been sacked.

  Nigel gestured to the menu. ‘I’ve been here before and I know what I want. I recommend the fillet of halibut. Anyway, back in a moment.’

  He stood and headed for the restrooms, leaving Abigail to wonder with whom he’d come here before. Was it business or another woman? She didn’t like the prick of jealousy that burned her heart at the thought of the latter. But that was ridiculous. It wasn’t like she had any claim on him.

  Her phone beeped, signalling an incoming email, and she snatched it up, eager for the distraction. She smiled when she saw Lucinda’s name in her inbox.

  Hi sisters

  Hope you are all well and happy in your various parts of the planet. Thanks Charlie for all you’re doing with Dad and the motel—your updates and your efforts are muchly appreciated.

  I just thought I’d fill you in on what’s happening, or rather not happening, in me and Joe’s life. As you know, we’ve been trying for a baby for some time and recently saw the specialist Madeleine recommended. Well, we’ve had a number of tests and the apparently good news is that neither of us have any medical conditions that would hinder our chances of conception. The professionals think it is only a matter of time before we get lucky. But I’m so tired of waiting and I can’t help feeling that there’s more going on. I can’t help wondering if there is some truth to the Patterson curse.

  I’ve spoken to Aunt Mags about it and she confessed she once had a love affair and also tried to get pregnant to no avail. I’m honestly at a loss. Could a near century-old curse really have so much power? And if so, what the hell are we supposed to do about it?

  A chill came over Abigail as she read the email. Lucinda rarely swore and although ‘hell’ wasn’t exactly a curse word, her use of it showed how upset she was. Back home at Christmas she hadn’t really understood Lucinda’s desire to get pregnant but now she did. Until recently, she’d never failed at anything, but pregnancy wasn’t like an exam you could prepare for, and every one of those negative test results had felt like a personal affront.

  But she couldn’t pick up the phone and tell Lucinda she’d also been trying to get pregnant. Lucinda would want to know why and then she’d have to tell her about the orchestra and that would defeat the whole purpose. The bigger the web of lies she wove, the more alone she felt.

  ‘You okay?’

  Abigail startled at Nigel’s question as he sat back down opposite her. ‘I … Uh …’ She didn’t know what to say.

  He gestured to the phone she was holding in a vice-like grip. ‘Bad news?’

  Before she could reply, their waiter returned. ‘Excuse me, are you ready to order?’

  Nigel looked to her questioningly. She smiled, nodded and rattled off the dish he’d recommended earlier as she didn’t want to admit she hadn’t even glanced at the menu yet.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nigel asked, reaching across the table and taking her hand as the waiter retreated.

  ‘I got an email from my sister,’ she confessed. ‘She and her husband have been trying to have a baby for a while and they just had the results of fertility testing. They both got the all-clear.’

  He frowned. ‘Isn’t that good news?’

  She shrugged. ‘Yes, in theory but … Apparently we have a family curse and Lucinda is beginning to think that it’s responsible for her infertility.’

  ‘A curse?’

  Although Nigel looked sceptical, Abigail nodded and the whole story fell from her lips. He listened attentively and they barely noticed when their beautifully displayed dishes were placed in front of them.

  ‘And you believe all that?’ he asked, finally picking up his cutlery.

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I k
ind of wish we’d never found out.’ Abigail picked up her fork and poked at her food, but with all the thoughts plaguing her she’d lost her appetite.

  Nigel took his first mouthful and she could almost see his brain ticking over as he chewed. When he’d finished, he asked, ‘Do you want kids?’

  The direct question shocked her and she took a moment to answer. ‘One day.’ She hoped the quiver in her voice didn’t give away just how soon she wanted that day to come. ‘What about you?’

  He rubbed his jawline slowly as if deep in contemplation and said, ‘Yes. I do. Definitely. One day, when I’ve made my mark in the advertising world and have something more to offer a family than a workaholic, mostly absent dad.’

  Abigail opened her mouth but no words came out. She had no idea what to say. The tiny bit of guilt she’d initially felt about trying to get pregnant without his knowledge or consent was growing each minute she spent in his company. Yet, Lucinda’s email only enhanced her desire to have a baby. One of them had to prove this damn curse wrong!

  ‘Speaking of work,’ he said, and she was glad he’d changed the subject, ‘I have a big dinner coming up in a couple of weekends. It’s a black tie thing and I get put up in a posh hotel afterwards. Would you like to be my date and help me devour the mini-bar?’

  While Nigel’s eyes glistened at the prospect of mini-bar mischief, Abigail did a quick calculation in her head. Two weekends from now she would be in the middle of her cycle, making the date perfect timing for conception. And who in their right mind would turn down the offer of a naughty night in a swish hotel with a hot guy?

  ‘That sounds like fun,’ she said, already mentally going through her wardrobe to select an outfit.

  ‘We’ll make sure it is.’ Nigel offered her another wink as he reached out to take a drink.