St. Piran's: The Wedding of The Year

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘And you’ve done your level best to avoid thinking about it ever since,’ she murmured. ‘So I’m going to make it easier for you. Easier for all of us. I’m taking Jem away, and we’re starting a new life.’

  ‘With Rob?’ he made himself ask, even though he’d heard it was off, but maybe it was back on, maybe that was why. ‘Is he going, too?’

  A flicker of distress crossed her face. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘He deserves better than me. I’m like you, Nick. Scarred, broken, emotionally bankrupt. I’m no good to anyone. He’s a good man. He was very kind to me, and to Jem.’

  He said nothing. After all, she was right. Rob Werrick was a good man, a decent man, who’d stood by her last year during her treatment for breast cancer, who’d supported her through the most dreadful days of fear and uncertainty, a role Nick had sorely wanted to play, but all he had been able to do was sit, isolated from her, and pray for her. And Rob was the man who’d taken Nick’s son to his heart and made room there for him, when the man who was his father had found he was unable to do so.

  ‘So was it you or him who called it off?’ he asked in spite of himself.

  ‘Me. He asked me to marry him, and I said no. I don’t love him—I can’t love him, not in the way he deserves to be loved.’ Her brown eyes were reproachful, her voice tinged with sadness. ‘So I’m going, and we’ll start again, and we’ll be fine.’

  His heart felt as if it was being crushed in a giant fist, but if this was what she wanted, to go, to leave, then maybe she was right. Maybe it was for the best. Easier all round. And away from the shadow of this guilt they both carried, perhaps she’d find happiness with another man.

  He ignored the little twist in his chest and

  nodded. ‘You’re right. If that’s what you want, then go, Kate. I won’t stop you—’

  ‘You can’t stop me, Nick.’

  ‘True. What about Jem? Will I ever see him?’

  She gave a mocking little laugh that gave his heart another little wrench. ‘What about him? He’ll be fine. He doesn’t know you’re his father, it hasn’t done him any harm not to know, so it won’t in the future. I’ll tell him when he’s eighteen. I can’t stay here so you can ignore him at close range. Anyway, you don’t see him now—why would this make any difference?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous—of course I see him,’ he denied. ‘I see him a lot.’

  ‘Only if you can’t avoid it. Seeing him reminds you of your human frailty, and you don’t like that.’

  He didn’t. He hated the constant reminder of what they’d done that night, of how he’d betrayed Annabel, tarnished the memory of James. But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to watch the child grow up, make sure he was all right—

  ‘How the hell am I going to explain it to my children? They won’t understand.’

  ‘You could tell them you’re human?’ she suggested softly, her eyes so wise, so—so damn knowing.

  He gave a quiet snort. ‘Oh, they know that.’

  ‘And this is about what they think of you?’ she said, her voice heavy with reproach. ‘What about what Jem will think of you when he finds out that he doesn’t matter as much as your other children—your proper children, all respectably born in wedlock? They’re no different, Nick’ she reminded him, her words still soft and yet flaying his skin off with their accuracy. ‘Conceived in haste, every single one of them. Story of your life. Well, I don’t want to be a part of it any more, of the carefully constructed illusion of reality you fool yourself with every day,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ll work my notice, once Jem’s better, but then I’m off, Nick, and you won’t hear from me again. It’s better that way.’

  Was it? He wasn’t sure. He was suddenly filled with a cold, nameless fear for the future—a future without Kate, and without the boy, this last, unacknowledged and yet still infinitely precious child who, it seemed, he’d managed to love in spite of everything.

  He sat beside her, the chairs so close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body, feel the air move with every shallow breath as her chest rose and fell.

  ‘I thought you wanted me to be in his life?’

  ‘I do—but not like this, giving him fragments of yourself from time to time. He deserves more from you.’ Her eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘I can’t do this any more, Nick. I’m leaving, and that’s an end to it. Please. Just let me go.’

  Let me go...

  He held her eyes, watched the threatening tears well, watched in despair as one slipped down her cheek and fell to the floor. She never cried. Before today, the last time he’d seen her cry had been the night he’d taken her into his arms and held her. The night Jeremiah had been conceived.

  Swallowing the bitter taste of regret, he stood up and turned away.

  How could he let her go?

  He couldn’t—but how could he make her stay?

  CHAPTER THREE

  HE SAT down again a while later, but not for long, pacing restlessly, ramming his hand through his hair again and again until she thought he’d tear it out.

  And then the doors swung open and Lucy and Jack came down the short corridor towards them.

  ‘How is he?’ Lucy asked, looking at Kate, avoiding Nick’s eyes as if she wasn’t sure how to do this.

  None of them, in truth, knew how to do this. They’d just have to feel their way through.

  ‘Still in there. They stopped the bleeding, they’re just plating his pelvis. He’s been lucky, apparently—’

  She broke off, wondering how on earth what had happened to her son could in any way be considered lucky, but then she felt Nick move closer, his hand on her shoulder, warm and reassuring despite their earlier words. Unable to resist the pull of that warmth, she dropped her head against his side, listening to the steady thud of his heart, and above it, the tension coming off them in waves, she could hear their quiet, fraught conversation.

  ‘I’m glad you came,’ Nick said, and she saw Lucy tense.

  ‘I had to, Ben asked me to give you back your car keys. It’s in the staff car park.’ She dropped them in his hand, then shook her head. ‘I’m not here for you, anyway, I’m here for a little boy who’s apparently my brother. I don’t know what to say to you. All that fuss when Mum died, but all the time you’d been carrying on behind her back—’

  ‘Lucy, it wasn’t like that. It was just once, right after the storm. Kate was distraught, I was distraught. It just—’

  ‘Happened?’ she said, her voice a little hard, unlike her usual self, but then she would be, Kate thought. None of them were themselves.

  Nick let Kate go and moved away a fraction, and she lifted her head and looked up at Jack and Lucy.

  ‘It wasn’t just his fault. It takes two, remember. I was as much to blame. And just as married, really. James had only just died. There was no decent interval, believe me. It was inexcusable, but it never happened again.’

  ‘Not with you, maybe, but were there others?’

  Jack’s question made Nick suck in a sharp breath.

  ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘There were no others. Apart from that one occasion when we were both beside ourselves with grief and I didn’t really know what I was doing, I was never unfaithful to your mother. I loved her.’

  Jack snorted. ‘Strange way of showing it.’

  ‘Jack, leave it,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s irrelevant to this. But what I can’t understand,’ she went on after a slight pause, ‘is why you’ve never told us he’s our brother—why you’ve kept it a secret for, what, eleven years or more?’

  ‘Two. I didn’t know about Jem until two years ago,’ Nick said, and their eyes swivelled to Kate.

  ‘So, did you know?’ Lucy asked incredulously. ‘Before then, did you know? I mean, you are sure about this? That James wasn’t his father? Have you had a DNA test?’

  ‘James isn’t his father. You’ve only got to look at him, Lucy. Look at his eyes. Look at his mouth. He was just like Jack’s little Freddie when he was three or four, just like
Jack and Edward at his age now. And, anyway, James and I had been having fertility investigations. We were talking about adoption. Why would I need a DNA test? Besides,’ she added, ‘if I needed any other proof, I have it now. James was A-positive.’

  Lucy sat down hard, her eyes accusing and filled with tears. ‘So—for eleven and a half years you’ve been convinced he was Dad’s child, and you didn’t tell him until two years ago?’

  Kate reached out a hand, but Lucy snatched hers away, and she gave a fractured sigh and dropped her hand back in her lap. ‘How could I? He was happily married, he had three other children—who was I to throw all that into chaos?’

  Jack gave a short, hard laugh. ‘The mother of his child?’

  She met his accusing eyes. ‘Exactly. I wasn’t Nick’s lover, I wasn’t his wife—I was the mother of a child. And I did what I could to protect my child, and you, his other children, and his marriage. There was no point in upsetting all of that. Two wrongs don’t make a right. And we’ve been fine. Jem’s had a good life, settled, and I’ve given him all the love he could ever need.’ Her voice cracked. ‘And now he could be dying...’

  She felt Nick sit down beside her again and slide his arm around her, there for her, giving her his strength and support—at least for now. ‘It’s OK,’ he said softly, turning her head into his shoulder and cradling it gently. ‘Don’t cry, Kate. He’ll be all right. It’s going to be OK.’

  Was it? She hoped so, but she couldn’t for the life of her think how she’d cope if it wasn’t.

  She felt Lucy sit beside her, felt the gentle touch of her hand. ‘Kate, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m just— It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all. And I’m so worried about him.’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered, patting Lucy’s hand reassuringly. She loved Nick’s daughter, she’d delivered her babies—she hated it that Lucy thought less of her now because of this, but it was only what she deserved. She’d given Lucy’s father the means to commit adultery, and it was every bit as much her fault as his.

  But for now her guilt was directed towards her son, lying there on the operating table, his life hanging in the balance, hoping that when they opened him up they didn’t find anything unexpected.

  She concentrated her mind on him, focused all her thoughts, willing him to pull through, to make it, to be all right. And then the door opened, and her heart stopped in her chest, eyes locked on the surgeon as he approached.

  Nick got slowly to his feet, and Kate held her breath, unable to move until she knew he was all right, but he was, she could see that from the surgeon’s smile as he pulled off his mask, and with a leap her heart started to beat again, the slow, dull thud threatening to deafen her.

  He acknowledged Jack with a nod, then crossed to her, his hand extended.

  ‘Mrs Althorp—I’m Martin Bradley. I’ve just finished operating on your son.’

  She shook his hand on autopilot. ‘How is he?’

  ‘He’s OK.’ He perched on the chair beside her, taking Nick’s place. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t have time to talk to you before we started, but I was already scrubbing in and I’m sure Ben Carter will have explained what we were going to do. Under the circumstances I didn’t want to make him wait. Anyway, he’s fine, he’s come through the operation well, we’ve managed to fix the fractures and I think he’ll get a very good result. He’s broken the two bones at the front of his pelvis on the left, hence all the bleeding, but the pubic symphysis, the cartilage joint between the two halves at the front, wasn’t disrupted so he’ll be back on his feet quite quickly. We’ve sorted out the vascular damage, plated the fractures, and in fact it’s all come together very neatly. It shouldn’t give him any problems once it’s healed in a few weeks.’

  ‘So—he’ll be all right? He hasn’t got any nerve damage?’

  ‘Not that we know of. His left sacroiliac joint might be sore for a while, but it wasn’t displaced and I’m confident he should make a complete recovery. We’ll know more later, but it’s looking good at the moment. We’re running whole cross-matched blood into him now, and we salvaged the free blood in his abdomen—that’s gone off to the lab to be cleaned up so it can be returned to him if necessary, and then we’ll do some tests and balance the blood components over the next twenty-four hours, but that’s all pretty routine stuff. Any questions?’

  ‘No. I just want to see him.’

  ‘That’s fine. If you think of anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll be around for the next couple of hours, just in case there are any problems. Jem’s in Recovery now, so you can come and talk to him. He’s very drowsy, but he’s come round and he’s fine. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’

  Kate nodded, her body suddenly turning to jelly, and she was glad she was sitting down. Nick helped her up, his arm around her as they went through into Recovery, and it tightened as she stood by Jem’s side, sucking in her breath at her first sight of him.

  He was linked up to a mass of tubes and wires and drips, a monitor blinking on the wall behind him, and his poor bruised little face was so chalk-white against the pillow he almost disappeared on it.

  She took his hand in hers, wondering at how small and fragile he looked—somehow so much more vulnerable, with his eyes shut and all the tubes and wires. Where was her lively, vibrant boy, his gangly limbs and eager enthusiasm carrying him through life at a hundred miles an hour? Where had he gone? She stroked his hair back from his bruised forehead with a shaking hand and bent to kiss it.

  ‘Jem? It’s Mum. I’m here, my darling, right next to you. You’re going to be all right. You sleep now, OK?’

  There was a small sound that could have been acknowledgement, and his fingers flickered in her hand. She squeezed them back, and he seemed to sigh and go off to sleep again, and she felt her legs start to buckle with relief.

  But Nick was there, holding her up, giving her moral and physical support. She didn’t want to rely on him, but there was something about him, like a rock, an anchor in a world that had gone mad, and she leant against him and let him hold her. Just for now, just while she stared at her son and let herself believe he might live.

  ‘You won’t get much out of him,’ Martin Bradley murmured. ‘He’s heavily sedated, and we’ve given him some pretty hefty pain relief, but he should be more comfortable now his pelvis is

  stable.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ Nick asked, staring down at the injured child who looked so fragile amidst the plethora of tubes and wires and technology, and he shrugged.

  ‘He’ll stay here for a while—an hour or two? Just until we’re quite happy that he’s stable and we don’t have to take him back into Theatre. Then he’ll be in PICU—Paediatric Intensive Care—for the night. He doesn’t really need to be there, but they’ve got the bed available and they’ll be able to monitor him more closely overnight while we balance his bloods, so we might as well take advantage of it. He’ll probably move to the ward tomorrow, and then he’ll be there for a couple of weeks, I expect, while we get him up on his feet again, and then it’s just a case of getting slowly stronger. We’ll have to see. The plates and screws will have to come out at some point, as he’s still got a lot of growing to do, but we’ll worry about that in a few weeks or months. Anyway, I’ll be around, so we’ll talk again tomorrow if I don’t see you later. And try not to worry. He’s going to be all right, you just have to give it time.’

  Kate wanted to smile, but her muscles didn’t seem to work. She realised she was still leaning on Nick, and she straightened up, moving away a fraction, distancing herself. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and held out her hand. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

  He shook it firmly. ‘My pleasure. I’m glad to see you’ve got someone with you—the whole Tremayne clan, no less, including Lucy. I haven’t seen you for a while. Are you well?’

  ‘Yes, very,’ she said with a smile, but Kate could see it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Busy. I’ve got two children now.’

  ‘Yes
, so Ben tells me. Well, it’s good to see you again, and it’s nice that Kate’s got so many friends around her supporting her.’

  Nobody contradicted him, and he left them alone, nothing to break the silence but the soft beeps and hisses from the instruments, and the distant ringing of a telephone in another room.

  Lucy broke the silence first.

  ‘Um—I ought to go. I’ve left Ben with the children, and Annabel’s had a cold, so she’s a bit fractious, and Josh is teething, but keep in touch.’

  ‘Yes, make sure you do that,’ Jack agreed. ‘I should go, too, I haven’t seen the kids at all today, and I’ve only seen Alison under the edge of the duvet, so I’d better go home before they can’t remember who I am. I’ll come up tomorrow and see Jem, but if there’s any change in the meantime, Kate, give us a ring, OK? Or if there’s anything we can do?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ she promised, and they walked out, shoulder to shoulder, Jack putting his hand against Lucy’s back to escort her through the door. And then it swung shut behind them and Nick let go of some of the tension that had held him for the last few hours and looked down at Kate with a fleeting smile.

  ‘I told you he’d be OK.’

  She dredged up a smile. ‘Of course you did. I just didn’t dare believe you.’

  ‘Do you believe me now?’

  ‘I might be starting to,’ she admitted, and looked back down at Jem, her face drawn and fraught. ‘You don’t have to stay, Nick.’

  Was she mad? ‘Of course I’m staying. You can’t believe I’d leave you alone now.’

  ‘Why not? You heard the surgeon, he’s out of danger. You don’t need to be here, you’ve got to work tomorrow.’

  ‘No. I’m not leaving you, Kate. I’m here for you, for both of you, for as long as you need me.’

  She met his eyes, and they seemed sincere, but she’d thought that thirty-something years ago, and he’d left her. Left her and married Annabel when she’d become pregnant with the twins. ‘I can’t lean on you, Nick. I won’t let myself. Every time I do, every time I think I dare, you let me down.’