I glared at her for a moment, and then retrieving the bag I marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.
I frantically tried to calculate when my last period had been. I wasn’t sure… before the beach party, I remembered that. But that was, Jesus… that was two months ago.
A few moments later, I came out. Bea was slumped on my bed and she looked up at me trying to gauge if I was going to shout again or not, I suppose.
“Fifteen minutes it takes.” I said shortly.
She looked away from me, and my heart gave a lurch. I ran forward to her and put my arms around her, “I’m sorry Bea, I’m just-”
“Ssh,” she said, “I know, I know… Come on, it’ll be alright…”
I started to cry again, and she held on to me, letting me soak her hair with my tears. She rocked me in her arms, and I allowed myself to be soothed. We sat in silence for a while, and I found myself thinking - so this is what it’s like having a sister, is it?
After fifteen minutes, I nudged her. “Go on, you go… I can’t. really, I can’t.”
I watched her cross the room towards the bathroom, and even before she went in there, I knew.
I watched my hands twist themselves together in my lap, and I felt sick.
Is this how Dorothea felt all those years ago, when she found out she was pregnant with Rasheed’s child? Because I knew as well, that the baby I was undoubtedly carrying was not Oliver’s. It was a Rampersaud.
Bea came from the bathroom smiling softly, “Oh Fin! This is great news! Oliver’s going to be so thrilled – you’ll both make fantastic parents, and please, please don’t worry, we’ll sort something out about Penmorah, I promise-”
She looked shocked as I pushed past her and ran out of the room. I had to get away. I ran past Nancy who was on the phone in the kitchen, she called after me, “Fin, wait, it’s Oliver, he, Fin! Stop…” I wrenched open the kitchen door, and feeling Baxter running beside me, I headed towards the woods.
I ran past the fallen trees, their limbs lopped off by the chainsaws and headed to the heart of the place. The foresters had done their job here, but the smell of the newly sawn wood was still strong. I was out of breath now, and panting. I could feel my tee shirt sticking to my back as I tripped and stumbled through the undergrowth. Baxter thought we were playing a game, as he good naturedly tried to keep up with me.
Eventually I flopped down on the soft earth, leaning against the moss covered trunk of a beech tree.
I filled my lungs with air and screamed aloud in the dark woods a single word – “No!” I repeated this again and again till I was hoarse. Then I stopped.
Pregnant and homeless at my age! It was a joke, a cruel horrible joke by that monster god that I’d been aware of at the beach picnic. Well, it wasn’t funny. OK? I glanced around me, quite expecting to see his hairy, pointy face peeping slyly round a tree trunk. You bastard.
I hoped my mother was pleased, after all, I was carrying on the family tradition, wasn’t I? I thought bitterly. History really does repeat itself.
I hit the earth with my fist, and ground it into the mulch of dead leaves and stones till it hurt.
Surely, this couldn’t be happening to me? I remembered Oliver’s words when we had been on the cliff top, as I had told him about Bea’s father. How he had said that he quite understood how difficult it would be for a man to take on another man’s child.
I pushed Baxter roughly away from me, and he withdrew, but like all of his horribly good, loyal breed, he sat there patiently waiting for me to recover from this emotional storm.
I sat in the woods for hours.
It was dusk before I’d recovered enough to go home, and then it was only because I was so unbearably thirsty that I left the sanctuary of the woods.
Penmorah was empty. I saw a note propped up for me by the jug of greenery on the kitchen table, it was form Nancy and Bea telling me that they had gone to The Ram, and please to join them.
I gulped down some water, and then threw the note away. I sat at the table with my head in my hands.
What was I going to do?
I was empty of ideas.
Losing Penmorah was one thing, but losing Oliver because of my crazed night of passion with Jace was something else. I truly didn’t know which was worse.
Dusk was falling, and soon the early dark night would steal into Penmorah casting dark corners of shadows, where memories lingered like wine stains.
I mechanically fed Baxter, and then went to the drawing room, where I stared at the portrait of Dorothea before I fell asleep on the sofa. All I had done today was cry, throw up, and sleep.
Tomorrow, I’ll think about it all tomorrow, was my final thought, as my eyelids closed.
The screeching of Nelson woke me up, followed by the pealing of the phone. I lay there listening to it ring, and then turned over, putting a cushion over my ears so I couldn’t hear anything.
Nancy and Bea came home about ten o’clock, looking very pleased with themselves. I was sitting in the kitchen eating some toast, when they burst through the door.
“Oh Fin… darling, how are you?” Nancy crooned, looking at me in such a way that I knew she knew.
“Don’t be cross Fin, I had to tell her!” Bea said excitedly.
“What the both of you are looking so bloody pleased about I truly don’t know,” I said, “This is terrible news, Penmorah and now this as well, it’s awful!” I shouted at them both.
Nancy came and sat beside me, clutching my hand, “Finisterre Spencer! I’m ashamed of you! This is wonderful news… haven’t you spoken to Oliver?”
I thought of the ringing phone I’d ignored, and said, “Of course I haven’t spoken to Oliver!” I took a deep breath and said, “You might as well know now, both of you – the baby isn’t Oliver’s, let’s just leave it at that, shall we?”
To my surprise, Nancy and Bea both burst out laughing.
“What is so fucking funny?” I demanded, feeling my temper take hold of me.
“OK, stop, stop shouting and we’ll tell you,” Nancy said, smiling broadly at me.
She told me.
It was, it seems, an open secret about my beach party fling with Jace. Practically the whole of Port Charles knew. What I didn’t know, because Pritti had only confided in Nancy, was that Jace wasn’t fertile.
He’d had a very bad case of glandular fever when he was a teenager, and this was part of the reason that she wanted him to marry the girl in Pakistan who was a widow, with a young son, so that he would have a readymade family.
They let me digest this piece of news before they hit me with another fact that they’d been keeping from me.
It seems that Oliver was negotiating a deal on some land the other side of Port Charles, where he wanted to build a house. A house where he wanted to live, with me.
Bea raced to the office, shouting, “I bet he’s e-mailed or faxed you if you weren’t answering the phone!”
This was too much for me to cope with, and whether I can truly blame it on hormones or not, I don’t know, but I cried again. Well, I suppose at least I wasn’t throwing up.
“Fin, Fin, come here!” I heard Bea call me excitedly.
I got up and went to walk into the office, a terrible thought struck me, and I said to Nancy, “Please, please tell me that you haven’t told him about the baby?”
Nancy showed absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever, she was beaming with delight. “Don’t be so silly darling, of course I’ve told him! You were so upset by Mr Harris’s report , and then when Bea told me, I simply had to tell him…”
I couldn’t even pretend to have a private life in Port Charles, I realised.
Bea was pointing to an e-mail, and then shoving a fax under my nose. They both read the same.
Fin – you gorgeous, clever, wonderful woman! The baby will be extraordinary… how could she not be with you as her beautiful mother! I have decided it’s a girl, you’ll notice. Please don’t develop a craving for coal or anything else
that’s easy… choose something that tests my ingenuity for finding oysters at four in the morning! I am WILDLY happy and very, very thrilled.
Penmorah……. Let it go darling. There are too many memories there for you, let’s make our own home, together – what do you say? We will watch the dolphins from our very own window. We’ll build a home together, one big enough for all of us to live in, You, me, our child, Nancy and Bea…Call me.
Oliver xxxxxxxxxx
I cried and laughed together, and so did Nancy and Bea.
Nancy held the phone out for me, and I started to dial his number. I looked up and saw them both, my beloved aunt and my beautiful sister standing next to me, their arms round each other. They were smiling and had such shining eyes, I felt mean about saying what I was about to say.
“OK, I love you both, now go away! This does deserve a little privacy I think, don’t you?”
When the door closed I took a deep breath and pressed the phone tightly to my ear. I needed to be alone to make the most important call of my life.
If you enjoyed The Cornish Affair by Laura Lockington, you might like Yes Chef No Chef by Susan Willis, also published by Endeavour Press.
Extract from Yes Chef No Chef by Susan Willis
Chapter One
Katie looked at her new black cocktail dress hanging on the wardrobe door and shivered with excitement - she couldn’t wait for the party tonight at The Savoy. It seemed forever since she’d spent any quality time with Tim and hugging herself with anticipation she did a little pirouette to reach the stool in front of her dressing table. Dreamily she thought of how the champagne would flow and how they’d dance the night away wrapped in each other’s arms - surely this would help to get them back on track, she mused, glancing at the bedside clock and praying he wasn’t going to be too late.
Her mobile rang and when she saw his name on the screen she snatched it up. “Where are you?”
With a note of wariness in his voice, he said, “I’m still at the restaurant.”
“But you rang at five o’clock to say you were on your way, and the taxi will be here soon.” Katie exclaimed.
Tim sighed with exasperation as though he was talking to a child, “I know, darling, and I’m so sorry but Jim phoned in sick at the last minute and I’m going to have to stay and cover service for him, and…”
“What!” she yelled into the mobile, imagining him holding it away from his ear and pursing his lips with irritation. She could hear the clatter of pans from the kitchen and an electric whisk whirling, and then a girl’s voice calling for him which made her want to scream in frustration. “Shit, you can’t do this, Tim. Not tonight of all nights?”
“Look, Kate, I can’t just leave the restaurant without a chef on duty. It’s my responsibility, you know that. You’ll be fine with all your work mates and friends,” he cajoled, “I know you’ll have a great time.”
But the hurt and disappointment was raging though her and losing her usual control she snapped, “But it’s my big night and you promised me nothing would stop you from being there. I mean, it’s The Savoy and the tickets cost a fortune, and I have my new black cocktail dress…” she tailed off seething inside.
“Bloody hell, Kate, I’ve more things on my mind than new dresses,” he shouted, “I’ll give you the money for the damn tickets!”
Tears of dismay were pricking at the back of her eyes. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t coming and letting her down again.
“Look, I’ll make it up to you later,” he crooned. “And keep your new dress on so I can see it when I get home.”
Her mouth was dry with anxiety and she only managed to click her tongue in amazement at his patronising tone.
The noise from the kitchen faded and he said softly, “Oh, come-on, you’ll still enjoy yourself. Just make an excuse about work pressures for me and then give them my apologies.”
You can grovel as much as you want, she thought lifting her chin in defiance, but you’re not getting the upper hand. She managed to clear her throat and speak in a calm but detached voice. “I’m sick to death of making excuses for you, Tim,” she said clicking her mobile off.
Her hand trembled while she poured herself a glass of wine. How could he, she raged, he’d actually gone back on his word again. The night had been planned for months and it was supposed to be her chance to impress the new management bosses from the company - everyone was making a special effort to attend the party to launch the new advertising campaign. Well, everyone except Tim of course. She’d imagined herself in the classy cocktail dress walking serenely with her arm through his, chatting confidently and making polite conversation whilst sipping champagne.
But now she’d have to walk around on her own, she seethed and glared at his happy smiling face in the framed photograph on her dressing table. ‘You knew how important this night was to me,’ she hissed and slammed the photograph face down. She took another mouthful of wine for Dutch courage and felt a surge of determination sweep through her - she wasn’t going to let him ruin her night, by God, she wasn’t, she’d go to the party on her own and shine like she’d never shone before.
Looking into the mirror she swept blusher majestically across her cheeks and admired the hairdresser’s handy-work with her usual brown mousey hair. The cut was excellent making the long bob swing effortlessly when she moved her head from side-to-side and the vibrant dark brown colour emphasised her hazel eyes. With a final nod of satisfaction she decided her make-up was as good as she was going to get it and swivelled around on the stool to look at the dress, remembering the day she’d bought it with her friend, Lisa.
They’d been in Selfridges at the end of an exhausting four hour shopping trip and just when she was about to give up she’d spotted it. Plain black crepe in a sleeveless classic style, the dress fitted her figure perfectly from the moment she slipped it over her head and wriggled it down over her slim hips.
“Even the two inch length above my knee is perfect for me,” she’d said to Lisa who’d nodded in agreement.
“It’s just right, hon,” Lisa had said, “Because although you want to show off those lovely slim, tanned legs you don’t want to look like a slapper in a mini dress. Yep, it’s simple, yet chic, and just the thing to impress the bosses.”
Katie had hugged her in thanks and then later when her other close friend, Sarah, joined them she had loaned her a fine string of pearls and pearl stud ear rings which complemented the outfit perfectly.
Picking her mobile up she pressed Lisa’s number.
“Hey, there,” Lisa said. “How’s the dress look?”
Katie moaned and told her what had happened, and then held the mobile at a distance ready for the blast of derisory comments.
“The bastard!” Lisa fumed. “What the hell is going on with this guy?”
In the past she would have defended Tim to the end of her days but now she simply couldn’t find the strength anymore. “I don’t know,” she said. “Within the last two months alone he’s missed his parent’s silver wedding, my cousins’ engagement, and Sarah’s thirtieth birthday party, and that’s without arrangements to meet after work to see a film or go to the quiz nights at the pub.”
She could hear the pathetic whine in her voice and struggled to keep the lump in the back of her throat down. She pleaded, “What am I going to do, Lisa?”
Lisa’s voice changed instantly as she went into full support mode. “OK. At the moment you’ll do nothing. You’re going to get to that party and knock the socks off them. And then on Saturday we’ll meet with Sarah for lunch and talk it through together and try to sort this crap out.”
Katie swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “You, know, I could kill him for doing this to me at such short notice, Lisa, and what makes it worse is that if I’d known he wasn’t coming earlier, either you or Sarah could have come instead of wasting £150 for the ticket.”
Lisa giggled. “Oh, sweetheart, I would have done but I have a hot date with this gorgeous guy who’s j
ust to-die-for…”
Katie smiled. “And Sarah is out with Mark, too,” she said. “So, I’ll just have to go to the ball like Cinderella and make the best of it.”
“Tsk,” Lisa tutted. “But you don’t need him. I’ll admit he would have been an asset to have by your side because he is so passionate about food and it does make him charming to talk to but you’ll be fine on your own, won’t you?”
Katie took another deep breath and reassured with Lisa’s support she agreed she’d be OK with as much conviction as she could muster.
“Of course, you will,” Lisa replied firmly, “I mean, you’ve slogged for eight years since you joined the company as a junior and now look at you, a fantastic team leader ready to step up to the project manager’s position. You can do this job standing on your head and as for selling yourself, well…”
Katie grinned at her friend’s confidence in her. Lisa Harding worked in PR and everyone they knew reckoned she was the best at what she did. Lack of confidence wasn’t even on Lisa’s radar and if anyone knew how to pitch themselves it was her. Katie wished her luck with the new guy and then listened to another round of instructions: shoulders back, smile on your face, and knock ‘em dead.
Draining her glass of wine she thought fondly of Lisa who had the knack of turning a bad situation around so that you always came away feeling better, and then realising the taxi was due she slipped the dress on. She smoothed her hands over her hips and for a moment saw herself how she hoped Tim would have seen her, generous breasts with a tiny waist and slim shapely legs. But sadly that wasn’t going to happen tonight. A sudden idea of charging into the restaurant’s kitchen and showing him exactly what he was missing and then throwing his tuxedo at him or into a pan of boiling soup flashed into her mind, but this would only make her look foolish. Grinning with the thought of how much it would embarrass him though she grabbed her clutch bag, pushed her feet into black patent heels and ran out of the apartment.
The Cornish Affair Page 28
