The Failed Marriage (Presents Plus)

by Carole Mortimer

  She had been right about there not being many Joshua Radcliffes in the London telephone book, and only one of them was a doctor—in Harley Street! It had come as a shock to her to realise what an important and distinguished man he was, the lighthearted man enjoying his skiing holiday suddenly turning into an austere Harley Street specialist. Joanna had hesitated about contacting such an important man, but a faint fluttering sensation in her body of the new life forming inside her had her running to the telephone in a panic.

  His receptionist proved to be particularly obstructive, the only way Joanna could get to see him being to make an appointment to visit him professionally!

  She dressed with care the day she went to his office, finding the waspish receptionist to be Angela Hailey, although she was polite enough as she showed Joanna into the plush waiting-room, with armchairs and furniture more like you would find in a lounge than a doctor’s waiting-room.

  When twelve o’clock finally came she was shown into the actual surgery, not a second before twelve but not a second after either. Still, the price Joshua’s patients were paying for his skills was phenomenal, they should receive this first class treatment.

  Joshua was sitting behind an imposing leather-topped desk, a distinctly masculine room, the walls lined with books, the decor brown and cream. His eyes narrowed on her as he invited her to sit down, eyes like a storm-tossed sea in mid-December—and just as cold.

  He looked completely alien to the man she had met in Canada, his dark hair cut shorter, revealing several strands of grey among its blackness, the dark grey three-piece suit he wore superbly tailored, as was the white silk shirt beneath, the grey tie looking as if it were made from the same material. He looked exactly what he was, a successful man.

  ‘Joanna,’ he greeted her abruptly, his expression cold.

  She swallowed hard, beginning to wonder what she was doing here, how this man could possibly help her. She didn’t think now that he could. ‘Dr Radcl—’

  ‘Mr,’ he corrected softly. ‘And I seem to remember you called me Joshua the last time we—spoke together,’ he drawled.

  They had done much more than just talk together, and they both remembered that very well. ‘Joshua.’ She moistened her lips. ‘I—I need your help.’

  He seemed to stiffen, although his expression remained bland. ‘In what way can I help you?’

  How did you tell a man you were expecting his child, and that you were terrified of bringing it into the world? She decided there was no other way but the truth. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she stated bluntly.

  Not even by the blink of an eyelid did he show he was in the least disturbed by what she had just told him. ‘Yes?’ he finally said distantly, his fingertips beating a soft tattoo on the desktop.

  Joanna didn’t know what she had expected—outraged denials of the child being his, stunned silence perhaps, but certainly not this coldness and that disturbing tattoo of his fingertips against leather.

  ‘What sort of help do you want from me?’ he prompted at her silence.

  ‘I—You’re a doctor.’

  ‘Yes?’ His voice was even more chilled now.

  ‘Then you must know what to do to—to—’

  ‘Abort it,’ he finished coldly. ‘Is that why you’re here, Joanna? To trade on a night we spent together, demanding I abort your child as payment for that night?’

  The words washed over her, and the brutality of what he was saying robbed her of the power of speech. Abortion. He had dared to put into words what she had only dared to think of.

  ‘How did you find me, Joanna?’ he rasped suddenly.

  ‘I—It wasn’t difficult.’

  ‘And so you thought you would use me to rid yourself of your unwanted child. You’re young and healthy, aren’t you?’

  Her eyes were wide. ‘Yes.’

  ‘With no history of illness in your family?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘Then you would expect me to carry out this abortion against all that I believe in?’

  She swallowed hard, feeling sicker by the moment. Why was he asking her all these questions—couldn’t he see what he was doing to her? ‘You’re a doctor—’

  ‘I’m more than that, I’m a gynaecologist,’ he bit out. ‘But I would need more than your aversion to a child to carry out such a task. I take it you don’t want it?’

  ‘No!’ she choked, hating him more and more with each probing question.

  He nodded. ‘And the father, does he want it?’

  She blinked her puzzlement. ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘Have you tried asking him?’ His mouth was twisted contemptuously. ‘Or don’t you know who he is?’ he taunted. ‘God, when I made love to you I had no idea you’d turn into a damned wanton! Although your body did promise a sensuality you had only just begun to realise, I remember it haunted me for weeks afterwards,’ he murmured, his gaze totally assessing, settling on her already thickening waistline in the loose-fitting yellow sun-dress. ‘Have you been to see your own doctor?’ he asked slowly, the colour beginning to ebb from his lean cheeks.

  Joanna saw the dawning horror in his expression, knew that the truth was beginning to hit him. Until a few minutes ago she hadn’t realised he didn’t know he was the father. The shock to him seemed to be all the deeper now. ‘Yes,’ she nodded.

  ‘I—You—How many weeks are you?’

  ‘Eight weeks, one day, and about…’ she looked at her wrist-watch, her hand shaking, ‘about six hours,’ she finished jerkily.

  Joshua drew in a ragged breath. ‘I’m the father.’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed simply.

  He stood up as if in a trance, coming round the desk to pull her strongly to her feet, one of his hands coming to rest on her rounded stomach. Her pregnancy was very obvious against her other slenderness, the only way she had been able to hide her condition from her parents had been to wear loose dresses, although she was aware that already her breasts were getting larger too.

  Joshua’s hand gently touched her thickening waistline, sensing the new life there. ‘You’re carrying my child,’ he spoke almost in wonder.

  Joanna could tell by his reaction to such a thought that ‘the father’ did indeed want his child!

  She pulled away from him at the intimacy of his touch, avoiding his gaze. ‘Will you help me now?’

  ‘Yes,’ he told her abruptly. ‘Although not in the way you want,’ he added as his expression brightened. ‘You will not harm my child, Joanna. And I mean to make sure you don’t.’

  ‘How?’ she asked defiantly.

  ‘By marrying you.’

  She gasped, her face paling. ‘No…’

  ‘I know you’re very young, that the idea of having a child probably frightens you. But doesn’t the idea of an abortion frighten you more?’ he rasped.

  ‘Yes!’ she choked, the tears starting to fall. ‘Yes, of course it does. I want my baby, Joshua, I really want it. But I’m so frightened!’

  ‘You have no need to be now, I shall support you. Have you told your parents?’ he queried softly.

  ‘No.’ She blew her nose noisily with the snowy white handkerchief he handed her. ‘My father would have been around here with a shotgun by now if I had!’ she attempted to smile.

  Joshua found nothing humorous about the situation, his face was devoid of all expression. ‘You’re under age?’ he asked abruptly.

  She moistened her lips, chewing on the bottom one. ‘I was eighteen last month,’ she revealed, watching the anger flare in his eyes.

  ‘So you were only seventeen in Canada?’ He spoke softly, dangerously.

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted miserably.

  He gave a disbelieving snort. ‘You stupid child,’ he groaned. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’

  And she had been stupid to marry him. All she had left was a dead child and a dead marriage.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DESPITE the bad start to their relationship, marriage to Joshua hadn’t been a failure. After all, she was
still in love with him, and it soon became obvious once he was her husband that he still desired her.

  Her parents had been deeply shocked when Joshua drove her home and told them that the two of them were getting married. Her father had been outraged at the idea, and her mother had told them that Joanna had to go to finishing school first, that if they still wanted to be married then perhaps they might consider giving their permission.

  Joshua’s answer was to be expected. He was a man in his thirties, a highly qualified specialist, and he wasn’t about to be talked down to in that way by anyone. He had told her parents that unless they wanted their grandchild born without a legal father they had better agree now.

  Joanna had been glad of his support as the storm broke over her head; she had clutched on to his warm protectiveness as her parents’ shocked reactions reverberated around them.

  And he had continued to protect her, had arranged the wedding as quickly as possible, making sure that nothing upset her, that her parents understood that two people had created the child she carried, and that any recriminations be directed at him first. One look into his cold grey eyes was enough to silence anyone who dared to be disparaging about Joanna’s condition.

  Their wedding had taken place within a week of the decision being made, and even her parents had attended, their initial objections forgotten as they recognised a force stronger than themselves. Joanna and Joshua had spent their honeymoon in Paris, and despite Joanna’s misgivings it had been a honeymoon to remember. Joshua’s lovemaking had given her the glow of a woman in love, fulfilling her as a woman with gentleness and passion, never leaving her in any doubt as to her ability to arouse him in return. But the honeymoon hadn’t lasted for ever, just the two weeks Joshua could spare at the time, and all too soon they were back in London, with Joanna the wife of a brilliant and influential man.

  Having been brought up in a house run by servants she had no trouble in taking control of Joshua’s household, although she knew that at the beginning the staff resented a child like her becoming mistress of the house. But Joanna was her mother’s daughter, and her polite but commanding manner soon paid off.

  But because of the difference in her age from Joshua’s she became aware of the fact that a lot of her old friends now seemed childish to her, the fact that she wasn’t just a married lady but pregnant as well making them more so. Without really being aware of it she dropped most of her old friends and adopted Joshua’s.

  Her marriage to Joshua hadn’t been the dismal failure it could have expected to be, and they were still sharing a bed and making love the night Lindy was born. In fact, they often joked afterwards that that had contributed to her arriving a month earlier than expected, their passion for each other allowing for no respite, as fierce as when they were first married.

  Joshua had stayed with her during the magic time of Lindy being born, encouraging, comforting, praising. And they had both been proud when their new daughter was placed in Joanna’s arms.

  Those first few weeks after Lindy was born were the happiest Joanna had ever known. The spoilt little girl she had been in Canada was completely gone now, a new maturity in its place. Caring for Lindy filled her with a fierce pride, even the night-time feeds everyone seemed to complain about didn’t bother her. In fact, they became more special, because Joshua would share those with her, and would watch with undisguised desire as his child suckled at her breast.

  Then came Lindy’s six-week-old check-up. Joshua drove them to the clinic for this routine examination. The doctor seemed to spend a long time over it, although he assured Joanna at the time that everything was normal.

  A week later he called them and asked them to bring Lindy back in to see him, that he would like to see them all. Joshua seemed terse and preoccupied on the drive there, although it in no way matched the tension Joanna was feeling.

  The doctor was a friend of Joshua’s, and he explained to them exactly what was wrong with Lindy, but Joanna could only look at her husband, not understanding a word the doctor said to them, only seeing how grey and strained Joshua’s face became, his eyes filled with pain.

  Her hold on Lindy tightened. ‘Could you not—not talk in such technical terms,’ she finally choked. ‘And tell me what’s wrong with my baby!’

  ‘Joanna—’

  ‘Tell me!’ She looked frantically from Joshua to the doctor, and then back again. ‘You understand what he’s saying, so tell me what’s wrong with Lindy!’

  The doctor touched Joshua’s arm in a comforting gesture. ‘I’ll leave you two alone to talk. I’m so sorry, if there’s anything I can do…’

  ‘Thank you,’ Joshua accepted gruffly.

  Joanna’s face was deathly white by this time, knowing there was something terribly wrong with her beautiful Lindy.

  ‘Is she going to die?’ she groaned brokenly.

  Joshua seemed to pale even more, his breathing ragged. ‘I don’t know,’ he said harshly. ‘I just don’t know.’

  That air of defeat was completely alien to the self-confident man she had married, and she felt her heart plummet. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Her voice was shrill.

  ‘At the moment just an irregularity in her blood. How serious it is we can’t be sure—’

  ‘Then be sure!’ she cried. ‘Have tests done. Joshua, do something!’

  ‘Patrick is arranging for Lindy to go into hospital for tests right now—’

  ‘No!’ She held the baby to her protectively, shaking her head. ‘You aren’t taking her away from me!’

  ‘Joanna—’

  ‘I said no!’ Her eyes were wild.

  His hands on her arms calmed her. ‘Arrangements are being made for you to stay with Lindy at the hospital,’ he told her gently. ‘I’m not completely insensitive, Joanna.’

  The baby gave a cry of protest at being held so tightly, and Joanna looked down at her daughter with silent tears streaming down her face. Lindy had inherited her father’s dark hair, her mother’s blue eyes, each tiny feature and limb was perfect. How could there possibly be anything wrong with her!

  ‘She’s so small,’ Joanna choked. ‘So tiny and helpless.’

  Joshua’s arm came protectively about her shoulders. ‘I know, darling. We’ll do everything we can, Joanna.’

  Everything hadn’t been good enough. All the tests, examinations, more tests, more examinations, had proved useless. Their little Lindy was going to die. Maybe not that week, or even that month, it might not even be that year, but she was eventually going to die, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

  Lindy had seemed so normal most of the time, had learnt to crawl at seven months, to walk at eleven months, to get into every conceivable mischief from the time she could pull herself along the floor. On those days, the good days, Joanna couldn’t believe there was anything wrong with her daughter.

  And then would come the days when Lindy would simply lie on the floor or in a chair, her face pale, her energy all used up, her little body too exhausted to move. Those were the black days for Joanna, the days she knew she was going to lose her daughter.

  She did everything for Lindy herself—fed her, clothed her, bathed her, played with her, knowing she was shutting Joshua out of a special and beautiful relationship with his daughter and yet unable to stop herself.

  Joshua warned her that such devotion for Lindy twenty-four hours a day would only result in her being ill herself. He was right, and a bout of ‘flu put her in bed for a week. Joshua stayed at home during that time to take care of two-year-old Lindy. During that week Joanna had learnt to share her daughter once again, to let Joshua know the fun and love that was Lindy.

  Her own relationship with Joshua was still as intimate, his desire for her often taking them into the early hours of the morning. It was after one of these insatiable nights in Joshua’s arms that she had sensed something was wrong with Lindy, some sixth sense telling her that all was not well with their daughter.

  Joshua had given a protesting groan as she
pulled gently out of his arms, padding softly through the darkness to Lindy’s room next door to theirs. Lindy didn’t seem to be breathing, her face was grey, and Joanna’s scream of terror brought Joshua running.

  What had followed was still a nightmare in her mind. The ambulance, the bright lights, people running, an emergency-room, a serious-faced doctor gently telling them there had been nothing he could do, no magic spell he could weave to bring Lindy back to them.

  It hadn’t seemed real to Joanna, that frail little body lying so still and lifeless on the examination couch not looking like her little Lindy at all. Lindy was at home, with her peaches and cream complexion, her mouth curved into that mischievous smile that melted even the hardest heart, her black hair falling in soft curls on to her pillow.

  But Lindy hadn’t been at home, her small bed was empty, the bedclothes still thrown back, the fluffy white rabbit she loved so much lying on the pillow next to where Lindy’s head should have been.

  And even then Joanna hadn’t cried, had carried on normally throughout the day, seeing her mother’s grief as if she were a stranger to her, wondering what on earth she could be crying about so brokenly.

  Her illusion of normality hadn’t been broken until she lay in bed next to Joshua that night, not seeing the tears on his cheeks, the pain etched into his face, knowing only that their daughter was dead and that he was trying to make love to her!

  She had turned on him like a virago, scratching, biting, kicking, and all the time hurling abuse at him, all the pent-up emotion and resentment of the last four years of marriage to him bursting forth in one explosion, only stopping when his palm landed painfully against her cheek.

  That had been when pain such as she had never known before had ripped through her heart, Lindy’s death becoming a reality in that resounding blow. Then the tears started, hysterical sobbing tears that hadn’t stopped until the sleep-giving needle pierced her arm and took her off to oblivion.

  Joshua had moved back into his own bedroom during the weeks when Joanna lay grief-stricken in her bed, and when she had slowly begun to face the world again, a slow and painful process, she had cut him out of her life as if they had never been married, their one link in Lindy, the reason they had married at all, now gone for ever.