by Kate Hardy
Jane felt her lower lip wobble. ‘Thanks, all of you. I…’ To her horror, she burst into tears.
Hannah gave her a hug. ‘Now that’s hormones working. But don’t worry, Jane. Everything’s going to be fine.’
Jane wasn’t so sure. But one thing she did know; she couldn’t take the coward’s way out.
Which meant talking to Mitch.
The following afternoon, after a lunch where Jane felt too sick to eat more than the dry crust of a sandwich, she and Charlie walked into the exhibition.
Mitch was nowhere to be seen, but Jane wasn’t that surprised. He’d already told her that he got stir-crazy when he was stuck indoors. Besides, it was the weekend. He probably had better things to do. And he might not even be in the country. He might be chasing a storm somewhere.
‘If he’s not here, we need to find his agent,’ Charlie said. ‘I didn’t think to Google that before we left. Do you have a name?’
‘Just a first name. Harry.’
‘Harry. Well, it’ll do for a start. We’ll ask at the reception desk. And if he isn’t here, we’ll get his address and go on Monday morning.’ Charlie marched Jane over to the desk, then prodded her.
‘Excuse me, please. Can you tell me where I can find Harry, Mr Holland’s agent?’ Jane asked politely.
The girl behind the desk smiled. ‘Over there.’ She indicated a group of people standing by one of the photographs, a shot of a double rainbow over a canyon.
Jane was about to ask which one was Harry when the phone rang, and the receptionist answered it. Jane waited a moment or so until it was clear that it would be a long phone call, then sighed. ‘Oh, well. I can’t feel much more awkward than I do already. So I raise my little finger if I get stuck, yes?’ she said to Charlie.
‘I’ll come with you, if you want,’ Charlie offered.
Jane shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I ought to stand on my own two feet.’ Her feet felt like two lumps of lead, but she made herself walk over to the group at a normal pace.
‘Excuse me for interrupting, but which of you is Harry, please?’
‘I am.’
Jane blinked. From what Mitch had said, she’d expected Harry to be around fifty, male, and very probably gay. Not a woman who looked only a couple of years older than Jane herself, dressed in a sharp business suit and with blonde hair cut in a very trendy style.
‘Can I help you?’ Harry asked.
‘I…um…wondered if I could have a word, please.’
Harry looked her up and down, then nodded. ‘See you in a minute, guys,’ she said, and drew Jane off to the side. ‘So what can I do for you?’
‘I…’ Jane shook her head. ‘Sorry. I’m not normally this clueless. But when Mitch said his agent was called Harry…’
‘You were expecting a man,’ Harry finished with a wry smile. ‘It’s short for Harriet. Though Mitch has been known to change it to “harridan” before now.’ She gave Jane a curious look. ‘So you’re the reason why he didn’t come back to that meeting, the other week?’
Jane really hadn’t expected that. ‘He told you about me?’
Harry shook her head. ‘But with Mitch it isn’t what he says that’s important. It’s what he doesn’t say.’
Jane didn’t have a clue what he’d say when he heard her news. Or what he wouldn’t say. She’d spent a day and a night with him, and he was still a complete stranger.
And the father of her unborn child.
She took a deep breath. ‘I need to talk to him.’
‘Can I help?’ Harry asked.
Jane shook her head. ‘It’s personal.’
‘Personal,’ Harry said dryly.
‘Look, I’m not a stalker. But this…’ She shook her head. ‘I need to talk to him about it. Preferably face to face. Is he even in the country at the moment?’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’ Harry’s face was unreadable.
‘I understand that you need to protect his interests,’ Jane said softly, ‘but this is something he really needs to know about. And he needs to hear it from me.’
Harry frowned. ‘I don’t like the sound of this.’
‘I’m not going to make trouble,’ Jane said. It wasn’t strictly true: she didn’t intend to cause trouble, but she had no idea how Mitch was going to react to the news. She took a business card from her handbag and handed it to Harry. ‘Here. If you want to check me out, this is as good a place as any to start. But please—please ask Mitch to call me. It’s really important.’
The silence stretched until Jane was almost at screaming point.
And then Harry nodded, handing the card back to her. ‘OK. Write your home and mobile numbers on the back. If you check out then I’ll get him to call you.’
‘Thank you,’ Jane said, scribbled down her number, then forced herself to smile and rejoin Charlie.
‘Well?’ Charlie asked.
Jane filled her in on what Harry had said.
‘It’s a waiting game, then. Still, at least it’ll give you time to get your head straight. Work out what to say to him,’ Charlie said.
‘While we’re here, we might as well look round the exhibition.’
‘Sure,’ Jane said.
The photographs were incredible; they had the same restless energy as Mitch himself did. Though it also told her something else: Mitch was like her parents and her brother, always needing to be on the move. Just as they’d go from site to site and lecture tour to lecture tour, Mitch would go from storm to storm.
Exactly what she grew up with.
Exactly what she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with—assuming that was even an option.
But right now she couldn’t assume anything. She’d just have to wait until Harry passed on the message—and hope that Mitch would call her.
The following Tuesday, Jane’s mobile phone rang. She glanced at the screen but didn’t recognise the number.
Mitch?
She damped down the hope. It was probably a cold caller. But she answered anyway. ‘Hello?’
‘Jane, it’s Mitch. Harry gave me your number.’
Straight and to the point. Oh, God.
‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’
How the hell did she tell him? She swallowed. ‘This needs to be in person.’
‘Why?’
She dragged in a breath. ‘Because it’s…personal.’ She had to get control of the situation. ‘Can we meet up?’
‘When?’
She couldn’t tell a thing from his tone. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘It’ll have to be the evening.’ There was a pause, as if he was checking his schedule. ‘Half six?’
‘That’s fine. Um…where’s convenient for you?’
‘I’m on the Circle line right now. Great Portland Street. You?’
‘District. Richmond.’
‘So halfway would be…let me see…South Kensington. Not the tube station, because it’d be too easy to miss each other. I’ll see you on the front steps of the Natural History Museum.’
Well, she should have expected briskness. The man chased storms. He was used to navigating fast.
But some kind of personal thing would’ve been nice. He hadn’t even asked her how she was. He was back to being the forbidding stranger she’d been too chicken to kiss on the South Bank—not the man who’d made her laugh round half of London and who’d made her see stars when they’d made love. ‘OK,’ she said, knowing this wasn’t going to be OK at all.
And although she managed to get through the next day at work, she felt more and more nervous, the nearer she got to South Kensington. Bile rose in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or morning sickness. All-day sickness, more like: the nausea came and went. And it wasn’t helped by the stuffiness on the train, either. She took a bottle of plain water from her bag and sipped it. Small, frequent sips had been Hannah’s advice. And it did help. A bit.
But when the train stopped and she headed through the underground passage towards the
museums, her heart was beating madly and adrenalin made her fingers feel stiff. She could hear a busker playing ‘Yesterday’ on the cello, the music growing louder as she walked towards him; the rich, deep sweetness of the notes echoing in the tunnel made the tune sound even more melancholy. And right at that moment she could really identify with the words of the song. She’d like somewhere to hide away, too, instead of having to face Mitch with what she knew would be unwelcome news.
When she emerged onto the road and walked down the slope leading to the gardens of the museum, she could see Mitch sitting on the steps outside the building. Looking as gorgeous as she remembered him—her heart missed a beat—but remote and untouchable, despite the fact that he was wearing faded jeans.
Please let this not be as bad as she feared.
Mitch noticed that Jane wasn’t smiling, though she raised her hand in acknowledgement as soon as she saw him. And he had the feeling that he really wasn’t going to like whatever she was intending to tell him. Personal. A number of possibilities had gone through his mind—and none of them had left him smiling.
Better get this over with.
He stood up and walked to meet her.
What now?
They were well past the handshaking stage, but kissing her didn’t feel right either. So he jammed his hands in his pockets. ‘Hello.’
‘Hello.’ She looked nervous. And slightly pale, as if she had a headache.
‘Shall we sit down?’ He indicated the empty bench nearby.
‘Sure.’
They sat down in silence. And her nervousness had communicated itself to him: although he tried for casual, stretching his legs out and leaning back, he found himself jiggling one foot.
The silence went on and on and on, to the point where it was unbearable.
Clearly he’d have to be the one to break it. ‘So what did you want to see me about?’
She swallowed hard. ‘There isn’t an easy way to say this.’
He shrugged. ‘Tell me straight, then.’
‘I’m pregnant.’
Time stopped.
Blood roared in his ears.
And the words echoed in his head. I’m pregnant.
In a different voice. Not Jane’s. We’re going to have a baby.
No, no, no, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening.
He must be hallucinating. Please, let him be hallucinating. ‘Could you repeat that?’ he asked.
Her voice quivered slightly as she replied, ‘I’m pregnant.’
‘You can’t be.’ He shook his head. ‘You can’t be.’
Her face was very pale. ‘I took a test last week.’
Even so. Tests could be wrong, couldn’t they? ‘We were careful. We used condoms.’ And he knew damn well he’d used them properly. No way should she be pregnant.
‘According to my housemate Hannah—who’s a practice nurse, so I’d say she knows what she’s talking about—condoms are pretty safe but there’s still a small failure rate.’
‘If you don’t use them properly. But we didn’t take a single risk.’ He’d been meticulous about it. He always was, nowadays. Much as he’d wanted to feel the heat of her body wrapped round him, he’d exercised control. Made sure they were protected. ‘How could a condom have failed?’
‘I don’t know.’ She folded her arms and turned away from him slightly: defensive body language in the extreme.
I’m pregnant. The words churned in the pit of his stomach. ‘This can’t be happening.’
‘I’m not wonderfully happy about it, either.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I thought you had the right to know, before any decisions were made.’ A muscle flickered in her jaw. ‘I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t asked if I’m sure it’s yours.’
That hadn’t even occurred to him. But now she’d raised it…‘Is it?’ She flinched as if he’d hit her, and he immediately felt contrite. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
‘I don’t sleep around.’ Her voice was prickly with hurt.
Oh, hell. He could see her eyes filling with tears. He was just glad he was wearing dark glasses so she couldn’t see his own eyes. So she didn’t see the pain of his memories.
‘I apologise.’
She didn’t say anything, but to his relief she rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes and squished the tears.
She was pregnant.
With his baby.
This moment should be a celebration of new life.
But he’d been here before
And crashed and burned.
Never, ever again was he going to let himself be put in that situation.
He was aware that his fists were clenched so hard, his knuckles stood out in sharp white relief, and he forced himself to relax his hands. Jane wasn’t to know what had happened. It wasn’t her fault. But no way was he getting involved. ‘If you decide to keep the baby, then I’ll support you financially.’ He’d do the right thing. From a distance. ‘Just let Harry know your bank details and she’ll arrange it all.’
‘So that’s it? This is just a financial transaction?’
Again, he was glad of the dark glasses. Because he didn’t want her to see his eyes, guess what was going on in his head. Didn’t want to talk about it. Because it hurt too much to think about the past. About the might-have-beens. ‘I was honest with you right from the start. I’m not looking for a relationship. Of any sort. And I’m going away again anyway. There’s no point in dragging this out.’
‘So you want nothing to do with the baby.’
The baby. Oh, God. The baby. His child. He swallowed. ‘No.’
‘Then I want nothing to do with your money. Goodbye.’ Her mouth tightened, and she turned on her heel and left.
And that was it.
Problem solved.
Except he knew it wasn’t. He knew he’d handled this badly. Hurt her.
But what other choice did he have?
CHAPTER SIX
‘HE SAID what?’ Charlie demanded, outraged. ‘That’s…that’s…’ Her mouth opened and closed and she shook her head, clearly at a loss.
‘That’s about the first time ever you’ve been lost for words,’ Jane said wryly. ‘Look, forget it. I am. He’s not worth it.’ She really hoped her voice sounded cool and calm and unruffled. Even though her heart felt as if it had just been through the shredder. The man she’d spent the night with was warm and fun and sexy. The man she’d faced outside the museum had been cold, hard and unfeeling—a complete stranger.
More fool her for hoping for something more.
‘So what do you want to do, Jane?’ Shelley asked, squeezing her hand. ‘You know you’ve got our support, whatever you decide.’
‘I’ve been thinking about it. Asking myself over and over again.’ Losing sleep over it. Trying to second-guess Mitch’s reaction—but even so she hadn’t been prepared for it. Or for how much it had hurt her. ‘I’m twenty-five, with a career that’s just starting to go in the direction I want it to. Being a single parent is going to change all that—I’d have to make a hell of a lot of compromises—and bringing up a baby on my own isn’t going to be easy.’ She bit her lip. ‘But I can’t face the alternative. I’m not condemning people who make that decision. It’s a very, very hard one to make and you need to be very sure what you’re doing. But…’ she shook her head ‘…it’s not what I want.’
‘So you’re going to keep the baby?’ Hannah asked.
Jane nodded. ‘I realise I’ll have to find somewhere else to li—’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Charlie cut in. ‘We might have to rearrange the house a bit, but you’re not going to move out just because you’re pregnant. Anyway, it’s going to be an awful lot easier babysitting if you’re living here rather than having to drag ourselves over to some damp, horrible little poky flat somewhere.’
Jane knew her friend was just trying to make her feel better. ‘What about if the baby cries in the night?’
‘Besides, it’s only a few months until they get into a routine of sleeping through the night,’ Hannah said. ‘And it’d be nice to have a baby around.’
‘You know, babies are seriously trendy fashion accessories. We can borrow him or her and pretend we’re Yummy Mummies,’ Charlie said with a grin.
Jane stared at them, not sure whether to laugh or cry.
Hannah patted her shoulder. ‘Bottom line, hon, you’re staying—and we’re going to enjoy being disreputable aunties.’
‘Agreed,’ Shelley said.
At the same time as Charlie added, ‘No arguments.’
Jane blinked back the tears. ‘You three are just…you’re the best. And my baby’s so lucky to have three such wonderful women in his or her life. You will all be godmothers, won’t you?’
‘Sure,’ Charlie said, affecting a nonchalant air. But Jane could see the glimmer of tears in her friend’s eyes.
‘Well, as the nurse in the house, I’m taking charge of antenatal stuff,’ Hannah said.
‘And as the teacher in the house, I’m in on the educational toy front,’ Shelley chipped in.
‘Which leaves me as style queen—so I’ll take you shopping for baby clothes and the coolest pushchair in town,’ Charlie said. ‘Good. Sorted. Now—time for cake, I think…’
The first antenatal check wasn’t as bad as Jane expected. Her housemates were the most brilliant support team in the world. She didn’t need Mitch Holland. At all.
But even so, when she got the letter with the date for her first scan, something prompted her to text him. Just to let him know what was happening.
He didn’t reply. Ha. Well, not that she’d expected him to. He’d made it pretty clear that he didn’t want anything to do with the baby. His silence just underlined it. There was no point in moping about it; being miserable wouldn’t make him change his mind. Though his refusal even to acknowledge his child stung. And her disappointment must have been obvious when Hannah went to the scan with her, because Hannah squeezed her hand as they walked into the hospital. ‘Are you OK?’
