Читать книгу St Piran’s: The Wedding of The Year - Caroline Anderson - Страница 7

KATE cradled the tea in her hands and tried to force herself to drink it.

‘I hate sugar in tea,’ she said, and looked up at Nick, trying to smile, trying to be brave, but his face was shut down, expressionless, devoid of colour and emotion, and she felt the fear escalate.

‘Nick? He’ll be OK.’ He had to be, she thought desperately, his stark expression clawing at her control and threatening to destroy it, but Ben had seemed confident, Josh also, and there was no talk of ifs or buts or maybes, so he would be OK. Wouldn’t he?

‘Nick?’

He sucked in a breath, almost as if he’d forgotten to breathe for a while, and turned his head to meet her eyes. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

Miles away? When his son was under anaesthetic, having his pelvis stabilised with an external frame so they could try and stop the bleeding that was draining the life out of him? Where on earth had he been, miles away? And with that look in his eyes…

He scanned the room, his face bleak. ‘I haven’t been in here for years. It hasn’t changed. Still got the same awful curtains.’

And then she realised. Realised what he was seeing, what this must cost him, to be here with her, and her heart went out to him.

‘Oh, Nick, I’m sorry,’ she murmured, and he tried to smile.

‘Don’t be, I’m all right. It was five years ago.’ And then he frowned. ‘More to the point, how are you? Were you hurt? What was Ben saying about your feet? I didn’t realise you’d been trapped in the car.’

‘It was nothing—just a pedal. I’m fine.’ Her smile was no more successful than his, she supposed, because he came over and sat beside her, searching her eyes with his.

‘So what happened?’ he asked.

She shrugged. ‘I was picking him up from outside the high school. It was my fault—I parked on the right, hitched up on the kerb and rang him, and he ran up and got in, and I pulled back out onto the road. I couldn’t see a thing—the rain was sheeting down, but there were no lights coming, and I remember thinking only a fool would be out in this without lights, so it must be clear, and I pulled out, and there was an almighty thump and the car slammed sideways into the car I was pulling out around, and the airbags went off and—’

She broke off.

It had been over in an instant.

There had been nothing she could have done at that point, no way she could have changed it, but for the rest of her life, with the stunning clarity of slow motion, she knew she would hear the sliding, grinding crash, the scream of her child, and the thump as the airbag inflated in her face…

‘Ah, Kate,’ he murmured, and she looked up, into dark, fathomless brown eyes that normally hid his feelings all too well. But not now. Now, they were filled with sympathy and something else she couldn’t quite read. ‘I’m sorry. It must have been horrendous.’

She nodded, looking away because if she didn’t she’d lose her grip on her emotions, and she couldn’t afford to do that, couldn’t afford to succumb to the sympathy in his eyes.

‘I can’t believe I didn’t see him coming.’

‘You said there were no lights.’

‘I didn’t see any, and I was looking, but—’

‘Then it’s not your fault.’

She gave a soft snort. ‘Tell it to the fairies, Nick. I pulled out in front of a big, heavy off-roader when I couldn’t see, and Jem could have been killed. How is that not my fault?’

His mouth firmed into a grim line.

‘He must have been speeding, Kate.’

‘Very likely. It doesn’t absolve me of blame.’

‘Don’t,’ he warned, his voice strained. ‘Believe me, don’t take on the blame for this. It’ll destroy you.’

As his guilt over Annabel’s death had nearly destroyed him? She bit her lip, trapped the words, looked at the clock. It had hardly moved, and yet they seemed to have been in there for ever.

‘He’ll be all right, Kate. He’s in good hands.’

‘I know.’

She gave him another little smile, and reached up to touch his cheek fleetingly in comfort. The day’s growth of stubble was rough against her fingers, ruggedly male and oddly reassuring, and somehow his strength centred her. She had to stop herself from stroking her thumb over his cheek, backwards and forwards in a tender caress, the way she would with Jem. With anyone she loved. She dropped her hand hastily back into her lap. ‘Are you OK?’

His smile was crooked. ‘I’m the last person you should be worried about,’ he said gruffly, but it wasn’t true. She always worried about him—always had, always would, and running away wouldn’t change that, she realised. And even though it was tearing him apart, he was here for her now, when she needed him the most, just as he had been on the night her husband James had died. And he needed her now, too, every bit as much as he had then. So, yes, she was worried about him. She could never rely on him, not in the long term, but she worried about him.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said with a little catch in her voice. ‘I’m really grateful to you for coming. I know it’s really hard for you, being here. All those memories. It was such a dreadful time for you, and I’m sorry to have to put you through it again.’

‘It just caught me by surprise, coming in here again, that’s all. All a bit too familiar.’ His smile was crooked and didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he rested his hand over hers. ‘He’ll be all right, Kate,’ he murmured, his eyes reassuring, his touch steadying her tumbling emotions.

The unexpected tenderness brought a lump to her throat, and gently she eased her hand away before she crumbled. ‘I’m sorry about Jack.’

He shrugged slightly. ‘I knew he’d hate me for it, but it’s not a problem. He’s hated me before, I can live with it.’

It was a lie, even if he was trying to make himself believe it, and she felt herself frown. ‘He’s a good man, Nick. He’ll come round. And he’ll be good to Jem. They all will’

He nodded, sighed, and stood up, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he crossed to the window and stood staring out into the rain. ‘Oh, they will. They’ll close ranks round him and take him into their hearts, all three of them. They’re like that. They take after Annabel’ He glanced down at the table, at the mugs sitting there, the tea growing cold.

‘You haven’t touched your tea,’ he said, and she let him change the subject and picked up the mug, giving him room, not crowding him. He hated emotion, and he was awash with it today, trying hard to hang together through all the horror of it. It was all right for her, she thought, her eyes welling. She could cry her eyes out and everyone would sympathise, but Nick—Nick had to stay aloof and distant, hold himself back, because for him, today was judgement day.

And, boy, would they be judging, and talking, and there would be plenty to say. Nick had been well and truly married twelve years ago, at the time of Jem’s conception, and the good people of Penhally held no truck with infidelity. When they found out…

Not that it mattered now. The only thing that mattered now was that her son—their son, she corrected herself—survived this, and lived long enough for Nick to build a relationship with him. She wondered what they were doing to him at this precise instant, and decided she’d rather not know. Midwife or not, there were things one didn’t need to see.

She pressed her hand against her heart, and realised it hurt. It was tender where the seat belt had tugged tight in the accident, pulling on her lumpectomy scar and the still fragile skin where the radiotherapy had burned it, and she suddenly felt very uncertain. Dr Bower had given her the all-clear from her breast cancer in January, but it was very much an ‘it’s OK for now’ result, and there were no guarantees for the future.

And if anything happened to her, Jem would need Nick. Assuming he survived—

‘Nick, drink your tea,’ she said, slamming the brakes on that thought, and he sat down beside her again and picked up the mug and took a mouthful, toying with the biscuits, crushing them to dust between his fingers, crumbling them all over the table.

‘Josh O’Hara’s a friend of Jack’s from London,’ he said out of the blue. ‘I gather he’s red hot. Ben used to work with him as well. That’s why he sounded him out about the vacancy. And Ben won’t let anything happen to Jeremiah—’

The door opened and Ben came in, and she dropped her mug onto the table with a clatter, fear suddenly closing her throat.

‘How is he?’ she asked, barely able to find the words. ‘Is he—?’

‘He’s stable, his blood pressure’s low but holding, so Josh and the anaesthetist have taken him to CT now to rule out any other injuries, then he’ll be going straight up to Theatre. And we need to check you over. Come on.’

She tried to stand, and suddenly realised how weak she felt, how uncooperative her legs were, how very long she’d been holding her breath. She wasn’t really listening any longer. All she’d heard was ‘He’s stable’, and her mind had gone blank, unable to take in any more than this one, most important, fact.

Relief was crashing through her, scattering the last shreds of her control; she sucked in some air, but it wouldn’t come, not smoothly, not sensibly, just in little jerky sobs, faster and faster, until at last the dam burst and she felt Nick’s arms close around her, holding her firmly against a broad, solid chest that felt so good, so safe that she wanted to stay there for ever, because if she leant on him, if she stayed there, then surely it would be all right…

Nick stood there for a second—scarcely that, but it felt like an age before he came to life again and his hands gentled, cradling her head against his shoulder, holding her against his heart as he rocked and shushed her.

She must be going through hell, he thought, and then it hit him that this wasn’t just her son, but his, too. Emotions slammed through him one after the other, but he crushed them down. There’d be time for them later. For now, he just had to be here for Kate, for as long as she needed him.

‘Why don’t you go and let them take the blood?’ Ben suggested, once Kate had stopped crying and been mopped up and taken through to X-Ray. ‘I’ll keep an eye on her.’

‘Isn’t Lucy expecting you home?’

He smiled again. ‘She was—two hours ago. Don’t worry, I’ve told her what’s going on.’

‘All of it?’ he asked, his heart jerking against his ribs, but Ben shook his head.

‘No. I thought I’d let you or Jack do that.’

‘She’ll be disappointed in me.’

‘I don’t know,’ Ben said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe a little, at first, but she’s said before how well you and Kate get on, and she knows you went out with her before you met Annabel, so I don’t think she’ll be exactly surprised to know you had an affair. In fact, she said only the other week that you ought to get together, now you were both free.’

His laugh sounded hollow to his ears. ‘I hope she’s not holding her breath for that. Kate’s going. She’s handed in her notice—she’s leaving Penhally.’

‘Wow.’ Ben frowned. ‘That’s a big step.’

He shrugged. ‘She told me today—well, she left a letter for me.’

She hadn’t even told him to his face. That hurt, but he put it on one side, like all the other feelings that were swamping him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ben said, and Nick blinked in surprise and met his eyes.

‘Why should you be sorry?’

‘You tell me,’ Ben said softly, and Nick looked away from eyes that saw too much.

‘She’s blaming herself. She said she didn’t see any lights, and she pulled out.’

Ben accepted the change of subject without a murmur. ‘Visibility was awful, apparently, and I gather the other guy not only didn’t have his lights on but he was speeding significantly, according to witnesses. He wasn’t wearing a seat belt, either, and the car wasn’t taxed. He’s in overnight for observation, and the police have been in to talk to him already. It definitely wasn’t Kate’s fault. I need to check her out. You go down to Haematology and I’ll see you when you come back.’

He nodded, and walked quickly down to Haematology to give the blood they would process and give to Jeremiah later, after his surgery, after he was stable. God willing. Jack was standing at the reception desk waiting, and turned to him, his eyes raking over Nick’s face.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked, and Nick nodded.

‘Yes. Ben’s taking a look at Kate.’

‘Have you eaten recently?’

Nick nearly laughed. For a moment there, he’d thought his son was enquiring after his emotional well-being, but, no, he was checking that he was OK to donate.

‘Lunch,’ he said, trying to remember and recalling a sandwich of some sort. He’d left half of it, and it seemed a long time ago. It had been a long time ago. He should have eaten Hazel’s fairings instead of leaving them for Mr Pengelly. ‘They gave us tea and biscuits in A and E, but I didn’t have them.’

‘Here.’ Jack handed him a small packet of biscuits from his pocket. ‘Eat those, and get a drink from that water cooler, otherwise you’ll pass out when they take the blood from you.’

And without another word Jack turned back to the desk and spoke to the haematology technician who’d just come to find him. Nick followed them, grabbing a cup of water on the way, and then lay in the next cubicle to his son, the curtain between them firmly closed, while the technician set up the intravenous line and started collecting his blood.

‘Can you be quick? I need to get back,’ he said, and she smiled.

‘It’s a good job you’re a regular donor, Dr Tremayne,’ she said tolerantly. ‘Saves all the screening. I take it nothing’s changed since the last time?’

‘No, nothing.’ Nothing except his youngest son nearly dying and Kate deciding to leave the county. ‘Take two units,’ he insisted.

She tried to argue, but Jack’s voice cut across them both.

‘Just do it. It might keep him quiet. You can take two from me as well.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t like to, but our B-neg donors in the hospital have all been called on recently and there isn’t any available until tomorrow. Stocks are really low at the moment; we’ve got O-neg but obviously this is better. You’re not still working this evening, Mr Tremayne?’

‘No. I’ve finished for the day and I’ve got a light day tomorrow. My registrar can cover me if necessary,’ Jack answered.

‘And you, Dr Tremayne?’

‘I’m not leaving the hospital until I know Jem’s all right.’ Nick replied.

If he was all right. Hell, he had to be all right. There was so much to say to him, so much lost time to make up for. It would be the bitterest irony if now, when he was finally beginning to accept that Jem really was his son and realise what he meant to him, he lost him before he could tell him.

Nick rested his head back, closed his eyes and prayed as he hadn’t prayed since the night Annabel had died.

He couldn’t lose another member of his family, and neither could Kate. It just wasn’t an option. He pumped his hand to speed up the flow, so he could get back to her side as quickly as possible…

‘She hasn’t got any fractures, but she’s sore,’ Ben said softly, taking Nick to one side when he returned to A and E. ‘Her right ankle’s got a nasty bruise, and she’s whiplashed her neck slightly, and her chest is a bit tender where the seat belt cut in. The skin’s still a bit fragile anyway, after the surgery and radiotherapy last year.’

He realised he didn’t even know if it had been the left or right breast, and asked—not that it made any difference, or was anything to do with him, but he just wanted everything straight in his head, trying to make order of the chaos of the day, and this was another brick in the wall he could straighten.

‘Left,’ Ben said, not even questioning his need to know that stupidly irrelevant fact. ‘I wanted to keep her here for a bit, let her rest, but she won’t hear of it. She’s very shocked, though. I’ve given her some pain relief, but she wouldn’t let me give her a sedative.’

‘No. She wouldn’t. Stubborn woman.’

Ben smiled tolerantly, and Nick gave a short, ironic laugh.

‘Pot and kettle?’ he said, and Ben chuckled.

‘Go in and see her, she’s waiting for you. And give me your car keys, I’ll get it moved. It’s obstructing the entrance and the ambos are getting cross.’

He handed over the keys, thanked Ben and went to see Kate.

How long could he be?

Ben had insisted she should lie there for a while and wait for Nick, and frankly she didn’t have the strength to argue. Anyway, there was nothing she could do for Jem now except will him to be alive, and she could do that lying down in A and E as well as she could hovering outside the scanner room in Radiology.

Once Nick was back, she’d get up and go and sit there, waiting for news, but for now, she was lying wide-eyed, alert, her adrenaline running flat out, her pulse rapid, her throat dry.

‘You’re a mess, Kate Althorp,’ she told herself, and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. No way. But she could shut out the light.

She’d dozed off.

Or so he thought, but as Nick stepped into the cubicle, her eyes flew open.

‘Is there any news?’ she asked, her face worried, and he shook his head.

‘No. I’ve just spoken to Ben, but they haven’t heard anything. Josh is with him in CT. Are you OK to go down there now?’

She gave a humourless little laugh that cut him to the bone, and tried to smile. ‘Sure. My right ankle hurts, but I’ve got some arnica gel in my bag, I’ll put it on later. Let’s go.’

‘Want me to do it now?’ he asked, wondering how he’d cope with touching her, smoothing his hand over her skin, feeling her warmth beneath his fingers and knowing she wasn’t his to touch, to hold—to love?

Would never be.

‘Not now. Later, maybe. I need to be with Jem.’

‘I’ll get a wheelchair,’ he told her. ‘Stay there.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Nick,’ she said, swinging her legs down and wriggling her feet into her damp shoes with a grimace. ‘I’m perfectly capable of walking. I’m fine.’

She wasn’t. She wasn’t fine at all, but she had guts. He tried to smile, but his own guts were strung tight. He tucked her hand in his arm so she could lean on him, and walked with her to Radiology, glad they were moving fairly slowly. He was feeling a little light-headed and wondering if his stubborn insistence on giving two units had been such a good idea after all. It was a quarter of his circulating blood volume—enough to crash his blood pressure into his boots. He ought to get something to eat and drink, but now wasn’t the time.

‘He’ll be out in a minute, he’s nearly done,’ the receptionist told them, and they sat and waited, Kate suddenly even more nervous because of what the CT might show up.

She thought her stomach was going to turn inside out it was churning so hard, and the painkillers Ben had given her didn’t seem to be helping. Well, they were helping, but not enough. She rolled her neck slightly to ease it, but it didn’t work. It was because she was tense, coiled like a spring, poised for bad news.

‘I can’t sit here, I’m going to have to walk around,’ she told Nick, pushing herself to her feet just as the doors opened and Jem was wheeled out by Josh and the anaesthetist. The radiologist came over to them, nodded to Nick and then turned to her.

‘Mrs Althorp?’

‘Yes,’ Kate said, trying not to fall down and feeling Nick’s firm hand on her waist holding her in place. She dragged her eyes from Jem and the gap in the blankets showing the frame holding his pelvis rigid, and leaned against Nick, grateful for the support, both physical and emotional, wondering what was coming, hardly daring to ask. ‘How is he?’ she managed, her throat tight.

‘Stable. No damage apart from the fracture—he’s been lucky, and there’s no sign of a bleed from the head injury, so they’re taking him straight up to Theatre now. You’ll need to go up with him and sign the consent forms, if you haven’t already done it, and I imagine you’ll want to wait up there for news?’

She nodded and looked at Jem. She wanted to talk to him—touch him, just touch him so she could reassure herself he was still alive, but he was unconscious, still under anaesthetic. She leant over the trolley anyway, and rested her hand on his cheek briefly, reassured by his warmth but frowning at the bruises as they walked towards the lift.

‘Jem? It’s Mum,’ she said softly. ‘You’re all right, my darling. You’re going to be OK, can you hear me? I’ll be waiting for you, OK? I’ll be here, all the time. I love you—’

She cracked, and Nick hugged her to his side as they followed the trolley to the lift and went up with him. They watched him go through into Theatre, and then Nick guided her to the chair-lined recess, and the long wait began…

‘So that’s your father-in-law?’

Ben grunted in confirmation, and Josh watched him. ‘Interesting undercurrents between him and the woman. I thought he was the kid’s father at first. It took me a minute to work it out. He seems OK—bit distant, but supportive. I take it they’re friends?’

Ben sighed and put down his pen, and Josh propped his hips on the back of the other chair and raised an eyebrow.

‘She’s a colleague as well. He’s known her for years.’

Josh nodded. ‘I know you didn’t always get on with him. Jack mentioned that he could be…’

‘Difficult?’ Ben supplied, his smile wry, and Josh grinned.

‘He probably wasn’t quite as polite as that.’

Ben gave a grunt of grudging laughter. ‘Yeah. But that’s all behind us now.’

‘Is it? I passed Jack on the way into Resus, and he was steaming down the corridor with a face like the Grim Reaper. I take it they’d had words?’ Josh waited, but Ben obviously wasn’t being drawn. He capped his pen and pushed his chair back, changing the subject.

‘Nice job, Josh,’ he said. ‘The ex-fix. Very neat. You’re going to be an asset to the department.’

He took the hint. ‘Thanks. Let’s hope I can convince them all.’

‘Giving you a hard time?’

He shrugged. ‘Some of them. Not all. I’m the new boy. They’re suspicious.’

‘Well, they don’t need to be. I’ll have a word.’

‘No, leave it. I’ll win them round—I’ll bring in doughnuts and smile a lot, work a bit late, you know the routine. A little of the blarney thrown in for good measure…’

‘Well, don’t expect it to impress me, I know you better than that, and they won’t be fooled by it. Stick to what you’re good at. Save a few lives—that’ll win them round.’

‘I’ll do that for an encore,’ Josh said with a lazy grin, happy that Ben, at least, seemed pleased to have him there. Shrugging away from the desk and putting the Tremayne family out of his mind, he went off to conquer some of the sceptics.

How could the time pass so slowly?

Kate watched the hands crawl round the clock face—a minute, two. She shifted yet again on one of the padded plastic armchairs, resting her head back against the wall with a fractured sigh.

‘He’ll be all right, Kate,’ Nick said, for the hundredth time, and she just nodded slightly and flexed her ankle.

It was enough to make her wince, and she felt him shift beside her.

‘Give me the arnica gel’

She handed it to him and pulled up her trouser leg a little, kicking off her shoe, and he squeezed a blob onto his fingers and crouched in front of her, so she could rest her foot against his lean, hard-muscled thigh. That was all the running and walking he did, mile after mile over the moors, trying to outrun his demons. She could feel the muscles flex beneath her sole as he shifted his position slightly, and the open neck of his shirt gaped so she could see the pulse beating in the hollow of his throat, hard and fast, driven by the adrenaline that must be coursing through his body as it was through hers.

She lifted a hand and laid it against his shoulder, and he went still. ‘Thank you, Nick,’ she murmured. ‘For everything.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I’m not. Nick, we need to talk.’

He squeezed more arnica gel onto his fingers and smoothed it gently over the top of her other foot where a small bruise was starting to show.

‘About?’

‘Did you get my letter?’

He said nothing for a moment, just kept rubbing her foot, round and round until the skin was all but dry, then he stood up again and washed his hands in the sink in the corner.

She wriggled her feet back into her shoes, wondering how long the leather would take to dry, how she could have got so wet. Standing in the rain, of course, watching while they’d cut Jem out.

‘Nick?’

He dried his hands, then like a caged lion he started pacing, from one side of the small waiting room to the other, then back again, ramming his hand through his hair and rumpling it further. It suited him, she thought randomly. The steel grey threading through it made him look distinguished, setting off his strong features—the features Jem had inherited from him. He was going to be a good-looking man, her son—their son.

Nick’s son.

Finally he stopped pacing, sucked in a long, slow breath and turned back to her, scanning her face for clues, but there were none. Her warm, golden-brown eyes met his calmly, giving nothing away, as usual. She never gave anything away unless she meant to, and then it was usually disappointment in him. ‘May I ask why you’re going?’ he asked, his voice carefully expressionless.

‘Why? I would have thought it was obvious, Nick. I can’t just be here for ever waiting for you to sort yourself out. Did you think I would? That I’d stay, to let you see your son a few times a year, in carefully arranged, apparently casual circumstances, so you can keep in touch without having to tell him you’re his real father? Or, more to the point, so you didn’t have to rock the boat and tell your other kids that we made love while their mother was still alive?’

‘Once,’ he said flatly. ‘Just once. It’s not as if we had an affair, Kate.’

‘No, you’re right. It was nothing so premeditated, was it?’ she acknowledged gently, as if he needed reminding about anything that had happened that hellish night. ‘We just reached out, to someone we could trust, someone who could trust us. But we were married—well, I suppose technically I was probably widowed at that point, but you weren’t. And we did make love.’

And they’d made a child. Until Ben had told him about the blood group, there had still been an element of doubt in his mind, of disbelief. But not now. Not any more.

He looked away from the shrewd, understanding eyes that saw too much. ‘Neither of us was thinking that night.’

‘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?