by Kate Hardy
Her pulse leapt. ‘You’re asking me to stay?’
‘Yes. And I’ll drive you home tomorrow. Whatever time you like,’ he said. ‘Though if I’m rushing you, I’ll wait.’ He stroked her hair. ‘I just don’t want to say goodnight.’
She didn’t either. She missed him hugely when they weren’t together, and it was good to know that he felt the same.
Yes, this was rushing it. Then again, she was carrying his baby. So maybe none of the conventions mattered any more. ‘I’ll stay,’ she said.
He kissed her lingeringly. ‘Good. Because I want to wake up with you in my arms.’
Just as she presumed they’d done in Bath.
‘I really hate the fact,’ she said, ‘that I don’t remember Bath. That I don’t remember making our baby.’
Colour slashed through his face. ‘Obviously I didn’t know we were making a baby at the time, but I definitely remember making love with you.’ His eyes held a bright, almost febrile glitter. ‘Maybe if we repeat it, your memory will come back.’
She didn’t think it would. Not now.
Clearly it showed in her expression, because he said, ‘Even if it doesn’t, I’ll do my best to make it the same.’
It didn’t bring her memory back, but Holly loved the way that Harry let her undress him, clearly keeping himself in check. Even in jeans, he was gorgeous; out of them, he was even more so, his musculature sculpted and his abdomen flat.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ she whispered.
‘Thank you. But I’m feeling a bit underdressed now. My turn?’ Harry asked.
Feeling ridiculously shy, she nodded and let him undress her. He took it slowly, caressing every centimetre of skin he uncovered, until her whole body felt heated. He lingered particularly over her abdomen. ‘I can see the changes in you,’ he said, ‘and you’re gorgeous.’
‘I’m very ordinary,’ she corrected.
‘Are you, hell,’ he said. He scooped her up and carried her to his bed. ‘Simon might have had blinkers, but I don’t. You once told me you were beige. Well, you’re not. You’re gold and honey—the colour of your hair, the colour of your eyes, the way the sun kisses your skin.’
And then he proceeded to show her just how gorgeous he thought she was.
Afterwards, she lay curled in his arms, sated. ‘I still don’t see how a bang on the head could make me forget something as amazing as that. Someone as amazing as you.’
‘Memory is a funny thing. And it’s bound up in all the senses. Like Proust and his madeleines,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘the scent and taste bringing the memory back.’
‘I guess.’ She kissed him. ‘I’m just sorry I forgot you. Because you’re not at all forgettable.’
‘And I’m sorry I didn’t just suck it up and do the whole “Help me find my Lady in Red” thing on social media,’ he said. ‘Because I hate to think you believed I would ever desert you.’
‘That isn’t who you are,’ she said. ‘You know I’m glad you didn’t do the social media stuff! I’d hate to have people gawping over my private life.’
‘Then it’s just as well I work in the area I do, rather than rock or pop,’ Harry said. ‘We get a lot less press intrusion.’ He curled his hand round her abdomen. ‘Right now, all I can think of is you, me and our baby.’
She stilled.
‘What’s wrong?’ Harry asked.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘I just felt the baby move. Like bubbles inside me.’
‘I read that it could happen around this time,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But it will be a while before I can feel the baby move.’
‘You really have been reading up,’ she said, smiling.
‘I have. And I’m hoping you’ll let me come to your antenatal classes. I mean it about supporting you.’ He kissed her again. ‘And I’d like to start playing music to our baby. Music is meant to be good for helping you relax and bond with the baby, and for the structure of the baby’s brain. Plus studies show the that babies actually remember the music they hear in the womb.’
‘Sounds good to me. And I’d like to read those studies, too,’ she said. ‘Let me have the link.’
‘I will.’ He smiled. ‘Thank you for indulging me in the nerdy stuff.’
‘No problem. I’m sure Amenhotep or Nefertiti will enjoy you playing to them.’
He stared at her. ‘Amenhotep and Nefertiti? They’re the names you’ve picked out?’
‘But of course. My favourite pharaoh and the most beautiful woman in the world,’ she said, enjoying the expression on his face—a mingled look of horror and a desperate attempt to be supportive.
‘Amen...’ He blew out a breath. Then the penny clearly dropped. ‘All right. Ammy or Nef it is.’
He’d even worked out the diminutives?
‘As long as we have a middle name of Camille for a boy and Hildegard for a girl,’ he added.
He’d lost her as much as she’d lost him. ‘Camille?’ she asked.
‘Saint-Saëns,’ he explained.
The composer of one of the most famous cello pieces, she remembered. ‘And Hildegard?’
‘Of Bingen. She was a twelfth-century Benedictine abbess, composer, writer and philosopher,’ he explained.
Holly laughed. ‘I’ve already horrified my best friend. I’m so looking forward to seeing her face when she hears your suggestions.’
He laughed and kissed her. ‘I guess we have some more serious decisions to make, but we have plenty of time. For now, I want to enjoy just being with you.’
CHAPTER NINE
BY THE MIDDLE of October, Holly began to believe that this was going to work out. Although Harry’s schedule was hectic, he was scrupulous about coming to antenatal classes and appointments with her. He saw her every Sunday and as many other days in the week as he could, and on the days when he was away working he video-called her and played a lullaby to the baby.
The day he felt the baby kick for the first time, Harry went uncharacteristically quiet. Holly reminded herself that they were still getting to know each other, still getting used to their back-to-front situation. Just because she was starting to fall in love with him, it didn’t mean that he was falling in love with her. And, although Harry had been vocal on the subject of Simon’s behaviour towards her, deep inside Holly still worried that she wasn’t going to be enough for him. Would he grow bored? Would he feel that she was holding him back? Would he expect her to put her career second to his—especially as he’d already warned her that he’d put his career before his marriage?
Once she’d let herself think, the worries multiplied. She didn’t know where to start unpicking them and discussing them with Harry so, not wanting to rock the boat, she said nothing.
But if there was a time to say those three little words, when emotion was bubbling high, she thought it would be the moment after he felt the baby kick. The fact that he hadn’t said it... Was he with her because he felt obliged to be there, rather than wanting to be with her?
The thought wouldn’t go away. She needed to be careful. Last time round, she’d loved Simon more than he’d loved her and she’d ended up hurt. She couldn’t let herself love Harry until he was sure how she felt he felt about her. And she certainly wasn’t going to be the one to say it first. She had her pride.
* * *
This was a tightrope, Harry thought. One he’d negotiated before and he’d fallen off. Been badly hurt.
Could he take the risk that this time he would stay sure-footed?
But the parallels between the past and the present worried him. He’d married Rochelle because she’d been pregnant. It had been a knee-jerk reaction because he’d loved her and had wanted to support her. He and Rochelle had had a lot in common, similar careers, had known each other for years and had always got on well, and the sex had been good. So on paper their marriage should’ve worked out. The
y should’ve been strong enough to cope with the miscarriage, help each other through it.
Instead, everything had collapsed. He’d discovered that she hadn’t really loved him—she’d loved the idea of being part of an aristocratic family, but she hadn’t loved him for himself.
This time round, the way he felt about Holly was nothing like he’d ever felt for anyone before. OK, so they hadn’t known each other long, and for a lot of that time she’d forgotten he even existed, thanks to her amnesia, but they were working on it. It wasn’t just sexual attraction: he really liked the woman he was getting to know. He was pretty sure he was in love with her. And he’d almost told her that when he’d felt the baby kick.
But how could he be sure that it would work this time?
He didn’t want to upset Holly with his doubts, so he said nothing. Maybe his doubts would go. Maybe he just needed a little more time.
* * *
On Sunday, the quartet was due to fly to Berlin to play three nights of Mozart. They had arranged to have a late lunch at Lucy’s house before the flight, and both Carina and Holly planned to wave the quartet off at the airport.
‘You’re really blooming, Holly,’ Lucy said, ‘and Harry looks so happy. It’s lovely to see that. Especially after Roch—’ She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening with obvious horror. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put my foot in it.’
‘It’s OK. I know about Rochelle,’ Holly reassured her. She was beginning to think that the divorce was one of the reasons why Harry might be holding back, scared of repeating a mistake.
‘I’m glad he told you. Though I did worry a bit when he first told us about you.’ Lucy bit her lip. ‘Especially because of the baby. It was so sad.’
Sad? What was sad? What baby? Was Lucy telling her that Harry had a child he didn’t see? Holly stared at her, shocked. ‘Baby?’ she asked finally.
Lucy winced. ‘Just ignore me. I’m talking rubbish.’
‘I don’t think you are. And I’d rather know the truth,’ Holly said. ‘Otherwise my imagination will blow it up into something far worse.’
‘Sorry.’ Lucy squeezed her hand. ‘I don’t know how to say this without upsetting you. It’s just about the worst thing you can possibly say to a pregnant woman. Rochelle, um, had a miscarriage, just before the dating scan.’
Holly went cold. A miscarriage. OK, so she was beyond the twelve-week mark now, so the risk was an awful lot lower; but was this why Harry was holding back, because he was scared that history might repeat itself?
And why hadn’t he told her? It was another lie of omission, and it made her wonder what else he was keeping from her. When she thought about it, it hadn’t been just an omission; he’d out-and-out lied about it, telling the woman in the waiting room at the scan that he was a first-time father.
Clearly he that wasn’t true.
Now she was going to question everything he said to her, and that wasn’t good.
‘Holly? Are you all right?’ Lucy asked, looking concerned.
‘I’m fine,’ Holly fibbed. ‘Just a bit tired.’
‘If you want to go and have a lie down, you’re welcome to have a nap in our spare bedroom,’ Lucy said.
What Holly really wanted was her own space. Time to think about what she’d just learned and what it meant for her future. If Harry wasn’t going to trust her with the whole truth of his past, it wasn’t going to work between them. Was he really over his ex and the loss of their child? Was he only with her because she was expecting his baby and he felt obliged to stay with her?
‘That’s really kind of you,’ she said, ‘but I’ll be fine.’
Somehow she managed to make small talk with Harry’s friends during the rest of lunch, and then she insisted that she and Harry would do the washing up together.
‘Can we have a quiet word?’ she asked when they were halfway through.
He frowned. ‘Sure. What’s wrong?’
There was no point in pussyfooting about. She needed to know the truth. ‘When were you going to tell me about Rochelle’s baby?’
He blanched. ‘Oh, Christ. Who told you?’
‘It doesn’t matter—the person concerned thought I already knew. And you should’ve told me a long time ago.’ She scrubbed the last few plates a bit too hard. ‘Harry, you’re clearly with me just because you feel obliged to be with me.’
He looked aghast. ‘That’s not true.’
But she didn’t believe him. And she didn’t want to be with someone who was selective with the truth. Been there, done that, and worn the T-shirt. ‘I’m going home to my flat when I’ve done the washing up,’ she said. ‘On my own. Maybe we’ll talk when you get back from Berlin and you’ve had time to think about what you really want.’
‘But—’
‘No buts,’ she cut in, as gently as she could. ‘I don’t know what else you’ve been keeping from me.’
‘I haven’t kept anything from you.’
‘Lies of omission are still lies, Harry. I had enough lies from Simon to last me a lifetime, and I can’t spend the rest of my days wondering if you’re keeping me in the dark about something.’
‘Holly, I’m—’
‘When you’re back from Berlin,’ she cut in. ‘We’ll talk then. But right now I don’t want to see you. I need some space. Please thank Lucy and Carina for their hospitality. I’m going now, without any fuss.’ Even though it was ripping her apart. Even though she’d planned to go to the airport with Harry and wave him off, she couldn’t bear to do that now.
* * *
And just like that Harry’s world switched into monochrome. Even though it was an unseasonably warm autumn afternoon, it felt like a dull winter’s evening.
How could this all have gone so wrong?’
One thing he did know: there was no way he was letting Holly go.
He went to find Lucy. ‘Holly’s a bit tired,’ he said, ‘so she’s slipped off home, but she wanted me to say thank you for her.’
‘I’m really sorry that I dropped you in it,’ Lucy said, biting her lip. ‘I thought you’d told her about Rochelle.’
‘Not about the miscarriage,’ Harry said. ‘Given that Holly’s pregnant, it’s not exactly a good subject.’
‘I’m sorry if I caused a row between you.
‘You didn’t do it on purpose,’ Harry said.
‘But?’ she asked.
He sighed. ‘But she said she doesn’t want to talk to me until we get back from Berlin. Lucy, I know this is all last minute, but—’
‘You don’t want to go to Berlin with us,’ she finished.
‘Holly’s not like Rochelle. She didn’t give me any ultimatums,’ he said. ‘But I really can’t go until I’ve fixed this.’
‘Our flight’s this evening,’ Lucy reminded him.
‘But we’re not actually playing until tomorrow evening. I can book another flight for me for tomorrow morning,’ Harry said. ‘I know it’s going to mess up rehearsals, and I’m sorry.’
‘I guess it’ll mess things up more if your head’s all over the place. We’ll manage. Go after her,’ Lucy advised. ‘But just keep us posted about what’s happening tomorrow.’
‘I will.’ He hugged her. ‘Thanks.’
Except, when Harry turned up at Holly’s flat, she wasn’t there. And her phone went straight through to voicemail.
He sat on her doorstep. She’d told him that she was going back to her flat. Where else would she have gone? The most likely places were to her parents or to Natalie, but he didn’t want to risk going to the wrong place and missing her.
He pulled out his phone and called Natalie. As he’d half expected, she didn’t pick up.
She might be able to ignore a call, but she’d see a message. And hopefully she’d pass it on.
Please tell Holly I’m sitting on her doorstep and I’ve c
ancelled my flight.
He waited.
No response.
He gave it another ten minutes before he sent a second text.
And I’m not moving until she talks to me, even if I have to sit here for the entire night.
That did the trick, because his phone shrilled and Holly’s name came up on the screen. ‘You’re being melodramatic and ridiculous,’ she said crossly.
‘No,’ he said quietly. ‘Actually, I’m just desperate. And I’ll do whatever it takes so you’ll talk to me about this. Preferably face to face.’
‘Go home, Harry.’
‘I don’t want to go to Berlin and leave things like this between us. Please. Come and talk to me, Holly.’
‘Is there any point?’
‘I think so. But how will you know unless you hear what I have to say?’
There was a long, long pause, and for a nasty moment Harry thought he’d pushed her too far and she’d call the whole thing off. But finally she said, ‘I’ll give you twenty minutes.’
‘Thank you.’
It was forty minutes until the black cab dropped her outside.
‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked.
‘I can’t go to Berlin and leave things like this between us,’ he said.
‘It’s your job,’ she pointed out. ‘You’re supposed to play for three nights. You can’t just not turn up.’
‘I’ll get the redeye flight tomorrow—if we’ve sorted this out.’
‘Then I suppose you’d better come in.’ She unlocked the door and ushered him inside.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I know how you feel about lying. I honestly didn’t intend to hide anything from you.’ He grimaced. ‘I didn’t tell you about the miscarriage because you’re pregnant and I didn’t want to worry you. I did intend to tell you about it—but there never seemed to be a good time.’
* * *
Holly folded her arms. ‘Try now. I’m listening.’
‘I’ll tell you the truth. All of it. But this isn’t very nice,’ he warned. ‘I told you I was married. What I didn’t tell you was that although I thought I loved Rochelle at the time, the main reason I married her was because she told me she was pregnant. The baby wasn’t planned.’