His Brother's Son

by Jennifer Taylor

  He got up, suddenly too on edge to sit still. He prowled around the room, picking up a book from the coffee-table and putting it down again, taking an ornament off the shelf then replacing it. His hand brushed against a photograph which had been propped against a small glass vase, and he sighed when it fell to the floor.

  He picked it up and felt his heart ache when he realised that it was a picture of Antonio holding Josh. If Rebecca hadn’t told him that story about how his brother had loved to sit holding the baby, he might not have recognised Antonio. He was a doctor and he’d seen the devastation that cancer could cause many times, but it was hard to believe that this gaunt-faced man was the brother whom he had loved and cared for most of his adult life.

  ‘That was taken two days before he died.’

  He looked round when he realised that Rebecca had come back into the room. He felt so choked with emotion that it was impossible to reply, and she seemed to understand that. A frisson raced through him because he had never imagined that a woman like her would be capable of such sensitivity.

  ‘I always think Antonio looks so peaceful in that photo. That’s why I like to keep it where I can see it.’

  She came and stood beside him and he could smell the scent of baby soap and talc that clung to her skin. Reaching out, she ran her finger over the picture and there was something almost heartbreakingly sad about the way she let it linger on his brother’s smiling face.

  ‘It’s his smile, I think. He looks like a man who’s been given the one thing he wanted most.’

  Felipe cleared his throat but it was an effort to rid his voice of all the emotion he could feel welling inside him. ‘You mean Josh?’

  ‘Yes. Having Josh was the most important thing that could have happened to Antonio. It made everything else bearable.’

  He heard the fervour in her voice and frowned. It was obviously important to her that he should believe that, and he couldn’t understand why. He’d accepted that the thought of the baby had helped Antonio through those last, difficult days so why did Rebecca feel it was necessary to stress that to him?

  Once again he had the feeling that there was a lot he didn’t understand, but he also knew that he would have to bide his time. She would only tell him what she wanted him to know. Maybe it would help if he tried to win her confidence, although the thought wasn’t wholly a comfortable one. Becoming the confidant of this woman wasn’t a role he’d planned on playing.

  ‘Did you look after Antonio or did he have someone else to take care of him?’ he said, deliberately keeping his tone free from any hint of criticism.

  It was something which had bothered him many times; he had lain awake wondering if Antonio had been well cared for after he’d left hospital.

  ‘Both. I took care of his day-to-day needs—washing, feeding and so on—and the hospital arranged for the Macmillan nurses to visit him each day. They were absolutely marvellous. They are specialist nurses who deal with the care of the terminally ill and they were able to adjust Antonio’s drugs regime as and when necessary.’

  She moved away and sat on the sofa, tilting back her head and closing her eyes just as Felipe had done a short time before. The comparison made his skin prickle, as though it had forged a bond between them.

  He cleared his throat again, deeply disturbed by the idea that he and Rebecca might have anything in common. ‘If Antonio had been persuaded to stay in hospital, he would not have needed to be treated by them.’

  ‘No, he wouldn’t.’ A smile curled her mouth, although she didn’t open her eyes. ‘I lost count of the number of times I tried explaining that to him, but he wouldn’t listen. And in the end he was proved right.’

  ‘Right? How can you say that?’ Anger flowed through him and he glared at her even though she couldn’t see his expression. ‘My brother might have lived another six months if he’d remained in hospital!’

  ‘Yes, he might have done. But you’re a doctor and you must have some experience of dealing with patients with terminal cancer. There comes a point when the decision has to be made either to prolong life or to try and improve its quality.’

  Her eyes suddenly opened and Felipe was surprised when he saw the assurance they held. ‘Antonio refused to undergo any more treatment because it made him feel so ill. He thought it all through and weighed up what he was doing. His consultant had told him that there was no possibility of them curing him—they were simply trying to buy him extra time. He decided that he preferred quality to quantity.’

  It made sense. In the logical part of his mind, Felipe knew that, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t accept that she hadn’t been the one to influence his brother for her own ends.

  ‘And the fact that Antonio’s decision fitted in so perfectly with your plans was just a bonus?’ he said acidly.

  ‘I didn’t try to influence Antonio in any way,’ she stated, and there was something about her calmness and lack of emotion that made it impossible to dispute what she had said.

  Felipe felt his head whirl as once again he was forced to reassess his opinion of her. Rebecca hadn’t persuaded Antonio to refuse treatment. The decision had been his brother’s. Was it the shock of realising that which filled him with such relief?

  He pushed that thought to the back of his mind as Rebecca got up and went to the old-fashioned bureau by the door. Opening one of the drawers, she took out a wad of photographs and handed them to him.

  ‘These are all of Antonio, taken shortly after he found out about Josh right up till the week he died.’ She gave a husky laugh. ‘He used to groan every time I appeared with the camera, but it seemed important that Josh should have some idea what his father looked like in years to come.’

  Felipe sat down because his legs suddenly felt too weak to hold him. He flicked through the pictures then went back to the beginning and studied them more slowly. He could see the deterioration in his brother’s appearance as the months had passed, and yet the one thing that struck him was that even though his health had been failing, Antonio had looked increasingly serene.

  ‘Did he not feel bitter about what was happening?’ he asked, staring at the pictures one after the other.

  ‘Oh, yes, at first he did. He was very bitter—and angry, too. Who wouldn’t be? He was twenty-five and going to die.’ She sighed. ‘We spent night after night talking it all through, trying to make sense of it, but you can’t rationalise something like that, can you? In the end, Antonio realised that himself.’

  ‘Was he working at the time—when he found out that he was ill, I mean?’ he asked, wondering if he would have had the strength of mind to cope. It shook him that his brother—the brother he had always taken care of—had dealt with his illness with such equanimity because Felipe himself wasn’t sure if he could have managed that.

  ‘Yes, and he continued working right up until a couple of months before he died.’

  She came and sat beside him on the sofa and he felt a tremor run through his body when she leant over to look at the photographs. All of a sudden he was so deeply aware of her that he could barely breathe. He could feel the warmth of her arm next to his, the slight pressure of her hip as she settled herself more comfortably on the seat. He had to make a conscious effort to drag some air into his lungs, yet he still felt strangely breathless after he had done so.

  ‘He worked as a session musician at one of the clubs not far from here. He played guitar, as you know, and a couple of nights they gave him a solo spot when Tara wasn’t singing.’

  ‘Tara?’ he queried automatically, forcing himself to concentrate when she carried on speaking. He felt a sharp stab of pain spear him. It grieved him to realise how far apart he and Antonio had drifted. He’d had no idea that his brother had been earning his living through his music. It had been Antonio’s dream, of course, the only thing he had ever wanted to do and the cause of that dreadful argument they’d had.

  Antonio had wanted to be a musician and he had tried to persuade him to choose a different career, something th
at would be more lucrative and stable. How very pointless it all seemed now.

  Felipe looked up when he realised that Rebecca hadn’t answered, and felt his heart turn over when he saw the expression on her face. He couldn’t recall ever seeing anyone who looked as stricken as she did at that moment.

  He took another deep breath but his voice sounded strained when it emerged. Maybe he was mistaken, but he had a gut feeling that her answer might hold the key to what had really gone on.

  ‘Who is Tara? And what was her relationship to my brother?’

  Becky could feel her pulse racing. She couldn’t believe she had allowed Tara’s name to slip out!

  She summoned a smile but she knew how difficult it was going to be to extricate herself from this mess. Felipe was obviously suspicious and she had to be extremely careful what she said.

  ‘Tara Lewis. She sings at the club where Antonio worked. Antonio went out with her for a time when he first arrived in London.’ She shrugged. ‘We met after he and Tara had split up so that’s all I can tell you, I’m afraid.’

  She stood up, gathering together the photographs to give herself a breathing space, but her heart was racing. Had Felipe believed her?

  She shot him a wary glance and bit her lip when she saw the frown on his handsome face. Although there was a strong resemblance between him and Antonio, it was far more difficult to tell what Felipe was thinking. She took rapid stock of the thin-lipped, oddly sensual mouth, the long straight nose with its slightly flaring nostrils and the angular cheekbones in the hope that it might help if she took note of the similarities between the two men.

  There definitely was a strong family likeness, although Felipe’s features were more austere than Antonio’s. His hair was just as thick and black as Antonio’s had been when she’d met him, but whereas Antonio had worn his long, Felipe’s was cut very short, the crisp strands lying neatly against his well-shaped head.

  Once again that day he was wearing a suit, and again the fine black cloth was tailored to perfection. His white shirt looked as fresh as when he must have put it on that morning and his burgundy silk tie was perfectly knotted.

  Antonio hadn’t even possessed a suit to her knowledge. She certainly hadn’t seen him wearing one. Jeans and a shirt had been his usual attire and she couldn’t remember him ever wearing anything else.

  His style had been casual, easygoing, a world removed from the sophisticated face Felipe presented to the world. Maybe she should take that as a warning. It would be a mistake to underestimate what Felipe was capable of by comparing him to his brother.

  ‘How long exactly were you and my brother together?’

  Becky started nervously when he spoke and some of the photographs shot out of her hands and fell onto the floor. Bending, she scooped them into a pile then jumped again when Felipe handed her one that had slid under the sofa.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, walking to the bureau. She placed the photos back in the drawer then turned to face him, praying that he couldn’t tell how difficult this was for her. It would be so easy to make another slip. The last thing she wanted was for him to start adding everything up and working out that she couldn’t possibly be Josh’s mother.

  ‘I really can’t see where this is leading. What difference does it make how long Antonio and I were together? We had Josh, didn’t we?’

  ‘So you did, and that should tell me everything I need to know.’

  He stood up abruptly and she had to physically stop herself backing away when he came towards her. ‘After all, it’s the child who is my main concern now, my brother’s son. It is his future I intend to focus on.’

  ‘Of course. But what you said about us moving to Mallorca…well, you do realise that it is out of the question?’

  She summoned a smile but the way he was looking at her wasn’t reassuring. ‘My life is here in England and I have no intention of uprooting myself and Josh.’

  ‘I don’t see that you have any choice, Rebecca, not if you want to keep your son.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded, feeling the blood starting to drum in her temples again.

  ‘Simply that I’m sure, with the right lawyers at my disposal, I could make a very good case if I decided to sue for custody of the child.’

  He smiled but there wasn’t a hint of warmth in his eyes as they skimmed her face. ‘Once I point out to the judge that you only had the baby so that it would give you a certain…leverage over my brother then I’m sure he would find in my favour.

  ‘You had Josh purely and simply for the money, didn’t you, Rebecca? It’s taken a little time for everything to slot into place, but I know that I’m right. Antonio bought himself a son. It’s as simple as that.’

  Felipe watched the guilty colour sweep up her face and knew that he was right. Rebecca had had the baby as a means to extract money from his brother.

  It was an effort to hide his disgust but he knew that it would be giving her an advantage if he let her see how much it had upset him to finally learn the truth. He had to pretend that it made no difference, but he knew in his heart that it did.

  He felt deeply and bitterly disappointed, and the fact that he could feel such an emotion about this woman dismayed him. He’d known all along what she was like, so why should he feel upset because he had been proved right?

  Suddenly, he knew that he couldn’t take any more. He turned and strode to the door, barely pausing when she called out ‘Wait!’ in a quavery little voice. He turned to look at her, steeling himself when he saw the total absence of colour in her face.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What do you intend to do…about Josh, I mean?’

  ‘That depends on what you decide to do, Rebecca.’ He shrugged, striving for a nonchalance he wished he felt. ‘I am not prepared to leave my brother’s son here in England with you. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘But I have a job here, a home, friends,’ she protested.

  ‘You will have a job and a home in Mallorca. As for friends—well, that will be up to you, of course. Although, naturally, I would take a poor view of you becoming involved with anyone unsuitable. It might be best if you concentrated on being a mother for a while and forgot about your love life.’

  He saw her open her mouth then shut it again, and found himself wondering what she’d been going to say before she had thought better of it. Had she been about to claim to him that her only concern was her child?

  Felipe felt a bitter laugh welling inside him and turned so that Rebecca couldn’t see his expression. Women like her were magnets to men, and it wouldn’t be long before she found someone else to take Antonio’s place, if she hadn’t already done so, of course.

  The thought stung far more than it should, but he gave no sign of it as he walked along the hall. He let himself out of the flat and in deference to the sleeping child didn’t slam the door behind him as he felt like doing. The encounter had left a sour taste in his mouth, a feeling of heaviness in his heart. As he strode down the stairs Felipe inwardly cursed.

  Damn Rebecca Williams and her scheming and conniving, her trickery and treachery. Damn her for being everything he had thought she would be, and worse!

  Becky heard the door closing and only then did she let herself breathe. Her lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen but Felipe’s accusation had stolen her ability to perform such a rudimentary task. He had been right in a way and yet so horribly wrong that it was the bitterest kind of irony. It hadn’t been her who had sold her baby but Tara!

  She made herself take another deep breath in the hope that it would ease the pain she felt. Maybe it was silly to get upset, but it hurt to know that he believed her capable of such a dreadful thing. However, Felipe’s views on her really weren’t the most pressing issue at the moment. She had to decide what she intended to do.

  The choice appeared to be perfectly simple—she could agree to Felipe’s demands and move to Mallorca with Josh, and by so doing she had would obtain the money she needed to pay Tara
, or she could refuse and end up with nothing. She didn’t doubt that Tara would carry out her threat to take her to court—and even if she didn’t, Felipe would.

  A bitter smile curled her mouth. It didn’t seem like much of a choice after all.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said that I’m moving to Mallorca at the end of the month.’ Becky summoned a smile but it was hard to maintain an outward show of happiness when her heart felt like lead.

  She had spent a sleepless night, trying to find another solution to her problems, but the answer kept coming out the same no matter which way she approached it. If she moved to Mallorca she would be able to pay off Tara. It would also mean that she could get Josh out of London because she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Tara wouldn’t demand more money at some point in the future. Moving to Mallorca would solve that problem, although it was bound to create others.

  Her heart lurched at the thought of what Felipe might do if he found out the truth—that she wasn’t Josh’s real mother—but she couldn’t worry about that now. She had to deal with this a step at a time, and the first step was to inform her colleagues of her decision, as she was in the process of doing.

  ‘I don’t know what to say…I mean it’s all rather sudden, isn’t it, Becky?’ Simon Montague’s pleasant face filled with concern. They were in the staff canteen, having their lunch, and he leant forward so that the people at the next table couldn’t hear him. ‘You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?’

  ‘Of course not! Why on earth do you think that?’ She tried to laugh but it sounded too forced to be convincing and she saw Simon frown.

  ‘Because nobody makes a rush decision like this about their future.’ He shook his head when she went to speak. ‘No, don’t, Becky. I can tell you’re going to deny it, but I know I’m right. Karen told me about Josh’s uncle turning up yesterday and how upset you appeared to be. Has this anything to do with him?’