by Penny Jordan
Her uncle looked slightly discomfited and Neil, who had said nothing to her about it since the morning he found her being sick in the hall, got up and hugged her tightly. ‘We’ll do all we can to help,’ he promised her. ‘Bags I be godfather! Just wait until I tell Rich!’
His twin was away in Australia working for a mineral exploration company, and Heather felt her mood lighten, tears stinging her eyes as she thought of how lucky she was in her family.
‘Uncle Roy, I want to buy a small house—I think it’s better if I move away—not too far away,’ she promised her aunt, ‘but it’s bound to be embarrassing for you.’
She bit her lip, unable to continue, laughing shakily when her aunt said robustly, ‘Nothing of the sort. My dear Heather, it’s positively trendy these days to have a daughter, sans husband but very much with child, about the place.’
* * *
‘What will you do about Jen?’ Neil asked. ‘You know what a blabbermouth she can be,’ he added with brotherly candour. ‘I take it she does know who the father is?’
They were on their own in the garden, Heather having gone there for a breath of fresh air, and he had followed her.
‘What makes you think I know?’ she asked dryly, and was rewarded by a flash of anger in the dark blue eyes.
‘It’s Neil, Heather, remember?’ he said brusquely. ‘I know you, and I know damned well that until you met this man you were still a virgin. Oh, come on,’ he said softly when she blushed. ‘I grew up with you—remember? You were always a princess dreaming in an ivory tower, inviolate and pure. Whoever he is, he must be quite someone.’
‘He is,’ Heather agreed on a sigh, ‘but someone who doesn’t feel about me the way I feel about him.’
In the end her dilemma with regard to Jennifer was solved when the latter appeared at the weekend with Terry in tow. They had come down to announce their engagement, and Jennifer took Heather on one side to tell her that she had done the right thing in leaving London.
‘He’s currently escorting Lady Davinia Fane and they’re making all the gossip columns, but I’m betting it won’t last. I’m sorry, Heather,’ she apologised, ‘but I thought he genuinely cared about you. You did the right thing to leave. If you’d stayed looking the way you do at the moment you might just as well tell the whole world how you feel about him. By the way,’ she added curiously, ‘what’s got into big brother Neil? He always did have a watch-dog approach towards you, but now….’ she pulled a wry face and said, ‘he’s already been cross-questioning me about you, who your friends are, etc., etc.’
Heather realised she would have to tell her cousin the truth. ‘I’m pregnant, Jen,’ she announced baldly. ‘Everyone else knows, but I haven’t told them the name of the father.’
‘Pregnant?’ Jennifer’s eyes were like saucers. ‘What are you going to do? Get rid of it?’ Heather winced and saw Jennifer pull a wry face. ‘Yes, I know, hardly delicate, am I? and knowing you, I was crass too—of course you won’t. I take it you don’t intend Race to know?’
‘What would be the point?’ Heather asked tiredly. ‘He didn’t want me before, and he’s even less likely to want me now. No, this baby is mine, Jen, my responsibility, mine completely….’
‘Except for the fact that Race fathered it,’ Jennifer pointed out mildly, ‘and I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. You say he won’t want the baby—I’m not so sure. I think you could find he has very strong views about his child.’
‘If he does I’m hardly likely to find out. Please don’t meddle this time, Jen,’ she warned. ‘I don’t want him to know. Give me your word you won’t say anything.’
Not until Jennifer gave it was she satisfied. The knowledge that Jennifer could be right when she said Race might have strong views about any child he fathered made her feel uneasy. This child was hers, the only thing she had left, and she intended to keep it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BOTH her aunt and uncle firmly refused to allow her to look for anywhere else to live, and their warmth and love were so comforting that Heather soon ceased to fight against them. Contrary to her expectations there were no whispered comments when she walked through the village, even when the flatness of her stomach began to blur, and her shape in the thin cotton dresses she had taken to wearing as spring drifted towards summer was quite distinctly that of a pregnant woman. She felt oddly contented; time seemed to merge and although she was aware of pain, of loneliness and heartache because there was no Race, nature, ever protective of her handiwork, gave her a layer of insulation against the pain. The baby started to kick and she smiled tremulously to feel the small arms and legs moving angrily, convinced that the child must be a boy. Neil teased and petted her, refusing to let her hide herself away, insisting that she accompany him to their local pub, taking her out to dinner, until she was forced to tell him gently that people would begin to think the child was his.
‘No way,’ he assured her softly, placing his palm against her rounded stomach, its warmth making the baby kick hard. ‘If this was mine you’d be wearing my ring, Heather—and sometimes I wish to God you were,’ he told her forcefully. ‘I know it’s useless, and I’ve had a long time to learn acceptance. I think I first fell in love with you when I saw you sitting up in the apple tree, covered in scratches because you’d gone after a kitten. I wanted to take you in my arms then and make you better.’
‘Instead of which you bawled me out until I cried,’ Heather remembered. ‘Oh, Neil, I never knew….’
‘I never intended you to,’ he said steadily. ‘I’m a realist, Heather, and I accept that I love you because I haven’t yet met the girl who can displace you. One day I hope I will. Until then, believe me, I have no objection to the whole world thinking that’s my child inside you.’
He raised her fingers to his lips, kissing them lightly, leaving her with an aching sense of waste and futility. Neil loved her, and she had never known, might never have known. And it was all such a waste, because she could never love him back, not in the same way.
As the year blossomed so did her body. May was warm with soft blue skies and light breezes, and her aunt commented that never had the adjective ‘blooming’ had such an apt application. ‘Don’t become too wrapped up in this baby, though, Heather,’ she warned her niece as they sat in the shade of the chestnut tree in the garden, the lawn scattered with remnants of the pink blossom. ‘Leave room in your life for other people.’
Heather knew her aunt meant another man, but she didn’t say anything. There would be no other man, at least not one who could come anywhere near taking Race’s place in her heart, she was reasonably certain of that.
Neil arrived just as they were finishing their tea. He flopped down on the lawn at Heather’s feet, leaning back, supporting his head with his interlocked hands. ‘I think I’ve sold the Radford place,’ he told them. ‘It’s been on the market for just over eighteen months, but it looks very much as though we’ve found a buyer.’
‘Your father will be pleased,’ his mother agreed.
‘Umm, I certainly am. It was beginning to become something of an albatross. Fancy celebrating with me?’ he asked Heather.
‘In this condition?’ she laughed down at him.
‘Why not? You aren’t in purdah, merely pregnant. I know you’re not ashamed about the baby, so that must mean you’re ashamed of being seen with me. What’s the matter? Aren’t I good enough to be considered its father?’
He got up and strode angrily into the house, and although the sun still shone Heather felt as though a shadow had fallen across the afternoon. She looked at her aunt. She was very still, unhappiness in her eyes. ‘He’s wrong,’ Heather told her huskily, ‘it’s not that, it’s just….’
‘That you don’t love him the way he loves you. I know, my dear, and I’m glad you have the honesty to tell him. Oh yes, I know how he feels about you.’ Lydia smiled wryly. ‘Mothers generally do.’
‘It would be much better if I found somewhere else to live,’ Heather sai
d unhappily, ‘If I wasn’t constantly under his feet….’
She noticed that although her aunt shook her head, she didn’t argue with her. It was bad for Neil having her living in the same house with him, and she suffered with him, knowing all too well the pain of unrequited love. But Neil was a man and essentially more practical than any woman could ever be. If he could find someone else he would forget her…. But he wouldn’t allow himself to find someone else. His attitude towards the coming baby was getting distinctly proprietorial, and Heather knew she was going to have to look for somewhere else to live. Affording her own home was no problem, but she liked living with her aunt and uncle; she enjoyed their company, and Neil’s.
She was being selfish, she told herself later that night as she prepared for bed. Dr Barnes had told her that she was underweight the last time she went for a check-up, although he had been quick to assure her that the baby was fine. ‘Better too little than too much,’ they had said at the hospital, meanwhile encouraging her to eat a little more.
‘I’m going into Gloucester today, why not come with me?’ Neil suggested over breakfast. There was no trace of his bad mood of the day before and Heather hesitated before accepting, before thinking that it would be a good opportunity for her to visit several estate agents in the town and to tell Neil of her decision to find a house of her own.
They set out immediately after breakfast, Neil taking care to make sure she was safely installed in his car. He was treating her like rare, fragile glass, and her heart ached because it wasn’t Race who was at her side, tenderly careful of her because she carried his child. Race! A day didn’t go by without her thinking of him; without her wondering what he was doing, but she had resolutely refused to question Jen, telling herself that this way it was easier and that hearing about him, talking about him could only add to her torment.
They found a parking spot without too much difficulty, and Heather was amused when Neil insisted that they went and had a cup of coffee before they started on their chores. She had several items to collect for her aunt, and Neil had some photographic equipment he wanted to collect from the specialist shop he used. Photography was still his main hobby, and she couldn’t help noticing the happiness in the smile the girl behind the counter gave him as they walked in, although it faded a little when she saw Heather.
‘Heather, meet Sue,’ Neil introduced when he had finished saying ‘hello’. ‘Her father owns this shop.’
‘I’m Neil’s cousin,’ Heather told her, taking pity on her and feeling her heart contract. Why, oh, why wasn’t life more simple? Why can’t we love those who love us?
‘Nice girl,’ Heather commented when they left the shop, adding slyly, ‘You used to be rather partial to blondes.’
‘I’ve booked us a table at the Grand for lunch,’ Neil told her, ignoring her teasing comment, ‘but first we have a very special errand to run. Come with me.’
Heather had no suspicion of what he intended until they came to the small and very expensive baby specialist shop tucked down a narrow street. Pastel-coloured continental clothes and equipment adorned the window, but Heather hesitated and would have pulled back if Neil hadn’t taken her arm and pushed her gently inside.
‘Neil….’ she began to protest, but he simply shook his head and whispered, ‘He’s going to be my godson, Heather, remember? Besides,’ he added impishly, ‘you know I’ve always preferred sporty models, and when I take him for a walk, I don’t particularly fancy pushing the Vicar’s niece’s old jalopy.’
Mary Simmonds, the Vicar’s niece, had offered Heather the pram her two children had outgrown, and Heather had accepted it, telling herself it would be an extravagance to buy a new one. But now, in this shop filled with the most expensive and elegant equipment money could buy, she felt like a very small child let loose in a sweet shop. It was ridiculous to get so excited at the thought of a mere pram, and she turned quickly to tell Neil that she wasn’t going to allow him to buy her one, when her attention was caught by a man walking purposefully down the street. He was wearing dark-coloured pants and a thin cotton shirt which moulded itself to his body as the breeze caught it. A faint feeling of disbelief swept over Heather as she watched him. It was Race, she knew it was!
A deep trembling began inside her, her entire attention concentrated on the tall, dark-haired man walking along the street. He paused and she got her first glimpse of his features. It was Race. What was he doing in Gloucester? She half expected him to look into the shop and see her, and time seemed to stand still for an eternity while she waited for him to do so, but he didn’t. And she saw him gradually disappear from view, her heart labouring in pain and disappointment.
* * *
‘Heather, what’s wrong?’ Neil’s voice was sharply concerned, his eyes shadowed with worry. ‘The baby?’
‘No… no, it’s nothing. I just felt a little bit faint,’ she fibbed. Race here; Race so close that she could almost have touched him. Pain curled and exploded inside her, tearing her apart making her long to run after him. She was behaving like a hysterical teenager, she upbraided herself, trying to concentrate on what Neil was saying, but she couldn’t force herself to pay attention, and it was only as they left the shop that she realised that she had let Neil talk her into having the most expensive pram they had.
He watched her closely over lunch, and his concern was like a warm, comforting quilt, insulating her from the rest of the world, but what was the use of a quilt when all she longed for was the abrasive reality of Race?
On their way back to the car they had to pass the offices of the local paper, and knowing that Neil sometimes contributed photographs to it, Heather paused, her face paling as she recognised her own face staring back at her from several they had on display.
But the Heather Neil had portrayed was a far cry from the model girl she had been. He had photographed her lying under the chestnut tree, the light cotton of her dress doing nothing to conceal her pregnancy, but it was her face that caught her eye, the vulnerable, dreaming expression in her eyes, and the soft pleasure of her mouth. One hand rested possessively on her stomach and it seemed to Heather that the photograph shrieked of her satisfaction in carrying Race’s child, her eyes warm with remembered pleasure at the begetting of it.
‘Oh, Neil, how could you?’ she expostulated, feeling her face colour. The photograph had been taken in a private and unguarded moment, and just looking at it made Heather feel acutely vulnerable.
‘I couldn’t resist,’ Neil said huskily. ‘To me you epitomise everything that’s womanly in a woman, Heather.’ And to her consternation he bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips before letting her go, and for all the fact that she was nearly as tall as he was himself Heather had never felt quite as feminine and protected in all her life.
And therein lay the danger, she thought wryly as they walked back to the car. Neil was giving her all the care and attention she would have loved to get from Race, and wasn’t she in danger of relying on him too much, of using him to bolster her courage, which wasn’t fair on him?
‘Even like this, men still fancy you,’ Neil told her with a grin as they reached the end of the street. ‘When I kissed you just then, there was a guy watching us as though he’d like to slit my throat!’
‘Perhaps he didn’t know we were just kissing cousins,’ Heather said lightly, disengaging her fingers from him.
‘Is that all we are, Heather?’
She took a deep breath and turned to face him. ‘You know it is, Neil,’ she answered firmly. ‘I love you—as a brother.’
‘And I love you as a woman.’ He sounded bitter, angry almost, and Heather felt a momentary pang. How simple it would be to give in, to let Neil take over and shield her all her life with his love! But then she remembered seeing Race. That one brief glance had been enough to reactivate all she had felt for him, and she knew that her affection for Neil was only a pale shadow of her love for Race. She couldn’t cheat them both by pretending otherwise.
&nb
sp; Race. What had he been doing in Gloucester? She toyed with the idea of ringing Jen, and then dismissed it, telling herself that she was only torturing herself by doing that.
Neil insisted on them making a detour on the way back, and they stopped at one of the Cotswold villages for Heather to stretch her legs.
Her aunt seemed unusually flustered when they got back. She had had a phone call from some old friends who apparently wanted them to drive over and have lunch with them the following day.
‘Pa won’t like that,’ Neil told her laconically, helping himself to a handful of the salad she was preparing. ‘He always plays golf on Sunday mornings.’
‘Well, tomorrow you’re going to have to stand in for me,’ his father announced, walking in almost on cue. ‘It’s all arranged,’ he added when Neil started to protest, ‘your mother is insisting that I go with her, and I can’t let Reg Barnes down now. Besides, you enjoy a game.’
‘I had planned to take Heather out for a run tomorrow,’ Neil protested, and Heather, not wanting to spoil her aunt and uncle’s plans, said quickly, ‘Oh no, Neil, I had planned to look at some houses tomorrow.’
She saw his face and added quietly, ‘I think it’s for the best, and….’
‘No, Heather, you mustn’t do any such thing on your own,’ she heard her aunt insist firmly, much to her surprise. ‘Now you must promise me you will stay here tomorrow, I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace if I thought you were tramping up and down flights of stairs on your own.’
In the end Heather gave way. She could tell that Neil wasn’t at all pleased at her decision, but what else could she do? If only he could meet someone else—but he was hardly likely to do that, she admitted wryly, when he insisted on sticking to her side like glue.
She was up early in the morning, unable to sleep, tormented by images of Race, all her love and longing for him resurrected by that one brief sight of him. What had he been doing? She nibbled her bottom lip as she made the breakfast, wondering if she was right in thinking that the Fane family had a property in the Cotswolds. Could that be it? Could he be staying with Lady Davinia, and her family? She tried not to admit the anguish the thought brought, wandering restlessly round the large family kitchen as she waited for her aunt and uncle to come down.