by Daphne Clair
‘Not for want of trying, I sometimes think.’
Annys frowned. ‘You’re talking nonsense.’
He smiled, not answering, and Annys drove on in silence.
The meal was all she had promised him, and the view over the harbour was magnificent. Ferries drew white furrows back and forth across the blue water, and even though it was a weekday there were small launches zipping about under the Harbour Bridge and yachts with coloured sails flirting around a long container ship coming into port.
They talked little as they ate, beyond mutual enquiries as to how their business lives were progressing. ‘I’m impressed,’ Reid said, when she told him she was opening her fifth shop, this time in Sydney, across the Tasman Sea. ‘Is this a good time to be expanding though? You’re not afraid of overcommitting yourself?’
‘My accountant is perfectly happy,’ she said crisply. ‘We’ve gone into all the possible pitfalls very thoroughly.’
Reid shrugged. ‘Just a comment.’
She supposed she’d sounded defensive. ‘I saw your Japanese-Australian project last time I was in Australia. It’s quite a show-place. There was a shop vacant in the mall there that I looked at. It didn’t suit me, I want to start off right in the city centre, but it’s a fascinating concept, isn’t it? Cradle-to-grave living, with everything laid on, no need to leave the complex for anything you need, except perhaps stimulation.’
‘The theory is that all the stimulation residents need is right there.’
‘I know. Libraries, sports venues, a theatre—but...’
‘You’d want a change. Well, the residents aren’t prisoners. They can go wherever they want, if having everything they need on tap palls.’
‘Mmm.’ Annys was looking down at her shrimp salad. ‘I think it would.’
‘For you. Some people need security more than they need stimulation.’
Annys thought of her parents, their shock and distress when the security of her father’s job had suddenly been taken away. They had never got over that. They had not been really happy about her being in business on her own, but she’d pointed out that nothing was safe, and they’d come to accept her choice.
She picked up a crisp pink shrimp on her fork, and put it down again, swallowing on a sudden rise of nausea. She took a gulp of her white wine, and then wished she hadn’t. It definitely hadn’t helped.
Reid said, ‘Have you seen your doctor lately?’
‘What?’ Her eyes flew to his face. Surely he couldn’t have guessed!
‘You said your doctor sent you on that holiday. I must say it doesn’t seem to have done you a lot of good. You look quite pale. I suppose you’ve been working yourself half to death ever since you came back.’
‘Actually,’ Annys told him, ‘she says I’m perfectly fit.’ Then she stood up rather suddenly. ‘Excuse me a minute.’ Clutching her serving napkin in one hand, she walked to the ladies’ room, trying not to hurry.
Ten minutes later she rejoined him at the table, and essayed a brittle smile. ‘Sorry. What were you saying?’
‘I was saying you don’t look well,’ Reid told her bluntly. ‘What’s the matter, Annys?’
‘Nothing, I’m perfectly all right.’ She picked up her fork again and toyed with the food on her plate. But after a minute she had to put it down again. ‘The shrimps don’t seem as good as usual,’ she tried, shamelessly maligning the chef.
‘You haven’t actually eaten any,’ Reid pointed out. ‘In fact you’ve barely touched your meal at all. Want to order something else?’
‘No. No, thanks. I’m just not very hungry.’
She forced some salad and bread roll down, and made a pretence of sipping her wine. When the waiter took away her still almost full plate, she refused dessert, and Reid said, ‘I don’t need coffee if you don’t. You’d rather go, wouldn’t you?’
She nodded, unspeakably grateful, and he paid the bill without any demur from her.
He took her arm as they descended a flight of stairs to the street. ‘What have you been doing to yourself?’ he asked as she unlocked the car.
‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘Oh, yeah? Then tell me why you’re as pale as death, and you couldn’t bring yourself to eat a single shrimp— you always loved shrimps.’
‘I still do.’ Her stomach heaved. She never wanted to see a shrimp again.
‘Shall I drive?’ Reid asked.
That would only make it worse. ‘Why? I just said, I’m all right.’
Reid gave her a look of extreme disbelief. ‘Why don’t you just admit you’re feeling seedy, and be done with it?’
‘All right,’ Annys gave in. ‘I feel a little off colour, Something I ate.’
‘When?’
‘I don’t know!’ she said. ‘Breakfast.’
‘You never eat breakfast.’
‘My doctor said I should.’ She’d been told to have something in the morning, for the baby’s sake and to help prevent morning sickness. But this morning she’d been too tense to remember, thinking about what she was going to say to Reid. And this was the result, she reflected as she fought down another wave of nausea and started the engine,
‘So what did you have?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Reid! What does it matter? It’s none of your business, anyway.’
He lapsed into tight-lipped silence, and maintained it until they reached the white, Mediterranean-style house she had fallen in love with eighteen months ago. Purple bougainvillaea trailed across the archway between house and garage, and plantings of native shrubs softened the stark walls.
‘Very nice,’ he said, following her from the garage across the red-tiled patio.
She opened the door and ushered him into a cool-looking living-room with pale grey leather upholstery and smoked glass tables, warmed by the vibrant colours of an oriental rug on the floor.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘I’ll make you some coffee.’
In the kitchen she found some soda and downed a glass. The sickness was receding, and by the time she’d made two cups of coffee, one very weak for herself, and carried them through she felt almost normal.
Reid hadn’t sat down. He was looking out of the big window at the roofs of the houses that ambled down the tree-dotted slope, and the view of more houses and trees with a distant glimpse of blue water.
When she put the coffee-cups on the table in front of the sofa, he came and took one and reluctantly sat down. She could have carried it across to give it to him, but she wasn’t keen to have him standing over her while she sat.
He drank his coffee quickly, and for a minute she wondered if he was going to stand up again and start pacing, but instead he turned round, laid an arm along the back of the sofa and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Annys almost dropped her coffee-cup.
He couldn’t possibly know, she thought wildly. She’d told absolutely no one. Not even Kate.
Her shocked eyes on his face, she said, ‘What on earth are you talking about? If you’re jumping to conclusions just because I’ve picked up some kind of bug—’
‘It’s no bug,’ Reid said. ‘You’re pregnant. I’m assuming that I’m the father—’
‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t make assumptions!’
That brought him up short. His eyes were suddenly sharp, and angry. ‘Don’t play games with me, Annys. I know damn well you’re pregnant, and I know it’s my baby!’
Annys got up, backing away from him. ‘You can’t know either of those things!’
But Reid had followed her. He caught her arm and said, ‘Look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong, then.’
She looked at him and tried, but in the end she could only mutter, ‘I don’t have to tell you anything. And how the hell did you know?’
‘I can see—I can’t describe it, I guess it’s hormonal or something. There’s a look now and then, like a light going on somewhere inside you. Some women apparently h
ave it when they’re pregnant. It only lasts a second or two, but I’ve seen it before, and I never forgot it. You’ve always been beautiful, but it makes you breathtaking. It happened just now, when you came into the room.’
She was half inclined not to believe him. Yet how else could he have been so certain? ‘Anyway, there’s nothing to prove that it’s yours.’
‘You told me there was no one waiting. Are you telling me that you found someone in the last two months? Or that you got pregnant from some casual sexual encounter?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s what it was.’
His face went pale and taut. Then he gave a short, harsh laugh. ‘Is that how you think of it?’
‘How else was I supposed to think of it?’ she demanded.
‘We were married at one time,’ he reminded her.
It was Annys’s turn to laugh. ‘Legally we’re unmarried now.’
‘Legally,’ he agreed, dismissing the technical point with impatience.
Annys turned away from him. ‘Anyway, it’s not your problem,’ she said dismissively. ‘I’ll handle it.’
Reid swore so loudly and explicitly that she swung about to face him, her eyes wide. When he reached for her, she flinched away from the rage in his eyes, but he had her shoulders in a hard grasp as though he would like to shake her. ‘You bitch!’ he said, his voice low and distinct. ‘You weren’t going to tell me, were you?’
She stared back at him, seeing an angry stranger, her silence confirming his accusation.
His grip fractionally loosened. ‘How were you going to “handle” it, Annys? Did you hope you could quietly get rid of it without my ever knowing?’
‘No!’ That hadn’t even crossed her mind. How could he have thought so?
‘No?’ His narrow stare was frankly sceptical. ‘Why should I believe you?’
Annys blazed. ‘Believe what you damn well like! I don’t have to justify myself to you!’
‘Who’s asking?’ he snapped. ‘All I’m saying...’ He stopped there, making an effort at controlling his temper. On a lower note, he went on, ‘All I’m saying is that this concerns both of us, it’s our child. And I resent not being given a chance to take my share of the responsibility.’
Annys mockingly opened her eyes wide. ‘Responsibility? Now there’s a new word for you! I don’t need any money from you, Reid, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Let’s cut the sarcasm,’ he suggested. ‘And I wasn’t talking about money.’
‘What are you talking about, then?’ She moved experimentally, and his hands slid from her arms.
‘I’m talking about giving this child a chance,’ he said. ‘Giving it a life. I know you’re the one who’s physically going to have to carry it, but I’ll support you in any way that I can. And I know you have a business to run. Well, I can help there, too.’
‘I don’t need—’
‘At least until the baby’s born, Annys,’ he urged her. ‘Give me the right to look after you. Afterwards you can hand the child over to me. I’ll take full responsibility from then on. You can walk away.’
Annys couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Walk away from her own child? ‘What on earth do you think I am?’ she asked him. ‘I’m not going to carry a child for nine months and give birth to it and then leave it! Not with you, not with anyone!’
‘So what do you plan to do?’ he asked tautly. ‘You can at least tell me that!’
‘I’ve hardly had time to make plans,’ she said. ‘I only found out yesterday. What I’m not planning to do is let anyone take this baby away from me, either before or after it’s born!’
Reid’s frown cleared, and he sat down. ‘Well, that’s a relief!’ he said, pushing his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t understand you,’ Annys said, bewildered. He glanced up. ‘That’s mutual. I find you totally baffling.’
Annys shook her head. Nothing made sense. ‘You want this child. Why?’
About to say something, he suddenly looked away from her, his face closing. ‘Let’s say, I’m not getting any younger,’ he hedged. ‘And,’ he added, apparently making up his mind, and casting her a challenging look, ‘it isn’t only the child I want.’
Me, Annys thought. He’s saying he wants me. ‘You just said I could walk away.’
His mouth was wry. ‘I figured you’d find it hard to do that, once the baby was born.’
Impossible. It would be impossible, she knew. ‘You play dirty,’ she said.
He laughed. ‘I meant what I said about looking after you—both of you. Think about it, will you, Annys?’ He reached out and drew her down beside him, and sat looking at their linked hands.
Something very odd was happening. She felt a soft, treacherous warmth inside. She didn’t need looking after, she reminded herself. But the offer nevertheless had a seductive attraction.
‘Are you sure,’ she said, ‘that’s what you want?’ If so, he had certainly changed.
‘Yes. Very sure.’ Reid looked up at her. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Fine.’ The sickness had quite disappeared. ‘I hadn’t been sick before, only I didn’t eat anything this morning.’
He frowned. ‘You do need someone to keep an eye on you.’ He glanced about him. ‘I could move in here,’ he said abruptly, ‘and be on hand to make sure you do eat something in the mornings, and don’t overwork.’
Annys gaped at him. ‘What?’
‘Someone needs to,’ he said.
‘We’re divorced!’
His eyes cooled, and he released her hand. ‘I’m not suggesting we share a bed. I’ll pay you board if you like.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘I’m assuming you wouldn’t want to come to Wellington and live with me.’
‘Neither of us needs to—’
‘Well, if you won’t move, I certainly will.’
‘What about your consultancy?’
‘Most of what I do can be done just as easily from here. I don’t travel so much these days. We have some very experienced staff who can manage nearly all of that.’
He had changed, she thought. Reid had once been very hot on keeping all the reins in his own hands. ‘Don’t you have any—personal commitments in Wellington?’
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘If you mean a woman, no. I thought I’d told you, I’m not committed to anyone. If I had been, you wouldn’t be in the—the state that you are now.’
‘There’s really no need for you to disrupt your life.’
‘I’m not. I’m reorganising it slightly, that’s all.’
‘If you come here, people will think—’
‘That we’re back together. It’s nobody’s business but ours. Do you care?’
He knew she didn’t give a toss what people might think. She could hardly plead a liking for conventionality. ‘You know I don’t,’ she said. ‘But has it occurred to you I might not want you monitoring my every move?’
‘It occurs,’ he said softly. ‘I know how damned independent you are.’
Once he hadn’t thought it was a flaw. ‘I won’t be bullied,’ she warned him.
‘I don’t recall ever bullying you.’ He smiled. ‘In fact, I’d like to see anyone try.’
‘You did,’ she accused him. ‘A couple of times on the Toroa, for instance.’
‘Ah. You gave as good as you got. My definition of bullying is attacking someone too weak to fight back. And as I remember,’ he continued, his eyes darkening in reminiscence, ‘you didn’t exactly want to—’
Annys looked away. ‘That’s not the point.’
‘That’s how we got to this,’ he reminded her. ‘It’s never been all over between us, has it, Annys? Never will be.’
Not now, she supposed. Now they had created a new life between them, a link to the future, which bound them in some fashion forever. Part of her rejoiced in that. Another part was frightened by the thought of becoming involved again with Reid. There was too much pain and uncertainty in loving him.
> Fatalistically, she accepted that she had never stopped loving him. That was why she was even entertaining the idea of letting him come to live with her, crazy though it seemed. It was why she had let him make love to her again, on the beach, without giving a thought to consequences, perhaps even welcoming the faint possibility of becoming pregnant. That fraught day when they had both been near to death; perhaps they had been driven partly by a need to reaffirm life. Perhaps the conception of this baby had not been as accidental as they liked to believe.
Reid said, ‘What are you thinking?’
Annys shook her head. She couldn’t tell him all that. ‘I really don’t need you—’
Reid stood up. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You never have. I know that. But I’m going to be here for you, Annys, whether you want me or not. If not here, in this house, then as close as I can get. You’re not going through this alone. I’ll be in touch.’
She watched in stunned silence as he strode to the door and left, shutting it decisively behind him.
‘Did you plan it?’ Kate asked cautiously when Annys broke the news to her.
‘No, it wasn’t planned, but I’m going through with it and keeping the baby,’ Annys told her.
‘Good for you,’ Kate said warmly. ‘If I can help at all, don’t hesitate, will you?’
Annys smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks. Just knowing that you’re in charge is a help. I’ll be cutting down on my visits to the outlets, and putting a hold on developing new markets for a while. We’re stretched as it is. What I’d like to do is hire an assistant for you, give you some of the work that I’ve been doing, and go back to concentrating on design myself. I don’t want anything to go wrong with this pregnancy. Will you mind doing a bit of travelling?’
‘Sounds fine to me,’ Kate said cheerfully. ‘The family’s old enough now to cope without me for the odd few days. I’ve brought them up to be fairly self-sufficient.’
‘I might need some advice on that, some time,’ Annys told her. ‘I don’t have much experience with children.’
‘Any time. Being a single mother won’t be easy,’ Kate said sympathetically, ‘but I’m sure you’ll handle it. Is the father... is he likely to be around much?’