Solo

by Jill Mansell

  “Fifteen years?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Why not fifty?”

  “When Olivia is fifteen, if she has any spirit at all, she’ll destroy the evidence before you get a chance to humiliate her in front of her boyfriends.”

  But Ross was unperturbed. “I’ll keep copies in a bank vault. A first tooth should be preserved for posterity. And you’re still avoiding the subject,” he continued, determined that she wasn’t going to wriggle out of it. “Theo Panayiotou is a perfectly nice guy, kind to children and animals and thoroughly respectable. The fact that he’s a billionaire shouldn’t put you off, either. You painted Nico’s portrait, so why are you hesitating this time? It’s a brilliant chance, Tess. You’d be crazy to pass it up.”

  She was only too acutely aware of that fact, but she also knew that actually painting the portrait wasn’t the issue.

  The catch, the big catch, was that Theo Panayiotou would be staying in Edinburgh, and the plan was that she and Ross should travel up together. He had a hotel to look over, he had explained, and Theo was interested in partnering him in the deal. In between business meetings, he would sit for her while she painted his portrait. It all sounded incredibly logical and innocent, on the surface. But could she really trust Ross? And worse, she thought as she pretended to concentrate hard on the watercolor before her, could she really trust herself?

  “Your mother is stalling,” Ross gravely informed their daughter. “I have this feeling she’s running out of excuses.”

  “I have letters here,” said Tessa, waving toward the shelf above the fireplace that served as her filing cabinet, “from half a dozen people asking me to paint them.”

  “And you can,” he reminded her with exaggerated patience, “but Theo’s only in the UK for a week. Besides, think how impressed those people will be, knowing that you’ve just completed his portrait…”

  He was beating her down again; she recognized the signs only too well. She also knew that if she protested about the fact that Ross had set up this deal himself, he would only trot out that infuriating old line of his about not doing it for her, but for Olivia.

  “Right,” she said at last, putting down her brushes and turning to face him. To her dismay, she felt color mounting in her cheeks. “If you must know, I don’t want to spend a week in a hotel with you. And that is why I’m not going to Edinburgh. OK?”

  Ross grinned, his dark-brown eyes alight with triumph. “No problem at all,” he said, hoisting Olivia into a more comfortable position against his chest and reaching for her bottle. “Forget the hotel. We’ll rent a tent instead.”

  • • •

  Mattie, having hurried out to the drugstore during her lunch break, was lost in thought at the counter when someone behind her tugged suddenly and none too gently at her hair. Startled—and praying that it wasn’t Grace—she spun around.

  “Olivia, that’s a terrible thing to do,” scolded the blond-haired girl whose baby had reached out and committed the antisocial act. She gave Mattie an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, she’s fascinated by hair at the moment. I’ve only just begun to realize how embarrassing children can be.”

  Mattie recognized her at once, of course, although the photographs in the newspapers hadn’t captured the full vibrancy of her beauty. With those clear, green eyes and that self-deprecating smile, Tessa Duvall was far more attractive, more alluring, than she had expected. And the baby, so dark and mischievous-looking, and so like her father, was equally beguiling. Waving her fist and kicking her legs, Olivia gurgled and lunged once more in Mattie’s direction.

  “Don’t worry, you have years of embarrassment ahead of you,” said Mattie cheerfully. “She’s gorgeous.”

  Tessa rolled her eyes in mock despair. “She’s supposed to be asleep.” Then, beginning to move away, she said, “Come on, sweetheart, we’d better leave before your charm wears off.”

  But Mattie was both fascinated and intrigued by this unexpected encounter. “Actually,” she said, as Tessa turned to leave, “it’s nice to have a chance to meet you. I believe you know my daughter, Grace.”

  “Who works at The Grange?” Tessa looked surprised, then smiled again. “Of course I do, she’s a lovely girl. She came to visit me at the hospital after Olivia was born, but I haven’t seen her since…well, not for ages.” Having been about to say that she hadn’t seen Grace since the day before the wedding, Tessa had faltered. But this was Grace’s mother, and it was hardly a secret, after all. “Ross and I had a few problems, as I’m sure you know, and I haven’t been back to the hotel. But I’d love to see Grace again—she was so kind to me while I was there. I’m leaving for Scotland tomorrow, but tell her that as soon as I get back I’ll be in touch with her.”

  Mattie, who hadn’t even realized that Grace had become quite so friendly with this charming girl, was both surprised and relieved.

  Following the revelation that Ross was her own natural father, Grace had stopped confiding in Mattie about any of the goings-on at the hotel. It had all been very worrying, and Mattie, in turn, had even allowed the terrible thought that Grace might have had something to do with Tessa’s abrupt departure, to cross her mind. Discovering now that her daughter had been innocent of such fateful meddling—of course she wouldn’t have done such a terrible thing—she was doubly delighted.

  “I will,” she said, nodding her head for emphasis. “And I’m glad to see you both looking so well. Grace has told me so much about you that it’s nice to actually meet you at last.”

  “And you,” said Tessa, taking a precautionary step backward as Olivia reached out once more, apparently intent this time upon grasping one of Mattie’s earrings. “But I’ll leave you in peace now. Olivia and I are off to buy some really efficient diapers. Meanwhile, I just have to pray that the man who’s serving at the diaper counter isn’t wearing a toupee…”

  • • •

  Later that evening, Mattie surveyed the result of her visit to the drugstore. Bizarrely—she couldn’t imagine how—the small pink ring that had formed on the strip of white cardboard meant that history had indeed repeated itself. She was pregnant. She really was pregnant. Again.

  Her thoughts drifted back to her chance meeting earlier in the day with Tessa. Thirteen years were all that separated them, yet her own experiences of motherhood seemed lifetimes away; having suspected the truth for almost a fortnight now, she still couldn’t envisage going through that terrible, wonderful ordeal all over again. She was forty years old, nearly forty-one, and a spinster, for heaven’s sake.

  At the same time, however, she knew that she couldn’t imagine not doing it. Richard was the best thing ever to have happened to her, but he was married. She couldn’t expect miracles—she knew from bitter experience not to expect even the smallest miracle. Yet somehow it didn’t matter. Knowing that she had done it before only meant that she knew the obstacles could be overcome. And now that she was actually pregnant, she also knew that another child would mean more to her, be worth more to her, than anything else in the world. Richard too was the impossible dream, but at least this way she would always have a part of a man whom she now knew she really loved…

  Chapter 47

  Theo Panayiotou was as charming as Ross had promised, as only the Greeks can be, but he was also terrifyingly direct. Cutting no corners and coming straight to the point may have helped to make him a billionaire, with worldwide interests in oil, shipping, and hotels, but as far as Tessa was concerned, his manner was downright scary.

  “Tell me,” he protested during his first hour-long sitting with her. “What is the point of ‘playing it safe,’ when any one of us could die tomorrow? I see in your eyes and in Ross’s eyes that the two of you share some deep and incredible relationship, yet Ross tells me that you and he do not sleep together. I find this totally…strange.”

  But since he was being so direct, Tessa felt she had no choice other than to compete with him.


  “He isn’t faithful,” she said, delineating the shadows of the rotund, smiling face and finding them lamentably few and far between. Billionaire or no billionaire, Theo needed to go on a diet. “I didn’t marry him because he slept with somebody else. I don’t want to be married to a man I can’t trust.”

  “I know, I know, he told me.” Theo dismissed her reasons with a careless gesture that caused Tessa to grit her teeth; she had just been outlining the position of his pudgy hands. “But men and women have their differences, and this is precisely it! Sex is easy for men, but if it is without love it is unimportant. The problem with women, you see, is that they fail to understand this, but a roll in the sack simply doesn’t matter…”

  “Hay,” corrected Tessa automatically, hurrying to finish his hands before they took off again. “And it matters to me.”

  “But I see it, I know,” exclaimed Theo, gesturing wildly toward the ceiling, “that if you were married he wouldn’t even look at another woman. Not that I understand such behavior,” he amended with a sorrowful shrug, “but we are talking of an Englishman, after all…”

  • • •

  “Some tent,” said Tessa later that night. Olivia, lying flat out in the center of the four-poster bed, shifted and sighed in her sleep.

  “It was all I could manage at such short notice,” said Ross, wishing with all his heart that it could be Tessa and himself occupying that bed. “And there’s no need to look at me like that; it has a roof, doesn’t it?”

  Eyeing the myriad folds of midnight-blue velvet, Tessa managed a small smile. If Ross could have known how hard it was for her to resist him when he was being this nice, she would have died.

  “It has a roof,” she agreed equably. “And your own bed, in your own room, has a similar roof. Try it, you may like it.”

  “Tess.” He moved toward her and she took a prudent, reluctant step backward. “How often has Theo told you that men are men and women are different? This is killing me; you must know that.”

  “And how much did you pay Theo to expound his ridiculous chauvinist theories?” she retaliated, keeping her tone light. “He’s Greek, Ross. He wouldn’t recognize a monogamous relationship if he tripped over one in the street. We’ve only had one sitting, and he’s already sworn undying love over the phone to three different women while I’ve been there.”

  “Theo loves women,” he replied with a careless shrug, although the expression in his eyes was now altogether more serious. Maintaining the distance between them—that bloody distance Tessa insisted upon, and which kept them eternally, infuriatingly and so unnecessarily apart—he said, “Whereas I only love one woman. And if she’d just give me a chance, one chance, I could prove it to her.”

  “I expect you could,” replied Tessa coolly, willing away the frantic butterflies in her stomach and forcing herself to stand firm. “I’m sure you’re every bit as clever in that respect as Theo is. But we aren’t talking about the number of women you love, Ross. We’re talking about the number you’re capable of remaining faithful to. And unfortunately,” she concluded with a brave, dismissive gesture that tore at her very heart, “that number has never managed to dwindle to one.”

  At that moment she knew how right she had been not to want to come here. Away from the cottage, she had lost the slight natural advantage of being on home territory, and Ross was making the very most of her loss. That look in his eyes, the tone of his voice, his entire manner were all designed to distract her, to pull her even further off guard. Moving almost imperceptibly closer now, he said, “But it would, if you’d only give me that chance. Tess, I’m not denying that what happened was absolutely my own fault, but you sent me to hell and back when you disappeared the day before the wedding. The fact that I still want you—and only you—must tell you something about the way I feel. This is serious, Tess. This is once-in-a-lifetime stuff, and I don’t understand why you can’t see it as clearly as I can.”

  She was shaking now, desperately unnerved by his proximity and by the blatant honesty of his words. But she must not, must not give in.

  “You’re talking about sex,” she said accusingly and Ross—rising to the bait, thank heavens—backed off at once. Palms up, brown eyes registering injured innocence, he said, “No, Tess. I’m not.”

  “Good,” she replied in brisk tones, reaching for her dressing gown and heading for the bathroom. “In that case, maybe you’d like to prove it. By leaving.”

  • • •

  She had particular cause to be grateful to Ross tonight, thought Mattie with a tiny smile. When he had altered the shift rotation at short notice, Grace had been less than amused—not having access to a DVR meant that she would miss the penultimate episode of a television serial in which she had been particularly engrossed—but at least Mattie now had the house to herself for the evening.

  And she certainly needed the privacy and security of her own home in which to tell Richard about the baby; sitting in a country pub or in his car and relaying such news would be far too nerve-racking. Not knowing how he was going to react—he might lose his temper and make a scene or dump her in a dark country lane miles from anywhere—she couldn’t take any chances.

  Not that she honestly imagined he would do such a thing, but she was deliberately steeling herself for the very worst so that anything else would be a bonus. Whatever else happened, Mattie had sadly realized, he was going to be very, very shocked indeed.

  Mattie was certainly shocked herself when, less than ten minutes later, Richard arrived. Pulling her toward him, he kissed her thoroughly in the hallway without even bothering to close the front door behind him.

  Breathing in the beloved smell of him, a mixture of wool, aftershave, and professionally laundered shirts, Mattie returned his embrace with equal fervor. Then, peering over his shoulder, she gasped, “You’ve left the car outside! Oh, Richard, can’t you stay after all?”

  His eyes bright with the enormity of his decision, he kicked the door shut and drew her into the sitting room. “Darling Mattie, I have no intention of ever parking my car in an adjacent street again. I don’t care who knows I’m here, and I don’t want you to care either.”

  “But…” said Mattie, her heart pounding as he kissed her again. “But…”

  Minutes later, she smoothed her ruffled hair and attempted to get some sense out of him. Richard’s normally anxious expression had been replaced by one of confidence. And he was showing every sign of being thoroughly, insatiably aroused. She wondered whether sex first, bombshell later would be like allowing the condemned man his hearty breakfast.

  “But, darling,” she protested once more, wondering whether he had in fact been drinking. “What about Antonia?”

  “I know, I know,” he said reassuringly, wishing he’d thought to bring along a bottle of champagne. “This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision, believe me. I’ve thought of scarcely anything else for the past week. But I love you, Mattie, more than I ever loved her. You’ve made me so happy in these last few months that the situation has simply become more and more ridiculous, and now I’ve decided to do something about it.” Taking her warm hands in his, he paused and swallowed hard. “I’m going to leave Antonia. And if you want me…well, then I want to be with you. For the rest of my life.”

  In the tradition of all those old black-and-white movies she’d watched and wept over for as long as she could remember, Mattie drew a deep, shuddering breath and promptly burst into tears.

  “You’d better say something,” he prompted gently when the sobs had finally subsided. “It’s somewhat unnerving, not knowing whether you’re crying because you’re happy or because the situation’s just too awful to contemplate.”

  Drying her eyes with a tissue, Mattie shook her head. “Oh, Richard, I don’t know either. Of course, of course I want you. But you might not want me.”

  “I do.” Kissing her nose and her wet eyelids, he had
never loved her more. “Haven’t I just said that I do?”

  “But that was before you knew,” wailed Mattie, hot tears rolling afresh down her cheeks, the oh-so-carefully prepared speech flying straight out of the window. “Richard, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it to happen. I’m p-p-pregnant.”

  For perhaps the first time in his entire life, Richard’s quick brain failed him. He could almost feel it failing him, slowing almost to a standstill as if he had been subjected to a stealthy syringeful of anesthetic. Staring at Mattie, his face expressionless and his voice equally devoid of emotion, he said, “You’re what?”

  “Pregnant,” whispered Mattie, terrified yet at the same time curiously elated. There, she’d told him. And although it would break her heart if he abandoned her now, at least the waiting was over and she could get on with the rest of her life. He couldn’t force her to have an abortion, after all. Nobody, not even Richard, could prevent her from having this baby now that it was actually on its way.

  All relationships are a matter of give and take. Nobody knew that better than Richard, who was perfectly well aware of the fact that if he hadn’t been extraordinarily successful in his chosen career, and as a consequence become extremely wealthy, then Antonia would never even have considered marrying him.

  But the knowledge hadn’t bothered him because he had accepted it as the fact of life it undoubtedly was; in return, he had acquired a young, beautiful, socially adept wife whom under other circumstances he could never have hoped to marry. And to be scrupulously fair to Antonia—not realizing at the time that chronic infidelity was her all-time favorite hobby—he had found certain aspects of her personality attractive. With her laid-back, devil-may-care attitude to life, she had counteracted perfectly his own introspective and somewhat obsessive personality. Richard spent a great deal of time worrying about what others thought of him, whereas Antonia couldn’t care less. For the first year or two, he had been captivated by what he had thought was her charm, but which he had slowly and painfully come to realize was in fact sheer selfishness. While he worked, Antonia merely spent her time and his money amusing herself. And the much-longed-for children he had been hoping for had never materialized, simply because his elegant, streamlined wife categorically refused to have any. Pregnancy, according to Antonia, was nature’s way of ensuring a lifetime of undiluted misery, and no way did she intend to fall into such a thoroughly revolting trap. Richard, realizing sadly that as long as contraceptive pills were being marketed he had absolutely no choice in the matter, had forced himself to understand and accept her decision. It was, after all, pretty much of a fait accompli.