The Blackmail Pregnancy

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  CHAPTER NINE

  CARA gave herself several minutes before she made the journey downstairs. The sound of clinking glasses and the happy chatter of the guests who’d already arrived came from the large formal lounge directly below. She slipped more or less unnoticed down the stairs, and was privately congratulating herself on avoiding a host of interested stares when she came face to face with Megan Fry.

  ‘Hello, Cara.’ Megan greeted her coolly, her eyes raking her from head to foot. ‘I didn’t think you were coming.’

  ‘I changed my mind,’ Cara said, making a move to pass.

  One of Megan’s cold hands touched her on the arm and Cara stopped, lifting one brow questioningly.

  Megan’s hand fell away, but her blue eyes remained icy and they met Cara’s determinedly.

  ‘I’m sure Byron would prefer it if we were friends,’ she said. ‘I am, after all, bringing your business back from the brink.’

  Cara’s scalp lifted at the cold, hard stare in Megan’s washed-out blue eyes.

  ‘I have enough friends.’ She made to push past again and Megan stepped back. ‘If you’ll excuse me—’

  ‘Cara?’

  Byron’s deep baritone stalled her. She looked up to see him standing with a glass of champagne in each hand, his eyes quickly assessing the situation.

  ‘Yes?’

  Her one word came out sharply and his eyebrow lifted.

  ‘Please excuse me, Megan.’ She addressed the other woman in tones of forced politeness. ‘I think I’m expected to mingle. Enjoy the party.’

  Megan’s smile didn’t quite make the distance to her eyes.

  ‘I will,’ she answered, with a sultry glance towards Byron. ‘Is that for me?’ She scooped the glass of champagne out of his hand and with another suggestive wink swept past to join the other guests.

  Byron waited until they were alone to ask, ‘What was all that about?’

  ‘What was all what about?’

  He nodded in the direction Megan had gone. ‘You don’t like her, do you?’

  ‘Am I supposed to like her?’ she asked with a tight edge to her voice.

  ‘It would makes things a whole lot easier if you did,’ he answered.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry to be so uncooperative, but if you don’t mind I’d like to choose both my own friends and my business associates.’

  ‘As far as I can see you don’t have any particularly close friends and you don’t appear to be all that choosy over your business associates either,’ he observed dryly.

  ‘You know nothing of my social life,’ she shot back.

  ‘What social life?’

  She straightened her back in anger. ‘I like my own company, there’s nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘You remind me of a nun,’ he said, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Cloistered away from possible temptation. Shut off from the real world in case you get hurt.’

  Cara’s jaw ached with the tension of keeping her temper under some sort of civil control. She was conscious of the background chatter of the party guests in the next room, and imagined it wouldn’t go down terribly well if she were to let fly right here and now.

  ‘What I don’t understand is why you’re taking the Pill?’ he added before she could speak. ‘Why bother? Or did you just do it to get back at me?’

  ‘I’ve been on the pill for years.’ Her voice came out hard and flat. ‘I have terrible periods. Don’t you remember?’

  His eyes softened.

  ‘Yes, I do remember.’

  Cara tore her eyes away from his with an effort. A vision of him tucking her into bed with a hot water bottle after their fourth date flitted into her mind. He’d been so gentle, so understanding. He’d waved away her embarrassment, reminding her he had both a sister and a mother, that he was no stranger to the intimate shifts of a woman’s body.

  ‘Your parents will wonder where I’ve got to…’ she began uncertainly.

  ‘Cara, I think we should—’

  Just then the lounge door opened wide and Fliss poked her head out.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ she called. ‘Dad’s just about to start his welcoming speech.’

  Cara found herself being swept into the proceedings as if she’d never been away. No one seemed to be in the least surprised to hear her introduced as Byron’s partner for the evening, although she was conscious of the slight sneer lurking about Megan’s mouth as Byron led her towards a great-aunt she’d not met before.

  Great-Aunt Milly grasped Cara’s hand in her paper-thin one and smiled broadly.

  ‘I didn’t get to meet you the first time around.’ The soft wrinkles on her face met as she smiled. ‘Better late than never, eh?’

  ‘Yes.’ Cara smiled hesitantly.

  ‘Come and sit here beside me.’ Great-Aunt Milly patted the seat next to her. ‘Since I broke my hip I can’t stand for too long. I’ve had three, you know.’

  ‘Broken hips?’ Cara stared at her in empathic alarm.

  ‘Good God, no.’ Aunt Milly chuckled. ‘Husbands, my dear. I’ve had three.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cara glanced towards Byron for help, but he’d moved on to speak with another guest.

  ‘They’re all dead now.’

  ‘I’m sorry…’

  ‘Oh, don’t be,’ Aunt Milly said briskly. ‘I’m not. Shouldn’t have married any of ’em.’

  ‘I…’

  Aunt Milly gave her a mischievous wink as she leaned towards her, her almost black eyes sparkling.

  ‘So you’ve finally come to your senses and gone back to Byron, have you?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘He’s the pick of the litter, of course,’ she continued, almost without a pause. ‘Always said he was. Reminds me of a man I once loved.’

  ‘One of your husbands?’ Cara offered.

  Great-Aunt Milly shook her head.

  ‘Didn’t love any of them. I married each of them for their money. No, the love of my life I stupidly let get away.’

  Cara was intrigued. She found herself leaning closer to the old woman, her eyes wide with interest.

  Great-Aunt Milly obviously loved playing to an audience. Her dark eyes twinkled at the expression on Cara’s face.

  ‘You’re shocked by me, aren’t you?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Most people are,’ she continued, as if she hadn’t heard Cara’s tiny squeak. ‘But I kind of figure that if at eighty-nine I don’t say what I mean to say, I mightn’t get another chance. Every day is a bonus after seventy, or so they say. You want to make the most of your young life. All too soon you’ll be looking in the mirror and wondering who that old crow is, only to find out it’s actually you. I nearly had a heart attack on the spot after I got my cataracts done. Not only did I look like a dried-up prune, but the white dove I’d been feeding for months on my front lawn turned out to be a seagull! Think of it! Here I was, telling everyone God was giving me a sign and all the time it was a pesky scavenging seagull!’

  Cara laughed out loud. The sound of her amused tinkling turned several heads, including her ex-husband’s.

  ‘Is he good in bed?’ Great-Aunt Milly winked at her, noticing Byron’s quick glance.

  Cara’s mouth fell open.

  ‘No point continuing if he isn’t,’ the old lady rambled on. ‘I know about these things. I’m what you’d call experienced. A woman will forgive a lot if her man is a tiger in bed.’

  ‘I…I…’

  ‘Hasn’t he reacquainted you yet with his talent?’ She poked a long gnarled finger at Cara’s slim arm. ‘He’s not the man I thought he was if he hasn’t. Mind you, that Fry girl is all over him like a bad case of psoriasis. Had that once. Worse thing that ever happened to me other than my three husbands. At least when my husbands died I had their money. After a bout of psoriasis all I was left with was scars. I scratched myself silly. No self-control; that’s the problem.’

  Cara giggled, her own self-control slipping.

  ‘I’ve never met anyone like you before,’ s
he confessed.

  ‘What?’ Great-Aunt Milly frowned at her playfully. ‘No one as old, do you mean?’

  Cara’s smile transformed her face as she faced Byron’s engaging relic of a relative.

  ‘Someone so honest.’

  ‘Oh.’ Great-Aunt Milly shrugged off the compliment. ‘As I said, honesty is the only thing you have left when you get to my age. All my friends have either died or succumbed to dementia. No point in pretending any more. I speak as I find and I don’t give a damn. I did once, but not now.’ She gave Cara an eagle-eyed look before adding, ‘You still love him, don’t you?’

  Cara rolled her lips together, stalling for time.

  ‘Oh.’ Great-Aunt Milly waved a dismissive hand towards her. ‘Go on, deny it. I know that’s the fashionable thing to do. Young women don’t like to make themselves vulnerable any more. I’m all for the Women’s Movement, don’t get me wrong, but somehow we women have shot ourselves in the foot. I know what I’m talking about, girl. I woke up on my fiftieth birthday and my biological clock chose exactly that moment to go off with a bang. Too late. Far too late. And there was nothing I could do about it.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘I would’ve loved a son like Byron,’ Great-Aunt Milly continued dreamily. ‘Someone strong and dependable. He visits me regularly, you know. None of the others do. Felicity did once, but only because she needed money. I sent her packing, of course. I might be old but I’m not a fool. She came to her senses and threw herself back into Jason’s arms. He’s a nice boy. A bit shy, but it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. Felicity looks satisfied now, though. I like to think I brought that about.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s very happy…’

  ‘So…’ Great-Aunt Milly leaned even closer. ‘Will you have his baby now?’

  Cara reared back in shock.

  ‘I…I’m not sure I—’

  ‘Don’t dilly-dally like I did. Get on with it. He’ll make a good father, I’m sure of that.’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d be a very good mother,’ Cara said cautiously. ‘I don’t have what it takes.’ Her heart squeezed painfully at the ironic truth of those words.

  Great-Aunt Milly’s eyes darted back to hers.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, girl,’ she said. ‘You’ve got so much banked-up love in you any kid would be glad to have you as its parent. Didn’t your mother tell you that?’

  ‘My mother hated me,’ Cara stated flatly. ‘That’s what she told me.’

  Great-Aunt Milly frowned and her wrinkles intermingled again.

  ‘I’m starting to see the fine print,’ she said. ‘Have you told Byron?’

  Cara shrugged defeatedly.

  ‘He wouldn’t understand. He’s got two parents who love him. I didn’t even have one.’

  ‘Your father absconded?’

  ‘He died before I was born.’

  ‘Well…’ Great-Aunt Milly eyeballed her once again. ‘What do you think he might’ve felt about you?’

  ‘I don’t know. My mother didn’t tell me much. I think she blamed me for his death in some way. He was out drinking with friends. It was late at night and he didn’t have a hope. No seatbelts, no second chances. My mother hinted once or twice that he’d been out celebrating the fact he’d just become a father, that if it hadn’t been for me he’d still be alive.’

  A small silence fell between them. Cara was conscious of the all-seeing dark, spirited gaze that so reminded her of Byron’s.

  ‘Have I shocked you?’ Cara borrowed Great-Aunt Milly’s earlier question.

  The old lady shook her head.

  ‘Not much shocks me these days,’ she said. ‘But you don’t have to follow your mother’s blueprint, you know. Lots of people turn out to be wonderful parents themselves, even though they’ve suffered dreadful abuse from their own.’

  ‘I can’t take the risk.’ She didn’t say why. No one but she knew why.

  ‘Life is full of risks. You can go to the fair and only ride on the merry-go-round, and go round and round in circles, or you can get on the rollercoaster and feel the rush of the wind in your hair and the drop of your stomach on the way down. Both are fun, but I know which one I’d prefer.’

  Cara smiled at the thought of Byron’s elderly great-aunt screaming her head off on a rollercoaster. Great-Aunt Milly grinned back at her.

  ‘Don’t let life pass you by, my dear. If I were you I’d take Byron back on any terms, otherwise someone else will.’ With that she gave a quick toss of her white-crowned head in Megan Fry’s direction.

  Cara turned her gaze to where Megan had draped herself along the back of the single chair Byron was sitting on as he talked to someone alongside.

  Byron looked up, as if he’d sensed her eyes on him, and, excusing himself, rose out of the chair and came back to where she and Great-Aunt Milly were sitting.

  ‘Another drink, Aunt Milly?’ he asked, taking her empty glass.

  ‘Yes, dear boy. A double brandy and dry.’

  ‘What about you, Cara?’ His eyes turned towards her, his mouth lifting slightly at one corner.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’

  He went to fetch his aunt’s drink and Great-Aunt Milly leaned towards her once more with a conspiratorial whisper.

  ‘Never could resist a tall man myself.’ Her dark eyes twinkled at Cara. ‘And they don’t come much taller than that outside of an American basketball team, now, do they?’

  Cara looked at the tall figure of her ex-husband as he organised the drinks and sighed.

  ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘They don’t.’

  The evening continued noisily and more and more guests rolled up. Cara found herself being eyeballed by Leon and Olivia’s three children as they stood some distance from her. Ben, the eldest at seven, was periodically nudged by his five-year-old sister Bethany, who had obviously appointed him official spokesperson. Clare, at three, was sucking her thumb rather vigorously as she surveyed the party through eyes so like her uncle’s Cara felt a sensation almost like pain in the region of her stomach.

  She decided to put the poor boy out of his misery. She left her mineral water on the coffee table and approached the little group.

  ‘Hi, I’m Cara. You must be Ben, Bethany and Clare.’

  Three young faces smiled up at her.

  ‘Are you still our aunty?’ Bethany asked. ‘Katie said you are.’

  Cara couldn’t help smiling at the forthright family likeness. It seemed that Great-Aunt Milly had a lot to answer for genetically.

  ‘I think I might be,’ she answered.

  ‘That’s good,’ Ben said shyly.

  Cara bent down to Clare’s level. The chocolate-brown eyes blinked back at her, the thumb staying put in the tiny rosebud mouth.

  ‘Hello, Clare.’

  ‘Bwello,’ the little tot answered around her thumb.

  ‘She’s not supposed to do that any more,’ Bethany said with all the authority of an older sister in loco parentis. ‘Mummy said.’

  ‘Have you three had something to eat?’ Cara asked as she took Clare’s unoccupied chubby hand. ‘I was just going to find a sausage roll or two. Want to help me hunt them down?’

  Bethany took Cara’s other hand and tugged.

  ‘I know where they are!’ she said excitedly. ‘Granny gave me one before.’

  It wasn’t long before Cara was surrounded by both children and crumbs. Katie and Kirstie had joined them, and were now sitting on the floor in front of Cara with Bethany. Clare was on her knee and Ben was leaning against the arm of Cara’s chair, his grey-blue eyes lighting up when his mother approached.

  ‘I hope everyone is behaving themself over here,’ Olivia said, and, lifting her gaze to Cara, added, ‘You’re a kid magnet, Cara, but you don’t have to be on crowd control all evening. Go and find Byron and have some fun.’

  ‘I am having fun.’

  Olivia gave her a warm, friendly smile.

  ‘Byron’s right,’ she said. ‘You’ll make a great mother.’
<
br />   Before Cara could think of a reply Olivia had already disappeared back into the crowd of guests.

  ‘Are you going to have a baby?’ Katie asked.

  ‘I…’

  ‘She can’t,’ Kirstie said. ‘She’s not married to Uncle Byron any more.’

  ‘Yes, she can,’ Bethany piped up. ‘My friend Jenny’s mum isn’t married to her boyfriend, and they’re having a baby at Christmas.’

  ‘Why don’t you get married again?’ Katie asked Cara. ‘To Uncle Byron?’

  ‘Katie, it’s none of your business,’ Ben said quietly.

  ‘What would you know?’ Katie’s tone was scathing. ‘You’re just a boy.’

  ‘Uncle Byron doesn’t want to get married again,’ he said with solemn authority. ‘I heard him tell Daddy.’

  Cara felt sick. She knew she should lure the children towards another topic, but couldn’t organise her brain enough to summon up the words to do so.

  A shadow fell across her face and she looked up to see Megan Fry, drink in hand, one hip tilted arrogantly, her expression derisory.

  ‘Quite the little domestic, aren’t you?’ she said, with a sugar-sweet smile that Cara was sure was solely for the children’s benefit.

  ‘Enjoying the party?’ Cara offered politely.

  Megan’s eyes swept over the children’s faces cursorily. She bent down, patted the twins on the head and, straightening once more, gave Cara a cold stare.

  ‘It won’t work, you know.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Cara lifted one brow in query.

  Megan’s mouth tightened and, giving the children another sweeping glance, leaned towards her to whisper, ‘Your little ploy to win him back. It’s not going to work.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Cara said, holding Clare protectively against her chest. The little tot had fallen asleep, thumb still in residence. The other children by this time had wandered off in search of drinks, much to Cara’s relief; somehow she didn’t think what Megan had to say was for tender ears.

  ‘You can’t give him what he wants,’ Megan said. ‘But I can and I will.’

  ‘I won’t stand in your way,’ Cara answered with a quiet calm she was secretly proud of. Inside she was crumbling at the threat behind the other woman’s words. Surely she didn’t know the real reason Cara couldn’t fulfil Byron’s terms? But then Megan had a stealthy determination about her that Cara hadn’t recognised before. It occurred to her that perhaps Megan was prepared to go to incredible lengths to achieve her aims—further than a more morally engaged person would go.