Convenient Brides

by Catherine Spencer

  Emily sat down on the nearest kitchen stool and watched as he took bread from the freezer compartment and popped it into the toaster.

  He leant back against the bench while he waited for it to cook, his arms folded across his chest. ‘I should apologise for my behaviour earlier,’ he said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She looked away, frightened she might start crying.

  ‘Yes, it does.’ She heard him reach for a plate and a knife. ‘I hadn’t taken into account at that stage the impact of this on you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He turned at the pop of the toaster and began spreading the toast with the margarine he’d taken from the fridge.

  ‘I was thinking of how your news impacted on me. I’m afraid I hadn’t given much thought to how it impacted on you.’

  Emily retreated into one of her helpless silences.

  ‘I assume this pregnancy wasn’t planned?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Then what do you plan to do?’

  ‘I…I hadn’t thought that far.’

  ‘You not intending to…’ he paused as he searched for the right euphemism ‘…get rid of it?’

  ‘Of course not!’ She snatched at the toast he handed her and turned away. ‘This is my fault—I’m the one who has to face the consequences, not the totally innocent party.’

  ‘I don’t think you should tell Danny, at least not now. I don’t think he’d take it too well.’

  Emily toyed with the toast on her plate with agitated fingers. Damien handed her the honey jar and a knife. Their fingers touched briefly and she pulled her hand away as if it had been burnt.

  ‘I hate to destroy any image you might have of your expected child’s father, but Danny’s prime motivation in life is to make money at someone else’s expense.’

  ‘Danny isn’t—’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ he interrupted her. ‘I’ve heard it all before from the various girlfriends he’s had in the past. I’ve had to pay off quite a few before you came along.’

  Emily’s stomach hollowed.

  ‘I wasn’t really his—’

  ‘Quite frankly, I’m not too interested in the details.’ He cut across her denial. ‘Danny is somewhat of a law unto himself. You’d be wise to give him a wide berth. Why not pass this child off as mine? No one will question it.’

  No one but you! she thought despairingly.

  ‘But—’

  He stalled her protest with a raised hand.

  ‘No, I insist. It will do me good to bring up someone else’s child. It will help me get a perspective on some old issues that keep cropping up.’

  Emily pushed away her toast. ‘Damien, I need to explain—’

  ‘Please.’ He grasped her hand, stalling her confession. ‘I insist. We’re both adults. We can deal with this.’

  ‘But you don’t understand!’ she cried.

  ‘Oh, but I do,’ he said. ‘More than you’ll ever know.’

  She gave up at that point. Her head was still pounding and the toast he’d made was lying untouched in front of her.

  ‘I’m so tired,’ she said in defeat.

  ‘Come on.’ He took her by the arm, helping her to her feet. ‘Let’s get you into bed where you belong.’

  Emily leant on him gratefully, too exhausted to say the things she needed to say. Her mind was scrambled with a host of erratic thoughts. How could she prove this was Damien’s child? Would he consent to a DNA test? What would he say when he finally found out the truth, or would it be too late? Hadn’t they already said and done too much?

  She slipped in between the cool sheets and closed her eyes. Damien drew the covers over her and stood by the bedside for a moment, thinking.

  ‘We should call a doctor,’ he said after a moment or two. ‘Have you checked out.’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’

  ‘You don’t eat properly,’ he said. ‘You’ve lost even more weight since we’ve been married. You’ve got to think about the baby.’

  ‘I know,’ she said into the pillow. ‘I’ll try.’

  She sighed and closed her eyes, her body insisting on sleep even though her mind was tortured with the anguish of her situation. Her body won. Within minutes she was asleep, oblivious to the dark, concerned gaze of her husband, who was standing looking down at her.

  The nausea hit her hard the next morning. As she dryretched over the basin she was aware of Damien listening on the other side of the en suite bathroom door.

  ‘Open the door, Emily,’ he commanded.

  She retched again and turned on the tap.

  ‘I…I won’t be long,’ she gasped.

  ‘Open the damn door!’

  She grabbed a towel with one hand and unsnibbed the door with the other.

  ‘Am I to be allowed no privacy?’ she flared at him. ‘I don’t need an audience right now.’

  He stepped into the bathroom, his height and breadth instantly shrinking the room. ‘You shouldn’t lock yourself in here. You could faint, or something, and injure yourself.’

  ‘And why should you care?’ she sniped at him. ‘All your problems would be over then, wouldn’t they?’

  His mouth set into a tight line as he looked down at her pale features, taking in her shadowed eyes and trembling bottom lip, which she was trying to disguise by biting down on it with her straight white teeth.

  ‘Emily…’ He touched her on the shoulder but she flinched away.

  ‘Excuse me…’ She bent over the basin again and he winced at the wretched sounds of her being sick.

  ‘Oh, Emily.’ His hand on the curve of her back was gentle as he stroked her.

  ‘I’ll be…I’ll be fine in a minute.’

  She rinsed her mouth and washed her face. He handed her a towel and she buried her face in it.

  ‘Perhaps I should take you to a doctor.’

  ‘No.’ She put the towel in the washing hamper. ‘I just need some dry toast or something. It’ll pass in a few minutes.’

  ‘Go back to bed and I’ll bring some up,’ he offered.

  Emily went back to the bed and lay down to wait for his return. She felt a rush of warmth at his gentle handling of her, as if he cared for her in some small way. But then, she reminded herself, he was just doing what any normal person would do for someone who was suffering.

  Damien came back with tea and toast on a tray and set it down across her knees. ‘Here you go—breakfast in bed.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She tentatively nibbled at a piece of wholewheat toast, conscious of his watchful gaze.

  ‘I thought we might go out somewhere today,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘That is, if you’re feeling better.’

  Emily swallowed the mouthful of toast and asked, ‘Where were you thinking of going?’

  ‘What about lunch at one of the Bondi Beach cafés, followed by a leisurely walk around to Bronte? We could take our bathers and have a swim. It would do you good to get some fresh air.’

  Emily wondered if Bondi was such a good idea. She didn’t want to run into Danny, certainly not while she was with Damien.

  ‘I’m not very good at beach swimming,’ she prevaricated. ‘I got swamped by a wave a few years ago. I only dip my toes in now.’

  ‘I’ll be with you,’ he assured her. ‘There’s only a small swell today. I just heard the surf report on the radio.’

  She knew he was making a huge effort to make peace with her and found it hard to resist his easygoing charm. It was a side of him she hadn’t experienced and she wanted more of it.

  ‘All right.’ She picked up the second quarter of toast. ‘I’ll come.’

  The crescent of Bondi Beach was a riot of colour and activity, crowds of people either sunning themselves on the golden arc of sand or swimming in the deep blue of the gently rolling swell.

  They sat at one of the pavement cafés and Emily sipped at a freshly squeezed orange juice while waiting for the sandwiches Damien had ordered. An easy silenc
e had fallen between them. Emily was trying to relax more in his company, feeling she too had to make some sort of effort as well.

  ‘You’re looking a little better already,’ Damien observed as he reached for his latte.

  ‘It’s a heck of a way to start the day,’ she said ruefully. ‘But I’ve heard it only lasts a few weeks.’

  ‘I hope so, otherwise you’ll fade away to a shadow. There’s not much of you now.’

  ‘There’ll soon be a whole lot more of me.’ She twirled the straw in her glass reflectively.

  ‘Emily—’ He shifted in his chair slightly. ‘I think we need to discuss our future.’

  Emily’s heart sank. She felt certain this was the part where he would inform her of his intention to release her from their marriage. The deal was off. He’d got what he wanted—the book was never going to be written now. There was no real point in continuing, especially now he was convinced she was carrying his brother’s child. Was it too late to tell him the truth? All she had to do was open her mouth and say the words. But somehow she couldn’t. She didn’t want to tie him to her because of their child. She wanted him to love her just for her, nothing else.

  She looked across at him, her fingers around the glass tightening to stop the slight tremble of her hand.

  ‘We don’t need to continue this arrangement,’ he said. ‘It’s not appropriate under the circumstances.’

  ‘I understand.’ She lowered her eyes to the glass in her hand.

  ‘I forced you into it, and it’s not fair to expect you to carry it through.’

  ‘When…’ She cleared her throat delicately. ‘When would you like me to leave?’

  ‘What?’

  She raised her eyes to his but his expression was puzzled, his brow creased in a heavy frown.

  ‘I can go back to my apartment. Or, if the tenants don’t want to vacate it just yet, I can always rent something else.’

  ‘Emily, I’m not following you. What’s this about leaving?’

  Now it was her turn to look puzzled.

  ‘Isn’t that what you want?’ she asked. ‘For us to dissolve this marriage—or arrangement, as you put it.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about ending our marriage.’

  ‘You…you weren’t?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I was referring to our six-week deal. I’m calling it off.’

  She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. ‘Off?’

  ‘Things are different now,’ he said. ‘You’ll need support over the next few months.’

  ‘You want me to stay?’ She stared at him. ‘For how long?’

  He shrugged. ‘For as long as it takes. It’s not easy bringing up a child alone. I think we should at least make an effort to provide a stable home for him or her.’

  Emily ignored the sandwiches that had arrived and focused on the tiny pearl of an orange seed in the bottom of her glass while she tried to unscramble the disorder of her brain. He wanted to stay married to her?

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked, looking up again. ‘After all, you accused me of setting a trap. Why should you help tie the noose about your own neck?’

  He gave her a long look. ‘As you said last night, why punish the only innocent party? This child has nothing to do with the machinations that brought about our marriage. And for that reason the marriage will continue in order to protect and nurture it.’

  ‘Do I get a choice?’

  ‘You’ve already made your choice. You chose to marry me, now I’m going to hold you to it.’

  ‘By force?’

  ‘No,’ he said implacably. ‘By insisting you face up to responsibility.’

  ‘I can’t see what you hope to gain by staying tied to me. Your opinion of me is hardly conducive to a happy union, especially in the long term,’ she argued.

  ‘Perhaps not, but the sex is good.’

  Emily flushed and reached for a sandwich to cover her embarrassment. She bit into it and chewed slowly and pur-posefully so she didn’t have to respond.

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased. After all, isn’t this what you planned in the first place?’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t plan anything.’

  He gave an embittered laugh.

  ‘I’m finding this conversation very unpalatable,’ she bit out.

  ‘Of course you would. But it’s about time we faced the implications of both our actions.’

  ‘You’re hardly innocent yourself,’ she pointed out. ‘Have you considered this baby might actually be yours?’

  He gave her another one of the long studied looks she found so disquieting.

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind, but I immediately dismissed it. Why else would you have consented to marrying me unless you had a desperate need to do so, and in a hurry?’

  ‘Being a single parent these days is hardly the stigma it used to be,’ she pointed out.

  ‘But it’s a whole lot easier with money behind you to back you up,’ he replied with a touch of cynicism. ‘And that’s one thing Danny is short of right now—money.’

  Emily found even the mention of Danny’s name sent sparks of tension and guilt all through her, especially since their chance meeting—was it only yesterday?

  ‘Have you seen him lately?’ Damien asked unexpectedly.

  ‘No,’ she lied. ‘I’m sure he’s very busy with his fiancée Louise.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s all off,’ Damien announced dispassionately. ‘It seems Louise got wind of the details of Danny’s financial situation. He’s never really been all that good with money.’

  ‘So he comes to you for advice?’

  ‘He comes to me for money, not advice.’

  ‘Do you give it to him?’

  ‘Not always,’ he said, and then, changing the subject abruptly, asked, ‘Are you going to contact your family about your pregnancy?’

  ‘No.’

  He gave her another of his penetrating looks. ‘You’re very isolationist. Is that wise?’

  ‘I like to be independent. There’s less hurt that way.’

  ‘Who hurt you? Your parents?’

  Emily scrunched up her napkin and got to her feet.

  ‘I feel like that walk now,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’

  Damien watched her make her way through the knot of tables to stand watching the cool blue of the ocean in the distance. He sighed and, collecting the bill, made his way to the counter to pay for the lunch Emily had barely touched and he’d had little appetite for.

  Chapter Thirteen

  THEY walked in silence along the foreshore leading to Bronte Beach. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak, content to simply enjoy the view and light sea breeze that was taking the stinging heat out of the unusually warm spring day.

  At one stage of the walk Damien reached for Emily’s hand as she stumbled over an irregularity in the pavement. She didn’t resist, but allowed his hand to swallow hers as they walked on. To others walking past them she imagined it would be easy to assume they were a devoted couple, enthusiastically planning their future together. There was no outward indication of the underlying tension simmering between them, but Emily was aching inside at the assump-tions he’d made about her. It didn’t seem possible to change his mind about her.

  ‘Do you fancy a swim?’ he asked as they made their way past Tamarama Bay to Bronte Beach.

  Emily flicked the sticky hair out of her face and looked out across the bay. ‘It’s sounding more and more appealing.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ He handed her the bathers and towel he’d been carrying in his backpack. ‘Go and get changed and I’ll meet you here in five minutes.’

  Emily made her way to the changing-rooms and slipped into her slim-fitting black bikini. She looked down at her still flat stomach and wondered how long it would be until she began to show. It didn’t seem possible that inside her right now a tiny baby was beginning to grow. She thought there should be more of an outward sign, a certain glow in her features
, an aura of delight clearly visible to others. But all she had was uncertainty, fear and hopelessness that the child’s father thought so poorly of her.

  Of course, much of it was her own fault. She’d been little less than a virago the whole time she’d been with him, fighting him at every turn. How ironic now to realise how much she loved him when there was nothing she could do to convince him of her change of heart. He’d cynically assume it was another one of her ploys to ensnare him, to get him to provide a home and security for herself and her child.

  She met him outside the changing-rooms with her clothes bundled under her arm. His eyes swept over her in an appreciative male manner, lingering momentarily on the gen-tle curves of her breasts. He reached for her clothes and put them along with his in the backpack. Emily feasted her eyes on his long lean body, the muscles of his stomach and chest rippling as he placed her things on top of his.

  ‘Come on.’ He reached for her hand once more. ‘Let’s get wet.’

  She followed him down to the lapping surf, her hand still in his. She hesitated once the water foamed around her ankles and he stopped and turned to her encouragingly.

  ‘Come on, I’ll hold on to you. I won’t let you go.’

  Emily allowed him to lead her further into the surf, wishing with all her heart that he would never let her go. She wanted to be by his side for ever, facing everything in life together—most particularly the birth of their child.

  The water was now around her waist and she squealed as the cool waves lapped at her.

  ‘That’s enough,’ she told him. ‘I don’t want to go in any deeper.’

  ‘Where’s that fighting spirit of yours?’ he teased, pulling her in deeper. ‘Here comes a nice wave. Turn your back and jump.’

  She did as he directed and laughed when the wall of water broke over her hips, splashing her right up to her breasts.

  ‘It’s cold!’ she squealed again.

  ‘Here’s another one—watch out!’

  Emily turned and the wave hit her full on. She felt the rush of water drag at her legs but Damien’s hand was still tightly holding hers. She brushed the hair out of her eyes and smiled up at him.

  ‘We’ll dive under the next one.’ He smiled back at her. ‘Once we get out a bit it’s a whole lot calmer.’