That’s what Grace would be telling her. Stay put and take the affluent lifestyle and prestige that came with being Mrs Cal Cooper. She could swallow her pride and keep the status quo or hightail it out of the marriage and take her chances on her own, and face the devastation divorce would cause their daughters. A daunting prospect, Sally-Ann conceded, dropping her used face wipes in the bin and switching off the light before slipping under the expensive sheets to toss and turn the night away.
Cal poured himself a whiskey straight up and took a slug. It burned against the back of his throat and he waited until the heat warmed his belly before downing another mouthful. The ordeal was over. He’d told his wife about the child. To his surprise Sally-Ann had taken the news much calmer than he’d expected. She’d ranted and raged – he’d expected that – but she’d run out of steam pretty quick. In the old days she would have clawed at him and slapped his face hard. She’d been a real spitfire when they were young.
He felt strangely sad. They’d been happy once, he and she. He’d met her at a barn dance, on his uncle’s ranch, in their last year at high school. He was being groomed to take the reins of his father’s company but he wanted one last summer of fun, and Sally-Ann Connolly was very much the gal he wanted to share that fun with, much to the dismay of the many social-climbing matrons of Houston who had him earmarked for their respective daughters. The refreshing thing about being with Sally-Ann – who was the daughter of his uncle’s neighbour, a cotton producer in Lubbock County, West Texas – was her lack of airs and graces. She couldn’t give a hoot in hell that Cal was from a wealthy, successful family with half the young eligible and not so eligible women of the city after him. She was a straight-talking, no nonsense, five foot ten, auburn-haired goddess and he fell for her . . . hard. It was a magical summer when the world was their oyster and nothing could go wrong. When she turned down Southwestern University in Georgetown and opted for Rice, in Houston, he couldn’t have been happier.
Within a few short years they were married, with twins on the way eleven months after their honeymoon. But by the time Sally-Ann got pregnant with their third child he’d felt completely lassoed.
She’d been real sick on that second pregnancy, hurling morning, noon and night, as well as being up to her eyes setting up her own web design company. And then she’d lost the baby, and had been utterly distraught. Her immense grief had been hard to deal with. He knew he couldn’t emotionally sustain her. He tried, clumsily, to tell her that she needed to move on and take care of the two children who were alive, and take care of her own wounded spirit so that it would not be drowned by the weight of sorrow that she carried. She’d accused him of being cold and unfeeling. Going home from work became an ordeal and he stayed out longer and later and that made things even worse between them.
Sex had gone out the window, understandably, and he’d strayed. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he’d enjoyed the thrill of the chase and then, the fleeting rewards. Once he’d done it the first time it was easy to do it again. It took the edge off his despair at the way things were at home.
A well-meaning ‘friend’, Susan Mosley, had ratted on him to Sally-Ann. Susan had made a drunken pass at him one night at a barbecue, about a year after Sally-Ann had lost their baby. He’d turned her down and she’d never forgiven him. Susan with her high-pitched nasal whine and stringy blonde hair and her surgically enhanced boobs had never held any charms for him. Cal grinned, remembering how she’d called him a dirty, lowdown skunk, too ladylike, even when she was drunk, to cuss.
Sally-Ann had laughed – a rare and unexpected pleasure – when he told her about Susan touching him up. ‘If I did that to her it would be called sexual assault,’ he’d protested.
‘If you did that to her the whole of the South would know, she’d have got such a thrill,’ Sally-Ann had teased him and he’d guffawed. They’d looked at each other, happy to have been unexpectedly ‘normal’ and the spark was back and he’d thrown her on the bed and they’d had wild, raunchy sex and she’d laughed again afterwards when he told her they should invite Susan for a threesome.
Sally-Ann hadn’t been laughing when Susan had taken her aside at the annual ladies’ charity lunch for autistic children, to tell her that her husband, Cal, was cheating on her, with Marcy Montgomery, and there had been more women before Marcy and all of Texas knew it and that Sally-Ann was being made a fool of and that she, Susan, didn’t like to see that happening to a dear friend of hers.
Sally-Ann, showing the kind of spirit for which Cal loved her had said cuttingly, ‘Well thank you, Susan, good to know I have a “friend” like you even if y’all groped Cal yourself, like the good ol’ cowgirl y’all are, and would have ridden the flagpole if he hadn’t turned you down,’ before walking away.
When Sally-Ann had told him, verbatim, what she’d said to chicken-legs Mosley, he’d never admired his wife so much. But it was too late for admiration. That episode had been the end of their marriage. ‘It felt,’ she told him in utter desolation, ‘like a double betrayal,’ when they had only just started to be intimate with each other again. She’d kicked him into a guest bedroom, behaved in public like a good wife should, gone out and got a young tennis coach to get it on with six months later, discreetly of course; and they would probably have been fine if Lenora, whom he’d being seeing, discreetly of course, for the past ten months hadn’t got knocked up.
Frankly, Cal reflected, knocking back another whiskey, he was surprised by his wife’s tame reaction to the news of Lenora’s pregnancy. Perhaps she just didn’t care enough anymore. And why should she, he supposed. She’d seemed more concerned about the girls than herself. He felt deflated to think that whatever residual affection she’d had for him was now completely dissipated. He’d meant it when he’d said he didn’t want a divorce. He couldn’t imagine a life without Sally-Ann there in the background. And he was almost sure she wouldn’t want to leave the familiar security of what they had, to step out on her own.
She and the girls had a great lifestyle thanks to him. She was now going to be able to have vacations in Europe with the kids if she so wished. And she had a lot of social standing as his wife, back in Houston, even though, at heart, she was a West Texan country gal rather than a city slicker.
The ping on his phone announced the arrival of a text. It had to be Lenora, he thought irritably.
Have you told her yet?
God, she’d plagued him for the past two days. He just couldn’t face talking to her right now. It would be all ‘what did she say?’ and ‘what did you say?’ It had to be an age thing, this insecurity. Sally-Ann had not been impressed when she’d discovered how young Lenora was, and rightly so, Cal thought dolefully. His wife was right, he was a jackass and now he was paying for it. And he sure as hell didn’t want to marry Lenora, no matter how much she wanted to marry him. Once was enough to be married in a lifetime. Why be a glutton for punishment?
I was just fixin’ to text ya, he sent back. Told her. Took it better than I expected. Too late to ring. Will phone ya tomorrow and see ya tomorrow around noon. Sleep tight Sweetie pie, XXX
He sent the text, turned off his phone, finished his whiskey, undressed and got into bed.
It took Cal a long time to get to sleep. All he could think about was the look of contempt on Sally-Ann’s face when she’d called him a jackass.
If only he’d phoned her. Texting was so unsatisfactory, and he hadn’t added his usual, love ya, Lenora fretted, standing on the balcony of her hotel room and gazing at the illuminated majesty of the Eiffel Tower piercing the star-studded Parisian sky. She’d always wanted to go to Paris, France, and soon she would be reunited with her lover. The man of her dreams. The father of her unborn child.
It was a pity she was so exhausted. The pregnancy tiredness was unreal! Truth be told, she wasn’t at all happy to be expecting a baby. But she’d begun to fear that Cal was cooling on her and when she’d heard of his proposed European business trip with his wife, she’d known despe
rate measures were called for. She’d stopped taking her contraceptive pill and, although Cal hadn’t realized it, she’d contrived to have more sex than usual when she was ovulating. Eleven weeks before the proposed business trip with Sally-Ann she’d discovered she was pregnant.
Lenora would never forget the look of shocked dismay in Cal’s eyes, when, over dinner in Le Bernadin, the famous French seafood restaurant in mid-town Manhattan, she’d refused scallops, which she adored, and told him she couldn’t eat them because she was pregnant. He was so stunned he’d lost his appetite, unheard of for Cal. He’d recovered his equilibrium by dessert and stoically told her he would take care of her, and get a place for her and the baby to live.
Although privately she was gutted at his initial reaction – because only a fool could persuade herself that Cal was happy to hear he was fathering another child – Lenora had kept her façade up and pretended to be over the moon at her impending motherhood. She’d hoped that the business trip at least would be cancelled, but no. When she realized that Cal had every intention of going to the south of France and Spain with Sally-Ann, she’d played her ‘poorly, pregnant mother’ card and insisted on going to Paris to be near him. Lenora knew in her heart of hearts Cal didn’t want her travelling to Paris, but nevertheless he’d booked a room for her at the Ritz and paid for their flight tickets. They had travelled to Paris two days before Sally-Ann who had flown direct to Nice.
Lenora had done a little sightseeing by herself when he’d left to join his wife but it wasn’t much fun on her own and she was lonely in the big strange city where she didn’t understand the language.
What had Sally-Ann said when Cal had told her his news? Lenora wondered, stepping back into the bedroom and closing the French doors after reading his text. Had she been absolutely furious? Or did she care? The Connolly Coopers had an open marriage according to Cal. Perhaps his wife wasn’t put out. Sally-Ann had to be annoyed, surely? Lenora comforted herself. Her position would be untenable if Cal was planning on getting a place for Lenora and the baby. She sincerely hoped he would be living in it with them . . . his new family. Maybe Sally-Ann had demanded a divorce, wanting to get her mitts on her husband’s wealth, and that was why Cal hadn’t called. Lenora fervently hoped so. She was dying with curiosity as to what exactly had ensued. It was unnerving trying to second guess what both Cal and Sally-Ann were really thinking about the situation.
It was unfortunate that her child would be born before she could marry its father, but Lenora reckoned that she’d a better chance of getting Cal up the aisle by having his child, than not. It was a risk she’d taken, but hopefully it was a risk that would eventually pay off.
‘Lenora Cooper.’ ‘Mrs Cal Cooper.’ She let the words float into the air, liking the sound of them. Or perhaps she’d give herself a double-barrel name like Sally-Ann had, thought Lenora, and include her maiden name. Lenora Colton Cooper!
How perfect. How absolutely perfect. She loved it. Lenora hummed ‘Under the Bridges of Paris’, trying to keep her spirits up as she nibbled on a cracker and sipped Perrier water, too wound up to get undressed for bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANNA / AUSTEN
‘Isn’t this bliss?’ Anna raised her face to the sun while sipping her G&T, looking forward to her lunch. She was ravenous. She and Austen had spent the morning unpacking and washing the kitchenware which had been delivered at ten a.m. Now her presses and drawers were filled with sparkling crystal, cutlery and the gorgeous lemon and blue china she’d bought. Her fitted units now also housed a variety of pots and pans, and her kitchen counter was home to a coffee machine which had provided them with gallons of fresh coffee as they worked. She’d done a wash to test the new washing machine and her and Austen’s smalls, shirts, T-shirts and trousers were drying in the breeze on a clothes dryer rack, which had come with the kitchenware. The towels were gently tumbling in the dryer up in the penthouse.
‘Just think of staying here for weeks on end. It’s hard to imagine.’ Austen scoffed some olives and buttered a bread roll. They were at the beachside restaurant beside La Joya.
‘I just can’t wait to move in,’ Anna said, dipping a piece of bread into a ramekin of golden olive oil. ‘It’s a pity the beds won’t be delivered for a couple of weeks.’
‘The next time we come we’ll be all sorted,’ Austen promised, leaning back in his chair to allow the waiters to place the dishes of red pepper salad, melon and Serrano ham, freshly caught sardines straight off the grill, and the Caesar salad that they were sharing, onto the table.
They ate companionably, chatting occasionally, or sometimes in silence, content in each other’s company. The breeze, sweetly redolent of the sea, jasmine, and orange blossom, wafted around them, adding to their pleasure as they gazed across the Mediterranean to the coast of Africa and the High Atlas Mountains.
‘I think that’s our immediate neighbour,’ Anna murmured, seeing a tall, willowy redhead striding along the narrow path that led from the gates of La Joya directly onto the beach.
‘Great chassis, I won’t mind looking at that view,’ Austen teased, winking at her.
‘Is that so? Well from what I saw of the hubby he was quite a dish, so I don’t give much for your chances,’ Anna countered, grinning.
‘We seem to have quite a mix of neighbours, French, Spanish, English, American, Dutch and Scandinavians so far,’ Austen observed.
‘Very cosmopolitan. I met an Irishwoman in the Mercadona when you were playing golf yesterday, a widow; she’s in the first penthouse in the next block. I’ve invited her for coffee when we’re settled in. She spends the whole winter in Spain.’
‘Bit lonely wouldn’t it be, on your own?’
‘She sounded as though she’d a large family at home and a wide circle of friends out here. You’ll never be lonely with a penthouse in Spain,’ Anna laughed. ‘I’m getting texts from people I haven’t spoken to in ages!’
‘Only invite people you really want to out here, there’s nothing worse than visitors you can’t relax with or have to “host”.’ Austen did air quotes.
‘I know. I’m not going down that road. I’m not spending my time worrying about guests. Whoever comes can muck in and look after themselves.’ Her phone dinged and she scrabbled in her bag for it.
‘Would you put that bloody phone on silent,’ her husband remonstrated.
‘Ah, I’m not doing too bad, I’m weaning myself off it,’ she retorted, grinning, finding it in the outside pocket.
‘A text from Chloe, I think,’ she said, squinting at it while rooting for her glasses.
‘Give it to me,’ Austen took the phone from her and opened the text. He had twenty-twenty vision still.
‘Good God! What’s this? What’s she up to now?’ he exclaimed, studying the screen as the phone began to chime.
‘Let me see,’ she took the phone from him and studied the photo display, before answering.
‘What do you think, Mum? Will and I have just bought the ring. He had it designed especially for me! Isn’t it awesome? We’re engaged,’ her daughter squealed down the phone. ‘We’re getting married next summer.’
Anna and Austen stared at each other in dismay. A wedding – and no doubt, knowing Chloe she’d want a big one – had not been on their agenda.
‘That’s wonderful, darling, I’m really happy for you both,’ Anna managed, heart sinking at the prospect of what lay ahead.
‘We want to have an engagement party as soon as you and Dad get home. When will you be home?’ her daughter burbled down the line.
‘Tuesday, we’ll be home late afternoon.’ Anna tried to keep her tone light.
‘Brilliant, we’ll have it on Saturday. So should I ring the caterers?’
‘Umm, that’s not giving them much notice.’ Anna took a slug of red wine and made a face at Austen who was listening in to the conversation. The whole of the restaurant could have heard. Chloe was so excited she was practically yelling.
‘Let me say hell
o to Dad,’ Chloe demanded.
Anna handed her husband the phone. ‘Hey Dad, did you hear? What do you think? Isn’t it brilliant?’
‘Brilliant,’ agreed Austen, throwing his eyes up to heaven. ‘Congratulations to you and Will.’
‘Oh I can’t wait to see you both in black tie and top hats, and I can’t wait to hear your speech, you’ll have to say really sweet things about me,’ his daughter teased.
‘I can’t wait, either, love,’ Austen said with heavy irony which sailed completely over Chloe’s head as she babbled on excitedly about the most thrilling day of her life while her parents stared at each other in dismay at this unexpected and vaguely unwelcome development.
‘That’s put a spoke in our wheel, for a bit,’ Austen remarked drily when Chloe had hung up. ‘We better put the brakes on the spending.’
‘I know. Oh, the thought of it. All that palaver for one day! And she’ll want a big palaver.’ Anna groaned. ‘Black tie!’
‘I draw the line at a top hat, I’m telling you that here and now, no matter what she says,’ Austen asserted.
Anna groaned silently. She could hear the rows between father and daughter already.
‘Let’s not think about it. We’ll say nothing for the moment. Let her enjoy the excitement of it all and then we’ll try and talk sense to her,’ Anna suggested. ‘Order another beer, and a Baileys coffee for me. We might as well make the most of our last few days here.’
Austen ordered their drinks and they sat, in silence, trying to regain their previous joie de vivre, both wishing their daughter had saved her big news until they’d at least flown home.
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