by Anita Notaro
‘Thanks.’
‘Good luck, Lindsay.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
‘YOU OK?’
‘Yep.’
‘How did it go?’
‘She was nice, you were right.’
‘And . . . ?’
She nodded. ‘Eleven weeks, and I didn’t even notice.’
‘You probably did but you decided to ignore it.’
‘No, honestly, I never even thought about it. I was so busy trying to keep busy that I paid no attention to myself really. It only seems like about a month since Christmas anyway and because I was on the pill the thought never even crossed my mind. Swear.’
He drove in silence for a while and she felt awful, sure she was turning into the most self-pitying, wretched bore. Here she was, in New York, on the trip of a lifetime and all she could think of was that her life was over.
‘OK, I want you to have a bath and get your glad rags on. I’m taking you somewhere posh for dinner.’
‘Where?’
‘Never mind, just be ready at seven-thirty.’
She made a huge effort for him and they took a cab a few blocks to Dino’s, a little Italian that was one of the in places to eat in New York – impossible to get a table unless you were known. It was tiny but very authentic, run by three generations of the one family and the owner greeted Colin like a son and ushered them to a secluded corner.
People glanced at them as they moved across the floor. They looked relaxed and happy and successful and she was envied, especially by those who recognized him.
Giorgio refused to show them the menu.
‘I order for you, yes?’
‘If that’s OK with Lindsay?’
She nodded and they sipped a luscious Chianti – despite the doctor’s recommendation and Colin’s ‘Would you like some mineral water?’ They talked. Then food suddenly started arriving from all directions – pasta, meat, salad and fish and numerous dishes she didn’t recognize, until they begged Giorgio to stop because they weren’t able for half of it.
‘I should have warned you, but isn’t it delicious?’ he asked, tucking into veal with porcini mushrooms.
‘Yes, but even though I haven’t eaten since breakfast I still can’t manage another bite and I haven’t tasted half the dishes.’
‘No worries, I’ll ask him for a doggy bag and you can try it tomorrow.’
Lindsay laughed at the thought of him leaving with the next day’s lunch.
‘They all feel sorry for me now because I have to cook for myself so they’re always wanting me to take stuff home.’
‘They must like you.’
‘I only come to a few places round here. I don’t go out much, to tell you the truth. Too many nights eating out when I’m on location, so when I do come out to eat I go to places where they know me well. It’s much less hassle.’
After dinner they headed home because suddenly she couldn’t stop yawning and he asked if she’d thought about what she was going to do. She shook her head.
‘The more I think, the more I panic. The thought of telling people, what to do about my job, money – all fill me with dread. What did I do to deserve this?’ She looked pathetic as she said it.
‘I think you should talk to Chris.’
‘I can’t.’
‘He has a right to know.’
‘In a way, that’s nearly the worst part. At best he’ll think I did it deliberately. At worst, he’ll doubt that it’s his.’ She laughed but it didn’t sound real. ‘He thinks I sleep around. I’d say he’ll want nothing to do with this.’
‘He doesn’t sound like that kind of guy to me. Why do you think that?’
‘I guess I’d built him up in my head. I thought we had something really special going. Then, because of what he thinks he saw, he wanted out, without giving me a chance to explain. So, what hope do you think I have with this little news headline?’
‘He has a right to know.’
‘Yeah, well, first things first. I need to decide what to do. Now, can we change the subject, I’m sick of me?’
The next day Colin had some meetings so Lindsay went shopping. She took a bus out to Woodbury Common and spent the day trawling through designer retail outlets, picking up two sexy DKNY tops for Tara and Debbie and some shoes for her sister. She bought lots of new things for herself, tight stretchy tops and a clingy dress and sexy underwear, in spite of her condition, all at a fraction of the original price and she even managed to pick up some funky Barbie hats for Colin’s little girls. She found herself looking at baby clothes, miniature Gucci girl outfits and designer denims for boys and she was afraid to touch them, unwilling, yet, to get too involved.
When she arrived home he was already there and he laughed when he saw the number of fluorescent carrier bags.
‘I can see you’re really worried about money,’ he teased and she was amazed that she hadn’t even considered her credit card bill. As soon as she sat down the tiredness overwhelmed her and she realized she’d been on her feet for at least eight hours. He came and put his arms around her and it felt good. They had dinner in the home of some friends of Colin’s that night and she knew they were wondering about her but were too polite to ask. He was a movie producer and she was a successful scriptwriter and they’d just had a baby and Lindsay wondered if that was why Colin had taken her there. If so, it didn’t work. As she peered into the cot she couldn’t imagine having one herself, much less being happy about it. She struggled all evening to be good company.
Suddenly it was her last evening and she insisted on ordering in Chinese food so that they could eat out of the cartons and he laughed at her face when he showed her the menu.
‘It’s a book. You choose, I’ll pay, I couldn’t possibly go through that. By the way, are you sure you don’t mind staying in? I feel like the most boring visitor this town has ever seen.’
He didn’t and a mound of stuff arrived. They watched a movie and he drank beer and noticed that she didn’t touch hers. They ate with chopsticks and she felt like a cool American teenager for a while. Almost.
‘When do the girls get back?’ she asked him later.
‘Day after tomorrow.’ He looked at her for a long moment. ‘I really miss them.’ He continued to watch her. ‘You know something, they’re the best thing that ever happened to me, in spite of everything.’
‘I wonder if I’ll ever be able to say that. Right now it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened.’
‘That will change, I promise.’
‘I feel so alone in this.’ She looked at him sadly and he understood. He kissed her hair, then her forehead, then her eyes, and without really knowing why she turned her mouth up to him and they kissed, and she needed it more than anything, and it went on for a long time. He slowly undressed her and kissed her all over and she touched and caressed him and they made love, and it was different to any other time she’d done it. He was gentle and exploring and unsure of himself, which amazed her, and when they climaxed it was like a massive release for her. She didn’t know until he told her later that it was the first time for him since his wife’s death.
‘You are a very special man, Mr Quinn.’
‘I’m glad it was with you.’
‘So am I.’ She grinned at him. ‘I needed that. I think I just got rid of a bucketful of tension and stress.’
He grinned back. ‘I needed it too.’
‘And at least you know I can’t get pregnant.’
They sat with their arms around each other in front of the fire and she found herself dozing and he asked, ‘Want to sleep in my bed tonight?’
She nodded. They turned out the lights and she slept in his arms, feeling safe, and she knew she’d found someone really special – and for the first time she wished she’d never met Chris, because she suspected he was always going to be there, slap bang in the middle of any potential new relationship.
He took her to Greenwich Village for lunch and they strolled around, holding hands.
He bought her lots of little presents and she saw a big, soft, gorgeous sweater and managed to buy it while he was browsing in a bookstore. Before she left she put it on his pillow and placed the two little hats for the girls on each side, then she wrote him a note, trying to explain how much he’d come to mean to her.
He left her at the airport and they hugged and he made her promise to call him as soon as she got home and told her not to worry and urged her to talk to Chris.
She felt like a schoolgirl leaving home as she boarded the plane and she knew that somewhere along the way she’d made a decision and it was going to be really hard.
She slept for most of the journey and her dreams were all of Chris laughing at her and her mother crying.
Lindsay arrived back in Dublin early in the morning and went home, showered, changed and left a message for the girls before she set off for work. She felt exhausted before the day had even begun. She pulled into a parking space and came face to face with Chris as they both got out of their cars at exactly the same moment. She wasn’t even remotely prepared mentally, and physically she found her arms trying to protect an almost invisible bump, and she blushed and stumbled, her already fragile courage deserting her.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
He looked really well – clean and healthy and gorgeous and out of reach. She felt old and ordinary beside him. And very frightened.
‘Chris, I need to talk to you.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m already late for a meeting.’
‘Could we meet later?’ He didn’t give her an immediate no and she plunged straight in, heart crashing, just in case she never found the courage again. ‘It’s . . . important. There’s something I need to talk to you about. Please?’
He looked at her for a long moment and she felt he was going to agree and then the mask slid slowly into place and he shook his head.
‘There’s honestly nothing you could say that would make any difference. It’s too late. I think we’ve both moved on.’
And he turned and walked away, casting a very long shadow. She pretended to hunt for her keys because she felt so small and humiliated, and when finally she walked at a safe distance behind him, staring at his dark, unyielding frame, she knew she was never going to give him the chance to do that to her again. She was on her own and his coldness somehow strengthened her resolve to make something out of the mess that was her life.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
SHE GRABBED BREAKFAST and made her way to the office, where Alan greeted her with a shy grin.
‘I didn’t realize your trip was going to be so glamorous.’
‘How do you mean?’
He pointed to one of the Sunday papers on his desk. It was open at the gossip column and he looked a bit embarrassed to be caught reading it as she glanced over his shoulder and saw the heading ‘Lindsay leaves for love nest’. The same picture, the one of herself and Colin holding hands, was there. Her face went bright red and she immediately wondered if Chris had seen it. Could that have been the reason he was so cold towards her? She dismissed the idea, he’d told her once he never read the gossip columns.
The article told how ‘sexy movie star’ Colin Quinn had flown ‘TV producer’ Lindsay ‘by Concorde’ to his ‘pad’ in New York to ‘introduce her to the two most important women in his life’. She couldn’t read any more.
‘Well, it was nothing like as glamorous as they’re making out. I’m afraid I got myself to New York, as cheaply as possible, and his children were away for a week.’
‘I see, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘It’s OK, I just wonder who’s feeding them all this rubbish.’
‘All they need is a tip-off that you went to New York – they put two and two together . . . the rest you know. Don’t worry about it, how did it go, anyway?’
‘It was great, very relaxing. I spent a fortune in the shops.’
‘Good, you deserve it. Want to have a chat about this week’s show?’
‘Yes please, but I must warn you that if Tom Watts slags me today he’ll have a black eye, so get ready to separate us.’
He laughed nervously, sure she was entirely serious.
Debbie and Tara and Charlie arrived that evening and Lindsay could barely keep her eyes open, so she didn’t have to say too much and the presents helped their excitement, as did Colin’s phone call.
‘Any word from Paul?’ Debbie wanted to know.
‘Nope. He gave up very easily in the end, eh?’
‘So, are things serious between you and Colin?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I wish they could be. I’ve just spent a fantastic few days in New York, in the home of a movie star who also happens to be a really gorgeous guy, and my heart wasn’t really in it. The last time I was there was with the man I was going to marry and do you know something, I couldn’t even remember much about it, either. And the reason, a guy I’ve only known for a few weeks, who thinks I’m a slut and doesn’t want anything to do with me and who’ll never take me to New York in a million years. Sad, isn’t it? No, actually, it’s tragic.’
Over the next few days Lindsay made a vague plan and mulled it over before talking to anyone. On Sunday, Alan telephoned her at home and explained that he had to go back into hospital.
‘More tests. I’m getting a bit sick of all this, but I’ve no choice. Do you think you can manage again?’
‘Yes, of course, you just look after yourself. I’m fine.’
‘OK, I’m just about to telephone Jonathan Myers. I expect he’ll want to talk to you.’
‘Fine, keep in touch if you can and don’t worry.’
Lindsay arrived early in the office next morning, to a message from Jonathan’s secretary, suggesting they meet at eleven. She went for coffee and came to another decision.
After they’d talked about the shows for the rest of the season, of which there were only four remaining – and Lindsay had assured him she could cope – she took a deep breath and asked if she might have a personal word with him, in confidence.
‘Sure.’ He smiled at her. ‘What’s up?’
Where to start was what was immediately up. She decided to keep it short.
‘When the show finishes, I need to take a couple of months off.’ He nodded encouragingly, sensing something was wrong.
‘I’m pregnant and I’m afraid it wasn’t planned and, well, I need to get away for a while, until after the birth. I know I’ve only just started work here, really, and I wouldn’t ask except that I’ve no choice. I want to keep it as quiet as possible, I’m afraid my personal life hasn’t been all that personal lately and I couldn’t deal with any more publicity right now. If you could help me with this I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I come back.’ Her voice wobbled slightly and she bit hard on her lip and stared at him begging for his understanding.
‘I see. Well, you’ve been exceptionally loyal to us so far and I think we owe you some time anyway. Let me see what I can do. Meanwhile, I think you should go and see Melanie Ingles, our staff welfare officer. You can talk to her in complete confidence, that’s what she’s there for. Let her tell you what she can do to help. I’ll do all I can too. I don’t want to lose you, I think you’ll make a terrific producer some day.’
‘Thanks.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I hope so, it’s what I really want to do, I just hope I haven’t screwed it up.’
‘You haven’t, so don’t worry about it. Are you sure you’re OK till the end of the season?’
‘Yes, fine, I’ll make sure I’m on top of things if Alan’s not back.’
‘OK, why don’t you e-mail me directly with your plans, that way it won’t have to go through the system. When is the baby due, by the way?’ he asked gently.
‘September and I’ll come back to work within a couple of weeks. It’s now I need the time off. I’m going to go away for a few months and hope no one finds me.’ She grimaced. ‘Being in a gossip column is no fun at all.’
‘I hope you don�
��t mind me asking, but is the father involved?’ She looked at him and shook her head.
‘No.’ A sudden thought bounced into her head. ‘And, it’s got nothing to do with any of that stuff in the papers.’ She was suddenly afraid he might think it was Colin’s baby.
God, she thought in horror, that’s all I need right now.
‘Well, I won’t discuss it with anyone, you have my word. I’ll say we came to an arrangement about time off based on your extra commitment to the programme.’
‘Thanks, this isn’t the way I planned it, but you’ve made it possible for me to cope. I’ll make it up to you.’
‘You already have, without you we wouldn’t have been able to cope and the show is much better as a result of your input. The next few weeks will be hard. By the time it finishes we’ll be quits. OK?’
‘Thanks.’ They shook hands and he walked her to the door.
‘I’ll see you for your weekly meeting and I’ll pop in and out as I did before. Meanwhile, you take care of yourself and call me if you need anything at all.’
She left feeling better than she had in ages. Only thirteen more rounds to go.
She threw herself into her work, as she had before. Tom Watts called in, annoyed about Alan and complaining of not feeling well himself. She needed him on her side so she was nice as pie, suggesting he go home and rest and promising to e-mail the running order to him that evening.
Before leaving for the day she texted Tara and Debbie, suggesting they come round for a glass of wine and some pasta the following evening. Might as well get it all over with quickly, she thought, dreading the prospect of facing her mother, which would have to be done sooner rather than later.
The following evening the three sat round her kitchen table, laughing and talking as they had so many times before.
‘I’ve got news,’ Tara announced, just as Lindsay was trying to find the words to tell them hers.
‘What?’ they both said together, staring at her. This was not like Tara, she looked shy all of a sudden.