Forbidden Fruit

by Charlotte Lamb

'Anyway,' Leonie said, 'He may have found me a flat… isn't that wonderful! And he was giving my feet a massage because…'

  She broke off, not knowing quite why Andrew had been massaging her feet, and it was Andrew who solemnly explained.

  'Her ankles had swollen up with all this trudging about with trays of food and drink, Angel. She shouldn't have been on her feet for such a long time—she should take better care of herself, and rest more, until the baby arrives.'

  'Hmm…' Angela said, not quite a hundred per cent convinced, but deciding to let that one go. 'And what is all this about a flat? What flat? Where?'

  When Andrew told her she made a face. 'But it will mean leaving London… going away from all her friends… me, for instance… She's a Londoner; she won't like it in the country. And I'll miss her.'

  Leonie smiled affectionately at her. 'I'll miss you, too, Angela, and all my friends—but I think I am going to have to leave London, you know. It's the only way I can make this situation work.'

  'Not the only way,' Angela said drily. 'There is always Giles Kent.'

  'I wouldn't even consider accepting any help from him!' Leonie said with angry force, and the other two fell silent, watching her.

  Andrew rang next evening to say that his mother had agreed to meet her and discuss the possibility of Leonie's moving into the flat.

  'But nothing is decided yet, remember,' Andrew stressed. 'If my mother feels you two could get on, she may agree, but on the other hand she may not be able to face sharing her home with a stranger. I'll pick you up on Saturday morning at ten, and drive you down to meet her. She suggests we all have lunch together—she enjoys cooking and giving hospitality. We'll arrive there at around midday, have lunch, then you two can talk while I go for a walk. There's a train back in the late afternoon, and I'll drive you to the station to catch it.'

  Leonie was very nervous about meeting Andrew's mother, but she need not have been. Mrs Colpitt was as warm and friendly as her son; a small, grey-haired, energetic woman Leonie found it very easy to talk to and easy to like.

  'It would be nice to have some company,' she said frankly. 'Some days I don't see another living soul, unless I walk down to the village shop and talk to Mrs Dawlish, or a neighbour. But this flat is self-contained; you'll have your own front door—come and look at it now, see what you think.'

  It was a cosy little flat; Leonie would have her own kitchen and a tiny sitting-room cum dining-room, and bedroom and a diminutive bathroom.

  'It's wonderful,' she said, and, within half an hour, it was all settled. Leonie would move into the flat in three weeks' time. Her maternity leave began then, so she would not need to look for a new job for some months and could take time to settle into the flat, and into the village. She would have to change doctors and make a new arrangement with the local maternity hospital, Andrew pointed out as he drove her to the station later that day.

  'It's vital to do that as soon as possible, as they may well be fully booked already!' he warned.

  She nodded soberly. 'I'll mate sure to do that at once, then.'

  On the platform she turned to him and said gratefully, 'I don't know how to thank you, Andrew. You don't know how worried I've been; I really didn't know how I was going to cope—and now everything is so different suddenly, all because of you.'

  A faint flush in his face, he said gruffly, 'That's OK, it was just an idea I had…glad it's worked out…'

  Leonie stood on tiptoe and kissed him quickly, on the cheek, as the train roared into the station. 'Thank you,' she whispered, then turned and climbed into the nearest carriage and settled in a window-seat, waving to Andrew as the train began to move again.

  On the Sunday morning she got up late and had a light breakfast, then sat down to write a list of everything she must do before she moved. She had got into the habit of thinking she had plenty of time to arrange everything, but suddenly there were only three more weeks before she left London and her job, and all the familiar places and faces. Her life was about to change drastically forever, she thought, staring down at the sheet of paper on which she had written her list.

  A little shiver ran down her spine. She felt scared for an instant, facing the unknown future. Then she lifted her chin and sat up straight. She would cope. She had been telling herself that for months now. She could cope— with anything. And she would.

  The doorbell jangled and she jumped. Who could that be? Angela, she thought, relaxing and smiling as she got heavily to her feet and made her way to the door, one hand supporting her back. She had tried to ring Angela last night, to tell her what had been decided, but Angela had been at the theatre and hadn't got back until late, by which time Leonie had been asleep for ages. She went to bed early these days, although her sleep was often patchy, since she kept waking up and then going to sleep again during the night.

  Opening the door, she began cheerfully, 'Andrew is a darling! It's all arranged…' Then her voice died away as she stared into Giles Kent's hard grey eyes.

  'What is?' he asked curtly, frowning, and Leonie bit her lip, so taken aback that she couldn't help stammering.

  'Oh, I thought you were Angela.'

  'As you see, I'm not,' he said drily. 'What is all arranged? Are you going out today?'

  'No, but…' Her voice trailed away uneasily, she flushed, and his black brows rose sharply.

  'But what? You're making me very curious.' He took a step forward and Leonie reluctantly had to stand back and let him enter her flat, although she didn't feel strong enough to confront Giles Kent this morning.

  He wandered into the flat, and Leonie closed the front door, hurriedly thinking—should she tell him she planned to leave London and move into the country? She wasn't sum she wanted him to know anything about her life; she wanted to make a clean break and get away from him and all the unhappy memories he brought back.

  When she followed him into the sitting-room she realised she did not need to make that decision anyway. He had picked up her list and was studying it, his brows together.

  Suddenly swinging round to face her, he bit out, 'What is all this?'

  'I've found a new flat,' she said huskily. 'I'm moving in there in three weeks' time, when I begin my maternity leave, and I was just making a list of all the things I have to do first.'

  'Where is this new flat?' Giles demanded, and, before she could answer that, added in an icy voice, 'And who the hell is Andrew?'

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Leonie was confused into flushing and stammering. 'H… he… it… it's his flat!'

  Giles stiffened, his eyes narrowing on her. 'His flat?' he repeated in a deep, harsh voice. 'Are you telling me you're moving in with this man?'

  'No!' she denied, going quite crimson. 'Of course not! You're confusing me! What I meant was that the flat was Andrew's…'

  'What's his surname?' Giles bit out.

  'Colpitt,' she said crossly, wishing he would stop talking to her in that hostile voice. She always felt as if she were on the witness stand and he was a prosecuting counsel who did not believe a word she said. Even now, his hard face had a disbelieving look. 'Andrew Colpitt,' she expanded. 'The flat is his, but he isn't living in it at the moment. He is a doctor; he lives in at a London hospital where he works.'

  'Is that where you met him?' Giles flicked a glance over her heavily pregnant body, frowning. 'Is he your maternity doctor?'

  'No, we were introduced by a friend, who had told Andrew I had a problem finding somewhere to live, so he offered to let me take over his flat for a while, until I can find somewhere of my own. He doesn't use it at the moment. You see, the flat is in Essex, right on the far side of Essex, near the Thames estuary, between Maiden and Burnham—'

  'That's barely twenty miles from us,' Giles interrupted, and she hadn't thought of that until that moment.

  'I suppose it is,' she said, taken aback. She had only visited his home a few times, and had no happy memories of Warlock House, alit was a very handsome building set among lovely gardens, and th
e Essex countryside surrounding it was beautiful. Malcolm had adored his home, but she had never felt welcome, or at home, there. How odd that she hadn't realised how close to it she would be if she moved down to Andrew's village! Or perhaps it wasn't odd at all. Maybe she had deliberately blanked out the realisation that she would be so close to Warlock House?

  'What about your job?' asked Giles, 'Surely you won't commute from there?'

  She shook her head. 'No, of course not— that's what I was trying to explain—why Andrew doesn't use the fiat: it's too far for him to be able to commute back and forth, but that won't matter to me because I start my maternity leave shortly, so I won't be working for quite some time, anyway.'

  'Of course,' said Giles slowly.

  'I could have stayed here until the baby had arrived, but I'd have to find a flat somewhere else after that, so when Andrew offered to let me have his flat while he isn't using it, I jumped at it.'

  Giles was watching her with a black frown. 'And what about when he does want to use it?' he asked, his mouth crooked with cynicism. 'Or hadn't you thought of that? Don't tell me his offer is just altruistic, because I don't believe it. What if he arrives one day and expects to move back in? What will you do then?'

  'You don't understand! Oh, I haven't explained this very well,' Leonie began, and Giles interrupted coldly, 'I think I'm getting the picture!'

  'No, you're not!' she snapped, glaring at him. 'You're just jumping to all the wrong conclusions. Deliberately. You like insulting me. You want to believe the worst of me, you always have!'

  His frown deepened and the hard eyes were ice floes. 'I'm stating the obvious. I offered my help, and you turned me down—but you're taking this man's help. Why? Is he an old friend?'

  She bit her lip, hesitated, then had to be honest and shook her head. 'But that has nothing to do with it,' she muttered, and Giles smiled icily.

  'No? So, how long have you known him?'

  'A… a little while,' she said, her eyes avoiding his, not liking to say she had only met Andrew a week ago.

  'A little while? How long is that? A few months?' His eyes intently read her expressions. 'A few weeks?' Leonie didn't answer, didn't look at him, and he added scathingly, 'but you are accepting his help, when you turned down mine?'

  'That's different,' she said, suddenly very angry, her blue eyes moving to his taut face, her chin lifted in defiance. 'I would rather die than take anything from you or your family! You know why. And what I do is none of your business—I don't know what makes you think you have the right to cross-question me as if I were in the witness box and you were the prosecution lawyer. Or the judge! Yes, you think you're entitled to sit in judgement on me, don't you? I've always felt that that was what you were doing.'

  Her voice had risen; she was trembling with a peculiar, volatile mixture of feelings: she was nervous because she was telling Giles what she thought of him, she was angry, as always when she thought of the way he and his family had treated her, and she felt a hurt resentment because he always thought the worst of her.

  'You shouldn't get so upset—it must be bad for the baby,' was all Giles said, and that made her want to scream.

  'Oh, go away!' she threw at him furiously, very flushed. 'I don't want you in my life. Will you stop turning up out of the blue? We have nothing to say to each other, we never have had. We don't like each other, and I never want to see you again.'

  That, at least, finally hit home. She saw his grey eyes flash like summer lightning, brilliant and dangerous. A dark flush invaded his face, too. His mouth was tightly reined, and he barely parted his lips to snap back at her. 'That's too bad, because you're going to have to see me again! I've been consulting my lawyers—'

  'Lawyers!' she muttered, paling.

  'Yes, and we had a very useful discussion,' Giles said with an angry sort of triumph, watching the alarm in her eyes. 'Malcolm left a will, you know. He made it before he even met you, but it is still valid, and it names me as his executor, which, you must realise, means that I take charge of all legal matters arising from his affairs. He didn't leave a fortune, but he did leave quite a large sum, and, of course, he also leaves a share of the family estate. That would have passed to me, but, after a good deal of consideration, our lawyers believe that your child will have a perfectly valid claim on his or her father's estate…'

  'I'm not going to claim anything!' Leonie protested, but Giles overrode her, his tone insistent.

  'A claim, which, as the child's uncle, as well as the executor of the estate, I shall certainly see is admitted, whether you like it or not. Malcolm's child isn't going to be cheated out of his or her rights. In any case, sooner or later this matter would have to be cleared up. You may not want the money, but when the child comes of age I've no doubt he or she will take a very different view, and it will be much easier to sort it out now.'

  Angrily, Leonie said, 'Well, I can't stop you, I suppose, but I don't want any of the money. Put it in a trust fund or something.'

  'We could do that; indeed, that is undoubtedly what will be done, since the child is not yet even born,' Giles agreed blandly, and something in his tone disturbed her. 'Which, of course, raises other important questions.'

  'What?' she warily asked, every nerve in her body prickling with a sense of danger.

  'Custody and access,' said Giles, and she went white.

  'What?'

  'Well, obviously, as executor of my brother's estate I would also be executor of the trust fund which would be set up for his child, and that would make me legal guardian of his child, the heir to that estate,' Giles said in a calm, seasonable voice which was like a knife twisting inside her.

  'Malcolm didn't make you the baby's guardian; he didn't even know I was having a child…' she cried, her mouth dry.

  'No,' agreed Giles coolly, smiling. 'Naturally, he did not, but if he had known he was going to be a father, and if he had had second sight and realised he was going to die, I am certain he would have made provision for me to be the child's guardian, just as he made me the executor of his will—Malcolm trusted me. He knew I would look after his interests, and, since the child is in a sense part of his estate, as the main beneficiary of it, especially since you insist that the money is put into a trust fund, which I shall have to administer for the child, I shall obviously become the child's legal guardian.'

  'No!' Leonie whispered, her legs shaking under her so that she had to sit down on the nearest chair.

  Giles hurriedly crossed the room. 'Are you OK? You aren't going to faint, are you?'

  She shook her head, closing her eyes against the penetrating probe of those grey eyes.

  'Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Brandy?' he asked, sounding husky.

  'C…could you get me a drink of water?' she asked shakily, and he went at once, returning a second later with a glass which he pushed into her hand, his cool fingers closing around her own to help her lift the glass to her mouth, as if she were a child.

  Leonie drank thirstily, keeping her eyes closed yet very conscious of him beside her, his long, lean body a physical and mental threat she could not face for the moment. Perhaps he would go away if he believed she was ill?

  When she stopped drinking, he removed the glass and stood up, but only to say, 'How do you feel now?'

  'I would like to lie down for an hour, so if you don't mind leaving…?' Leonie said softly.

  There was a silence, then he said drily, 'Can we finish our discussion first? I think you should be aware of the legal steps I'm taking.'

  'Legal steps?' she repeated, her eyes flying open.

  She was surprised to find him still so close. He stared down at her, his grey eyes cool and determined. 'I intend to become the child's legal guardian, by virtue of being my brother's executor, and I am sure the law will uphold my claim.'

  'I'm the baby's mother!' she denied fiercely, and he smiled, a faint twist of the mouth which had no humour in it.

  'You have no money and no home of your own, you wil
l shortly have no job, and you will have to live on state benefit. And, even if you get another job after the birth, you will earn very little, and you will have to leave the child with someone else.'

  She stared at him bleakly, unable to contradict any of that, and he nodded at her.

  'Yes, it is all true, isn't it? I, on the other hand, have a great deal of money, and can offer my brother's child a wonderful future, the sort of life he or she would have had if Malcolm had lived and married you.'

  'Money isn't everything. I shall love my baby, and I shall make a good home for it,' she muttered, tears at the back of her eyes.

  'I'm sure you would try, but it would be hard, for both of you, and it doesn't have to be! You are being stubborn and selfish.'

  'Selfish!' Leonie broke out, hating him.

  'What else can one call it? You aren't thinking about what is best for the baby, you're only concerned with your own ego. You resent me because I didn't want you to marry my brother, so you are refusing to let me help, even though that means your child will suffer.'

  She bit down into her lip, unable to argue about that.

  Giles watched her for a moment in silence, then said coolly, 'Now, we can go to court to argue this out, but I assure you that I would win.'

  She stared at him dumbly, believing it. Giles always won. Hadn't Malcolm told her that, over and over again? He always won, and he would win this time. She could feel that he was already winning. She simply did not know how to argue with him.

  'I am not disputing your right, as the child's mother, to have custody,' he said after a pause to see if she would speak. 'But I feel that it may be necessary to register an equal right, legally, as its guardian, to determine the place of its abode, its education, and so on—and to make sure of access, visiting rights, for myself and my mother.'

  'I've already said that your mother can see the baby!' Leonie protested, disturbed by all this talk about law and rights. Was he moving towards claiming the child, taking it away from her? Could he do that? She must see a lawyer herself, at once—but how on earth was she to afford one? She would go to the Citizen's Advice Bureau and ask them for help. She might be able to get a lawyer's opinion under the legal aid system. She bitterly wished she knew more about such things, but she had never had to worry about the law before.