‘After what?’ he pounced.
‘After I recovered from breaking up with you,’ said Lowri woodenly.
Adam drank some of his Scotch. ‘Did that take long?’
‘No,’ she lied without hesitation.
There was a silence broken by the welcome appearance of a waiter with two enormous menus. By the time they’d studied the dishes on offer the atmosphere was less hostile.
‘So now you sell baby clothes,’ Adam commented, and smiled quizzically. ‘Rather a contrast to sexy underwear.’
‘Ah, but Little Darlings is a bit different from the usual run of baby shops.’
‘In what way?’ asked Adam, his business brain quickly interested.
‘We sell nearly new baby clothes,’ she explained, glad of a safer topic. ‘People bring us their outgrown children’s clothes—in good condition, of course, with a lot of designer things like Baby Dior, plus cast-off buggies, prams, furniture and so on. We sell everything at knockdown prices and take half for ourselves.’
‘Surely you don’t make much money at that?’ asked Adam, frowning.
‘The shop does surprisingly well, but we do offer other services, too. There’s a créche in the basement where mothers can leave their children with trained staff for so much an hour. We stock new shoes with a proper fitting service, keep a list of vetted, approved baby-sitters—’ She stopped, flushing. ‘I tend to rattle on a bit about it, I’m afraid.’
‘Nice to see such enthusiasm for your work.’ Adam rose to his feet as the waiter came to say their meal was ready. ‘Let’s eat. Afterwards, be warned. I intend to learn everything that’s happened to you from the day you left me at the altar—so to speak—right up to the moment when fate sent you crashing into me tonight.’
Lowri’s appetite died a sudden death. Her salmon with avocado sauce could have been dust and ashes for all the pleasure she took in the meal. Such a pity, she thought with regret. Meals like this weren’t part of her life these days. In fact, she realised suddenly, the last time she’d eaten in such an expensive restaurant had been with the same man who was eyeing her barely touched plate with disapproval.
‘That’s an odd look on your face,’ commented Adam. ‘You don’t like the food?’
‘I don’t seem to be very hungry,’ she confessed.
‘Leave it then and have some pudding. You used to like sweet things. Can’t I tempt you?’ He smiled, the gleam in his eyes all too familiar.
‘No, thank you.’ She smiled cheerfully. ‘Some coffee would be nice, but nothing else.’
‘Then let’s go back to the bar to drink it.’
The bar was crowded by this time. But like magic, as always happened for Adam, some people got up to leave as they arrived, and he swiftly installed her in the vacated corner and suggested brandy, or a liqueur.
‘No, really.’ She shook her head. ‘My day starts early. I daren’t risk a hangover.’
‘I don’t think half a glass of wine can have done you much harm.’
‘Exactly. That was my intention.’
Lowri poured coffee, and without thinking added one sugar lump to Adam’s cup and passed it to him, then could have kicked herself at the smug look on his face.
‘Your memory’s good, Lowri.’
‘Only for trivia.’ She smiled sweetly.
‘Like promises of marriage?’ His eyes bored into hers, all trace of warmth vanished.
Lowri shrugged, oddly calm now the gloves were off. ‘I never actually promised to marry you, Adam. You just took my acquiescence for granted.’
His eyes narrowed ominously. ‘You mean that you never had the least intention of turning up that day?’
‘That’s right.’ She drained her cup, then refilled it, gesturing politely at his. ‘More?’
‘No. I need some cognac.’ Adam signalled to the waiter, then turned back to Lowri. ‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘You know damn well,’ he snapped, his wide mouth tightening. ‘Why did you string me along like that? What had I done? I asked you to marry me, remember.’
‘True. But with such undisguised reluctance that I felt like some tawdry little schemer who’d set out to trap you into it.’ Lowri shrugged. ‘I was all too obviously some encumbrance you couldn’t shake off. Whereas to me you were the only man I’d ever fallen in love with—up to then, at least.’
Adam paused to allow the waiter to serve him the brandy, then drank half of it in one swallow and set down the glass to stab Lowri with a cold, accusing look. ‘I rang Rupert that day, afraid you’d had an accident when you didn’t turn up. I couldn’t take it in at first when he said you’d gone away. Then when I went round to collect the letter my reception from Sarah froze the blood in my veins.’ He smiled grimly. ‘I’ve not set eyes on either of them since. They made it bloody plain I was persona non grata in their home. I find it hard to forgive you that. I like them both. I was very fond of young Dominic and Emily too, but I doubt Sarah will ever let me near them again.’
Lowri shrugged. ‘Sarah’s family, remember. The Morgans tend to be a clannish tribe.’
Adam stared at her. ‘Talking of which, no doubt you heard about my abortive trip to Wales to look for you?’
‘Oh, yes. My father rang me the moment you left.’
‘My reception was a damn sight worse there.’
‘What did you expect?’
‘Hell, Lowri, I was trying to find out where you’d gone. At the time my life was so fraught, one way and another, the last thing I needed was a chase about the countryside looking for you.’
‘I didn’t ask you to look for me,’ she pointed out, unmoved. ‘And one trip to Cwmderwen hardly counts as chasing about the countryside.’
Adam controlled himself with effort. ‘It was a sheer waste of time, anyway. Your father flatly refused to tell me where you were, and all but threw me out. I never even met your stepmother. There wasn’t a damned thing I could do, so I went back to London and did my best to forget you’d ever existed.’
‘Very sensible.’
He eyed her morosely. ‘You obviously forgot me easily enough if you’re with someone else these days.’
‘I’m sure you did the same.’
There was a pause while Adam finished his brandy.
‘Strangely enough I didn’t,’ he said expressionlessly. ‘No time for women these days. Work fills my life.’
Lowri gave him a sceptical smile. ‘That’s hard to believe.’
‘The truth often is.’ His answering smile lacked mirth. ‘My mother’s quite worried. At one time she complained about my endless string of girlfriends—her words, not mine. Now she complains because there aren’t any at all.’
‘None?’
‘Not even one. She keeps telling me I need to settle down and produce a family.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Fortunately she’ll never know how near I once came to granting her wish.’
Lowri gathered up her bag and scarf. ‘Right. Well now you’ve discovered what you wanted to know—’
‘Not so fast.’ Adam’s hand shot across the table to stay her. ‘I don’t know anything like enough, Lowri. I want to know where you went, why you wouldn’t let anyone tell me where you were.’
‘I told you where, Adam. I went to stay with relatives and swore everyone to secrecy because I didn’t want to see you again. Simple, really.’ She got up, a determined set to her mouth. ‘Now I must go.’
Adam jumped to his feet. ‘I’d drive you home, but the brandy was one drink too many. If you’ll wait here for a moment I’ll get someone to call you a cab.’
Lowri opened her mouth to say it was only a short walk to the flat then changed her mind. If she did that Adam would promptly volunteer to walk with her.
As they waited in the foyer Lowri searched for something neutral to say to ease the tension between them.
‘Thank you for a delicious meal,’ she came up with finally.
Adam eyed her sardonically. ‘You ate very little of it.’
<
br /> Another pause.
‘Are you travelling back tomorrow?’ she asked politely, wishing the taxi would turn up.
‘I’m not sure yet.’ He shrugged. ‘It depends on the success of my mission.’
To Lowri’s relief her ordeal ended with the arrival of the taxi, and with a bright smile she held out her hand to Adam.
‘Goodbye, then. My apologies again about the car.’
‘A small price to pay for the privilege of meeting you again.’ Adam’s smile mocked her as instead of shaking her hand he raised it to his lips then to her surprise let her go, making no move to follow her as she walked out of the hotel. Lowri’s eyebrows rose. She’d fully expected Adam to see her into the taxi, if only to learn where she lived.
After an evening of unrelenting strain followed by a restless night Lowri was desperately tired next morning when the usual imperious demand came through the intercom to wake her up. But in an instant she was out of bed, yawning, and into her dressing-gown to collect her daughter, who was standing up in the cot in her little room, banging the rails with her rattle.
‘Ba-ba, ba-ba,’ Rhosyn chanted, then dropped the rattle to stretch out her hand to Lowri. ‘Mum-mum!’ She greeted her mother with her irresistible toothy grin, and Lowri picked her up and gave her a smacking kiss, then began changing her into the clothes put ready the night before. When her daughter was arrayed in a red sweater and tights, denim dungarees printed with huge red and yellow dots, the tiny feet in red checked sneakers, Lowri took Rhosyn through to the kitchen, installed her in her high chair and put a bottle of formula in the bottle warmer and filled the kettle. She made tea and toast, tied a bib round the little neck, put cereal in a bowl, added milk from the bottle to it, then sat down to feed her child, thankful the routine was so automatic after her wakeful night. Rhosyn ate her cereal hungrily; drank the rest of the milk in the bottle, then munched some toast soldiers while Lowri ate her own meagre breakfast.
Afterwards she set Rhosyn on the floor in the sitting-room with her sack of toys, made sure all the child locks were on the cupboards and the safety covers on the electricity sockets, put the gate in place in the open doorway between the two rooms and tidied the kitchen hurriedly. She put some laundry in the washing machine, sterilised Rhosyn’s bottles and washed the dishes, one eye in constant surveillance on her daughter as the busy little girl took toys from the sack, toddled across the room with them to pile them against the gate, then trotted back again to fetch more.
Later Lowri took the child into the bedroom while she dressed and got ready for her day in the shop below. Rhosyn took the pile of magazines from the bedside table, as she always did, and sat on the floor looking at them, tearing the odd page as she tried to open them, while Lowri pulled on black jersey trousers and turtlenecked sweater and added a yellow corduroy overshirt cinched in at the waist with a wide black belt. She tied back her hair with a yellow scarf, made up her face with the swift efficiency she’d learned in the past few months, then changed Rhosyn’s nappy again. Afterwards Lowri took her back to the sitting-room and spent some time reading and playing with her, and, in the end, sat cuddling the child in her arms on the sofa while the little girl slept for the half-hour nap she consented to at this hour.
When Lowri arrived in the shop at ten, as usual, her partner, Fran Hobbs, had opened up, Jenny was in the basement crèche ready to receive Rhosyn and any other comers, and several Christmas shoppers were already bargain-hunting among the clothes and furniture. Little Darlings was in business.
By five-thirty that evening Lowri was ready to drop. Because Fran opened up and did the first hour in the morning she left early, leaving Lowri and Jenny to cope for the last hour of the day. With Christmas only two weeks away the shop had been gratifyingly busy, but after hours of helping mothers with their choices, fitting toddlers with shoes and helping Jenny out now and again down in the crèche with only a short break upstairs for Rhosyn’s lunch and rest, Lowri felt tired. At this stage she always brought Rhosyn up to play in one of the playpens set out under a battery of mobiles hanging from the ceiling, and tonight her little daughter lay happily on her back, cuddling her fluffy rabbit and waving at the moving ducks and clowns and Disney characters suspended above her while Lowri and Jenny did some tidying up preparatory to shutting up shop.
‘That’s about it, I think,’ yawned Jenny. ‘Everything’s shipshape down below. Shall I lock up?’
‘Yes, please!’ said Lowri fervently. ‘My feet are killing me—’ She groaned inwardly as the bell went to admit a last-minute shopper, managed a smile, then stood very still, suddenly tense as a tigress with her cub. Her customer was Adam Hawkridge, tall and formidable in a dark city greatcoat, with flakes of snow melting in his thick brown hair.
CHAPTER NINE
‘GOOD evening, sir,’ said Jenny politely. ‘How can I help you?’
He gave her a smile. ‘I’m afraid I’m not a customer. I’ve come to see Miss Morgan.’
Jenny shot Lowri a questioning glance.
‘It’s all right.’ Lowri nodded reassuringly. ‘You go off. I’ll lock up behind you and let Mr Hawkridge out later.’ She turned politely to Adam. ‘I imagine you’ve come to discuss the accident yesterday. Was the damage to your car worse than you thought?’
Behind his back Jenny, enlightened, pulled a sympathetic face, collected her coat then said goodnight and went out into the snowy December night, leaving an atmosphere hardly less arctic behind her.
Praying Rhosyn would stay quiet, Lowri thrust a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at Adam in cold enquiry. ‘I thought you’d have left by now. Was your mission unsuccessful after all?’
‘The business part was very satisfactory,’ he assured her, looking round the shop with interest. ‘On the personal side I need to put some work in. You left a lot of questions unanswered last night, Lowri, so before I leave tomorrow I thought I’d call round and have a little chat.’ Suddenly his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the sleeping child. ‘Good lord—has one of your customers left her baby behind?’
‘No,’ said Lowri, resigned. ‘If you must know, she’s mine.’
Adam gazed down at the child, stunned, then back at Lowri. ‘Yours? What’s her name?’
‘Rhosyn.’
‘Unusual.’
‘Welsh for rose. I’m afraid she gets Rosie from most people.’
‘Including her father?’
Lowri stared at him impassively, saying nothing.
Adam returned to contemplation of the child, who looked very small and defenceless clutching a pink bunny almost as big as herself. Feathery strands of hair curled on the still visible crown of her head, one shoe had been kicked off, exposing a minute red foot. And suddenly, as though aware of his scrutiny, Rhosyn opened big dark eyes like her mother’s and gave him a sleepy smile.
‘Hello,’ he said softly, and smiled back. He stared down at the child, fascinated, making Lowri very uneasy. ‘She’s the image of you.’
‘So I’m told,’ she said shortly.
‘How old is she?’
‘Nine months.’
Adam shot a hostile look at her. ‘You got to know her father pretty bloody quickly!’
‘Yes.’ Lowri smiled sweetly. ‘Love at first sight.’ Noting signs of restlessness from her daughter, she bent quickly to pick her up. ‘I’m afraid it’s bathtime. I’ll have to ask you to go now.’
‘I was hoping for an introduction to the man in your life,’ said Adam, his eyes bright with challenge. ‘Tact forbade me to ask about his reaction to your night out with me, by the way. I take it you’re not actually married to him?’
‘No.’
‘You’re still allergic to marriage, then!’
‘Not at all,’ she returned. ‘I’ll get round to it one day, no doubt. But if I don’t it’s not really any business of yours, Adam.’
‘It was once,’ he reminded her cuttingly.
‘All that seems a long time ago.’ Lowri struggled with her fidgeting
daughter, who was demanding to get down. ‘Look, I’ve got to take her upstairs.’
‘Her father’s not home yet?’
‘That’s right, he’s not.’ Lowri smiled politely. ‘Goodnight, Adam.’
Adam’s lips tightened. ‘All right, Lowri, you win. Or rather this young lady does. Goodnight.’ He put out a finger and touched Rhosyn’s flushed cheek. ‘Bye.’
‘Bye-bye,’ said Rhosyn and flapped her hand at him, beaming.
Lowri held her breath as Adam stared at the child in amazement.
‘My word, young lady, you’re pretty forward for your age!’ He looked at Lowri quizzically. ‘Do babies usually talk at nine months?’
‘She doesn’t talk, she just says “Mum-mum” and “bye-bye”,’ said Lowri, then wished she hadn’t as Adam raised a sardonic eyebrow.
‘I thought the first word was usually “Daddy”,’ he drawled, and went to the door. ‘I may call in again before I leave,’ he added, and gave her a deeply disturbing smile before he went out into the snowy night.
Lowri dumped Rhosyn into the playpen and hurried to lock up. Once the shop was dark apart from the lights trained on the window arrangements she scooped up her daughter and hurried up the stairs to the safety of the flat, feeling as if she’d escaped danger by the skin of her teeth.
A couple of action-packed hours later, when Rhosyn was finally asleep, Lowri made herself one of the low-calorie rice dishes on her diet. She sat down on the sofa with a book and a cup of coffee to eat it, still desperately worried about Adam. Which was silly, she informed herself trenchantly. Even if Adam did learn the truth about Rhosyn it wouldn’t matter. The baby was hers, and hers alone. He’d forfeited all right to Rhosyn the day he’d accused her mother of getting pregnant to blackmail him into marriage.
Lowri had just emerged from the bath, her wet hair swathed in a towel, when the doorbell rang. She lifted the receiver cautiously.
‘Yes?’
‘It’s Adam. Let me in, Lowri.’
‘Certainly not.’ She slammed down the instrument, but Adam replaced his finger on the buzzer and kept it there until she answered it.
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