Persuading Annie
Page 1
Contents
About the Book
About the Author
Also by Melissa Nathan
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1994
Prologue
Chapter One
2001
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Copyright
About the Book
Meet Annie Markham. Gentle, sweet and kind. Except for her dark side. A dark side called Jake Mead. Seven years ago he’d been her entire world, even though her godmother had tried to persuade her to dump him. But when the going got tough, Annie’s ‘tough’ got going. Jake’s hasty departure from her life proved that a) godmothers are cleverer than they look and b) the only thing reliable about men is that they’re totally unreliable.
Now Jake is back in her life. And he’s the one man who may just save her family’s ailing company.
But what Annie doesn’t know is that Jake has an Achilles’ heel. An Achilles’ heel called Annie Markham. He’s never quite got over her treatment of him all those years ago. This is the perfect opportunity for what some may call ‘closure’. But what Jake calls, ‘revenge’.
About the Author
Melissa Nathan was born and raised in Hertfordshire. A journalist for twelve years, she turned to writing novels full time in 1998 and shortly afterwards Pride, Prejudice and Jasmin Field and Persuading Annie were published. Melissa discovered she had breast cancer whilst writing her first novel for Random House, The Nanny, which hit the Sunday Times Top Ten in the spring of 2003. She went on to write another top ten bestseller, The Waitress, and finished her fifth novel, The Learning Curve, in February 2006. Sadly she died two months later, aged 37. She is survived by her husband, Andrew, and young son, Sam.
Also by Melissa Nathan
Pride, Prejudice and Jasmin Field
The Nanny
The Waitress
The Learning Curve
To Mum and Dad
For everything
(except perhaps the hips. I could have done without them.)
‘It was a perpetual estrangement.’
Persuasion, Jane Austen
‘It was a prolonged strain, immobility and helplessness that did the damage.’
Regeneration, Pat Barker
1994
Prologue
‘Cass. I’m pregnant.’
Pause.
‘Pregnant? Jesus Christ. How come?’
‘How come? Are you insulting my looks or something?’
‘I mean how could you let this happen?’
‘I WAS LOOKING THE OTHER WAY.’
* * * * *
‘Jake.’
‘Hmm?’ Pause.
‘I’m pregnant.’
Pause.
Pause.
‘I said I’m—’
‘I heard.’
Pause.
Pause.
‘Annie, will you …’
Long pause.
‘Yes?’
‘…tell me who the father is?’
* * * * *
‘Susannah. I’m pregnant.’
Immaculate pause.
Silence.
‘You look shocked, Susannah.’
‘Shocked? I’m stunned, my dear. I had no idea your periods had started.’
* * * * *
Annie opened her eyes in the dark. Nope. She knew with the certainty of death that it wouldn’t – couldn’t – possibly go that well.
1
CASSANDRA BROOKE STARED across the Union bar at the rugby players, her Cruel Crimson lips pursed into a thin line. Most of them didn’t notice her, thanks to a rather preoccupying game involving beer and various orifices. But one winked at her so lasciviously that she felt utterly violated. She dragged her eyes away.
‘I see what you mean about getting an education at college,’ she quipped. ‘I’m learning so much about men. And I’ve only been here an hour.’
The Union bar wasn’t really the ideal location for this, thought Annie, but then, there hadn’t been much of a choice. Her room in halls was so small she needed an oxygen mask just to sit in it, and the canteen reminded her of boarding school, which filled her with a bizarre combination of mild nausea and painful nostalgia.
Being a campus university, situated in the middle of hills and woods, there weren’t any decent cafés for miles around. At least in the Union bar, with its retro 50s diner look and extensive burger menu, they felt adult.
A rugby player belched loudly to thunderous applause.
Cass turned to face Annie so slowly that, like a gliding second hand on a good watch, the movement of her head was practically imperceptible to the human eye.
They sat motionless, Cass wishing she could feel more relaxed in such surroundings, Annie marvelling that Cass could indeed do that with her head.
Annie decided this time was as good as any to speak. In other words, there was going to be no good time. She ignored the parched sourness in her mouth and forced the words out.
‘I … I think I’m pregnant,’ she said.
The two old friends stared at each other across the formica table, which Annie felt gradually widen between them.
And then slowly Cass’s face underwent as big a transformation as it could after choice cosmetic surgery. Gone were all signs of disdain, and in their place confusion, shock and concern. Not bad, thought Annie, impressed. She must tell her how marvellous her plastic surgeon was.
Another time perhaps.
Meanwhile Cass’s mind was whirring. What to say, what to say … I’ll hold your hand during the op; I’ll hold your hand during labour; who’s the father? How does it feel? Why didn’t you wait for me? Haven’t you heard of contraception, for Christ’s sake? You couldn’t have told me this over the phone?
Eenie, meenie, minie, mo. She plumped instead, for a simple one.
‘Oh my God.’
Annie looked out of the window, barely registering the acres of green grass and dense trees edging the halls of residence.
‘God had little to do with it.’
‘It’s a figure of speech.’
‘Mm.’
‘I meant to say “Oh fuck”, but I thought in the circumstances …’
Annie nodded.
‘So,’ said Cass decisively. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ mused Annie. ‘I thought I’d be sick. Cry a bit, rant a bit. Then panic-eat.’
‘Gosh. You’ve really thought it all through.’
Annie shrugged.
‘I might change the order.’
Cass hung her head.
And who the hell was the father? Oh God, a bloody student. Trust Annie to be one of the few girls who didn’t get pregnant at school, when at least she was surrounded by pedigree.
&nbs
p; ‘Please don’t tell your mother,’ implored Annie.
‘Of course not!’ retorted Cass, irritated. ‘It would make her go grey. And she hates that look.’
‘Susannah’s – been like a mother to me.’
Cass squirmed in her seat, moved by Annie’s slow, silent tear.
They sat in sullen silence for a while.
‘I assume, it’s this new boyfriend of yours … Jack—’
‘Jake—’
‘Jake. Jake’s … responsible? Or … or is it someone else?’
Annie bristled. ‘Well Jake was there at the time but he did have his eyes closed, so let’s hope he’s not the suspicious type.’
Cass eyed her friend.
‘Oh well, at least when you’ve lost everything, you’ll still have your sense of humour. That’ll keep you warm at night.’
‘Lost everything?’
‘Do you think your father will give you a penny if you have this baby? Do you think my mother will ever forgive you for turning your back on your world?’
She paused to let this sink in.
‘Have you told Jake?’
‘No.’
Well that was a start.
‘Are you going to tell him?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m only one month late.’
Cass laughed with relief.
‘Oh well! Why didn’t you say?’ she said, her voice an octave higher. ‘That’s nothing! Once I was so late, I thought my menopause had started thirty years early. Turned out I had a virus.’
‘I’m as regular as Swiss clockwork.’
‘It’s probably just tension,’ continued Cass, her voice staying determinedly high. ‘Stress. What with your exams and everything.’
‘I’ve done the test.’
Cass sat rigidly on the bench, her body straining to maintain the illusion of calm at the same time as not looking over at the rugby players. Both were proving more difficult than she felt proper.
But nothing ever muddied Cass’s clarity of thought, she quite prided herself on it. And she knew exactly where this discussion must lead. But how to broach the subject, how to broach the subject … Be subtle, be gentle, be clever. Be like mother.
She leant forwards.
‘You’re not going to keep it, are you?’ she asked.
Damn. That came out wrong.
Annie blinked her large eyes slowly at her friend, in the vague hope of Etch-a-sketch-ing her away.
‘I mean,’ continued Cass, ‘this isn’t just a cute little baby in cute little clothes, this is someone who’ll turn round in eighteen years time and blame you for everything you’ve ever done. If they’re still talking to you then.’
Annie’s expression didn’t flicker. She stayed silent.
‘You’re only nineteen for God’s sake.’
Annie snorted, perhaps a tad louder than she’d intended. A couple of rugby players looked over at her, visibly impressed. If she could prove that wasn’t an accident they’d vote her on to the Union committee.
It was time to put forward her defence.
‘Princess Diana was this age when she married Prince Charles.’
‘Oh yes!’ exclaimed Cass. ‘You’re right! And she’s living happily ever after.’
Annie frowned. She was no good at arguing, never had been. The deeper her emotions, the more each strand of argument knotted itself up with all the others in a dense mess in her head, leaving only the rat’s tail end of each one visible to her. The result was that she could never follow one strand long enough to make it coherent or powerful. Instead she skipped blindly from one to another, mid-strand, confusing herself as much as the person she was arguing with. The more it happened, the more annoyed she got and the more annoyed she got, the more it happened. It was during arguments that Annie felt she most misrepresented herself. Usually while whimpering.
But it didn’t mean she was wrong.
Anyway, she thought defiantly, usually she was arguing with her father or Susannah – Cass’s mother and her godmother – or her two older sisters, Victoria and Katherine, Champion Arguers all. People she was doomed to lose to before she’d even begun. She had never argued with someone she loved and who loved her back. And, come to think of it, she hadn’t actually had an argument for years. Maybe things had changed. Maybe the adult Annie could argue.
This knowledge made her strong.
‘I’m just trying to say that nineteen’s not that young,’ she finished, determined not to be distracted by Cass’s confidence.
‘Not that young?’ exploded Cass. ‘You haven’t even … done Australia yet! You’ve never been with a boy for longer than three months, you haven’t even decided whether you believe in God yet, you don’t even know what job you want to do. You’re a baby yourself. You know nothing.’
How dare she! Annie was suddenly livid. Cass had absolutely no idea how she felt. There was only one thing for it. It was a new tactic for her, but she’d seen others use it and she felt up to it. She would have to go off on a Tangent, into Attack.
‘If this had happened last year,’ she said, with a firmness that belied her feelings, ‘with a “suitable” boy, you, your mother and my father would have had me married off in no time.’
Her chest heaved uncomfortably as she hid her hands beneath the table to hide their shaking.
‘But that’s different, Annie!’
Cass’s pained look gave Annie a taste for victory that was totally new to her.
‘Oh! I’d have been older a year ago, would I?’
Sarcasm! Was this really her? She felt giddy with the ease of it.
‘You know what I mean,’ said Cass.
Hah! A pathetic counter, thought Annie. Truculent in defeat. And it gave her the perfect entry to another Attack.
‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean. You mean that if a boy gets me in the club then it’s OK if he and my father are in the same club too.’
A Pun to Prove A Point! She could give lessons! And now for the Finale … Hit Home with a Home Truth …
‘You’re just a plain old snob, Cass.’
Cass took in so much air, her lungs went blue. She was beside herself with shock and affront.
‘Who are you calling plain? Old? I’m only two years older than you!’
‘Three school years,’ shot Annie.
Wow! Irrelevant and personal, but a good comeback none the less. Annie hardly knew herself.
‘Well, we’re not at school any more,’ retorted Cass.
‘So stop trying to talk to me as if I am.’
Annie could almost hear the crowds cheering.
‘And what about him? He’s only my age – he’s a boy.’
‘Jake’s mature for his age.’
Downright lie, but Cass wouldn’t know that.
‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. If there’s one thing boys do slowly it’s mature.’
Bugger. Impossible To Lie To Cass. Mental note.
They sat in mutual, silent fury, both surprised and pained by their first ever row. Cass turned her attention to the rugby players, determined for Annie not to see her eyes watering.
The two rugby players were now staring hard at Cass and Annie, picturing them wearing their rugby shirts girl-style – pearl necklaces inside their upturned collars. Yep, it worked. They were foxes, all right. They barely noticed some other girls join the rest of their crowd, resulting in some obligatory guttural spitting from their friends, the mating call of modern man. Cass looked away, disgusted.
‘I bet they’re all gay,’ she muttered conspiratorially. ‘So far in the bloody closet you can smell the mothballs from here.’
Oh no you don’t, thought Annie, her bitterness emboldened by Cass’s pax attempt.
‘Just because these men weren’t born with privilege’ – she said haughtily – ‘it doesn’t make them sub-human, you know.’
A rugby player set fire to his fart.
Cass raised her perfect eyebrows into perfect arcs.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I see they’re still working their way up the evolutionary ladder to that level.’
Oh great, thought Annie. Now we’re just being bitchy. She felt several strands of her argument start to tangle slowly in her mind. Maybe she’d stop now. Quit while she was ahead.
They sat for a long time, both looking anywhere else but at each other. Eventually, Cass tried again.
‘For goodness’ sake, Annie,’ she implored softly. ‘You’ve only been with this … Jock—’
‘JAKE.’
‘Sorry, Jake – for two months. You don’t even know if you love him.’
Annie shook her head. Why did people always assume her emotions ranged only as far as theirs? She took a deep breath.
‘Well, there you’re wrong,’ she whispered dramatically. ‘That’s the one thing I do know.’
Cass’s spirit plummeted and then swooped sharply up into anger.
‘Oh well, whoopdeedoo,’ she retorted. ‘Have you heard? You can use love tokens at Kwiksave now?’
Annie looked away, her mind so muddled she couldn’t even work out what point Cass was making, only that she’d had the last line and it was full of bile.
She wanted Cass to go. She hated arguing. She wanted to be with Jake. She had to be with Jake.
He’d understand everything.
* * * * *
‘PREGNANT? WHAT DO YOU MEAN PREGNANT?’
She never knew Jake’s voice could go so high.
‘Well …’ she started, trying to keep calm, ‘when a man loves a woman, he puts his—’
‘PREGNANT?’ he squealed again, so loudly that a passing mongrel stopped its forage for sticks in the river and looked at him eagerly, ears pricked, tongue lolling, bright eyes keen. Only when Jake joined him in panting rather heavily, did the dog scurry away.
‘I said I think I might be preg—’
‘Oh my God I’m going to be sick.’
How dare he, thought Annie as she watched Jake bend over the edge of the river, his hair flopping into his face. That’s my line.
After a moment though, Jake stood up slowly, wiped his loose curls out of his dark eyes and simply stared at Annie with an unfathomable expression. She took him in; cheekbones that seemed too strong for his soft skin; trousers that were too baggy for his long legs; and a defensive way of holding himself that made him look like he was plucking up the courage to ask for his ball back please. Poor boy, she thought.