For the Sake of Love

by Chrissie Loveday

  ‘I gather things haven’t gone well for you?’ she said, surprisingly amicable. ‘While I can feel sorry for your emotional state, I need to know that you are still capable of producing some decent articles. A pity you didn’t obey the rules and not become involved with one of our target subjects. Doesn’t do to allow sentiment to become part of our game. One cannot afford a conscience. You still have a lot to give so I hope this can all be put behind us. Now, off you go and see what you find on the new young starlets who are coming in for the next premier.’ She waved a dismissive hand and Amanda turned to leave. She was about to ask for a reference but thought better of it. While she had work, she should keep it.

  She tried hard to stay busy and when the weekend arrived, she filled her time with things to do. Her mind never stopped grieving for her lost love but somehow, she kept herself going. The days did drag but she was starting to fight back. She kept telling herself to fight back and from the outside, it certainly looked to everyone as if she got her fighting spirit back.

  ‘I’m an independent woman,’ she kept saying whenever tears threatened. When she saw the play list for the opening day of Queens, she couldn’t stop herself from going to watch Sacha’s match. Wearing a large straw hat and sunglasses, and sitting near the back of the court she hoped she would not be recognised. It was a lack lustre match and Sacha never stood a chance. As he was leaving the court, he glanced up at her and shook his fist. Her disguise had failed to work. Several people looked around and she slunk out of her seat hoping to get away before anyone else recognised her. She almost ran to the exit but she was stopped by a middle aged but handsome man, who looked in very good shape.

  ‘How dare you ruin his career?’

  ‘What?’ She gasped.

  ‘Your affair with my most promising player has totally ruined his chances.’ The man had a heavy French accent and was clearly very upset. She realised that he must be the famous Fredo, Sacha’s coach and self-appointed guard dog.

  ‘I take it you must be Fredo.’

  The man nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry but you must have realised that it was never one sided. I never asked him to fall in love with me. I certainly never forced him into anything. It just happened.’

  ‘He could not afford the distraction of a relationship of any kind. He is a good player but he needs to work harder than some of them. You saw what happened today. I had hoped that making the affair public would stop it all. But no, you turned out to be the very source of the publicity he could least need. You actually work on that dreadful scandal sheet. Did you deliberately set out to ruin his career? You are still well on the way to doing so. Leave him alone now and still it may not be too late. Always I have to try to protect him from such as you.’

  ‘It was you who sent the message to my colleague, wasn’t it?’

  ‘How was I to know that you worked for that . . . that magazine? Sacré bleu! You are even worse than I could have believed. It is completely your responsibility that he lost today. Your fault, you dreadful woman. Why did you have to come here? Pushing yourself right in his face.’

  ‘I was very discreet. I hid myself at the back of the stand and I certainly don’t see why I should take the blame. I did not tell him I was coming here. In fact I wish I hadn’t come at all. You have certainly got your wish. Our affair, as you call it, is over. It’s a pity he didn’t concentrate on his tennis a little more today.’ She walked away, leaving the Frenchman staring angrily after her. She hailed a taxi outside the courts, knowing she dare not stay any longer and run the risk of seeing her beloved Sacha, however much she would have loved to see him again.

  I could always write an article myself, she thought. I can tell the true story. All of it. And all about what has happened. How his supposed friend has dealt with his private life. That will show these scandal mongers what they do to people. That’ll show him what I truly could have been doing had I wanted to. Had I really done what he believes I did.

  But she knew she couldn’t do it. However hurt she felt, she would never be so vindictive.

  It was a long week. She tried hard to work but seemed to be feeling perpetually sick and her mind was rushing off in all directions. Even her favourite coffee was tasting foul. Jenny suggested she should see her doctor and get something to help with her depression. She took the advice and made an appointment for the next day.

  ‘Have you considered that you might be pregnant?’ the doctor asked.

  ‘Pregnant? No of course I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘I think we should at least eliminate the possibility. I don’t want to prescribe anything for you, just in case. Here, take this and pop along to the toilet to collect a sample. Then come back to see me and we’ll do the test.’

  Then began the longest few minutes of her life. She sat waiting for the result, thinking all the time, No. It wasn’t possible. But it was . . .

  ‘You are pregnant,’ the doctor stated in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘Can you remember the date of your last period?’ Amanda counted back on her fingers. She took out her diary and looked back. It was hard to remember any details.

  ‘I think it must have been at least six weeks. There’s been so much happening in my life, I hadn’t realised.’

  ‘I take it there isn’t a Mr Derry on the scene?’

  ‘Actually, I am married but we’ve separated.’ She swallowed hard so she didn’t break down. ‘I kept my maiden name for business,’ she lied. She simply hadn’t got round to changing it. Now it seemed pointless. ‘I shall revert to my maiden name anyway.’

  ‘We’ll know timing better later, when you have your first scan. But from what you say, it looks like being a Christmas baby.’

  She was in total shock. Sitting in her flat that evening, she began to think of the implications. A baby? She was having a baby. Her parents would be shocked. Horrified in fact.

  How would she be able to cope with working? She usually worked quite erratic hours. Though she was planning to look for another job, coming across one that paid well enough to care for herself and her baby would be a hard task. The girls at work would have mixed feelings too.

  And Sacha? What on earth would he think? Would she even tell him? The way she felt right now, she would never tell him. Whether he had rights or not, it was irrelevant. He had clearly stated that he didn’t want to see her, not ever again. He really hated her and all she stood for. No, telling him was quite out of the question. He would hardly want to see a child of hers, even if it was half his.

  The tears threatened once more. She must snap out of it. No more tears would be allowed. She had responsibilities and needed to start planning. She switched on her laptop and began to look things up. She found out about pregnancy, what to expect and then she read a number of articles on working mothers and how they coped.

  ‘I shall keep a diary,’ she announced to the empty flat. ‘I can turn it into a series of articles and relate it to other stuff I’ve done. If Personal don’t want it, I’m sure somebody will.’ Feeling cheered, she began her self-imposed tasks.

  * * *

  After five months of pregnancy, she was feeling very much better. In fact, she was feeling great. The sickness had passed quite quickly and she hadn’t grown too large. With careful dressing, she was able to keep her secret from the others at work. Nobody had noticed that she had given up drinking alcohol, not even Jenny. Though her broken heart had done little in the way to heal itself, she had managed to put on a brave front. They were sharing lunch as usual one day, when Jenny stared at her.

  ‘You’ve put on weight. Not a criticism and it quite suits you but it’s not like you. I always envied the fact that however many muffins you ate, you never put on a pound.’

  ‘I suppose I have put on a bit. Maybe I need to think about a diet.’ Jenny made no reply and continued to stare.

  ‘Know what? I think you’re pregnant. Have you done a test?’

  ‘Okay. Yes, I have but it’s still got to stay a secret. I don’t want Penelope pus
hing me out of a job.’

  ‘She can’t. If she fires you, you can sue. But what a thing. I assume you’re keeping it?’ Amanda nodded. ‘Yes, obviously you are. If you’re showing it must be too late. So, when’s it due?’

  ‘I’ve got something over three more months to go. I must have conceived at the beginning of everything—when we were first married.’

  ‘And you’ve kept it to yourself all this time. Not for much longer though. So, it must be due around Christmas? Just after, maybe. What does Sacha think of all of this?’

  ‘He doesn’t know. It’s nothing to do with him. Not now.’

  ‘You haven’t told him? Surely, it’s got everything to do with him?’

  ‘I don’t think so. In fact, we might even be divorced by now, though I suppose I would have heard. In fact, I’ve heard absolutely nothing from him or about him. He may even have given up tennis for all I know.’

  ‘But you can’t keep this from him. Maybe he’ll want to come back and he’ll forgive you?’

  ‘I’m not telling him. He was the one who left me. No, I have to manage on my own somehow or other.’

  ‘But he has loads of money doesn’t he? He will help you. You can’t possibly manage on your own. Not look after a baby and work all the erratic hours we’re expected to do. If you plan to stay in this job, of course.’

  ‘Nonsense. Heaps of mothers are single parents and manage perfectly well. Though to be honest, I don’t share your optimism that Penelope will keep me on. She’ll simply make it too difficult for me to manage and make sure it’s me who decides to leave. Saves paying redundancy. And since when did anyone in the company get maternity leave?’ Jenny looked away. ‘See? I’m right. Nobody. In tact Penelope sees pregnancy as a sort of disease. Something nasty that only idiots succumb to. Maybe she’s right.’

  * * *

  By September, Amanda’s pregnancy was quite obvious. Penelope had of course, noticed but had said nothing directly. She was biding her time. She did not make things easy and continued to send her favourite journalist out on assignments that were not at all suitable for a pregnant woman.

  The tennis season was quiet and nothing much was going on in Britain so there had been no more gossip in the papers about Sacha Manon or indeed his lady friend.

  Quite unexpectedly one evening, Amanda’s phone rang.

  ‘Amanda? It’s me.’ The voice was unmistakable. The sexy French accent and smooth tones made her heart leap right into orbit. As if it instinctively knew something, the baby began its usual evening gyrations.

  ‘Sacha. Why are you calling me?’

  ‘I missed you. I always have missed you. I want to see you again. Maybe we could make another start?’

  ‘You said you never wanted to see me again. Not ever. You said you were beginning divorce proceedings.’

  ‘I couldn’t do it. I was so very shocked at the time. The publicity seems to have died down now. I had a bad year on the courts. Fredo was always angry with me and we didn’t work well together.’

  ‘You do know it was Fredo who told the magazine about us? He thought if we split up you would concentrate on tennis and forget about me. About us.’ Sacha was silent. ‘Hello? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes. I’m still here. I did not know it was he who had told the world.’

  ‘In fairness, he said he didn’t know about my job. Where I worked. Or he said he didn’t know. It was pure coincidence that he happened to contact my colleague. She was the one who recognised my picture.’

  ‘Please, let us meet and talk. There may be a way we can be married properly again.’

  She put her hand on her stomach and knew that this wonderful, brief fantasy was quite impossible. The last thing he could ever want was a baby taking up his life.

  ‘I’m sorry but my answer is no. I daren’t risk the hurt again. You broke my heart and I don’t think I could survive it if happened again.’

  ‘I’m offering to mend your heart. Please Amanda. Have dinner with me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Goodbye.’ She put the phone down. She had never expected to hear his voice again and it had come as a total shock. She was still shaking. Once he saw her condition, he would immediately feel a sense of obligation. However he really felt about her, he would take simply pity on her. She did not want anyone’s pity. However much she loved him, she did not want him to come back simply because he felt it was his duty. She and her baby would survive whatever happened.

  His call had unsettled her completely. She had been coming to terms with everything and was making such progress. Now, after less than five minutes hearing his voice, she was back to resembling a wobbly jelly. She must be strong. She needed to continue with her plans and not let this interfere with the way she was running her life. All the same, she couldn’t help speculating whether it might possibly work out. They knew so little of each other, beyond the intense passion that had enveloped them when they met and had led to all that had happened since. She had no idea what he thought about children. Would he love to have a child or hate the very idea? The baby kicked violently, letting her know he or she was alive and well. She made her decision. Seeing Sacha again was not an option.

  When she came home from work the next evening, waiting on her doorstep was a huge bouquet of beautiful roses with a card that read, Please let us meet again. My love, Sacha.

  ‘Oh Sacha If only.’ But she knew she must be strong.

  ‘Did you get my flowers?’ he asked in a phone call a little later. ‘One for each night we spent together.’

  ‘Please, you must stop this. You will be off round the world again at any moment. I can’t cope with that sort of a life. I do still love you Sacha but I daren’t see you again. I’m sorry.’ She put the phone down and realised she hadn’t even said thank you for the lovely roses. One for each night we spent together? She counted them. Not many for a supposed lifetime of a marriage. How romantic of him to know such a thing.

  ‘Oh baby, your father is a true romantic but we can’t be together. I wonder if you will ever know him?’ Not for more than a few minutes at any time, was Sacha absent from her mind.

  Later, there were more flowers and another call.

  ‘I’m going back to France soon. Please see me. It will be some time before I am back in England again. There is nobody else for me.’ Tearfully, she put the phone down on his pleas. He sounded so sincere but she was certain that if he saw her condition, he would run a mile. A rising tennis player needed full concentration. Fredo had told her in no uncertain terms, that if she stayed with Sacha, she would ruin his career. She left the phone off the hook for the rest of the evening, in case he tried again. She heard nothing more over the next few days. With mixed feelings, she assumed he had returned to France and that was the end of it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amanda was very late for work one morning. Jenny phoned her. ‘Are you all right? Penelope is on the warpath. I said you were following up a lead at the airport. Inventive desperation eh?’

  ‘I’m feeling terrible. I don’t know what’s wrong. Food poisoning maybe. I keep being sick and with this massive bump in front, I can hardly get over the bowl. I was going to call in but I . . . Sorry, gotta go.’

  Jenny was worried. Something like this was not good for Amanda or the baby. She passed on the message to Penelope who looked furious.

  ‘This pregnancy is taking over her life. Totally interfering with her work. She’s no good to me if I can’t rely on her. So what was this lead that she was following?’

  ‘She didn’t say. I expect it turned out to be nothing.’

  Jenny went back to her desk and began working. Amanda’s phone rang and continued to ring. She went over to it and picked it up.

  ‘I have something to tell you.’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ she interrupted. She immediately realised it had to be Sacha.

  ‘No, you must listen to me. I am returning to France. I have given up playing tennis. Whatever I was dreaming about, it will not happen.
I shall never rise above my current position. When I asked Fredo about his tip off to the magazine, he confessed all. I finished with him and without a coach and any incentive, there is no future in tennis for me. I know now that I am not good enough.

  ‘I shall go back to my parents’ home and I shall help them to make the beautiful wines of the South of France. This will be my new career. Thank you for listening to me this time. I shall not trouble you again. You have made it very clear that you do not want to see me again.’ Jenny began to speak again but it was too late. He had hung up.

  So, Jenny was thinking, the lovely Sacha has been in contact with Amanda again. Why on earth didn’t she see him and tell him about his baby?

  She found the display where calls were recorded on Amanda’s phone, retrieved the number he had called from and put it away carefully. It must have been a mobile number she realised so he would most likely keep his phone with him. At least he hadn’t been calling from a hotel somewhere. She might need to use it one day. Somehow, she had to get her stubborn friend back with this man she so clearly loved to bits.

  * * *

  The weeks passed all too quickly for Amanda. One Saturday in November she sat alone staring dejectedly through the window of her small flat. She gently stroked her swollen belly and sadly twisted the wedding ring from her finger.

  ‘Hello baby,’ she muttered, as she did at least once every hour or more. ‘I’m trying very hard to do my best for you but it’s so tough. Okay, I know it’s all my fault that you won’t have a daddy to love you but maybe I can love you enough for the two of us. Whatever the world says about me, I shall always know I did the right thing at the time. I love you, baby.’

  She sighed deeply. There were still seven weeks to go before the birth and she needed to make her final plans. She wouldn’t be able to work for much longer.