You're All Mine

by Ruth Harrow

Nicole smiles with clear satisfaction, folding her arms across her chest firmly. 'That's what I called you here tonight to tell you, James. I'm pregnant. Heather has already known for a while. But what she didn't know is that it is your baby.'

  The stress-vein in James's temple is visible from where I sit and I'm sure that his head is spinning now just as much as mine.

  My heart sinks and I squeeze my eyes shut, glad I'm already sitting down. Earlier, I had thought that James asking for a divorce was the final nail in the coffin of our relationship. Now I realise that it was already doomed.

  Now it is my husband's turn to shake his head in disbelief, staring at Nicole as I must have done earlier – as though she will declare an April Fool any second. 'This can't be true. Heather, this can't be right... it was just the once... I don't believe this...'

  A thought suddenly strikes me. 'No, it can't be right,' I say, turning to Nicole and watching for a sign of weakness. 'You have still been sleeping with Dean... You said he still comes over here to collect his things. You told me that, Nicole. James might not be the father. How could you possibly know?'

  Nicole squeezes her arms tighter around herself. 'I just know, Heather. The timing is right.'

  'No, it isn't. You have only just found out you are pregnant. You surely aren't far gone enough for James to be the father!'

  My voice rises alarmingly and I stop and take a deep breath to steady myself. I look down automatically at Nicole's abdomen, but she has a thickly-knitted long cardigan wrapped around herself. The hems trail as far down as her thighs, brushing against the blue denim of her jeans.

  This surely can't be happening.

  James seems to be thinking along the same lines. 'She is right, Nicole – I can't be the father. And if I was, I'm sure you would have told me sooner – like the night you called me over here.'

  'I didn't know myself then! I was so upset and caught up in everything that I missed the symptoms and didn't fully realise what was wrong.'

  James tries a different tack. 'Well, you aren't keeping it! If it is mine – or Dean's – you aren't going to have a baby on your own, Nicole. Let's get real for a second.'

  'Well, I have news for you, James. I am going to have this baby – your baby! And no one is going to stop me.'

  'You crazy bitch, Nicole,' James mutters as he sinks down next to me on the sofa with his face in his hands, causing a draft to lift the flyaway hairs around my face. Somewhere in the back of my mind registers that my husband wears a new fragrance; one I haven't chosen, or given my opinion on.

  Nicole looks at James and lets out a forced giggle. 'You know, I don't know if we should let your wife babysit. Haven't exactly had a great example from your own parents have you, Heather?'

  A swoop of panic attacks my stomach.

  'Did you know, James, that Heather's parents aren't dead, after all? They still live on the council estate where your lovely wife grew up. But I guess she hasn't told you that, has she?'

  James looks up with a sigh, as though he can hear nothing else more shocking tonight. 'What are you going on about now?'

  'I said, Heather's parents didn't die in a house fire when she was five – even though that is what she has told us all these years. They are alive and well – and actually quite nice people once you get talking to them. I don't know why Heather ran out and left them when she was eighteen.'

  Something clicks into place in my head – I don't know why it hadn't sooner.

  'It was you,' I say quietly. 'You went and spoke to my parents. You told them your name was Lisa. You told them about Lilly.'

  'That's right,' Nicole smiles maliciously at me.

  James looks between us. 'Wait – Heather – you mean this is true? You've been lying to me all these years... you said they died in that fire – that you were really upset about it... You didn't even invite them to our wedding....'

  He swears out loud and the words seem to ring long after he spoke them in the silence of the room.

  74

  Eight Months Later

  The autumn breeze nips at my skin and I go back into the house for a coat before returning to my pumpkin patch in the garden. This green space looks much different now that I've pushed all thoughts of a Pinterest-perfect, party-ready blank lawn out of my head. Now there are all sorts of plants and flowers of all colours and shapes blooming at me from all angles.

  The place looks as though it has really been allowed to come to life.

  For the first time since I've lived here, I've actually had time to care for and nurture the garden the way it should be. I've decided not to pursue any more jobs as an interior designer after realising that the profession was only making me unhappy. Although I haven't yet established what to do next career-wise, I know that I'm much lighter now that I've made the decision not to continue down the previous path.

  It was a glorious warm summer, but I haven't been paying all that much attention to the weather.

  In true Nicole style, as though she had been trying to extend her hold over us, she gave birth last month, three weeks overdue.

  She emailed us a picture of herself holding her new arrival – a baby girl weighing seven pounds, three ounces.

  Nicole looked flushed in the face. She had gained weight since I last saw her several months ago. A hospital band was visible around her left wrist in the corner of the photograph. She was holding the blanket aside just enough for baby Freya's tiny face to be fully visible.

  As soon as I saw the photograph, I saw the resemblance – but none of James.

  Nicole's daughter is all her – like a miniature version of herself. I'm certainly familiar with Nicole's childhood photos – as she has always kept a select few on display in a set of frames in her kitchen. As soon as I saw Freya's face, I knew she would look just like her mother one day.

  We got the results of the DNA test yesterday. The moment James's eyes scanned the letter he dropped it down on the table without a word and hurried outside to the garden, his hands on his hips. I watched him for a few moments before I picked up the letter too.

  My eyes filled with tears when I read the result.

  It turns out James isn't the father, after all.

  I followed in my husbands footsteps and put my arms around his waist, my cheek against his shoulder blade. Somehow it was easier to forgive a single mistake from James, than it was to forgive a long period of maliciousness from someone whom I had thought to be a friend.

  I know where my priorities are now.

  My parents were delighted upon meeting James when we went over for a Sunday lunch back in April. They took to each other immediately, much to my relief. Even my father had thawed by the end of the meal.

  We spent the next meeting showing them our wedding photos. It took a few visits for my parents to be completely filled in with the missing years of my life. But they are all caught up now and we are planning a dinner out together next, the four of us.

  When I've finished in the garden this morning I'm going into the city. As well as some other business I need to attend to, I want to get a gift for Freya.

  Even though I'm angry Nicole had allowed us to believe that my husband was the father of her child all this time, I still feel like this is something I need to do.

  I think it would be something like closure to seal the occasion with a gift. Like a farewell present for a colleague I'll never see again. Something that will say 'it is over'.

  Just so that there is no confusion between us.

  While I'm out, I am going to do something that I've been thinking about for a while. Something James suggested in one of our therapy sessions last month.

  I feel like now is the right time – I'm going to go into an estate agent and put the house up for sale.

  James was right – it was never really our house from the beginning. I'd always thought of it as mine.

  So, sooner or later, we will put this house behind us and choose somewhere where we will both be happy.

  A fresh start, away from the
past.

  Hopefully somewhere with nicer neighbours.

  Also By Ruth Harrow

  In Her Footsteps: A Gripping Psychological Thriller With a Breathtaking Twist

  One night changes her life forever… But the past won’t let her go...

  Harriet is trapped in an unhappy marriage to her abusive husband, Dan. She dreams of a life where she does not have to live in constant fear. One night, she finally summons the courage and makes the life-changing decision to leave him behind for good. She leaves with only a suitcase and a closely-guarded box she is terrified of anyone discovering...

  Eighteen-months on, Harriet has her freedom. Or does she? She is living her lifelong dream of running a successful art gallery. She should be happy, but things are not what they appear. Her perfect world is plagued by crippling anxiety and disturbing nightmares. Dark secrets from her past threaten to tear her new world apart.

  Why is she so terrified of her own family finding her? Can she ever truly escape the past?

  Soon, Harriet will learn that running from her worst fears is a dangerous mistake and one that will have deadly consequences.

  Download it now – free for Kindle Unlimited readers

  Author's Note

  Thank you so much for reading my latest book, You're All Mine. If you enjoyed reading it and could spare a few minutes, then I would love it if you could leave a short review online. Reviews are really important for helping people to discover this book.

  The idea for this story really came from what seems like the constant bombardment of beautiful images we see online of what is perceived to be “perfect”. Whether we find ourselves comparing our home, wealth, body or any other aspect of our lifestyle to that of someone in the spotlight, we will often feel one-upped. In reality, if we scratched below the surface, we would find these appearances are really just for show. No one really can live a picture-perfect life twenty-four hours a day.

  For this story, I was intrigued by the idea of someone with a social media following becoming obsessed with their image and never knowing when to stop.

  Just a reminder, that places and locations may have been adjusted slightly to better fit the book.

  If you would like to reach out to me, you can do so via Twitter, Goodreads or via my website www.RuthHarrow.com where you can also sign up to be notified of the latest news, including new book updates. If you enter your email address you will be the first to know when I publish my next book, which I am already working on.

  Thank you again for choosing my book.