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‘Owe you?’ She pulled away, rubbing her arms, but it was impossible to rub away the tingling imprint his fingers had left on her skin. ‘I suppose I do owe you something. You’ve housed and fed me for some weeks now, haven’t you? That must be worth quite a lot at London rates.’ She pushed past him and walked over to the small table and pulled her cheque book from her bag. ‘Let me write you a cheque to cover the costs. I’m afraid it won’t be for the full amount as I’m a trifle low on funds right now. Maybe you can make up the shortfall by claiming the rest against your tax. I believe there is an allowance given for donations to charity, and that’s what I’ve been for the last few weeks, isn’t it, David? Your own personal charity case!’
She scribbled a cheque and handed it to him, her mouth set into a rigid smile to hide the pain. He accepted the paper and glanced at it, then slowly and deliberately tore it in half and let it drop to the floor.
‘Are you deliberately trying to insult me, Beth?’
‘Insult you? I was merely offering to pay for my keep. Lord knows you’ve gained little else from this arrangement so it’s the least I can do. But if you won’t accept payment then that’s that. It just seems a shame that this “mistake” you made by asking me to marry you has cost you so much!’
‘I was angry when I said that before. I won’t apologise because you were in the wrong to start meddling in something you don’t understand.’
‘Understand? No, I don’t understand any of it, David, and why? Because you don’t want me to! But don’t worry about it any more. It won’t make any difference one way or another now. Goodbye.’
She swung round and wrenched the door open, hurrying through it towards the stairs, half blinded by tears.
‘Beth!’
David shouted her name, his voice filled with such urgency that instinctively she glanced back over her shoulder just as she went to take the first step down. Her foot slipped on the edge of the tread and with a cry of fear she reached desperately for something to save herself, but there was nothing but space beneath her seeking hands. Pain knifed through her as she crashed against the metal handrail then rolled to the bottom of the stairs and lay in a crumpled heap. Seemingly in the distance a man was calling her name, repeating it over and over again with a desperation that vaguely surprised her, but then the darkness rose and claimed her and she heard nothing more.
CHAPTER SIX
THE hospital was quiet, the faint sounds of a trolley being wheeled along the corridor barely disturbing the silence in the small side room.
Beth lay in bed, her eyes closed, her face as white as the pillows. Her hands lay on her stomach, pressed lightly against the flatness, as she tried to come to terms with the knowledge that there would be no baby now. The doctors had been kind and patient as they’d quietly explained that everything possible had been done to save the child, but that in the end nature had taken its course. Now all she felt was a strange emptiness, as though part of her had been torn away. Somewhere during these few, too brief months she had come to love the child which had been such a shock when she’d first learned about it, but now she would never hold it in her arms, never touch it, care for it, watch it grow and learn to love her in return. If she could have cried then maybe it would have helped, but the grief she felt went deeper than tears.
The door opened and Beth looked round, forcing herself to return the nurse’s smile.
‘How are you feeling today, then, Mrs Kane?’ She came over to the bed and took Beth’s pulse, noting the figure down on the clip-chart hanging from the end of the bed.
‘Much better, thank you, Nurse. My head doesn’t ache quite so much.’
‘Good. That’s a sign that you’re on the mend.’ The nurse made another note on the chart then hung it back in its place. ‘You might feel up to having a visitor, then?’
Beth looked away, feeling her stomach churning at the thought of who it might be. ‘Who is it?’
‘Your husband, of course. Look, Mrs Kane, I know you said that you didn’t want to see him yet, but if you would just reconsider. The poor man is quite distraught. He’s spent the last two days in the waiting-room, and I really think that—’
