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‘As your future husband, I have the right to know, and if you don’t tell me I have every intention of asking him!’
‘He said…he said I was his mistress,’ Faith admitted in a deadened voice. She was too exhausted to withstand any more pressure.
The silence went on and on and on. Finally she raised enough courage to look up.
Edward had gone all red in the face. He was also surveying her as if she had turned into an alien before his eyes.
‘I’m very ashamed of it,’ she told him unevenly.
‘So that’s who I’m about to marry…Gianni D’Angelo’s slut.’ Edward labelled her with cold venom. ‘Thanks for telling me.’
Pale as milk, Faith got up and bent down to lift her son back into her arms. ‘There’s not much point continuing this conversation,’ she replied tightly. ‘You’re shocked, and I understand that, but it’s my past, not my present, Edward.’
‘Shocked barely covers it…a sleazy association of that nature!’ Edward fired back in furious disgust. ‘If this gets out locally, I’ll be a laughing stock!’
‘Gianni’s not likely to go around telling people. I only told you because it’s not something I felt I could keep to myself.’ Only now, she acknowledged, she very much wished she had.
Edward vented a humourless laugh. ‘My mother once said I didn’t know what I might be taking on with you. Clearly I should have listened!’
‘Do you want your ring back?’ Faith heard herself ask, without any expression at all.
Edward went rigid, bitter resentment showing in his eyes. ‘Of course I don’t! My God, can’t I let off a little steam without you asking me that?’
‘Calling me a slut is more than “a little steam”,’ Faith countered jaggedly, already wondering if, after their marriage, Edward would throw her past in her teeth every time she annoyed or disappointed him. ‘You might as well know the lot. I was Gianni’s mistress for two years…and I loved him.’
Edward surveyed her in near disbelief. Whether Faith realised it or not there had been a decided edge of defiance in that final announcement.
‘Faith—’ he began brusquely.
‘I just want to go home, Edward. Could you open the door, please?’ she asked woodenly.
Connor restored to his car seat, Faith drove off. Edward was never likely to see her in the same light again. Could she blame him for that? Edward was always very conscious of what others might think. A lot of people had seemed surprised that he should ask a single mother to be his wife. Now Edward was questioning that decision. Were his feelings for her strong enough to withstand such damaging revelations?
Arriving home to find all lights blazing, Faith carried her son straight upstairs and quickly put him to bed. Only when she went downstairs again did it occur to her that the house had the strangest air of being like the Marie Celeste. The kitchen even showed every sign of her mother’s initial preparations for an evening meal. Faith began to tidy up, amazed that the older woman had gone out leaving potatoes half-unpeeled and the radio still playing.
Where had her parents gone in such a hurry? Her father had cancelled a business dinner and her mother should have been attending the choral evening in the church hall. It wasn’t their anniversary or either of their birthdays. Their behaviour didn’t make sense, but Faith was already so tired that she fell into bed, determined to suppress every anxiety and every thought.
Once she had caught up on her sleep nothing would look so bad, she assured herself. Edward would have had time to come to terms with her bombshell. He had hurt her, but possibly she had expected too much from him. After all, she too had been upset by what she had learnt about her own past today. Let the dust settle, she urged herself wearily. Tomorrow would be a whole new day.
Accustomed to being rudely awakened by Connor bouncing on her bed, Faith woke the next morning to a curious silence. Glancing drowsily at her alarm clock, she stiffened and then leapt out of bed in dismay. It was just after ten! For goodness’ sake, why hadn’t her mother roused her?
On her way into the bathroom Faith registered that her son’s bed was already neatly made. After washing at speed, she pulled on a brown skirt and a burgundy sweater. This morning it had been her turn to open the shop early for the deliveries. A perplexed frown on her face, she hurried downstairs.
She stilled at the sight of her parents sitting together in silence in the lounge. They looked odd: stiff and strained, and somehow aged.
Robin Jennings rose heavily upright, a stocky well-built man with grey hair. ‘We thought we should let you sleep in, so I called Louise first thing and said that you weren’t well,’ he explained. ‘Then I took Connor to the nursery as usual. We need to have a serious talk with you and we felt—well, Mr D’Angelo felt it would be wiser to keep the child away from all this.’
‘Mr…? Gianni…?’ Faith echoed in growing confusion. ‘How…I mean…oh, so you know about Gianni?’ she suddenly gasped.
‘Please sit down,’ her father urged.
A hectic flush on her cheeks, Faith was instantly convinced that she knew what was happening. At that moment she absolutely loathed Gianni D’Angelo. Obviously he had gone over her head and contacted her parents. That was probably where they had been last night. With him. And her poor parents looked very much as if they had been completely crushed by what they had learnt about her.
‘Gianni had no right to interfere!’ she exclaimed furiously.
Her father grimaced. ‘Faith, Mr D’Angelo—’
A slight movement at the edge of her vision made Faith spin round. She stared, dumbstruck. Gianni now stood in the archway between the lounge and the dining room. She shook her head in urgent negative. Bewildered anger and resentment burned in her questioning gaze. ‘What are you doing here? How dare you interfere like this? How dare you go behind my back and talk to my parents?’
