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And through the gap she saw them. The sleeping child, the parents looking down on him. Charles, his dark hair rumpled, his towelling robe revealing long, tautly muscled, hair-roughened legs, his arm around Zanna's naked shoulders—naked except for the narrow shoestring straps which supported her clinging satin nightdress—and he was saying softly,
'Don't worry about it. Everything's going to work out. There isn't a man alive who wouldn't welcome that child into his family. And I'm no exception.'
CHAPTER TWO
'So what's happened?' Allie wanted to know, her round face very serious. And Beth turned from the stance she had taken up at the sash window, looking down on the deserted Sunday-afternoon high street of the market town and replied evenly,
'Nothing's happened. I feel like getting back to work. Lots of married women do it.' That was her story, and she was sticking to it. Best friend or not, she couldn't confide in Allie; she would, and quite truthfully, say 'I told you so!'
'If you say so,' the other girl said slowly, stringing the words out, then jumped up from the sofa, her smile brisk now. 'I'll make a drink, then we can see what's on the books. Tea or coffee?'
'Oh… Tea, please.' Beth tugged herself together—she'd been miles away, wondering how she was going to come to terms with life without Charles, and caught the quick upward jerk of her friend's brows and warned herself to be more careful.
Watching Allie walk through to the kitchen of the small flat above the agency office, Beth pulled in a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. So far she'd done wel
l. The struggle back to self-respect had begun and she deserved to feel proud of herself.
As soon as the last of the weekend guests had departed earlier that afternoon she had made up her mind to drive over to see Allie. She hadn't driven since the accident. Charles had been behind the wheel on that terrible day when a drunken youth had overtaken on a blind bend and had caused the accident that had cost her the life of her unborn child.
There hadn't been a thing Charles could have done to avoid it, and the fact that he had emerged with minor cuts and abrasions, while she had landed in hospital with a severe concussion, several broken ribs and a dangerous miscarriage, had been the luck of the draw.
So today nerving herself to take her car out had been the second positive step back on the road to the recovery of her self-respect.
And the first had come when Charles had turned to her after they'd speeded the last of the departing house guests on their way, telling her quietly but with a firmness that brooked no argument, 'Come to the study, Beth. Zanna and I have something to tell you.' He turned back towards the house, sunlight glinting on his raven-dark hair, highlighting the harsh, angular planes of his face, and if there was any expression in those narrowed smoky-grey eyes she couldn't read it.
But this time she was arguing, fighting her corner, and she had tossed back at him levelly, 'Sorry. I've an appointment. Whatever you have to tell me will have to wait.' Wait until she had sorted out the next few weeks of her life, could present her husband with a fait accompli. She knew damn well what he and Zanna had to tell her and she needed to get her say in first. There were winners and losers in every game but she was determined to make sure that, as far as appearances went, she didn't come out of this hateful mess in second place.
Ignoring the sudden angry line of his mouth, she had stridden away, her feet crunching on the gravel as she made for the garages. From deep inside the house she had caught the sound of childish, gurgling laughter and she'd had to fight hard to control the insane impulse to hurl herself into Charles's arms and beg him not to leave her.
Aware of those brooding grey eyes on her back, she had forced herself on, her head high, telling herself that, despite her other shortcomings, Zanna was a good mother. Throughout the last dreadful two days she had observed the care the other woman lavished on the child and Beth had to rub that fact in, that and every other known piece of information, rub it in until it hurt, because that was the only way she could prevent herself from begging Charles to stay with her.
And the deeper the pain the more likely she was to regain the pride she had thrown away when she had agreed to be his wife, she had assured herself, steeling every nerve and muscle to open the door of the Metro Charles had provided her with shortly after their marriage, the car she hadn't had the guts to drive since the accident.
'Are you saying you want to come back into partnership?' Allie asked now, returning with two mugs of tea, and Beth shook her head, making herself smile as she took one of them and sank down on the sofa.
'Not necessarily.' The Helpline Agency, which they'd started together, was run from here, not ten miles away from South Park, and Beth didn't want to be this close.
Working locally, she wouldn't be able to avoid seeing Charles and Zanna and their son from time to time. Besides, her parents still lived in the village although her father had retired from medical practice a year ago, and they would expect her to visit them regularly, and every time she did she would have to drive right past the impressive gates of the South Park estate.
'Well, I can't see the lord of the manor allowing his wife to scrub floors, clean offices, cook for private dinner parties or dance attendance on a senile old lady,' Allie grinned, flicking through a much thumbed leather-bound book. 'Though you're not qualified for nursing duties, of course. And I can't see—'
'Anything in the secretarial line? That I am qualified for,' Beth put in, hoping she didn't sound too desperate. She needed to earn her living, be independent, and a part-time post, which was what the agency specialised in, would tide her over until she could find something permanent, as far away from here as was possible to get.
'Sorry.' Allie wrinkled her nose. 'Plenty last week, but nothing this. There's only one, and that's not suitable.'
'Pity.' Beth took a sip of scalding tea, trying to hide her deep disappointment. Nothing was ever easy, and walking straight into a job as she had hoped was, apparently, not on. She would have to get right away and look for permanent work. Not so simple. She could take the car, of course, since it had been a birthday gift, but she wouldn't, on principle, touch a penny of the generous allowance Charles paid into her private account. Finding affordable accommodation while she looked for work could be a headache.
And because Allie was astute, highly adept at picking up vibrations, Beth decided she had to show an interest, and she managed idly, 'So what's so unsuitable about the only position you appear to be unable to fill?' and had to force herself to keep her cool when Allie dismissed,
'It's in France. An English writer living in Boulogne—he moved there years ago, apparently, buying and renovating a small farmhouse a few kilometres inland.' Allie bit unrepentantly into her third chocolate biscuit and said through a mouthful of crumbs, 'It sounds a peach of a job. His permanent English secretary did a runner with a German hunk she met at Le Touquet and left him stranded. He wants a temp to take over while he hunts for another permanent lady—someone on the wrong side of fifty, and prim with it, so he says!' She tapped the open book in front of her reflectively. 'Betty Mayhew—you remember her, of course—is dead keen. And if he's still unsuited by the time she finishes her stint with Comtech, she can have a stab at it.'
'Betty was always good at getting what she wanted,' Beth reminded Allie smoothly, recalling the vibrantly attractive blonde who seemed to sail through life, and men-friends, with insouciant ease. She had been one of the first secretaries she and Allie had signed up all that time ago, and if she'd set her sights on a spell in north-west France then, for once, she was going to be disappointed.
Bitchy! she scolded herself tartly, then added decisively, 'Pity to miss out with a new client. I'll go. And don't think I've lost all my skills,' she admonished, deliberately misinterpreting her friend's pole-axed stare. 'I've done a fair bit of work for Charles, off and on; I've kept up to date, believe me.'
'Oh, I do,' Allie came right back. 'I do. But will Charles mind having an absentee wife? And don't think he can come up with something flash and buy a helicopter to ferry you home at five on the dot each evening,' she grinned. 'Part of the trouble my client is having is because he often finds he works best at night and has been known to wake his secretary in the small hours to take masses of dictation!'
Beth shrugged, avoiding Allie's eyes, telling her, 'That won't be a problem. Charles has to spend a great deal of time away from home himself,' and that was the truth. Since the accident he'd been away more often than not. 'He won't mind at all if I'm away for a few weeks.' And that was true, too. He and Zanna would be very happy if she were to make herself scarce. They wouldn't want her to hang around, making scenes, once they'd explained what was going on. And she didn't want that either. She would beat a dignified retreat. It was, after all, the only thing she could do.
