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‘Or maybe you thought you’d announce the baby news.’ His words cut over hers. ‘Even though we agreed not to say anything before the twelve weeks is up?’
‘Actually, she was the one with the news.’ She hesitated and then drew a deep breath. ‘She told me that you’ve got a brother.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Actually, a twin brother.’ She licked her lips. ‘You didn’t know?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said coldly.
‘He asked her to contact you, to see if you’d be receptive to a meeting.’
‘I do not have a brother!’ he thundered.
‘Alek...’ But her words were forgotten as her body was racked by the most piercing pain Ellie had ever felt. Hot knives were chasing through her belly and stabbing deeper and deeper. All the strength was draining from her legs. Shakily, she reached out to grab the edge of the window seat as Alek strode across the room, his face criss-crossed with concern as he caught hold of her.
But she didn’t want his concern. She just wanted something to stop the pain. Not just the one in her belly—but the one in her heart.
‘Go away!’ she mumbled, lashing out at him ineffectively—but she could see something else in his eyes now. Something which scared her. Why was he looking like that? And why had his face gone so white? Following the direction of his gaze, she saw the shocking scarlet contrast of blood as it began to drip onto the polished gleam of the wooden floorboards.
And that must have been when she passed out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ALEK FELT THE clench of pain around his heart—icy-cold and constricting. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He was powerless to help her and even if he’d been capable of helping her—it seemed he wasn’t going to get the chance to try. Ellie didn’t want him in the ambulance with her, or so one of the paramedics told him, a faintly embarrassed look on his face as he didn’t quite dare look him in the eye.
For the first time in his adult life, Alek discovered the feeling of powerlessness. He couldn’t insist on doing things his way, or overrule what was happening by the sheer force of his personality or financial clout. He was being forced to accept the bitter facts. That Ellie was sick and their baby’s life was in danger. That she was being rushed through the London streets with blue lights flashing and sirens blaring and she didn’t want him anywhere near her.
A bitter taste stained his mouth.
Who could blame her?
He drove to the hospital as quickly as he could but his usual unerring sense of direction failed him and he found himself lost in the maze of hospital corridors, until a kindly nurse took pity on him and showed him the way to the unit. His heart was in his mouth as he approached that white and sterile place. And still they wouldn’t let him see her.
‘But I’m her husband,’ he said, wondering if the words sounded as fake as they felt. What right did he have to call himself her husband? Was that why the ward sister was fixing him with a disapproving look? Had Ellie blurted out the truth to her in a moment of weakness, begging the nurses not to allow him anywhere near her—this man who had brought her nothing but pain?
‘The doctor is with her right now.’
‘Please...’ His voice broke. It sounded cracked and hollow. Not like his voice at all. But then he’d never asked anyone for anything, had he? Not since those air-conditioned nights in his father’s miserable fortress of a house, when he’d lain awake, the pillow clasped tightly over his head but too scared to cry. To the background sound of the night herons which had called across the island, he had silently begged an uncaring god to bring his mother back to him. And then, just like now, events had been completely outside his control. Things didn’t happen just because you wanted them to. He saw now that maybe the reason he’d always turned his back on relationships was because, ultimately, he was unable to control them and that control had become his security in an uncertain world. His heart slammed against his ribcage. Or maybe it was just because, until Ellie, he’d never had a real relationship with anyone.
He looked into the ward sister’s eyes. ‘How is she?’
‘She’s being stabilised right now.’
‘And...the baby?’
His voice cracked again. He hadn’t expected that question to hurt so much, nor for it to mean as much as it did. When had been the critical moment that this unborn life had crept into his heart and taken residence there? The world seemed to tip on its axis as the woman’s face assumed an expression of careful calm—as if she was attempting to reassure him without raising false hopes. He guessed she must have been asked that question a million times before.
‘I’m afraid it’s too early to say.’
He could do nothing but accept her words and he nodded grimly as he was shown into a waiting room which looked onto an ugly brick wall. There was a stack of old magazines on a chipped table and—all too poignantly—a little heap of plastic bricks piled in one corner, presumably for any accompanying children to play with.
Children.
He hadn’t wanted any of his own—that had always been a given. He hadn’t wanted to risk any child of his having to go through what he had gone through. But now, suddenly, he wanted this baby so bad. He wanted to nurture the child that the baby would grow into.
I will never abandon my baby or hurt or punish him, he thought fiercely. He will know nothing but love from me—even if I have to learn how to love him from scratch.
He closed his eyes as the minutes ticked by. Someone brought him a cup of coffee in a plastic cup, but it lay untouched in front of him. And when eventually the doctor came into the waiting room with a ward sister beside him—a different one this time—he sprang to his feet and felt the true meaning of fear. His hands were clammy and cold. His heart was pounding in his chest.
