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‘You’ve got fifteen minutes, Polly,’ Marcus told her firmly as he turned towards the door.
Fifteen minutes. Not an awful lot of time, Polly decided a little breathlessly as she pulled on her nightshirt and emerged cautiously from the en suite bathroom into the mercifully still empty bedroom. She had just managed to scramble beneath the bedclothes when Marcus came in carrying a tray.
‘Supper,’ he told her unnecessarily as he put it down on the bed beside her. Polly’s mouth watered as she saw what he had cooked for her: scrambled eggs and smoked salmon…her favourite light meal and one which she normally only managed to enjoy on Christmas Day morning, along with a glass of champagne, whilst she and Marcus watched Briony opening her presents.
‘Thank you,’ she told him chokily. Had he remembered that it was her favourite, her special comfort food, or had he simply made it because he had the ingredients there? There was no point in asking him, of course.
‘Don’t forget to take your tablets,’ he instructed her as he turned back towards the door.
He was leaving her to eat on her own. Just in time Polly managed to bite back her protest. Of course he was, and she was glad…yes, glad. The last thing she wanted was to have him there with her, extolling Suzi’s virtues to her and enthusing about their plans.
After he had gone she started to eat, but, unexpectedly, despite the fact that the food smelled so appetising, she discovered that she simply didn’t want it. There was a hot, hard lump in her throat which was preventing her from eating, and an even more intense pain around her heart. Miserably she took two of her tablets and sipped the water Marcus had brought for her.
Her ankle ached and she felt lethargic and drowsy. After putting the tray onto the floor, she sank back against the pillows. The bed had obviously been freshly made and she didn’t even have the secret pleasure of having Marcus’s scent around her whilst she slept. No, that privilege was reserved for Suzi. Tears welled behind her closed eyelids and Polly sniffed defensively. She was not going to cry. She was not.
The light was still on when Marcus went into the bedroom later to collect Polly’s supper tray but Polly herself was fast asleep, one arm up to protect her eyes from the light. Marcus frowned as he looked down and saw the supper tray on the floor, her meal barely touched.
He had made it especially for her, knowing it was her favourite—had even had to raid the freezer for the smoked salmon.
It was obvious how devastated she was by the news. He had tried to warn her. Suzi had made it plain to him just what her plans were and now that she was pregnant, of course, the baby’s future had to come first.
‘It will be a boy,’ Suzi had told him triumphantly. Marcus hoped she was right, although privately he thought it was still early days for her to be absolutely sure.
Quietly he picked up the tray and headed for the door, closing it gently behind him.
Polly closed her eyes and put her hands to her aching temples. She was having a particularly trying morning. Her sore ankle still hurt if she misguidedly put weight on it, but it had also recovered enough for her to forget this, with the result that every now and again she did so, causing herself to lurch and wince with pain whilst at the same time cursing because she was hampered in her movements. Add to that the fact that Marcus’s team of management consultants were bombarding her with questions and that, despite the fact that he had returned from the Caribbean two days earlier, Phil was too busy to return her telephone calls, and it was no wonder that her head ached, she acknowledged wearily.
But the ache in her head nowhere near compared to that in her heart. Now that was pain—pain that could not be cured with a pill that could be swallowed. If only…
‘Polly? Suzi’s here,’ Pat hurried into her office to inform her. ‘She wants to talk to you about the reception.’
Suzi…Of course Polly had been expecting this, she had been expecting it and dreading it.
‘Is Marcus with her?’ she asked Pat as casually as she could.
‘Yes,’ Pat confirmed.
‘I’ll be right with them,’ Polly told her secretary, waiting until she had gone before taking a deep breath and pinning a fragile brittle smile to her lips.
‘Suzi…Marcus…’ She greeted them both with false pleasure.
‘Marcus, I don’t know why I need to see her,’ Suzi told Marcus rudely. ‘You haven’t forgotten what I said, have you, about having the marquee opening into the walled garden? I want to have my photographs done in there. The wedding consultant says they can erect a gazebo around the fishpond and, of course, the hotel will have to be closed to any other guests.
