AllFreeNovel
Share Us
At the final note the audience clapped and they descended from the stage, making way for the next singers. Gabby turned to look up at him.
‘I did it,’ she said quietly, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.
‘You did.’
‘Thank you, Zander. For putting yourself through that for me.’ And, standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his.
‘You’re welcome. Now, let’s head home for that fish pie.’
She smiled. ‘And after dinner I’ll show you how grateful I am.’ She wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Maybe shed a few more inhibitions.’
‘Now, there’s a plan I like the sound of.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
Six weeks later
GABBY SMILED AT her grandmother, making her usual surreptitious check on how well she looked.
But today Lucille returned her scrutiny with interest. ‘You look peaky,’ she said. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Of course. I’ve just been busy at work and...’ Busy with Zander, stacking up a whole pile of treasure trove memories...
‘Busy with Zander?’
Sometimes she wondered if her grandmother could read her mind. ‘Yes.’
‘How are you feeling about the wedding?’
Gabby knew how she should feel: relieved. Relieved because the wedding would mark the end of an interlude she knew couldn’t continue. Already the lines had been blurred too much. The fun fling was no longer a charade, but it was still a temporary job with an end date. That date had almost arrived and it was better this way—to end on a high note before the inevitable fizzle-out factored in.
But now she needed to answer Lucille’s question. ‘Nervous. But relieved that the charade is coming to an end.’
Lucille raised a delicately arched brow and her blue eyes clouded with sudden worry. ‘You’re sure that the charade is still a charade?’ she asked, her voice gentle.
‘Of course. Zander will pay me the final instalment after the wedding and that will be that.’
The idea caused her more than a touch of discomfort. A part of her wanted to refuse to accept it; another part knew she couldn’t. Not when it was her grandmother’s well-being at stake. Plus the money grounded her, made her remember that it was a job.
Her grandmother poured the tea, a lapsang souchong blend, into delicate blue-and-white china cups and Gabby reached out to accept hers. She looked into the light brown depths and suddenly her stomach gave a small lurch. Frowning, she put the cup down. This was her favourite tea—a smell and taste she associated with her grandmother and long, happy chats. But now it smelt...wrong. And her tummy definitely told her not to imbibe.
‘You do look peaky. A bit pale and—’
‘Excuse me, Gran.’ Gabby bolted for the bathroom, sat on the loo seat and fought the nausea. She looked across at the gilt-enamelled mirror—she did look peaky. Pasty, even. With a very unattractive green tinge to her pallor. Nice.
Touching her tummy, she thought back over what she’d eaten in the past day—nothing that would cause this.
A small strand of an idea began to niggle at the edges of her brain. A shadow of doubt wriggled and writhed as she did some frantic calculations. Not possible. She hadn’t had a period for a while, but she was on the pill so she could not be pregnant—the possibility was not worthy of any thought. She’d assumed it was simply due to her normal life being tilted on its axis.
No period.
Feeling sick.
Coincidence.
Yet the doubt persisted through the ensuing conversation with her grandmother, through the rest of the day, and through the supermarket trip where the jars of pickled eggs seemed to call to her.
For God’s sake.
