isn’t the same as a grieving widow clinging to the remnants of a dream.’
‘But that’s not what I’m doing, not what this is about.’
‘Are you sure? Have you really analysed your motives, Connie? I don’t think so. And what if you meet someone?’ he asked her, that nagging fear suddenly rising again unbidden and sickening him. ‘What if, a couple of years down the line, another man comes into your life? What then? Would you expect me to sit back and watch a total stranger bringing up my child, with no say in how they do it?’
She shook her head vehemently. ‘That won’t happen—and anyway, I’m getting older. I’m thirty-six now. Time’s ebbing away. I don’t know if I’ll ever be truly over Joe, and by the time I am, and I’ve met someone and trust him enough to fall in love, it’ll be too late for me and I really, really want this. It’s now or never, James.’
It was. He could see that, knew that her fertility was declining with every year that passed, but that wasn’t his problem. Nothing about this was his problem. Until she spoke again.
‘I don’t want to put pressure on you, and I respect your decision. I just—I would much rather it was someone Joe had loved and respected, someone I loved and respected, than an anonymous donor.’
‘Anonymous donor?’ he said, his voice sounding rough and gritty to his ears.
‘Well, what else? If it can’t be you, I don’t know who else it would be. There’s nobody else I could ask, but if I go for a donor how do I know what they’re like? How do I know if they’ve got a sense of humour, or any brains or integrity—I might as well go and pull someone in a nightclub and have a random—’
‘Connie, for God’s sake!’
She gave a wry, twisted little smile.
‘Don’t worry, James. It’s OK. I’m not that crazy. I won’t do anything stupid.’
‘Good,’ he said tautly. ‘And for the record, I don’t like emotional blackmail.’
‘It wasn’t!’ she protested, her eyes filling with tears.
‘Really, James, it wasn’t, I wouldn’t do that to you. I wasn’t serious. I’m really not that nuts.’
He wasn’t sure. Not nuts, maybe, but—desperate?
‘When it happens—promise me you’ll take care of her.’
‘Of course I will, you daft bastard. It won’t happen. It’s your last tour. You’ll be fine.’
But he hadn’t been fine, and now Connie was here, making hideous jokes about doing something utterly repugnant, and he felt the weight of responsibility crush him.
‘Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,’ he said gruffly.
‘I won’t.’
‘Nothing. Don’t do anything. Not yet.’
She tilted her head and searched his eyes, her brows pleating together thoughtfully. ‘Not yet?’
Not ever, because I can’t bear the thought of you giving your body to a total stranger in some random, drunken encounter, and because if anybody’s going to give you a baby, it’s me—
The thought shocked him rigid. He jack-knifed to his feet and strode back to the house, his heart pounding, and after a few moments he heard the crunch of gravel behind him on the path.
Saffy was already there at his side, glued to his leg, and as he walked into the kitchen and stared at the wreckage of his shopping bags, she wagged her tail sheepishly, guilt written all over her.
A shadow fell across the room.
‘Ah. Sorry. I was coming to tell you—she stole the steak.’
He gave a soft, slightly unsteady laugh and shook his head. ‘Oh, Saffy. You are such a bad dog,’ he murmured, with so much affection in his voice it brought a lump to her throat. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.
‘She was starving when Joe found her. She steals because it’s all she knows, the only way she could survive. And it really is her only vice. I’ll replace the steak—’
‘To hell with the steak,’ he said gruffly. ‘She’s welcome to it. We’ll just have to go to the pub tonight.’
Better that way than sitting alone together in his house trying to have a civilised conversation over dinner and picking their way through this minefield. Perhaps Saffy had inadvertently done them both a favour.
‘Well, I could have handled that better, couldn’t I, Saff?’
Saffy just wagged her tail lazily and stretched. James had gone shopping again because it turned out it was more than just the steak that needed replacing, so Connie was sitting on a bench in the garden basking in the lovely warm June sunshine and contemplating the mess she’d made of all this.
He’d refused her offer of company, saying the dog had spent long enough in the car, and to be honest she was glad he’d gone without her because it had all become really awkward and uncomfortable, and if it hadn’t mattered so much she would have packed up the dog and her luggage and left.
But then he’d said ‘yet’.
Don’t do anything yet.
She dropped her head back against the wall of the cabin behind her and closed her eyes and wondered what he’d really meant by ‘yet’.
She had no idea.
None that she dared to contemplate, anyway, in case a ray of hope sneaked back in and she had to face having it dashed all over again, but he’d had a strange look about him, and then he’d stalked off.
Run away?
‘No! Stop it! Stop thinking about it. He didn’t mean anything, it was just a turn of phrase.’
Maybe …
She opened her eyes and looked up at the house, trying to distract herself. It was set up slightly above the level of the garden, possibly because of the threat of flooding before the sea wall had been built, but the result was that even from the ground floor there were lovely views out to sea across the mouth of the estuary and across the marshes behind, and from the bedrooms the views would be even better.
She wondered where she’d be sleeping. He hadn’t shown her to her room yet, but it wasn’t a big house so she wouldn’t be far away from him, and she felt suddenly, ridiculously uneasy about being alone in the house with him for the night.
Crazy. There was nothing to feel uneasy about. He’d stayed with them loads of times, and he’d stayed the night after Joe’s funeral, too, refusing to leave her until he was sure she was all right.
And anyway, what was he going to do, jump her bones? Hardly, James just wasn’t like that. He’d never so much as looked at her sideways, never mind made her feel uncomfortable like some of Joe’s other friends had.
If
