of foreboding at the thought of queries about her past. An occasional note was written, an occasional ‘hmm’ mouthed.
She noticed a slight resemblance to her husband’s Aunt Jean, triggering a pang of guilt. She’d only kept in token touch with everyone, had avoided personal contact. In a few weeks she’d have to notify them that she was living in Sydney. Remarried. Having another baby. The latter when Ethan decided to make the announcement.
Sneaking a peek at him, she met genuine concern. Whatever he saw caused him to take her hand, link their fingers and squeeze. He had no idea how calming those slight actions were.
Dr Conlan laid down her pen and glasses, placed her elbows on her desk and linked her fingers. She smiled sympathetically.
‘I appreciate this must revive painful memories for you, Alina, and I sincerely hope your new baby brings you happiness.’
Ethan squeezed her hand again.
‘The sample you brought in officially confirms your pregnancy. If you’d like to go into the examination area, I’ll be in shortly. We’ll talk after.’
Alina went to the open doorway indicated. The faint murmur of voices drifted in as she prepared and lay down on the examining table. She stared at the ceiling, silently chanting her mantra.
NICE AS THE doctor was, Alina felt relieved as they left. A referral for an ultrasound and an appointment card were in her handbag. Ethan held the door open, his free hand clasping the pamphlets they’d been given.
She’d seen his surreptitious peek at his watch in the elevator. Catching his arm she stopped them both. ‘You need to get back to the office, don’t you?’
‘There’s always work to be done. We can—’
‘Hail a taxi and I’ll drop you off. The sooner you get back, the less chance of staying late.’ And she’d have some quiet contemplation time to mull over the doctor’s advice, read those pamphlets, and fully accept the path she’d chosen.
His cobalt eyes gleamed with gratitude. His fingers rested gently on her cheek for a moment. ‘Spoken like a true corporate wife.’ He looked round. ‘There’s a snack bar over there. I’ll grab a sandwich to eat at my desk.’
He made one call during the taxi ride to his office, booking the ultrasound for Monday the twenty-first of April at ten. She wrote the date and time in her notebook as he repeated them for confirmation, realising it was the day after the wedding. When she would be recorded as his wife.
Ethan sensed a change in her. Was she too beginning to realise the enormity of their agreement, so simple in words, so complex and mind-boggling in reality? In front of the doctor he’d claimed to be the father of her child. He’d said ‘our baby’, ‘our child’ so easily. Now he had to fulfil the promises he’d made to Alina and his sister’s memory.
His pragmatic nature demanded everything be put in place quickly, privately. Nothing left to chance, no hesitation that might give anyone cause to believe he doubted his paternity. Even before she’d agreed he’d set up appointments without considering the effect on her. Even after learning of her loss he hadn’t deviated from his plan.
He hadn’t allowed for the reality—hadn’t understood the impact it would have on them both.
He reached for her hand, breathed in her sweet fragrance. She didn’t react; lost in a world he had no right to access.
The taxi was nearing his office. He tilted her chin, took in her subdued expression and almost told the driver to keep going. What could he say or do? Nothing until she was ready to confide in him. A quick kiss on her forehead produced little response. He had no right or reason to be disappointed. Only a week ago he’d walked out on her.
* * *
Alina’s head was inside the kitchen island cupboard when the intercom buzzed at about eleven the next morning. She’d just managed to reach the small can in the back corner and jerked at the sound, banging her head.
She walked over to the front door. Hesitated. Ethan hadn’t mentioned anyone coming. Would he want her to answer? Another buzz. She pressed.
‘Hello.’
‘Good morning. Is Ethan at home?’
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted at the high-pitched, cultured voice. Her mouth dried. She swallowed twice, rubbed her neck. Finally managed a croaky reply. ‘No, I’m sorry, he’s not.’
‘I’m Sophia James. May I come up?’
His mother—judgemental to the nth degree. Far worse than the ex-girlfriend she’d suspected. Should she let her in? What would she do if Alina refused her entry?
‘Hello? Are you still there?’ Slightly peeved.
‘Please come up.’ Denial only delayed the inevitable. In three weeks Sophia would be her mother-in-law. For a short time anyway.
She raced to her bedroom to check her appearance. After brushing her already neat hair she went slowly back, taking long lung-filling breaths. Waited, slowly counted to nine after the bell rang before opening the door.
Sophia James was the epitome of a stylish, sixtyish woman with all the resources to fight any sign of ageing. From her coiffured dark hair to the handmade high-heeled shoes colours matched, everything fitted perfectly. There was nothing soft about her at all. Not a trace of warmth in her red lips or in her flat brown eyes.
Alina felt an irrational zing of satisfaction that both this woman’s children had expressive blue eyes, clearly inherited from another family member.
‘Please come in,’ she said, standing aside.
Sophia walked in with an air of entitlement, scanning the area as if it were her territory. Scanning Alina as if she were an applicant for a lowly household position.
‘You are not the cleaner. Why isn’t Ethan here with you?’
Spoken as if she couldn’t be trusted to be alone in his home. She felt a twinge of insecurity, then pride came to her rescue. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders. She’s Ethan’s mother. Treat her with respect. She’s the baby’s grandmother. That last thought eased her resentment. This lady would not take kindly to any of the traditional titles given to a grandmother.
‘I’m Alina Fletcher. Would you like coffee or tea? Ethan’s at work.’ She held back on saying, But I’ll bet you know that.
‘Mild coffee, thank you. White. No sugar.’ As if she were ordering from a waitress in a café.
Alina watched as Sophia stopped before entering the lounge, giving the area a thorough scrutiny before selecting one of the armchairs. Giving the impression that she had never seen the decor before. After popping a pod into the machine Alina joined her, staying on her feet to attend to the drinks.
‘You’re the girl with Ethan in the photograph a friend texted to me. You were kissing in the street, and now you’re acting like this is your home. Are you living with him?’ Blunt and insulting.
She
