guy.’ The bitterness in Matt’s tone was unmistakable now and he changed the subject quickly. ‘Are your parents deaf as well?’
‘My father is. Mum’s hearing.’ Beth took a deep breath. She may as well say it. She was proud of who she was and was damned if she was going to hide it as if it were some kind of embarrassing secret. ‘I have autosomal dominant deafness. That means …’
He silenced her with an amused look. ‘I know. One dominant gene, inherited from your father, and not a recessive gene inherited from each parent.’
Of course he knew. Genetics 101. ‘Yes. Mum and Dad knew pretty much what to expect when they had children. With the dominant gene there was always going to be a fifty-fifty chance of each of us being deaf.’ Her throat constricted suddenly as if she was being choked.
‘But your mother saw past that.’
‘Yeah. Just as well for me and my brothers.’ Pete hadn’t. Neither had his mother, who had already persuaded him that he was perfect and didn’t have much difficulty convincing him that his children should be, too.
Beth looked down at the child dozing in her lap. She was surrounded by all the things that Pete had promised her and then reneged on. All the things she had sworn she wouldn’t think about any more. She began to feel sick again.
‘Are you okay?’ Beth focused back on Matt with an effort of will and saw concern in his face. ‘You look very pale.’
‘Yes, fine.’
‘Sure you don’t feel dizzy? Or hot and cold?’
‘No. Neither.’ The room had stopped lurching now, and the heat from the fire was warming her again.
‘Nausea?’
‘No.’ The feeling had passed and Matt’s obvious frustration at her lack of symptoms was making her feel much better.
‘May I take your pulse?’
‘I’ll do it.’ Beth wasn’t sure if her heart really did beat twice as fast whenever he touched her but she wasn’t taking any chances. She counted off the beats against the second hand of the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Dead on sixty.’
‘Hmm. Very good. Excellent, in fact. Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘I’m not in shock.’
‘You probably are, very slightly. Anyone would be after tonight.’ He sighed and gave up. ‘I suppose there’s no harm in offering you a non-medicinal drop of brandy.’
Beth giggled. The way this man could take her from the depths of depression back to laughter in a matter of minutes was frightening. ‘That sounds more like it. Thanks, just a splash.’
He rose and opened the glass door of a cabinet fitted in the alcove beside the chimney breast, withdrawing two cut-glass tumblers and a brandy bottle. Pouring a couple of mouthfuls into each, he placed one next to her and returned to his seat with the other. Jack stirred, reaching out for her, and Beth coiled her arm back around him. Tipping her glass towards Matt in a silent toast, she took a sip of the brandy and settled back against the cushions. Crisis over.
It made Matt smile, seeing the two of them like this on the sofa, Jack curled up in Beth’s arms, sleeping peacefully. Her eyes were luminous in the firelight and she looked even smaller, even more fine-boned in the rolled-up jogging pants and sweatshirt he had lent her.
He picked up the textphone, which lay beside his chair, and finally managed to prise the cover free. Water dribbled out over his jeans and he brushed it away, sending the drops fizzing into the fire.
Looking up, he realised that she had been watching him and heat started to build in his chest. The thought of her eyes on his hands, his lips, became almost too much to bear and he smiled awkwardly.
‘We’ll leave this open to dry out overnight and try it in the morning. It should be all right.’ It seemed so natural to say we and he liked the fact that she gave the slightest of nods in response, as if she, too, accepted that for tonight at least they were a single unit. For the moment, anyway, she seemed to have abandoned her stubborn independence, melting into the small family by the fireside, somehow making both him and Jack whole again.
She was sipping the small portion of brandy he had allowed her, watching as he laid the phone out to dry by the hearth. ‘So how’s Jack settling in?’
‘It’s early days but he seems to be doing well. He loves being near my parents and his new school is great. I think it’s made a big difference, getting away from the old house. He sleeps a lot better now.’
‘That’s good. A decent night’s sleep always helps you face the day.’
‘Yeah. I used to get up in the middle of the night and find him sitting downstairs, waiting for his mother to come home.’ Matt pressed his lips together. Jack had done that regularly before his mother had died, as well as after.
Her fingers tightened around Jack’s shoulders, as if she wanted to pull him close and hug him but was afraid of waking him. ‘Well, he seems to be ready to talk a little about how he feels. It was a privilege to be there this afternoon.’
‘I’m thankful that you were.’ Matt could see why Jack had opened up to Beth. It was hard not to. But there were things he would never tell anyone, not even if Beth taught him the signs for them.
‘Jack said his mother died in a car accident. I’m sorry I didn’t realise that when I brought him down to see you this afternoon. It must have been a shock to hear that he’d almost been knocked down.’ She twisted her fingers together.
Matt’s heart felt as if it was actually melting. The sensation was an odd one and not entirely pleasant. ‘Thank you, but it’s okay.’ He spread his hands in a gesture of reassurance. ‘He was there with you and I could see he was all right. And my wife wasn’t knocked down by a car. She’d been working away from home for a week and was driving back to London on the Friday evening when her car skidded on a patch of ice on the motorway.’
Beth’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. That she never got home.’
She hadn’t been on her way home. She’d been on her way to a hotel, with her lover. Matt swallowed the truth, but couldn’t bring himself to offer up the usual lie. ‘Thank you.’ He opted for a brisk change of subject. ‘It’s getting late. I’d better get this little guy up to bed.’ He rose and lifted the sleeping boy out of Beth’s arms, briefly scenting her hair before he managed to put some space between them again.
Jack stirred and rubbed his eyes. ‘Story, Dad.’
‘You bet. Let’s get you upstairs and we’ll have a story there.’
‘Why not down here?’ Matt knew what Jack was angling for. He wanted Beth to tell him a story.
‘No, mate.’ He retrieved the copy of Robin Hood and his Merrie Men from where Jack had dumped it that morning and tucked it against his chest. ‘Beth probably doesn’t like Robin Hood.’
He could see from her face that she wouldn’t have minded reading Jack’s bedtime story one little bit. He minded, though. Having Beth read to Jack,
