a know-it-all sometimes, but most of the time he’s pretty mature for his age. He has a genius IQ, you know—three years ahead of himself at his school, and Jay says he’ll probably be going to university next year…’
‘It sounds as if he’d make a pretty good big brother.’
‘I guess.’ Carolyn didn’t sound very enthusiastic.
Regan took a deep breath. ‘As long as you and Joshua love each other,’ she said steadily, ‘surely that’s all that really matters…?’
Her little fishing expedition failed. Carolyn looked broodingly out of the window. ‘Jay has been great,’ she sighed. Her lips compressed. ‘Do you know that he married his first wife because she was pregnant?’
Regan’s hands clenched in the folds of her red skirt. ‘No, I didn’t know.’
‘She did it deliberately. Chris was only ten and the twins were eleven, and she knew that Jay didn’t want to get involved in any heavy relationships until they were older, so she got pregnant, knowing that his over-developed sense of responsibility wouldn’t allow his baby to be born illegitimately. According to Chris she was a stupid bitch who began pushing for the kids to be sent to boarding school as soon as she got the wedding ring on her finger, and when Jay argued with her about all the money she was spending she let it slip that if he hadn’t been rich she wouldn’t have wanted his brat. Jay didn’t say anything, but the day after Ryan was born he had Clare served with divorce papers right there in the hospital.’
‘My God!’ For sheer ruthlessness that took some beating. ’She must have been shattered.’
‘I don’t think so. Chris says she split for the States a few weeks later and never raised a squawk about custody, so I guess Jay must have bought himself out of a fight.’
It was precisely what he had done, on his own admission, but Regan wondered if there had not also been an element of threat involved. Even at twenty Joshua Wade would have been a formidable force, with the tragedy and hardship that had shaped and toughened his character already behind him.
‘But that’s nothing like your situation, is it?’ she said delicately. ‘I mean, it’s not as if you deliberately fell pregnant…’
‘No, it’s not!’ Carolyn looked fierce. ‘It’s not my fault, and I don’t see why I should be expected to act as if it is!’
Regan frowned. ‘You’re not being coerced into anything, are you? Joshua might have had strong views on illegitimacy back when Ryan was born, but social attitudes have changed quite a bit since then. You don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. I’m sure your grandmother would understand—’
Carolyn’s golden eyes flared with alarm. ‘You’re not going to tell her!’
‘No, of course not. But I think you should…before the wedding.’
‘I was just hoping things might all sort themselves out,’ Carolyn said moodily. ‘She’ll be hurt when she finds out what I’ve done—that I might besmirch the Harriman name…’
‘Rubbish!’ said Regan, who already knew that Hazel wasn’t a snob. ‘I think in the long run she’s more likely to be hurt if she thinks that you were afraid to tell her the truth. It’s not your marriage, it’s your happiness that’s important to her…’
Carolyn heaved another great sigh. ‘I thought you were here to help with the wedding, not to try and sabotage it!’ she joked morosely.
Regan recoiled. ‘I would never do that!’ But she uneasily acknowledged that she wasn’t exactly an objective bystander.
‘No—I suppose you’d have no reason to, would you?’ said Carolyn, in all innocence.
God, what if she casually mentioned this little discussion to Joshua? He was sure to believe the worst!
‘I’m just pointing out that you do have options,’ she said hastily, getting up from the bed. ‘Whatever you decide, you’re the one who has to live with the consequences, so make sure you know exactly what they are and what it is you really want.’
A surprisingly militant expression crossed Carolyn’s face, replacing the wistful indecision. ‘Oh, I know exactly what I want.’ She sat up. ‘You know, I think I feel a bit better.’
‘Then maybe you’d like to come downstairs. Joshua’s here with Ryan—that’s why Hazel sent me to see if you were awake.’
Carolyn threw the bedclothes down the bed and got up, stretching lethargically. ‘I suppose I could. Did Chris come with them?’
Regan told her about the canal and she laughed maliciously and seemed to perk up, throwing open her huge double closet to view the crowded contents.
‘Serve him right!’ she said, unconsciously echoing her great-uncle’s sentiments.
She hummed as she selected white cotton shorts and a loose, flowing candy-striped cotton top and threw them onto the bed.
‘I’ll just have a quick shower—tell Jay I’ll be down in about thirty minutes.’
Regan wondered how Joshua would feel about kicking his heels for that long. Perhaps he was used to her blowing hot and cold.
‘I think he said something about having to do some work today,’ she felt obliged to warn her. ‘I don’t think he’s going to be able to go sailing…’
‘Oh, well, I’ll just have to find something else to do to amuse myself, won’t I?’ Carolyn showed no sign of the predicted disappointment. ‘Maybe you could come over to the marina with me later, and we could stroll around the shops and look at the boats, maybe have a cappuccino at one of the cafés. Joshua’s got his corporate launch moored down there, ready to take clients on junkets to next week’s regatta out in the gulf, so maybe we could stop by for a drink on the deck…’
‘Maybe…’ said Regan, suddenly foreseeing the pitfalls that could result from becoming too friendly with Carolyn.
Joshua was on his cellphone when she went back down, and Regan was able to avoid any further barbed encounters by allowing Hazel to bear her off to ‘what I call my GHQ’ to show her the volume of work that awaited her on Monday—‘Because you’ve worked hard all week and we can’t expect you to labour on weekends as well’.
‘GHQ’ turned out to be a large sewing room on the sunny side of the house, containing an impressive array of electronic machinery on a sewing table that Hazel sheepishly admitted she hardly ever used, a large overstuffed floral sofa and comfy chair and a vast roll-topped desk, its numerous cubbyholes crammed higgledy-piggledy with piles of letters, bills, papers, jotted lists, magazine cuttings and cards.
‘It looks a lot worse than it actually is,’ said Hazel, sitting down gratefully in the padded swivel chair that Regan hurriedly trundled forward and pointing to a second chair with her crutch. Regan obediently sat down and dubiously eyed what she thought looked like a bomb site as Hazel went on, ‘Frank laughs at me, but I do have a system and it works very well when I have two hands to do my filing.’
She proceeded to prove it as she showed Regan how each cubbyhole pertained to one aspect of the wedding—the invitations,
