She permitted herself a smile at his amazement. ‘Oh, you know me,’ she said sarcastically. ‘All fun and no responsibility.’
‘Sounds about right,’ he agreed sourly, not recognising that he was being teased.
She raised her eyes to the ceiling in exasperation and gave up on him. ‘I enjoy it there. It’s like being part of a big family. We have a great time.’
In the pause which followed, Ellen thought sadly of her own dysfunctional family. And of Luc’s doting widowed mother, who’d believed no one, absolutely no one, short of a canonised female saint, would have made a suitable wife for her beloved only son. His mother was dead now. Gemma must be his only blood relative, she mused.
‘I’m glad you’ve found work that matches your skills,’ Luc said rudely. ‘Now. Tonight. What time do you start work?’
‘Seven-thirty.’ Her hand shook, and she glared at it for being so stupid. ‘But I’m not seeing you—’
‘You must. We’ll meet beforehand.’ He stated this in the confident, macho tone which had once made her feel cherished and protected. Now it irritated her beyond belief. ‘Where? Your house?’
She frowned, hating to be pushed around. Inviting Luc to her flat was the last thing she wanted. She’d always met Gemma and Luc’s PA, Donatello, at a local café to protect her privacy. She’d been afraid that Luc would stop Gemma visiting her if he knew how unsuitable her flat was.
‘Why can’t you get it into your head that I don’t want to see you at all?’ she complained crossly. ‘You’re a part of my past I’d rather stick in a sack and bury ten feet under.’
‘That goes for me too. Do you think I want to see you? You’re not exactly my favourite pin-up. But it’s important,’ he retorted. Ellen grumpily recognised that there must be a team of wild horses dragging him kicking and screaming in her direction. ‘This is about Gemma. About you.’
She went cold. That sounded ominous. Her knees seemed to be giving out and she leaned heavily against the peeling wall. ‘But can’t we—?’
‘This must be settled. Choose somewhere public,’ he went on relentlessly, riding roughshod over her feeble objection. ‘I only want ten minutes of your time.’ His tone had become irascible. But then she wasn’t fitting into his plans, was she? ‘Surely you can grant me that, for the sake of my daughter’s well-being?’
His, not our, daughter. Yes, she thought, that was how it was—and he meant to divorce her and demand that she surrender her access rights. An overwhelming sense of defeat enveloped her. Clearly—and understandably, considering the last time Gemma had visited her—he wasn’t happy with even the limited access which the courts had granted her.
Crunch time. Well, she’d known it would come one day. She inhaled slowly, steadying her nerves. Before he broached the subject she would speak to him herself, tell him that she would relinquish what she’d fought so hard for. Seeing her own child grow up.
She drew in a long, shaky breath. She wanted to be the one who called things to a halt, not him. It was a matter of pride, of self-respect and of taking her own life in her hands.
Every fibre of her body shrank from what she must do. And yet, in her heart of hearts, she knew that Gemma didn’t deserve to be dragged away from the home and father she adored and dumped on a mother she didn’t love.
No, worse than that, a mother who frightened her. Ellen’s eyes became filmed with a misty silver. What did the child fear?
The last time Gemma had come, she’d clung to Donatello as if Ellen were a hungry witch on the lookout for a child to fling into her stewpot. The entire visit had been a disaster. Gemma’s silences, inexplicable terror and quiet, desperate sobbing at night had tortured Ellen so much that she’d phoned Donatello and begged him to rescue the little girl before three days had gone by.
Like it or not, she had to face facts. Once and for all, for the sake of her child, she had to forget her own needs. Gemma mustn’t suffer any more.
Oh, God! she thought bleakly. A second sacrifice!
But it would make Gemma happy. That was all she wanted. And, despite the heaviness of her heart, she felt a little comfort in that.
Quickly, in case in a moment of weakness she changed her mind, she said, ‘If I must, I must. There’s a café in Lancaster Street by the tube station. Be there at seven.’ And she cut the connection before he could suggest anything different.
Numb with the enormity of what she was about to do, she stood motionless by the phone, recovering her equilibrium. Or at least trying to. It seemed to have wandered off somewhere, leaving her floundering in a dark abyss.
It came to her then. Something which briefly eclipsed her thoughts of Gemma.
She was to meet Luc. After all this time.
A strange sensation filled her entire body. Ellen tried to identify it and failed. Nor could she understand why adrenaline should have leapt through her like wildfire and put her into overdrive.
She was shaking like a leaf. And yet she was burning, too, with a weird excitement, her heart thudding like crazy.
Luc. The man she’d given everything to. Heart, soul, mind, body. And she’d surrendered her child to him, too.
Aching with the memories, she bit her lip till it hurt. She could be strong—she’d proved that. She wouldn’t let him destroy her again. If he’d found happiness then good for him. Gemma would have a new mother…
Full of misery, she swallowed and concentrated fiercely on overcoming her near-hysteria. Gemma came first. Once again she’d do what was best for her child. And then she’d face the future square on.
A tear fell unexpectedly from her eye, and she moodily licked it up with the tip of her tongue before drawing herself erect. Courage, she told herself. Be calm.
Her shaking hands went instinctively to her heart. Pale, feeling bruised from tension, she prepared herself mentally for the worst. Tonight she would know if she had truly conquered her inner demons.
CHAPTER TWO
THE light in the hall went out and she tried not to see it as an omen. It was on a time clock to save Cyril money, and she hated the meanness that left her, old Mr Baker and Sally and her petrified children fumbling around in the pitch dark.
The damp-smelling blackness of the hall made her shiver. She hurried back to her flat. The door was stuck open and wouldn’t budge. That was all she needed! She struggled in mounting fury with it and eventually dragged it shut.
A sense of panic skittered through her mind. Life was crowding in on her again, making difficulties. And she had to admit that she was scared of her ability to cope if too many things went wrong. A groan escaped her dry lips at the horror of losing control again and sinking into the black depths of suicidal despair. No. That mustn’t happen.
‘Help me, help me!’ she whispered, forcing the words through her teeth.
As she walked shakily into the room, she caught a glimpse
