seeing Luc after an eternity. He’d be…twenty-eight now. What would he think of her?! She took herself back to their first meeting. She’d been storming along the A38 near her home, in an attempt to walk off her fury after yet another row with her tyrannical and dogmatic father. She’d infuriated him by refusing to encourage the attentions of the limp, insufferably smug son of their wealthy neighbour. Her father had had ambitions for her. Most of them boiled down to seeing her married to a wealthy, influential man.
As she’d stomped along, steaming at her father’s accusations of her wilfulness, ingratitude and downright stubborn stupidity, it had begun to rain in torrents, drenching her beautiful silk Bellini suit in seconds. No wonder Luc had stopped his lorry! He must have thought he was hallucinating, especially when she accepted his offer of a lift, slipped off her gorgeous Italian shoes, wriggled her expensive skirt up to her thighs and clambered up the high steps into the cab.
‘I don’t care where you’re going,’ she’d said grimly, not looking at him, not even aware that she’d picked an Adonis. ‘Just drive me somewhere dry where I can fume for a while!’
That was then. And now…she saw a completely different woman. One who’d been to hell and back, grown wiser, more wary, more grateful for small mercies.
Her mind cleared, her soft, unhappy mouth grew firmer and she straightened, proud of how she’d survived, telling herself to be content with the person she’d become. When she’d left him she’d been scrawny and unhealthy-looking in a baggy old jumper and dowdy skirt, a walking scarecrow who’d forgotten what life and laughter were like.
She felt a hollow sensation in her stomach thinking of that ghastly moment when she’d found herself on the pavement outside their little house. What kind of mother left her child? A Class One cow, of course. She gave an involuntary shudder, her eyes as dark and shiny as rain-battered slate.
It hadn’t occurred to Luc that there might be a powerful explanation for such unusual behaviour. He’d believed that she didn’t love Gemma. Far from it. She’d put her daughter before her own needs. Always had, always would.
The birth had been awful. Her baby had been two weeks overdue and she’d been induced. The drugs had given her a protracted and painful labour and had left her in shock. It had been nearly a year before post-traumatic stress had been diagnosed and she’d begun treatment.
At the time, though, Luc had had no idea that her decision to leave was instinctive, to save Gemma’s life. The greatest sacrifice she could make.
No. He hadn’t even paused to think. Ellen let out a small sigh. They hadn’t known one another very well. It had been a whirlwind courtship of fun and passion, and her reckless, impulsive behaviour in urging him to run away with her to London had contributed to the wrong impression he’d formed of her when she couldn’t bond with her baby.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he’d demanded, when he’d come home and found her case in the hall—and Gemma yelling her head off in the tiny sitting room beyond.
‘Going.’ It was all she could manage. A huge lump of emotion was blocking her throat. She desperately wanted to take Gemma in her arms. But didn’t dare.
He gave an impatient snort of disbelief and pushed past her, grabbing the nappy sack and crouching on the carpet beside his screaming daughter. Confused, she watched from the doorway as he undid Gemma’s rompers.
‘God!’ he said in disgust. ‘She’s soaking! What do you do all day? This place is a tip!’
‘I…did change her, not long ago! Today?’ She found it hard to think, her mind fuddled. ‘I went shopping.’
Nervously she indicated a pile of bags full of clothes for herself which she didn’t need and would never wear. And she didn’t even know why she’d gone out, let alone bought the stuff. Absurd.
‘Shopping!’ he exploded. ‘We’re in debt, Ellen! I’m working all hours to pay just the interest! Why do you do this to me? Gemma’s your priority, not yourself. You could have picked her up! Seen to her!’
No. No, she couldn’t. She had to keep away and overcome that awful urge to grab Gemma and fling her across the room. No one understood. The doctor had put her on sedatives and implied that she was behaving like a spoilt child. Perhaps he’d even said as much to Luc!
After the birth Luc had been puzzled and then annoyed by her lack of interest in Gemma, but she was helpless in the face of the overwhelming fear that she would harm her child, and she was capable of focusing only on that one, overriding primitive instinct to protect her baby.
‘I have to go!’ she croaked, trembling and as limp as a rag doll.
He shot her a quick glance, his eyes narrowing as they searched hers. ‘Where? We don’t know anyone around here. Do you mean,’ he asked tightly, ‘that you’re off to visit your parents? They’re actually speaking to you again?’
Ellen licked her lips, her eyes hollow from night after night without sleep. ‘I’m…leaving you.’
His shoulders rose and fell several times before he spoke. By that time Gemma had been deftly cleaned, dried and dressed again, and was tucked over her father’s shoulder and whimpering quietly.
‘What have I done?’ he asked in a low tone. But despite his attempt at control, his voice was shaken.
‘Nothing. It’s me. I can’t stay!’ she blurted out. ‘I can’t stand it any longer.’
‘It? Do you mean Gemma?’ he demanded, his face black with anger. She nodded. She couldn’t stay because of Gemma. ‘It. My God! You self-centred, idle…’ His eyes closed in pain. ‘If I hadn’t come back early, you would have left her,’ he said menacingly. ‘Yelling and alone—’
She flinched at the accusation. ‘No! I was waiting for you to come back! She…she was crying! She kept crying! On and on…’
‘But you wouldn’t pick her up.’
At her wits’ end, her mind confused, Ellen turned her back on him, unable to meet the bitterness and loathing in his eyes. Summoning up all her strength, she bent to pick up her case. Behind her, she heard a sharp intake of breath and she straightened, terrified of what he might do.
‘My God! You…you mean it, then!’ he breathed in horror.
‘Yes,’ she replied listlessly. ‘I’m going to my parents.’
Luc placed Gemma on the play mat and in two ground-swallowing strides was standing in front of her, fury in every line of his body. ‘Why?’ he raged. ‘OK, leave me, fall out of love with me, be bored by me. I can understand that—but how can you leave your own baby?’
Numb with misery, she stared back, watching him push back his hair in a tell-tale gesture that echoed the bewilderment in his face.
‘Say something!’ he snapped.
‘Nothing to say,’ she mumbled painfully.
‘You can’t go! She needs you!’ he cried passionately. ‘You’re fit and well. She’s not thriving. Don’t you care? Doesn’t your heart bleed when she cries? Don’t you feel pity?’ He stared at her uncomprehendingly, his frustration mounting. ‘What kind of a monster are you,’ he demanded, ‘that you rarely pick your own baby
