one bit.’
‘No, I don’t suppose it does.’ Then, ‘If it would have changed anything, despite my promise, I would have told you.’
‘But I told you what I hadn’t told them. That you were too late. I was already pregnant.’
He nodded.
‘Maybe, if we hadn’t jumped the gun, if we’d waited until he came home,’ Grace said, ‘he would have told me.’
‘Maybe.’ But, as their eyes locked, they both knew that it was never going to happen.
‘But…’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. Why? Why would he do it? Why would you?’
‘Michael was desperate and I had no choice.’
‘They were both desperate, but there was no problem with Michael. It was Phoebe. They both knew that…’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know. But while he was holding it together on the surface for Phoebe, he was perilously close to a breakdown. She was going through so much to give them both what they wanted. Michael felt so useless and that somehow morphed into the certainty that it was his fault they couldn’t have children. I tried to get him to see a counsellor but he just begged me…’ Grace was staring at him and he broke off, unable to continue. ‘You’re not the only one who owed Michael and Phoebe,’ he said angrily. ‘They took me into their home, too. I only did what you did, Grace.’
‘You think?’ She lifted one eyebrow. ‘A few minutes in a cubicle with a magazine?’
‘If you knew how helpless men feel,’ he said. How helpless, how confused he’d felt, knowing that she was carrying a child he’d so unwillingly helped make. ‘If I’d had any idea where it would lead, I’d never have gone through with it….’
Grace was in turmoil, couldn’t begin to think straight, but one message was coming over loud and clear. That while he had been prepared to assist Phoebe to get pregnant, he’d flown half way around the world in an attempt to stop her from having his baby.
‘It’s okay, Josh. No need to labour it,’ she snapped. ‘I get the picture. Phoebe could have your baby, but I wasn’t good enough.’
‘No! That’s not right. How could you not be good enough?’
‘Then why?’
‘Phoebe was just Phoebe. Michael’s wife. You…’ She’d never seen Josh struggle for words like this.
‘What?’ she demanded. ‘How bad can it be?’
‘Not bad. Far from bad, but we were lovers, Grace.’
‘Lovers?’ She’d never thought of them as lovers. ‘Were we lovers?’
‘I was the first man who knew you.’
First, last… She didn’t want to think about how pathetic that was. ‘I still don’t understand what your problem was.’
‘Don’t you?’ He looked at Posie for a moment, then back at her. ‘My problem was that when Michael told me you were going to have a baby for Phoebe—not his, but my baby—it made me feel the way I did when I left you sleeping after the night we’d spend together, flying away like a thief in the night. I felt as if I was stealing your virginity all over again.’
‘You didn’t steal my virginity, Josh, I gave it to you with a whole heart, but we were never lovers.’
It struck her now so clearly. All those years she’d clung to something that had been unreal—nothing.
‘To be lovers is more than sex. For lovers the whole person is engaged. Not just the body, but the head and heart. My head was missing that night and so was your heart. I don’t believe you know how to love.’
She might as well have slapped him. Yesterday she’d wanted to, now…
Now she had to deal with the fact that it was Josh, not Michael who was the father of her baby. That it wasn’t simple biology, a surrogacy without emotional involvement or ties, but that, ten years too late, her darkest dream had come true.
She didn’t want to slap him, she wanted to hold him. Wanted him to hold her, tell her that it would be all right…
It was never going to happen.
He’d made his feelings plain. He hadn’t expected or wanted this child. But then he’d once told her, when she’d found him burning photographs of his father, that he would never have children.
Later, when Michael and Josh had gone to the sports centre to beat a squash ball to pulp, Phoebe had told her that there had been an announcement in The Times that morning, telling the world that his father’s new young wife had just given birth to a baby girl.
‘I have to deal with this,’ she said, clutching the pack of feeders to her.
‘You can’t run away from this, Grace. Can’t hide. Can’t curl up in your armchair and make it go away. Posie is our daughter and we’re going to have to sit down and decide what’s best for her.’ He looked down at the dark curls of the baby who was chewing at his shoulder. ‘Make decisions that will alter all our lives.’
‘She’s Phoebe and Michael’s daughter,’ she replied, a touch desperately. She wasn’t ready to talk about anything else right now. She needed time to come to terms with what he’d told her. That she’d had Josh Kingsley’s baby. ‘It says so on her birth certificate, as you’ve just taken great pains to remind me.’
‘All the more reason…’
‘No. You didn’t want her, Josh. You never wanted her. You flew from Australia to try and stop her from being conceived.’
‘And failed.’ He came close to a smile. ‘Not that I’m the first man to face that situation. Although I’m probably the first not to at least have had the fun of getting myself there.’
‘Sorry, I can’t help you with that one, Josh,’ Grace said with a desperate flippancy that she was far from feeling. ‘You’ll just have to dig deep in your memory for consolation.’
‘Not that deep,’ he replied without hesitation, his eyes glinting dangerously as he lifted a hand to her face, ran his thumb down the side of her cheek. And for a moment all she could think about was how he’d kissed her—not ten years ago, but yesterday, when he’d woken her. Kissed her, kissed his baby. Because he’d always known that Posie was his. And now he knew that she was hers, too.
This was the first time either of them had ever talked about the night they’d spent together and Grace discovered that at twenty-eight years of age she could still blush like the shy fourteen-year-old who’d first come to this house.
Maybe Josh, too, was experiencing whatever similar response men felt when, without warning, they stumbled into emotional quicksand because, for a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Grace said, ‘You’re okay, Josh. I don’t have a father who cares enough to get out his shotgun and make you do the decent thing.’
‘I
