unstable to begin with, but when someone leaves a couple of kids and a pretty widow the press are not going to mention that. The press did a real job on Luc.’
The information was a lot for Megan to take in at once. ‘Why don’t I know about any of this?’
‘It happened during your dad’s last illness. Luc has changed a lot since then too; he doesn’t look much like he did…short hair, sharp suits…people forget.’
‘But Luc doesn’t,’ she said quietly.
‘God, no!’ exclaimed Malcolm. ‘Luc isn’t the forgiving and forgetting type.’
‘Him and me both,’ Megan gritted. No matter what had happened to Luc in the past, nothing made what he had done to her excusable.
‘Relocation?’ Megan repeated blankly. She had been finding it pretty hard to concentrate all day. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet even though she had done the test twice—to be sure. It hadn’t really been necessary—deep down she had already known, even before the little blue line had appeared.
There hadn’t been symptoms as such, just a feeling. She had told herself that she was worrying unnecessarily, dates meant nothing, her cycle had always been pretty erratic.
She was still in denial. Of course she knew it happened, but not to her! The situation had been complicated by the fact that an old school friend was staying with her that week. Sophie was just about her best friend in the world, but confiding in her wasn’t an option. Sophie had been married five years and had just completed her second lot of IVF treatment—how could you tell someone who was desperate to have a baby that you’d got pregnant accidentally?
‘The quotes to bring the building in line with health and safety regulations have proved prohibitive.’
Megan struggled to concentrate on what her boss was saying.
‘This a prime site for development and, apparently, it’s economically more viable to sell and move out of the city.’ He sighed. ‘It’s a charming part of the world, not far from a village called Underwood. I don’t suppose you know the area…?’
‘Actually I was brought up not far from there,’ Megan admitted.
‘Excellent. Well, you don’t have to make any decision now, but we’re very keen not to lose key staff like yourself. I think that once you’ve had a chance to examine the details, you’ll find that the relocation package we’re offering is generous—very generous indeed.’
For two days afterwards she pretended nothing had happened. On the third she took some of the leave she had accumulated and went home, it seemed the natural thing to do.
Her mother was away when Megan arrived at the house. The housekeeper, Elspeth, whom Megan had known since she was a child, explained that she had gone to Paris for a break.
‘Do you know when she’ll be back?’ Megan asked.
‘I couldn’t say,’ came the less-than-forthcoming response.
Another time Megan might have pressed the subject, but she had other things to think about. Maybe she was reading too much into the way Elspeth spoiled and fussed over her during the weekend, or maybe the older woman had inherited some intuitive powers from her Celtic forebears; either way Megan wasn’t allowed to lift a finger. It was actually rather comforting to be fussed over.
The ancient walls of her childhood home had a strangely soothing effect upon her; the moment she walked through the door she experienced a strange sense of peace. Was it her condition that made her look at the beauty of her surroundings with different eyes? While she was walking in the woods one morning she came to a decision: she wanted her child to be brought up here where she had.
Laura returned on Sunday.
‘You look incredible,’ Megan told her as they took tea together in the pretty morning room. ‘I really like your hair that way.’
‘You don’t think it’s too…young…?’
‘You are young, Mum.’ Normally Megan would have picked up on her mother’s tension immediately, but on this occasion she herself was distracted. Should she just come out with it, or would it be better to let her mother have a good night’s sleep before she broke her news?
She took a deep breath…there was no good putting it off.
‘Mum…’
‘Megan, there’s something I have to tell you…’
‘Same here,’ Megan said with a strained smile. ‘After you…’
Laura got up and walked over to the low mullioned window. For the first time Megan registered her parent’s unease. ‘You know I went to Paris?’
Megan nodded. ‘Yes?’
‘I stayed with a friend.’
Her mother, her discomfort evident, was looking anywhere but at her. A knot of cold fear tightened in her stomach.
‘That was nice,’ she said, clenching and unclenching her white-knuckled hands as she worked up the courage to ask what she had to. ‘You’re not…ill, are you, Mum? If you are,’ she added quickly, ‘you mustn’t panic. We can cope with whatever it is.’
When Laura turned and saw her daughter’s face a grimace of self-recrimination crossed her own. The fear that lurked behind Megan’s composed expression, she had seen before. At her lowest ebb, during her husband’s illness and after his death, Megan had been a constant source of strength and comfort to them both, but sometimes Laura had seen that look…a shadow, really…It had made her feel guilty for relying so heavily on Megan.
‘Gracious, no, I’m fine,’ she assured Megan quickly.
Megan released a sigh of relief; nothing her mother had to say could be worse than what she had been imagining.
‘Well, that’s all right then. Who did you stay with? Anyone I know?’
Laura came and sat on the sofa beside her daughter. ‘Jean Paul Legrand, you remember him…?’
‘Tall, silver-haired, sexy French accent.’ Laura gave a strained smile as her daughter reeled off the Frenchman’s distinguishing characteristics. ‘The dishy lawyer whose wife Dad went to college with.’ Her brow creased. ‘Didn’t she die?’
‘Yes, three years ago.’
‘How is he?’ She only had the vaguest recollections of how he’d looked that weekend a few weeks earlier. A few weeks…it felt like a lifetime ago.
‘He’s fine. Actually…’ Laura sighed and caught Megan’s hands. ‘The thing is, darling, this isn’t the first time I’ve stayed with Jean Paul and actually what I’m trying to tell you…Oh, my, this is very difficult.’
‘Whatever it is it can’t be as difficult as what I have to tell you,’ Megan promised, her fingers tightening encouragingly around her mother’s.
‘Jean Paul has asked me to marry him and I’ve said yes.’
Megan’s
