Innocent on Her Wedding Night (21 page)

Because if you hadn’t been involved with Daniel I think I could have liked you, she reflected miserably. We might even have become friends—done the whole shopping, coffee-drinking thing as a matter of course.

And I wouldn’t be feeling so damned guilty…

When the waiter came she ordered a cappuccino she didn’t want, while Belinda chose herbal tea again.

‘I shall be so sick of the stuff before I’m finished,’ she sighed, then eyed the small gold-striped bag Laine had placed on the table. ‘Have you been buying something lovely?’

Laine touched it defensively. ‘Just some of my favourite scent.’ The one I wore in bed last night. ‘Although I can’t really afford it any more,’ she added with constraint.

‘I’ve worn the same perfume all my life too, and now I suddenly can’t bear the smell of it. Isn’t that weird?’

Laine shrugged. ‘Perhaps you’re just tired of it?’

‘Maybe,’ Belinda agreed as their drinks arrived. ‘Or perhaps it’s something else.’ She leaned forward. ‘Oh, goodness, I do realise we hardly know each other, but even so I’ve got to talk about it or I’ll burst. You see—I’m pregnant. That’s why I’ve sworn off coffee for the duration—because I’m having a baby.’

There was an odd roaring in Laine’s ears, and she suddenly seemed to be looking at Belinda through the wrong end of a telescope.

A voice she recognised as hers said with perfect normality, even pleased interest, ‘But that’s wonderful. Congratulations.’

Belinda sighed happily. ‘It is great. Completely unplanned, of course, but I couldn’t be more thrilled.’

There’s something I need to tell you.

Oh, Daniel—Daniel…

She looked at Belinda’s ringless hands. ‘And your—partner must be delighted too.’

‘Well, his initial reaction left a lot to be desired.’ The other girl pulled a face. ‘But obviously we hadn’t meant it to happen—or not yet—and it was a shock.’ She grinned. ‘But he’s grovelled suitably, and decided to become very excited about the whole thing, so I’ve decided to forgive him.’ She looked dreamy. ‘And I know he’ll make a wonderful father. I mean—you must know who it is.’

‘Yes,’ Laine said, with a calmness that astonished her. ‘Of course.’ Under its froth, her cappuccino tasted as bitter as gall. If she drank it she’d be sick—so sick. Maybe she could get sick enough to die, and then she would never have to think again of Belinda having Daniel’s baby. Of Daniel and Belinda together—married—settled. Family. ‘He—he’ll be marvellous with children.’

Last night, she thought, agony searing her. How could last night possibly have happened when he knew—all this?

Because she’d thrown herself at him. That was the how and the why. Because he’d chosen to be kind, not to humiliate her with a direct refusal. Because he could spare her the last gift of one night.

For, in the long term, it made no real difference to his plans. And that was what he intended to tell her over a very public lunch at the Savoy. A place where she could be trusted to behave well and not make a scene loaded with recriminations.

And at least he’d been honest enough not to pretend that he loved her. There might come a time when she’d be grateful for that. But not now…

Belinda was still chattering gaily. ‘Of course they can tell you in advance what sex the baby is, but I’m not sure I want to know. Would you?’

‘I—I’m not sure. Probably not.’ Laine pushed her cup away, her stomach revolting. She glanced at her watch and gave an elaborate start.

‘Heavens—is that the time? My shift will be starting, so you’ll have to excuse me, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh.’ Belinda was disappointed. ‘Do you have to go?’ She hesitated. ‘I hope I’m not driving you away—rabbiting on like this about the baby?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Laine put down some money and got up, offering a taut smile which was almost a grimace. ‘It was so nice to see you again. And I wish you—all the best for the future. You—and your man.’

Somehow she made it outside again, wandering along blindly with no idea where she was going. A girl in a yellow dress on a sunny day with nothing inside her but darkness—and the knowledge that her heart was breaking.

She wanted to vanish. To simply disappear and not be heard from again—much as she’d intended when she went off to Florida. But that hadn’t worked them, and it would succeed no better this time, because it was the coward’s way out. Besides, she had nowhere to go.

Instead, she went back to the flat, changed into her uniform, leaving the yellow dress on the floor, and went to work.

‘I thought you had a virus.’ Denise was surprised to see her.

‘A passing thing.’ She shrugged. ‘And soon gone.’

But when the day was over she would have to return to face him. To put an end to it and let him go, salvaging what little remained of her pride on the way. She had no other choice.

Because, if she was honest, she had no one to blame but herself for what had happened. The annulment of their marriage had set Daniel free to pursue other relationships, and if he was going to find happiness with Belinda she’d forfeited any right to stand in his way.

And if she’d allowed her desires and emotions to overrule her common sense and decency, then that was her problem.

In a way, what had happened between them was the setting of unfinished business from two years ago. A kind of closure. Which was how she had to regard it, no matter what her feelings might be.

Because nothing could be worse than sitting across at table in an expensive restaurant, listening to Daniel trying to tell her gently that their relationship had no future. And why.

He must never know that she’d hoped—even for a moment—that things might be different, that they might have had a chance of happiness together.

So once again, it was up to her to walk away.

And as she cleaned and polished, quickly and mindlessly, she came up with the beginnings of a plan.

He was there at the flat before her, standing by the fireplace, his jacket and briefcase flung on one of the sofas, and as she hesitated by the door he raised his head and looked at her.

‘You didn’t come to the Savoy,’ he said quietly. ‘Why?’

‘I left a message,’ she said quickly. ‘Didn’t they give it to you?’

‘I learned you wouldn’t be meeting me. Now I’m waiting for an explanation.’

‘I couldn’t get away,’ she said. ‘I can’t take unnecessary time off. I need to earn my living, therefore I have to—prioritise.’

‘And evidently I don’t come high on your list?’ He paused. ‘Which means, presumably, that last night made no difference.’

She lifted her chin. ‘What do you want me to say? That you more than lived up to your—considerable reputation? That you’re amazing in bed—a revelation—the standard by which all future lovers will be judged? Well, yes. All that and more. I freely admit it.

‘But.’ She shrugged quite deliberately. ‘But—it was a one-night stand, and we both know it, so it would be silly to attach any more importance to it than that.’

‘A one-night stand?’ Daniel repeated slowly.

‘Well, please don’t pretend that you’ve never heard of them—or not had your fair share.’ There was danger in the room, she could feel it, but she pressed on, forcing a smile. ‘Dan, I’m grown-up now. I know how these things work.’

‘Then perhaps you’d enlighten me,’ he said. ‘Because I thought last night was a beginning, not an end.’

She thought of Belinda’s shining eyes. Oh, Dan, how can you say that—how can you? You have another beginning—another commitment now. And she needs you—needs your loyalty… She wanted to scream at him, to hurl accusations, to call him a liar—all kinds of a bastard—but knew it was not the way. That she had to stick to her guns in order to survive. Therefore, ‘How could it be?’ she drawled. ‘Shall I be frank? As you said, we’ve come to the parting of the ways, and I confess I’d always wondered, rather shamefully, what it would be like to go to bed—to lose my virginity—with someone who really knew what he was doing, and this seemed to be my final opportunity.’

She paused. ‘And now my curiosity is satisfied. End of story.’

‘Surely more than just your curiosity, my sweet?’ he said silkily. ‘If memory serves.’

‘Why, yes,’ she said. ‘But that doesn’t mean I require a repeat performance.’

How can I be doing this? she asked herself, pain twisting inside her. How can I be reducing to vulgar triviality all that beauty and passion and sweetness that I discovered in his arms? His gentleness with me that first time—the way he coaxed me to rapture? How can this possibly be happening?

He took a step towards her. His voice was harsh. ‘But if I wish to refresh my memory—what then?’

‘Then I’d fight,’ she said. ‘And that would make it rape.’

‘Dear God,’ he whispered, and turned away.

His back to her, he said, ‘I asked you to the Savoy to talk. Aren’t you remotely interested in what I wanted to say?’

She bent her head. ‘Whatever it was, it makes no difference. Because it’s none of my business. We’re both—moving on. Our lives are going to take us down different paths. I can accept that, so why can’t you?’

‘Because that’s not the whole truth, Laine.’ He swung round, his face like stone. ‘You were going to meet me. I know you were. Because when I got your message I came here to find you. It suddenly occurred to me, you see, that after last night you might be too shy to face me in daylight in a crowded restaurant.’

He threw back his head. ‘And in your room I found a dress on the floor. A dress that I remembered. Something you’d clearly intended to wear, then changed your mind. And I need to know why.’

She said, ‘Because last night was—last night. And that’s all it was. It can never be anything else. And this time I managed to change my mind before I made another terrible mistake.’

‘You don’t consider your virgin sacrifice to have been some kind of error?’ His voice bit. ‘That it should have been a privilege for the man you love?’

She flinched inwardly. ‘The man I love isn’t around any more. And I drove him away.’ She looked down at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze in case he saw the truth in her eyes. Realised she was talking about him. ‘And he won’t be coming back,’ she added expressionlessly. ‘So—staying celibate under those circumstances seemed a little pointless.’

He said, too quietly, ‘Are you telling me that, in spite of everything, you still—care for him?’

‘I’m telling you we can’t choose who we love. And perhaps I’ve discovered that I’m a one man girl, and that sex, however, fantastic, is not going to change that.’

The silence between them was ice, and it seemed to stretch out to eternity.

At last he said, ‘I see,’ then picked up his jacket and briefcase and headed for his room.

Laine came away from the door, aware that her legs were shaking under her. She felt grimy, inside and out, but her ploy seemed to have worked. And she’d done it without mentioning Belinda, or his impending fatherhood, or anything might else which might cause her to fall apart in front of him.

When Dan returned he’d changed, and was carrying a travel bag, along with his briefcase and laptop.

He said curtly, ‘I’m taking only what I need for tonight. I’ll arrange to have the rest of my stuff picked up tomorrow.’

‘Where are you going?’ The question escaped before she could stop it, and it was stupid—stupid—because she already knew the answer.

He was already at the door, but he turned back to look at her, the bitterness in his eyes searing her skin like acid.

He said softly, ‘Give me a break, Laine. What do you care?’ And went.

‘You’re losing weight,’ said Denise. ‘Go on like this, you’ll have to ask Mrs M for a smaller overall.’ She paused. ‘How do you manage it?’

‘It’s simple,’ Laine returned lightly. You simply arrange to be agonisingly, unbearably unhappy. ‘I just watch what I eat.’ Watch it, push it round the plate, then throw it away. Oh, and I sleep badly too. It all works a treat.

But it had forced her into a decision about the flat. Jamie and Sandra seemed settled in New York. They were talking about marriage, and clearly had no plans to return, so selling up and splitting the money suddenly made a lot of sense.

Besides, since Daniel had left, three weeks ago, the place had become unendurable. Even stripped of his possessions—and the firm he’d used had been thorough in the extreme—everything about it managed somehow to remind her of him, and how much she’d loved him. How much she loved him still, she corrected herself bitterly. She couldn’t even move back into her own bedroom. It was far too painful—too redolent of memories that tormented her day and night.

She was almost scared to pick up a newspaper in case it mentioned him, or carried a report—pictures—of his wedding.

So, best to put the flat on the market, achieve the best possible price, and make a fresh start. Perhaps belatedly undergo some form of training for a proper career, instead of simply drifting from day to day because she was too heartsick and weary to make real decisions about her life.

And one day she might even be glad to open her eyes in the morning.

When they reported back at the office, Mrs Moss greeted Laine unsmilingly. ‘A young man left this for you.’ She handed over an envelope. ‘We’re not a dating agency, you know.’

Laine said levelly, ‘I assure you I’ve never given that impression to anyone.’ She took the envelope, opened it, and scanned the brief typewritten lines.

We need to meet again and talk.

I’ll be at Blakes Bistro in Jurgen Street tonight from eight p.m. Please be there too.

It was unsigned.

She turned to Mrs Moss. ‘Did he leave a name?’ she asked urgently.

The older woman shook her head. ‘Just said to make sure you got it.’ She snorted. ‘I told him he had some nerve.’

‘Well, what did he look like?’ Laine persisted. Daniel—it has to be Daniel. No one else knows where I work. But why, suddenly, after nearly a month of total silence?

‘Didn’t notice.’ Mrs Moss thought for a moment. ‘Good-looking, I suppose, if you like that kind of thing.’

Denise dug Laine in the ribs. ‘Got yourself a secret admirer, have you?’

‘No admirers at all,’ Laine said wearily. ‘As far as I know.’