Be My Baby (9 page)

She cleared a space in the tangle of clothes and sat on the edge of the bed.

She needed to remember that, for Luke, the passionate clinch this afternoon had been little more than a hormonal blip. Nothing more.

And the knowledge made her want to weep, because she knew that by choosing to stay she had sealed her fate. She was going to fall in love with him anyway and there was nothing she could do to stop herself.

 

‘Hooray! We've got another two. Look, Dad! We're beating you.'

Luke smiled over to where his daughter was standing with Gaby, crabbing line in hand. He'd never seen her so animated, her fresh pink cheeks glowing in the April air. She adjusted the bait on her hook and dropped the line in the water again.

It had been Heather's idea, making this crabbing trip into a contest. Boys against girls, she'd decided. A few weeks ago that choice would have stung, but now he didn't mind a bit that she'd chosen to team up with Gaby.

Ever since the night of Liam's party, nearly a month ago, things had been different. He knew Heather loved him now, and the knowledge meant he didn't have to squeeze so tight in an effort to hold on to her. Gaby had been right, as usual. Giving Heather the space and freedom to be her own person had produced a transformation.

Look at her now, laughing and joking with Gaby as they tried to edge further ahead in the contest.

And look at Gaby, trying to appear cool when he guessed she'd much rather have a good ten feet between her and the bucket of crabs. She only got close to it for Heather's sake. But that was Gaby all over. She gave of herself freely, no matter what the cost. He had a lot to learn from her.

He pulled his crab line out of the water and deliberately shook the crab off before it was over the bucket of salty water.

‘Oh, bad luck!' called Gaby and he looked up. Her eyes were glowing with approval, her hair scraped into a half-bun-half-ponytail thing that was about to give in to gravity. God, she was beautiful.

He felt the full force of the realisation like a punch in the gut. And then she smiled at him. A smile that said she knew he was losing the crab-catching race on purpose and that he was wonderful for doing so, and his stomach twisted further.

It was all starting to come naturally to him and he didn't know how he'd done it. When he'd strained and struggled and tried, he'd fallen flat on his face. It was the same as when he and Heather had planted sunflower seeds in their London garden all those years ago. Give the seed enough light and water and you didn't have to push and stress; it just grew because the conditions were right.

That was where Gaby had come in. She'd shone her warmth on them and things had started growing inside, whether he'd noticed them at first or not.

He strung a new piece of bacon on to the hook, but his fingers were shaking so badly it fell off and dropped between the wooden slats of the pontoon.

It had been almost a month since they'd kissed and he'd expected that the urge to repeat the experience would dwindle. Not so. If anything, it was gathering momentum—so much so that sometimes he could hardly think of anything else.

But she'd been right about that too. Heather was the important thing, not his own out-of-control emotions. The kiss had been a mistake. Typical that Gaby had seen that straight away and it had taken him a while to see the wisdom of it.

When he thought of the damage he might have caused if he'd actually gone in there, as he'd planned, and suggest they see where things went…

Hopefully, a few more weeks and his body, heart—whatever you wanted to call it—would catch on too. Then the sinking feeling he got every time he remembered there could never be anything between them would go.

He was still staring in her direction and she got his attention with a little wave. ‘You're overdoing it,' she mouthed behind Heather's back.

Huh?

She pointed to the crab line still dangling empty in his hands, nowhere near the water, and he realised he'd forgotten he was pretending to lose. He was losing for real.

 

‘Thirty-seven…thirty-eight…thirty nine.'

Gaby winced as Luke picked each crab up by the back of its shell and dropped it carefully back into the river.

‘You beat me by a long way, girls.'

Girls?

The truth was, she felt sixteen all over again, so he might as well go ahead and call her a girl. She certainly wasn't acting like a grown-up. Grown women didn't harbour hopeless crushes for their bosses. The smile stayed put on her face, but the life behind it died. It was all getting too much. Pretending she didn't notice every time he walked into a room, trying not to show her heart was melting when she watched him with Heather. All too much.

She was past the point of no return now. She loved him. What was she going to do? Staying was pathetic, but leaving was just too hard. And anyway, although Luke and Heather were doing much better, it was still early days.

In a few months, when everything was more settled, she'd leave. They'd be able to find a new nanny and she'd go. She promised herself she would ring the agency in a couple of weeks and start them looking for a permanent replacement. In fact, she'd do it right now, just to prove to herself she wasn't as spineless as she thought she was.

She pulled her mobile phone out of the back pocket of her jeans, but before she could scroll down to find the Bright Sparks Agency number, she noticed a flashing icon that told her she had a voicemail message.

She hadn't heard the bleep announcing its arrival, but Heather had been squealing so much it was hardly surprising. She punched a sequence of buttons and waited to hear who the message was from.

‘Gabrielle?' her mother's voice screeched in her ear. ‘Just to let you know the party starts at eight o'clock and I'd like you to be there on the dot. Do wear something nice, won't you? Bye.'

Oh, yes. Next Saturday was the sixteenth. Justin's party. She'd been intending to wriggle out of it, but maybe this was just what she needed. A weekend away from Luke and the Old Boathouse might give her some time to herself. The luxury of not being constantly terrified she was going to give herself away, scared that Luke would be able to read the damped-down emotions all over her face, was very tempting.

‘Anything important?'

Luke had finished releasing the crabs and was winding up the crab lines while Heather stacked the buckets together.

‘Actually, I was wondering if I could have the whole of next weekend off. It's my brother's birthday party.'

‘That shouldn't be a problem. You haven't taken as many days off as you could have, and I could take some annual leave and spend some time with Heather myself.'

Yes. That would be good. A few days with just the two of them was just what they needed. It would be good practice for when she left for good. She couldn't always be a buffer for them.

Heather joined them. ‘Does that mean we can go and visit Granny and Grandpa like you promised?'

Luke didn't do a terribly good job of hiding his reaction to that question. ‘Erm, we'll see.'

‘Dad! You promised!'

‘I said, “We'll see”, didn't I?'

‘That always means no.'

She was right. Heather was as sharp as a pin when it came to getting what she wanted. Pity she didn't apply the same lateral thinking to her homework.

‘Okay. We'll go and visit your grandparents.'

‘Cool! Can I have an ice cream?'

Luke found some change in his pocket and shook his head as Heather ran away with it to the newsagent's.

‘Don't you get on with your parents?' Gaby asked, feeling a little nosey. Luke hardly ever talked about his life before the Old Boathouse—prison, his family, his wife—nothing.

‘Oh, no, I get on fine with my parents, but they're living in Spain now. I'm planning to take Heather out for a long visit in the summer holidays.' He hesitated. ‘You could come too, if you wanted.'

Gaby said nothing. She'd be gone by then.

‘It's Lucy's parents we're going to visit.'

‘And you don't like them?'

‘It's not that. Things were fine before Lucy died…'He looked up the river, his brow creased.

‘Luke, you don't have to explain to me, really you don't.' She didn't want to hear about the wonderful Lucy, the woman who'd broken his heart.

‘No, it's okay.' They started to walk up the pontoons into the village. ‘After I was arrested, I could see it in their faces—they weren't convinced I didn't have something to do with Lucy's death. They were angry, I suppose, and I was an easy person to be angry with at the time. I suspect now it was because they couldn't handle thinking badly of Lucy, of how she'd betrayed me and Heather. It must have been easier to ignore all of that if I was the villain of the piece.'

Gaby covered her mouth with her hand. How could anyone who knew Luke think he was capable of such a thing? ‘Do they…do they still think…?'

Luke shook his head. ‘No. They realised quite quickly, actually. But it changed things. They guessed I'd known what they thought, and now they can't quite look me in the eye.'

‘I can understand why you wouldn't want to spend a weekend with them, then. It must be really awkward.'

‘Exactly. But I'm going to tough it out anyway. For Heather. She adores them, and I really shouldn't have left it this long to pay a visit.'

She laughed. ‘I'd swap with you if I could, you know. I'd much rather spend a weekend with Heather than I would go to this party.'

‘Sibling rivalry?'

‘No point. Justin beats me hands down in every category. It's just that I'm going to have to get all dressed up and wear high heels.' She pulled a face and he smiled. ‘And then I have to face my ex and his new fiancée…'

‘Ouch.'

‘Not that I mind about the new fiancée. She can have him. It's just that I'll be on my own and I can't stand the thought of all the
Poor Gaby
looks I'm going to get.'

‘Double ouch.'

She nodded. ‘But, if I don't go, my mother will have me hunted down and flayed alive.' Luke went to speak and her fingers flew out and pressed against his lips. ‘Don't say it! Enough
ouches!
'

And them she regretted her foolish reflex and pulled her hand away. His lips had felt too warm, too soft. She stuffed her hand in her pocket and they walked up to join Heather in silence.

‘S
TUPID
, stupid car!'

Gaby banged her hands on the steering wheel, then did it once again, just to make her point.

‘Has the heap finally had it?' Heather asked, not seeming too devastated by the news.

‘This is not a heap. It's a classic car.'

Heather looked out of the window at the school kids streaming past and sighed. ‘What, classic like an antique?'

Gaby was in no mood for Heather's lip. ‘Give it a rest, will you, Heather?' she said, as she opened the door and went to have a look at the engine. Not that she'd know what to look for. If only she'd taken car maintenance rather than all those cooking courses.

The best bit of mechanical maintenance she could manage was to get her phone out and call the roadside assistance people. When she'd finished her call she climbed back inside the car.

‘Sorry, Heather. We're going to have to wait about forty-five minutes for them to get here.'

Heather scowled. ‘I'm going to miss that thing on telly I wanted to watch!'

Gaby bit back a smile. It was kind of nice to see Heather hadn't lost her laser vision completely, although she was very glad it had only the occasionally outing these days. She sank back into her seat and kept her eyes on the horizon for the tow truck. This did not look good.

Things didn't look much better when she'd heard from the garage the next morning. Seven to ten working days to get the part. The twentieth at the earliest, in other words. Too late for the party, and too late to escape Luke and his darn hazel eyes.

She put the phone down and walked into the kitchen.

‘Looks like my weekend trip is off.'

Luke looked up from his newspaper.

‘And if I'm not going away, you don't have to either, I suppose.'

He put down his paper and looked at her. ‘Ah, if only it were that simple. Heather is not going to let me welch out so easily. She'll—what did you say your mother would do to you?'

‘Flay me alive.'

‘Right. She'll flay me alive if I cancel this trip.'

‘Looks like I've got the house to myself this weekend, then.'

‘Where did you say the party was?'

‘Chislehurst.'

‘That's only a few miles from Lucy's parents. Why don't you hitch a ride with us?'

‘Um, I'm not sure.'

‘Not sure about what? We're going to London and you need a lift. It couldn't be simpler. You don't want your mother coming after you, do you? Living without your skin is going to be tricky. I'm a doctor, I know these things.'

She smiled, despite her resolve not to.

‘Well, it does seem a more pleasant prospect than lugging my case on the train.'

‘Good. Well, that's decided, then.'

She had no idea why he looked so pleased with himself.

‘Good,' she echoed, not entirely sure that six hours shut in a car with Luke was going to be anything but really, really bad for her nerves.

 

The motorway was a sea of orange cones. Gaby sighed and glanced into the back seat. Heather was plugged into her MP3 player and seemed oblivious to the delay. In fact, she seemed oblivious to almost everything.

‘Perhaps we're both going to be saved by the roadworks,' Luke said, edging the car forward slightly to keep close to the van in front.

‘I wish.'

Luke frowned and looked at her. Gaby didn't bother telling him to keep his eyes on the road. There didn't seem to be much point when they obviously weren't going anywhere.

‘Don't you miss your family?'

‘Of course I do. It's just…'

‘Just?'

‘I don't know. They have a way of making me feel…stupid.'

Luke's reply was so fast she couldn't doubt its sincerity. ‘You're not stupid, Gaby. I don't know how anyone could think that. I end up feeling stupid around you sometimes.'

Gaby exploded in a loud snort. ‘Yeah, right! The doctor thinks he's thick compared to me. I don't think so!'

Luke gave her one of his looks. One of the really grumpy ones. It was almost a relief to see it. She knew where she was with the old Luke. The softer-round-the-edges version was harder to fathom.

‘Don't put yourself down like that.'

‘I'm not putting myself down. It's just the truth. Justin's the clever one and I'm—'

‘The beauty?'

Funnily enough, that was what her father had said to her when she was nine. He'd patted her on the head and told her not to worry. Justin might be the brains of the family, but she could be the beauty. It seemed like she'd disappointed him on both fronts in the end.

‘Don't laugh at me, Luke.'

‘I'm not.'

She stared straight ahead. ‘You'd better catch up with that van if you want to get to London today.'

Luke whipped his head round to look at the traffic, which was now moving at a steady crawl, and fumbled with the gear stick.

He spoke without taking his eyes off the road. ‘Didn't your husband ever say you were beautiful?'

Gaby was about to give a knee-jerk reply, but stopped.

Perfect. Fine. Classy. They were all words that David had used to describe her. But she'd often had the feeling he'd been evaluating her appearance—deciding whether she'd looked good enough to be presented as David Harvey's wife—rather than paying her a compliment.

So the answer to Luke's question was
no.
No one had ever looked at her, gazed deep into her eyes, the way a man entranced was supposed to, and said she was beautiful. But she wasn't going to tell him that.

Thanks to her mother, she knew how to look the part when she wanted to. It was just that, left to her own devices, she didn't want to look like a corporate wife or a suburban princess. She just wanted to look like Gaby.

Luke seemed to be concentrating on his driving, so she let the subject slide, relieved not to have to give an answer that would reveal the poverty of her life. Every woman should have at least one moment like that. A moment when she knew she was truly treasured.

The traffic started flowing more swiftly and, before she knew it, they were sailing along on the motorway towards the London suburbs. Just when she thought the conversation had been left behind with the cones, he echoed her earlier thought.

‘Every woman should be told she's beautiful.'

She was getting a little irritated with Luke passing judgement on her failed marriage. It didn't matter if he was hitting the nail straight on the head—or perhaps that was why it mattered so much.

‘What? You told your wife she was beautiful every day, did you?'

‘Not every day, but enough.'

‘Was she?'

‘Was she what?'

‘Beautiful.' She truly didn't know. There wasn't a photo to be found of Lucy Armstrong in the Old Boathouse.

Luke took a long time to answer. Too many painful memories, she guessed.

‘Yes, I suppose so.'

‘Really beautiful? Or did you just tell her because you thought you should? That seems like lying to me.' And in some small way she was relieved that David had never pushed the charade that far.

‘Yes. She was very beautiful. The kind of woman all the men watch. The kind of woman who lights up a room when she walks in. That kind of beautiful.'

He sounded angry with her for asking. She didn't know what to say, but she could tell Luke was waiting for a response.

‘Oh,' she said, and it just seemed to make him angrier.

‘Is that what you wanted to know? Happy now?'

‘Just fine, thank you.'

Luke seethed and gripped the steering wheel. He hadn't wanted to tell Gaby that Lucy had been stunning. It felt like awarding her points she hadn't deserved.

Yes, she'd been gorgeous. Yes, she'd been the sort of person others were drawn to, because she'd always seemed so full of life and fun. But true to form, it had taken him some time to realise there wasn't much beneath the surface.

Underneath the luscious exterior she'd been selfish and fickle and not beautiful at all. Not like Gaby was. Gaby's beauty started on the inside and shone its way outwards, lighting up everything about her. Her husband must have been a fool not so see it—and a jerk for making Gaby feel the way she did. If he ever met the guy, he'd be tempted to connect his fist with the other man's jaw.

 

They finally pulled into the car park of Hurst Manor Hotel a little after six.

‘Don't shoot off, Gaby. I'll give you a hand with your case.' He turned to face his daughter. ‘Heather, I'll be back in a sec.'

‘What?' Heather unplugged her earphones and gave him a blank look.

‘I'm just going to help Gaby with her case. Stay here, will you?'

‘Sure.' She popped the little plastic discs back into her ears and started to nod her head rhythmically.

‘Thanks, Luke,' Gaby said, as he walked round to the boot. ‘You've no idea how much junk I need to make myself what my mother calls “presentable”.'

Luke shook his head as he pulled the case from the boot. There was no point in arguing with her. She was totally blinkered on this point.

He followed her up the short flight of stairs to the hotel lobby. It was one of those places that had probably been an old manor house, with grand architecture and manicured lawns. This party looked as if it was going to be a posh affair.

Gaby collected a key from the reception desk and Luke followed her towards an ornate oak staircase. As they reached the foot of the stairs, he heard a loud female voice pierce the atmosphere.

‘Donald! I told you we needed linen napkins for the buffet.' A thin young man behind the desk—probably poor Donald—nearly jumped out of his skin.

Gaby seemed to shrink slightly. Then she started to scurry up the stairs, motioning for him to hurry up.

‘Gabrielle! There you are! About time, too.'

Gaby froze and turned slowly. ‘Mum, lovely to see you. We got a bit held up on the motorway.'

‘Well, never mind. You're here now. I do hope you're going to do something with your hair, darling.'

Luke could see Gaby was biting back a response, but she walked down the steps to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. ‘Of course I am.'

It all made sense now. Gaby had become an expert in glossing over her feelings from a very early age. Survival tactics. Mrs Michaels's gaze fell on him and he instantly felt all wrinkled and stale from the journey. Her eyebrows hitched just high enough to ask a question.

‘Mum, this is Luke.'

The older woman looked him up and down, then returned to scolding her daughter. ‘Well, chop chop, Gabrielle. We haven't got time to stand around and gas.' And with that, she swept off in search of the cowering Donald.

‘Don't say a word,' Gaby warned him.

Luke couldn't help it. His mouth stretched into a wide smile.

‘I'm warning you!'

It was no good. He could see the tell-tale quiver of her bottom lip. His smile widened even further.

‘Oh, you rat!' she said, and burst out laughing. ‘Come on, then. I've got to
chop chop,
didn't you hear?'

He followed her up to her room and dumped her case inside the door, without actually setting foot over the threshold. ‘What time does the party start?'

She kicked off her shoes and leant against the wall. ‘Eight. Wish me luck.'

‘Good luck.'

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and give her a kiss on the cheek, but he resisted it with all his strength. ‘Bye, then. I'll pick you up tomorrow at two.'

‘Two it is. Bye.'

He walked back down the corridor and when he turned to take the stairs he looked back. A perfectly natural thing to do. It didn't mean anything. She was still in the doorway, looking at him. He twitched his lips into a half smile and then he walked down the stairs.

Heather was wandering in the lobby.

‘Heather? I thought I told you to stay put.'

Heather looked sheepish. ‘I need the loo,' she whispered.

‘Oh. Okay.' He scanned the doors for signs. ‘Look, there it is, down that corridor. I'll meet you back here in five minutes.'

Heather scooted off and he found himself a wall to lean against while he waited. After hours in the driving seat, he didn't feel much like sitting. A tall good-looking man entered the foyer from the hotel bar. Luke tipped his head to one side.

That had to be Justin, Gaby's famous older brother. The hair was lighter, more gold in it, but the similarity around the eyes was uncanny. Warm and brown and full of life. He was just about to go and introduce himself when a couple walked though the main entrance.