Rumours and Red Roses (14 page)

‘You must come over to see it soon,’ Adele said quickly. ‘I didn’t want you to see it until we’d finished doing it up.’

Rory had given her carte blanche and an open-ended budget to
decorate
and whilst she was happy enough with most of the furnishings, she had made some necessary changes, throwing out the more obvious Angela-type things. If Rory had noticed the disappearance of one or two smaller items of furniture and the replacement of some of the curtains, he had made no comment.

‘A former rectory? That sort of thing never loses its charm, does it? It’s still a rectory even if it’s no longer used for the purpose,’ Chrissie said, directing all her attention towards Rory. Looking at her, Adele could see how attractive a woman she would have been in her youth and how easily she dispensed her female charms. If she could do it now at eighty odd, what must she have been like at half that age? ‘Do you still feel the presence of a religious element?’

‘Not really.’ A little nonplussed, Rory glanced momentarily at Adele for some support but she smiled at him mischievously instead. ‘It’s not as if it was ever a church,’ he explained earnestly. ‘The Manse was just
the rector’s home. He lived alone for years, a bit of a dodderer, and it was in a real state when we took it on. My ex-wife loved a challenge,’ he added into a sudden silence.

It hit a nerve, the mention of Angela, and Chrissie broke the silence by expertly moving the conversation on, still a dab hand at dissolving awkwardness, a trait learned no doubt by her years of function attending.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, Louisa relaxed now that her stint in the kitchen was over. Before they left, her grandmother collared Adele in the hall.

‘It’s a very clear night,’ she said. ‘Take my advice and do some
stargazing
on your way home.’

‘I haven’t time to spit these days, Gran, let alone star-gaze.’

Chrissie frowned. ‘You must make time, sweetpea.’ 

A
DELE DREW HER
car to a halt outside the house and sat a moment, recovering from the short trip home through horrible traffic. She and Emma had, after a lot of dithering and soul-searching, decided not to go for the industrial unit, getting cold feet that they were in danger of taking on too much.

They had several bookings this month including a christening party and a buffet for a golden wedding plus a couple of private dinner parties so they were running on all cylinders.

It was 8.30 on a June evening and things were perking up after a damp squib of a spring. There was an assortment of flowers in the front border, so many that she felt she could pick some for the house without feeling guilty. She didn’t have her mother’s green fingers, not even the palest of green, so for the moment she was just relying on whatever had been put there coming up again in due course. Her mother was itching to get working on it, offering to come by with her trowel and kneeling mat, but Adele had other plans and she wasn’t divulging them just yet.

The decorators who had whipped through the house were gone and it looked so different now that the colours and fabrics throughout were to her taste not Angela’s. She had unearthed photos of Angela, obviously not prominently displayed but stuck in an old long-forgotten album, and found that she was infuriatingly pretty, having passed on her
particular
looks to their daughter Jackie. Faye was more like Rory and maybe that was why, of the two of them, it was Faye that Adele was drawn to.

Rory was due back tomorrow after a few days away and tonight she was looking forward to having the house to herself, to putting her feet up and watching the sort of downmarket television that soothed her and bemused him. Fumbling with the keys, she let herself in, shutting the
heavy front door. As always, the beauty of the interior caught at her, the startling red, black and cream geometric tiles on the floor and the arrangement of sunshine-yellow flowers on the hall table providing immediate impact.

After the horror of living in that flat, followed by the pretty awful back-at-home thing, this felt at last like a real home. There was so much space here. They each had an office, there was a couple of guest rooms, and she often lay in the big bath in the bathroom Emma had so admired and just marvelled at how it had all turned out. To think she might have married James, which would have been disastrous in the long run. Good luck to him. Happy now herself, she could afford to be magnanimous and had even sent him a congratulations card when his new girlfriend became pregnant. Sadly, her mother’s
relationship
with Jennifer was at an all-time low. Things had been said and could not be unsaid.

Adele slipped her lightweight jacket off and stepped out of her heels. A quick dash upstairs to change into jeans and then it was down to the kitchen. Even though Rory had said she could re-do the kitchen if she wanted, she had decided to keep it much as it was, liking the smart yet functional units and loving the big walk-in pantry. This kitchen was, unlike her mother’s country cottage look, sleek and modern and
character
free. A working kitchen. A cook’s kitchen. She was doing some try-outs for some new menus to add to their dinner party list and poor old Rory was often the guinea pig. Fortunately, he was very easy to please.

Feeling guilty, for even when she was alone she normally cooked something, she slipped a ready meal into the microwave, waiting
impatiently
for it to ping, and then carried her plate through to the sitting room. Eating in here was strictly forbidden and it felt wonderful and risky to be flouting the rules. She had thought at first Rory was joking when he suggested it, realizing a little late that he was all too serious about it. If Rory was here, they ate in the formal dining room for, unlike James, he wasn’t a plate-on-knee person.

There was just one problem.

Despite living here for months now, despite the redecoration, it still felt, sometimes, as if it was Rory and Angela’s house and she was just a casual visitor. She hoped Rory’s girls would like the way she had redone their rooms in case they visited for, afterwards, she had had second
thoughts. Their meetings so far had been a little strained, as was to be expected, but not overly so and they had done their best, as had she, to accept the situation with good grace. Coming to their wedding and supporting their father must have been hard for them and she was grateful that they had felt able to do it and told them as much. She was far too young to be a proper stepmother to them but because she was their father’s new wife, she could not really be a proper friend to them either. It was that awkward middle ground and she wasn’t sure if they would ever accept her fully into the family. The girls seemed remarkably even handed, never criticizing Rory but then never criticizing Angela either.

Adele was still no nearer to working out why Angela had upped and left for it was not something he talked about, although maybe Rory’s obsession with work had something to do with it. Some nights, he went up to his study and stayed there all evening, having to be coaxed
eventually
to come to bed. She had never realized he worked so hard and she had to work hard herself not to feel resentful.

They had only been married a couple of months but, in some ways, it felt considerably longer. After the wedding, he had whisked her away to the Seychelles for ten days and it had been complete bliss.

And then they came home.

So far as her mother and grandmother were aware, everything was just wonderful. Oh, come on, everything
was
wonderful. It was just that it wasn’t quite what she had expected. Rory was away a lot with the job, the very nature of the work necessitating him being here, there and everywhere chasing sales, and that was really all there was to it. She had to learn to live with it but, oddly, whereas she had tolerated it with good grace prior to their wedding, she was now becoming increasingly irritated by it.

The ready meal was barely edible and she left her plate on the coffee table and put her feet up, switching on the television even though her concentration levels this evening were practically nil. She desperately needed to tell somebody her news but it was not fair to tell anybody until she had told her husband. She was dreading it. It would knock all their plans off centre, of course, but she hoped that, after the initial shock, Rory would accept it as she had.

It might sound stupid but she had no idea how it had happened. She had used the pill for years but had had problems with it so, when she
and Rory had settled into a sexual relationship, she had a coil fitted but it must have failed on honeymoon or more likely slightly before.

The upshot was she was pregnant.

Hormonal changes were kicking in and morning sickness was starting to interfere with her daily life but so far she had kept it from him even though her morning throw-ups were pretty spectacular. Not that he would notice when he was going through his papers preparing for one of his trips. She was beginning to wonder just where she fitted into the scheme of things because work seemed to be top of the agenda with him. He had a senior role in the company, earning far more than she had imagined as a result, but surely it ought not to take over his life like this. Had he never heard of delegation? He headed a competent sales team. Surely he didn’t have to oversee every damned thing? Even on honeymoon, she had once disturbed him ringing the office, checking on them. Caught in the act, he had immediately rung off, a little shame-faced, apologizing and laughing with her, but she wondered how many times he had got through to them without her knowing.

Looking round the room she was largely responsible for redecorating – gleaming wooden floor, bright rugs, a few antique pieces of his and the two new striped burgundy and cream sofas – she tried to imagine it with baby equipment scattered all around. She knew from visits to friends who had children that it was all very well setting aside a room as a nursery but things had a habit of spilling over to the rest of the house. A baby had so much baggage attached and the misty-eyed view of the little angel lying in its sweet Moses basket had to be taken with an
enormous
pinch of salt.

Just as with James, the family were divided about Rory. Her father liked him, her grandmother thought him absolutely marvellous, eyes shining whenever she talked about him, but her mother was less
enamoured
. She tried her best, never actually saying anything, but Adele knew that look of hers and knew what it meant. As a result of her split with James, Louisa had effectively lost contact with Jennifer, which was a shame because they had been such good friends but Adele refused to accept responsibility for this. They were grown women and if they couldn’t sort it out between them then the relationship must have been built on shifting sand in the first place.

How could she explain to her mother that Rory set her heart racing
in a way James never had? Astonishing, really, for she might well have married James and never known that kind of excitement.

With Rory, it was all in the secret glances her way, the tiny lift of his mouth, the gleam in the eye, the manner in which his hand brushed hers. He could set her tingling from across a room, start off all sorts of inappropriate daydreaming with a mere raised eyebrow or the wink of an eye and that was why she had risked her mother’s disappointment and doubt and married him.

Quite simply, she loved him.

‘Take no notice of your mother, the man’s a dreamboat,’ her
grandmother
told her in one of their little get-togethers. Gran liked to take afternoon tea in the grandest hotel in town and was always directed to her favourite table and fussed over. A little uncomfortable with the notion, Adele had not much option but to go along with it. It was her gran’s little treat and offering to pay was not an option either. ‘I am afraid your mother wears her heart on her sleeve. Don’t let her persuade you to have a baby, darling. The only reason to have a baby is if you want one yourself. I shall support you all the way. If I’d had my way I would never have had your mother although you mustn’t tell her that. I was not ready for a baby and I did seriously consider having an abortion.’

‘Gran! Ssh.’ Adele glanced round for her grandmother had a carrying voice. ‘Don’t say that.’

‘It’s true,’ she said, wide-eyed. ‘Like you, I was never very keen on the baby idea. It could all have been accomplished with the minimum of fuss and nobody would ever have known. As it was, something pricked my conscience at the last and I relented. And I have to admit she turned out better than I expected and she did produce you. I love you to bits, sweetpea.’

Adele, though shocked by the revelation and not entirely sure she believed it, could only smile.

Her gran had a parting shot lined up. She waved a hand imperiously at the hovering waiter and he scuttled off to get the bill. ‘In any case, it’s bad enough being a grandmother without being a great grandmother to boot.’

She really was quite disgraceful.

Rory rang later that evening, dropping his bombshell before she had time to drop hers. He was being forced to extend his trip by a couple of days. Sorry and all that but business was business. The negotiations had
reached a critical stage and there were a few sticking points. His company desperately needed to supply this contract, a big one, so he had no choice. If they lost this, he would have some explaining to do and he was that close to a big move upwards.

‘It’s all right,’ she said, interrupting the over-the-top apologies. ‘You do what you have to.’

‘Thanks, darling. I thought I’d be for it letting you down like this.’

Adele had not intended to tell him about the baby over the phone. It was something that ought to be said face to face so that she could gauge his reaction, his immediate one, not the one he might put on later for her benefit. But when he suggested she book a meal for them on Saturday evening, she could not stop herself from blurting it out.

‘Not much point,’ she found herself saying. ‘Going out for a meal, I mean. The thought of it makes me feel sick. I’m pregnant, Rory.’

So she never did see the initial reaction and, after a moment’s silence, he came up trumps with lots of surprised, excited sounds.

She wondered, though, what he looked like when he replaced the receiver.

He did not want the baby.

He was saying all the right things, hugging her and telling her she was a clever girl, concerned at how she was feeling, but she knew him well enough and she could read between the lines.

‘It wasn’t deliberate,’ she told him as he followed her upstairs. She wanted to say that it had never happened with James, that they had had a robust sex life for years with never a sign of a baby.

‘I know. Accidents do happen.’ He smiled across at her before going into their en-suite and turning on the shower. She undressed and put on silk pyjamas before getting into bed. The large high-ceilinged room was softly lit, a newly calm lavender-coloured room, with all white linen and fresh floral curtains. They had a new bed, for she had insisted on that, and it was rather special, a French-style bed, cosily double instead of the king-size she had shared with James. After his shower, Rory climbed into bed beside her, wearing just pyjama bottoms as usual, and she cuddled into him.

He was cold, his feet like lumps of ice, and she shivered, moving her face against his chest, feeling the hairs moving gently against her cheek, hearing his heartbeat. She sensed he was worried about work, for the negotiations had not gone to plan, and she wished he would talk to her
about it. Was it her imagination or was there just the hint of a distancing between them lately, even before this? She desperately needed him to tell her what he really thought about the baby but she knew he was not going to. They had always been so open with each other and this did not feel right. Although, if he did tell her the truth, the likely truth being that he was unbelievably pissed off with the whole idea, what difference would it make? It was done. It had been a shock, a tremendous one, but her gran’s words had come thudding back to her. Like Gran, she couldn’t face it. She was not having an abortion and she was relieved that he had not suggested such a thing.