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Authors: Cathy Williams

BOOK: The Baby Verdict
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‘You insult me,' he told her with freezing disdain. ‘I would no more think of suggesting such a thing than I would advise you to jump off a cliff.' He paused and appeared to turn his thoughts over in his head, like someone swilling a mouthful of fine wine, tasting, rolling it over on his tongue.
Eventually he said, ‘So we've agreed that bringing up a baby on your own is as good as impossible.'
‘We agree on no such thing! Thousands of women do it and cope quite satisfactorily.' She would never have admitted it, but he had managed to shake some of her self-confidence. She knew that she had deliberately adopted a rosy view of what lay ahead, more as a method of self-defence than anything else, but he had forced her to stare at all the pitfalls, and she hadn't liked what she had seen.
‘In most cases because they have no choice.'
‘And I do?'
‘Oh, yes,' he said softly. ‘You most certainly do.'
She didn't like the look in his eyes. It unsettled her.
‘And what's my choice?' she heard herself ask, even though she knew that the answer to the question was not something she wanted to hear.
‘You marry me.'
Jessica stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘Marry?' she asked, on the verge of hysterical laughter. ‘You?' She couldn't help it She could feel the laughter rising out of her stomach. Her mouth began to twitch, and the more she acknowledged that that would be an unacceptable reaction, the less capable she felt of controlling the urge.
She began to giggle, and then a flood of emotion took over. All the confusion and stress and uncertainty seemed finally to find an outlet, and she heard herself laughing. Laughing until she thought she would never stop. Laughing until the tears came to her eyes, but somehow she knew that the tears were not of jollity, but stemmed from something else.
When he slammed his fist down on the table, the noise was so loud and so incongruous that she jumped back with a gasp.
‘Stop it! Now!'
‘I can't help it. I'm laughing at your ridiculous suggestion.'
‘You're laughing because you know that if you don't you'll crack up,' he told her grimly.
Jessica looked at him dumbly. He was right. She could feel tears of anxiety and worry begin to collect in the corner of her eyes and she glared at him with savage resentment. She had managed to build a little cocoon for herself and along he had come and destroyed it in one fell swoop.
‘You're going to marry me because you have no real choice in the matter.'
‘How dare you...?'
‘I have no intention of relinquishing my responsibility, nor do I intend to politely knock on your door once a week on a Saturday, so that I can see my child. I hadn't banked on fatherhood, you're damned right about that, but fatherhood has managed to come along and find me and I have every intention of doing my duty.'
‘Doing your duty...? This is the twentieth century!'
‘No child of mine is going to grow up a bastard,' he said quietly, and Jessica flushed.
‘You ought to hear yourself, Bruno Carr! You sound positively medieval! Well, we're not in the Middle Ages now, and I'll be damned if I'm going to many you just because you say so!'
‘I could make life very difficult for you, Jessica...'
‘How?'
‘Jobs, for a start.' He stood up and began pacing the room, pausing every so often to inspect something, even though she knew that his mind was utterly focused on what he was saying. ‘My connections are widespread,' he said casually, as though discussing how many pairs of socks he possessed. ‘I know everyone. Word gets around...'
‘You wouldn't dare! You would never jeopardise your own child's financial future by jeopardising my earning power. That makes no sense at all.' She was barely moved by this threat because she knew that it was empty. What frightened her was the motivation behind it. Bruno Carr did not relinquish what he felt belonged to him, and this child would belong to him.
He paused and turned to face her, his eyes narrowed. ‘You can't win on this, Jessica.'
‘I won't marry you for the wrong reasons! It would be unfair on us both, and on the child! Can't you see that?'
‘All I see is a very selfish woman who would sacrifice her child's life for the sake of her own.'
‘How can you say that? How can you imply that...?'
‘You would rather scrimp and save and go without than marry me? And tell me, how do you think our child will feel about that when he's old enough to understand—?'
He had managed to hit her on a vulnerable spot, and one which she had never considered.
‘Aside from closing the door on any possible future you might have, you'd merrily close the door on a child's future as well. For what? To hang on to your independence?'
‘There's nothing wrong with that...' she protested, but her voice had weakened.
‘Absolutely nothing...when you are the only one involved.'
‘But you don't love me...' she said, horrified at the desperate tone that had crept into her voice.
‘Who's talking about love? We're talking about an arrangement. A business arrangement, so to speak... You've said often enough that romance is not for you. Well, I'm offering the perfect solution.'
‘I can't...'
‘Oh, you can,' he said silkily, his eyes steel, ‘and you will. Believe me, you will.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
B
RUNO CARR always got what he wanted. Hadn't he mentioned that to Jessica in passing somewhere along the line? She should have paid a bit more attention. She certainly should never have allowed a weekend's worth of charm to blind her to the man she had glimpsed at their very first meeting. A man who expected the world to dance to his tune.
Two days ago he had left her in a state of confusion and now, as she arranged herself in suitable clothes to meet him at a restaurant in Covent Garden, she stared glumly at her reflection in the mirror.
Her stomach was still flat, showing no indication of what lay ahead.
She still hadn't worked up the courage to telephone her mother and let her know of these latest, overwhelming developments in her life. Similarly, she had put her friends on hold, unable to face the barrage of questions that would greet her announcement. They had all cheerfully given up on her and the institution of marriage.
They would have to iron out the details of their little arrangement, he had informed her. As though her life, from now on, were nothing more than a piece of cloth, to be pulled and stretched and straightened into whatever shape he desired.
I can't imagine why you're not enamoured of the idea, he had told her coldly. Wasn't an arranged marriage the ultimate in control? She had heard his words, and watched his mouth as he formed them, and had felt anything but in control. Her life had never seemed so wildly disordered and unpredictable.
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, sectioning it off into three, and absent-mindedly plaiting it in one long, thick braid down her back.
She knew, somewhere, that a part of her was being unreasonable.
After all, she had felt shock at the discovery of her pregnancy, but the shock had soon been replaced by a certain nervous elation. So why did something less significant fill her with such terror?
With absolutely no time to spare, she made it to the restaurant, to find him sitting on the far side with a drink in front of him.
‘I wondered whether you'd chickened out of meeting me,' were his first words, though with no smile to accompany them.
‘And if I had?'
She sat down, pulling the chair towards the table, and then relaxed back with her arms folded, in the classic pose of self-defence.
‘Oh, I would have come and found you. And just in case the thought of running away ever crosses your mind, forget it. There would be no rock I would leave unturned to get you.'
‘To get your baby, you mean,' she said bitterly.
‘I stand corrected.' He gestured to the waiter for two menus, and she grabbed a few minutes' reprieve from looking at him by concentrating on the jumble of words in front of her. Salmon, steak, sauces and parcels of vegetables, whatever. She couldn't care less what she ate. A hearty appetite and the presence of Bruno Carr were two things that did not go together. Not now.
‘You haven't put on much weight,' he said, settling back in his seat.
‘Is that remark intended to put me at ease?'
‘Is that what I'm supposed to do? Put you at ease?'
‘No, of course it isn't,' Jessica said acidly. ‘Marriages are best conducted in a state of cold war.'
She fiddled with the stern of her wineglass and missed the glimmer of a smile that tugged the corners of his mouth for a few seconds.
‘So I take it that you've resigned yourself to the prospect...' He waited until a glass of wine had been placed in front of him and a glass of orange juice in front of her, and then leaned slightly forward. ‘There's a lot to be sorted out.'
‘You're a cold-hearted bastard, aren't you?' she answered.
‘On the contrary,' he said smoothly. ‘If I were a cold-hearted bastard, I would have allowed you to handle the entire thing on your own, as you had stupidly planned to do. The fact is, whether you like it or not, I have no intention of relinquishing my responsibility and I also have no intention of lurking on the sidelines, watching any child of mine grow up without my input. As I've told you before.'
‘So you have.'
‘Why aren't you looking pregnant?'
‘What are you trying to say, Bruno? That you doubt me? That you think I've made the whole thing up?'
‘Don't be ridiculous.' He Bushed and looked away uncomfortably. ‘I'm asking if you're all right. Physically, I mean. Things doing what they should be doing?' He looked at her briefly from under his lashes, and she was momentarily thrown by that glimmer of boyish charm that had captivated her.
‘“Things doing what they should be doing?”' She raised her eyebrows expressively. ‘What a medically oriented question. Don't you know anything about pregnancy?'
‘Well, having just been pregnant the one time...'
Jessica felt a sudden urge to smile and clicked her tongue with irritation instead. After all the defensive, hostile feelings he had recently aroused in her, she was stupefied that she could suddenly find anything he said remotely amusing. It wouldn't do, she told herself sternly. It wouldn't do at all. She couldn't let herself forget that, beneath any charm, this man would do whatever he wanted to get his own way. He would marry her for the sake of the baby and then what? Lifelong fidelity? Hardly. He didn't love her and it would simply be a matter of time before his sexual urges took him to newer hunting grounds. Because he occasionally had the knack of making her laugh meant nothing. It certainly didn't mean that a union between them wouldn't be a union on paper only.
‘I doubt I'll show for another few weeks or so.' Her cheeks were burning and it was a relief when the food came and she had a chance to catch her breath.
‘But you've been to the doctor...had checks...I mean, whatever checks you should have had...'
‘Quite soon, but not just yet,' she informed him.
‘Oh.' He appeared to digest this piece of information. ‘Then how do you know...?'
‘Bruno.' Jessica looked at him firmly. ‘Pregnancy is a natural occurrence. I feel well enough, apart from the odd bout of morning sickness and that's on its way out. I'm sure everything is all right. There's absolutely nothing to worry about.'
‘Who ever said anything about worrying?' He stabbed a piece of fish with his fork and treated her to a watered-down version of a glare.
Why did he have to be so damned
cute?
she thought irritably. Why couldn't he be cold and detached all the time?
Cute
undermined her. His
mood swings
undermined her.
She felt a sudden gust of misery sweep over her. It was all such a parody of what should have been.
‘You brought me here to discuss arrangements...' she reminded him unsteadily.
‘Arrangements. Yes.' He seemed as relieved as she was to find their conversational footing back to where it should be. ‘There's no need, first of all, for you to continue working out your notice.'
‘You mean I can continue working until I'm ready to...have the baby?' Now that he knew the reasons for her resignation, there seemed no point in resigning after all. She knew that she would have to tell everyone at the office that she was getting married, having a baby, and that Bruno Carr was the man responsible, and she knew that there would be a buzz of gossip for a while after. But gossip died eventually. And she wasn't afraid of gossip. They were a good bunch of people, and after the initial shock and ‘who'd have thought it?' remarks, they would accept it.
‘I mean,' Bruno said patiently, ‘you can leave immediately,
without
bothering to work out your notice at all.'
‘And do what?' She looked at him questioningly, as though he had suddenly started talking a different language.
‘Do nothing. Relax. Put your feet up. Plan a nursery. Whatever,' he finished irritably, watching her face.
‘I intend to do no such thing,' Jessica informed him flatly. If there were one or two things to be ironed out, then they had hit the first major crease. ‘I'm not going to sit
around doing nothing.
I'd go mad.'
‘Lots of women do it,' he said impatiently. ‘And there's no
financial
need for you to work. As my wife, you'll have whatever you need, and whenever you need it.'
Which, she thought, brought them swiftly to crease number two.
‘Look, let's get one or two things straight here.' She abandoned her attempts to enjoy what remained of the food in front of her, and closed her knife and fork. ‘I
am not
going to be giving up work from now and sitting around on my butt doing nothing, just because you think it might be a good idea. I am going to carry on where I am and when the time comes I shall have the baby and then go back out to work. I have no intention of becoming a financial burden to you.'
‘Oh, for God's sake, woman—'
‘And furthermore, while we're on the subject of money, I intend to keep my flat and rent it out.'
‘As a bolt-hole?'
‘As a source of income!'
‘You
don't need
a source of income!'
‘Nor do you, any longer!' she retorted. ‘But that doesn't mean that you intend to pack in your job and sit around building shelves and doing the garden!'
They stared at one another and finally he expelled a long, frustrated sigh.
‘It's a lousy idea. Pregnant women need to rest.'
‘According to a man who freely admits he knows nothing whatsoever on the subject!'
‘Lord, give me strength...' he muttered under his breath.
‘If you're beginning to regret your little proposition,' she said hopefully, ‘then now's the time to retract it.' If she was going to go along with this so-called business arrangement, then she intended to lay down a few ground rules before she found herself swept up into a world in which she had no say. There was no way on the face of the earth that she would follow in her mother's footsteps and become the silent partner in an unfair dictatorship.
She thrust out her chin belligerently, and he looked at her with a shadow of amusement.
‘I wouldn't dream of doing any such thing.'
She noticed that he had similarly closed his knife and fork, and she wondered whether this blast of reality had affected his appetite as well. If it had, then all the better.
‘Now, the wedding...' he began.
‘Business arrangement,
you mean?'
‘Pick your choice of words. The sooner the better as far as I'm concerned.'
‘Why?'
She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach at the prospect of fixing a date, but her expression remained unchanged.
‘Wouldn't you like to become accustomed to our home before the baby comes along?'
No, she was tempted to say. She thought of sharing a home with him and was attacked by another queasy sense of anxiety.
‘Oh, getting accustomed to some bricks and mortar doesn't take very long,' she said with conviction. If only, she thought, she didn't feel something for him. She wasn't too sure what she felt, but she could sense it there, deep inside, for ever stirring. A business arrangement involved two dispassionate strangers, but they weren't, were they?
‘Stop being so damned obstructive. It won't work.'
‘What won't work?'
‘Trying to put off the inevitable.' He signalled for some coffee. ‘And I don't want you getting cold feet at the last minute. We both know what the outcome is going to be and you might as well face the facts.' He sipped some of his coffee and regarded her calmly over the rim of the cup.
Those eyes. Those fingers curled around the handle of the cup. However much she tried to persuade herself that she found him unreasonable, lacking in the milk of human tenderness and ruthless to the core, her body still responded with eagerness at the mere sight of him. Why?
Why? Why?
‘So we've agreed that I continue working until the time comes.'
‘I can hardly drag you to my house and chain you to a piece of furniture.'
‘So you won't pass the word down that my employment with your company is terminated.'
‘Sir.'
‘I beg your pardon?'
‘You sound as though you should be adding
Sir
to the end of that question. For God's sake, can't you relax a bit about this whole thing?'
‘How do you expect me to do that?' she almost shrieked. ‘I feel as though I'm on a roller coaster all of a sudden. How easy is it to relax on a roller coaster?' She looked at her coffee with distaste.

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