The Truth About You (19 page)

She felt dizzied by a horrible beat in her heart. That didn’t sound as though he was staying. ‘Well, it’s very kind of you to spare the time,’ she told him, ‘but maybe I don’t have it right now . . .’

He made the mistake of sighing.

‘Don’t you dare be like that with me!’ she raged. ‘While you’ve been tucked away in the back end of nowhere with your bloody mistress and daughter, writing articles for a newspaper, debating the merits of a useless government, not sparing a thought for anyone else . . .’

‘There was never a moment when you weren’t on my mind,’ he broke in angrily. ‘I wrote the piece as an escape, to try to make myself think of something else for a while, and as for . . .’

‘Oh, lucky you, being able to find an escape. It wasn’t quite the same for me, I’m afraid, because I was here taking calls for you, dealing with your publishers, your agent, your publicist, your public, your
children
, undoing your commitments, making up excuses for why you weren’t ringing people back. In other words I was
lying
to try and spare people’s feelings, the way you’ve been lying to me for years . . .’

‘Jesus Christ, Lainey . . .’

‘I know what you’re doing,’ she shouted over him, ‘you’re trying to find a way of cutting yourself loose from us that’s not going to end up all over the press. You wouldn’t like that, would you, because you’re a very private man really, and we all know how private she is, hiding behind her pseudonym,
Beverly Crane.
So how are you going to make this work without causing too much fuss?’ Her eyes were bright with fury; tears were streaming down her cheeks.

‘Lainey, stop,’ he implored, trying to take her hands. ‘This is the very reason I didn’t call, because I didn’t want this happening on the phone. I wanted to be here so I could explain properly . . . Don’t,’ he urged, as she tried to back away. ‘It’s OK, I swear. It’s going to be all right.’

‘How can it be if you’re leaving?’ she heard herself choke.

‘I’m not leaving,’ he insisted. ‘At least, not in the sense you’re seeing it.’

‘What other sense is there?’ she cried. ‘If you think you’re going to split your time between her and me you can damned well think again, because even if she’s willing . . .’

‘That’s not what I’m suggesting,’ he told her forcefully. ‘Now will you please stop jumping to conclusions and listen. I have to be with Kirsten for a while. She needs me . . .’

Lainey’s hands went up. ‘Stop right there,’ she said furiously. ‘I couldn’t give a damn what she needs, what matters to me is my marriage and my children. I thought they mattered to you too, but apparently . . .’

‘Of course they do, nothing matters more, but I told you on Monday, Kirsten’s sick . . .’

‘And I’m supposed to care about that? Let someone else look after her.’

‘Lainey, she has cancer. She needs treatment and someone has to take her.’

‘So why does it have to be you?’

‘Because that’s what she wants.’

His eyes were burning into hers as he watched her processing his words: his mistress was seriously ill, she needed him beside her, her daughter needed her father . . . His loyalty was to them now, not to his family here. Where did they fit in? Would they ever fit in again?

As she gazed back at him she felt a sudden urge to get away from him, to escape to a place where she wouldn’t have to listen to any more, or to deal with whatever came next.

‘I’m sorry that she’s sick,’ she said hollowly, ‘I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but as for where it leaves us . . .’

‘It doesn’t
leave
us anywhere.’

‘Don’t be a fool,’ she snapped.

Throwing out his arms, he said, ‘You think you’ve got this all worked out, don’t you? You’ve told yourself . . .’

‘We need to decide what we’re going to tell the children,’ she cut in.

‘Lainey, you’re rushing ahead before we’ve even had a chance to discuss this.’

‘Actually,
you
need to decide,’ she informed him, ‘because it’s
you
who’s doing this to them.’

‘I’m not doing anything to them. I’m simply trying to support someone who’s sick, and in my shoes you’d do exactly the same.’

She almost laughed at that. ‘And if I were in your shoes, how would you feel about me going off to take care of a family I’d never even mentioned until a week ago? A man I’d had another child with . . .’

‘This is absurd. I don’t have another family . . .’

‘But you do. By your own admission you have a sixteen-year-old daughter with a woman whose needs now outrank ours. I can see why they would, I can even see that they’re your responsibility, but if you’re asking me to condone your relationship with Kirsten Bonner by letting you live between here and there, the answer is
never.
’

His eyes were steely as he said, ‘You know, I was hoping we might have a more reasonable conversation than this, but clearly . . .’

‘Then perhaps you can tell me what’s reasonable about having a child with another woman and keeping them a secret all these years?’ she shot back.

‘Dad! Dad! You’re back,’ Zav cried, suddenly bursting into the room. ‘You have to come down to the village hall,’ he insisted, grabbing Tom’s hand. ‘They’re waiting for you to do the auction.’

‘Zav, this isn’t a good time, son,’ Tom protested.

‘But you promised . . .’

‘Just go,’ Lainey told him.

Tom’s eyes came back to her, and remained there as Zav continue to tug his arm. ‘OK,’ he said to Zav, still staring at Lainey, ‘run back and tell them I’m right behind you.’

‘Yay!’ Zav cheered, and blowing his mother a kiss he zoomed off.

Waiting until the kitchen door slammed behind him, Lainey said, ‘So, are you going back to Kirsten’s tonight?’ As the question tore through her heart she could already see the answer in his eyes.

‘I promised Julia I would.’

And how could he deny a child whose mother had cancer? Especially when the child was his.

She stared at him hard, hating him and everything that was happening, while longing for him to take her in his arms. If he told her now that he loved her, that he was sorry and Kirsten meant nothing to him, she might find a way to deal with this. As it was, he simply looked at her, his eyes masking whatever he might be feeling for her. ‘You know, you really don’t make things easy,’ he told her.

‘Well, I’m sorry about that . . .’

‘I meant for yourself, not for me. If you were prepared to listen, to try to understand . . .’

‘I have listened, and I understand perfectly. Now you need to go to the village. Don’t worry about coming home after the auction. We won’t keep you, you can head straight on back to Kirsten’s.’

‘Lainey, please . . .’

‘Do I need to ask if you’re coming to Italy with us next Saturday?’

His eyes closed in despair.

Not sure whether she wanted to scream or beg, she said, ‘I always thought you wanted to be there for me when I made this trip.’

‘Of course I do, it’s just the timing . . .’

‘I’m not changing it. We’ll go without you.’

He took a breath, and dashed a hand through his hair. ‘If you feel you have to . . .’

‘I do.’

‘OK, but I wish you’d wait, because it’s obvious, at least to me, that your mother was trying to protect you from something.’

‘And whatever it was happened a long time ago. It can hardly hurt me now, and I could have relatives there, people who remember her . . . I might even have . . . a father.’

‘You have Peter.’

‘Of course, and I’m never going to think of anyone but him as my real father, but I want to know about my roots. I can see that you might not understand that, because you’ve always known who you are, where you’re from, but I haven’t.’

‘Then at least talk to Father Michael before you go. He was with your mother at the end, he heard her final confession . . .’

‘Whatever she might have told him he’d be honour bound to keep to himself, and you know it.’

‘But she’s dead now, and if he does know something . . .’

‘He doesn’t.’

‘Why don’t you ask?’

‘I don’t need to. You know how the Catholic Church works. The confidentiality of the confessional is sacrosanct, both before and after death,’ and feeling more devastated than she could ever remember, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

‘Do you know how they describe that dress on the D&G website?’ he was asking as he reclined on the bed, watching Tierney admiring herself in the mirror. ‘They say it’s virginal and seductive at the same time.’

Giggling as she went funny inside, she struck a model pose with her weight on one leg, and her lips moodily pouted. She could see exactly why they’d describe it that way, because it was like a little girl’s dress in a way, with a round neck and lace collar, puff sleeves and flouncy skirt that reminded her of a party dress she’d had when she was six. It was dead short, and really showed off her legs, especially now she’d put on the Jimmy Choo ankle boots he’d also bought for her. She didn’t want to think about how much it had all cost, but she knew it was mega, like probably in the thousands, which just went to show how much he liked her.

‘Do you feel virginal and seductive?’ he asked, topping up her champagne.

She smiled shyly and gazed at him from under her lashes. ‘I might,’ she answered teasingly.

They were in a totally awesome apartment, overlooking the river, somewhere around Wandsworth, she thought, but wasn’t entirely sure. She’d been too nervous during the drive here to take much notice of where they were going. Anyway, it belonged to a friend of his apparently, who was happy to let them have it for the weekend while he was in Frankfurt.

‘You certainly look it,’ he murmured, patting the bed for her to come and join him.

Feeling anxious and excited again, she perched beside him, crossing one leg over the other as she took a sip of her drink. She’d already had two Breezers at Skye’s to give herself courage. Skye had warned her she’d need them. It was definitely good to be at least half wasted for her first time, she’d said.

‘You won’t feel so shy, and it won’t hurt so much either,’ Skye had declared.

‘Why, does it hurt a lot?’ Tierney had asked worriedly.

‘Depends how relaxed you are, and if he bothers to make sure you’re, you know, in the right mood, but I don’t think you’ll have any problems with him. He’s dead experienced, so he’ll know what he’s doing.’

He hadn’t touched her yet, apart from on the back when he’d steered her in through the door. It didn’t seem to matter, because she was definitely already in the mood. Everything down there was burning and throbbing like it had a life of its own, and her boobs felt enormous in their new lacy push-up bra. She was sure if he as much as brushed his fingers over them she’d sob or cry out or do something equally embarrassing.

‘Do you know what you are?’ he said lazily.

She wasn’t sure how to answer that.

‘
You
are my guilty pleasure.’

She giggled, and lowered her eyes as she sipped. She’d never tell him this, but she really didn’t like that expression, maybe because her stupid parents had spoiled it for her by saying it made them want to throw up.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly, folding her hair back over her shoulder. ‘You do things to me it’s not fair to do to a man, do you know that?’

Her heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt.

‘Do you want to get that?’ he murmured, as her phone started to ring.

She shook her head, and without checking who it was she turned it off.

He smiled, and she felt overwhelmed all over again by how totally drop-dead he was.

She gave a sob of nerves as he began lowering the zip at the back of her dress, and again as he sat up and touched his lips to her neck. Gazing into her eyes, he eased her arms free of the sleeves. Her nipples were showing large and hard through her bra, and what he said about them made them harder than ever. She felt dazed, disoriented, almost as though she was floating.

She was going to be his submissive, he would be her master, he was telling her, just like in the book. She had to do as she was told, while he undertook to ensure she was satisfied in every way. ‘Do you know what it’ll take to satisfy you?’ he asked, lying her down on the bed.

Actually, she didn’t, not really.

‘Would you like me to show you?’ he offered, drawing the dress down over her thighs.

She nodded, uncertainly.

He looked at her new lacy thong and his eyes narrowed with approval.

She started to kick off her ankle boots, but he stopped her.

‘Not yet,’ he instructed, ‘I want you to keep them on.’

She watched as he lifted her leg to replace the boot, and almost cried out when, without warning, he dropped a hand to her inner thigh.

‘Are you wet?’ he asked. ‘Touch yourself and tell me if you’re wet.’

She stared into his eyes, not sure what to do.

‘Do it now,’ he urged.

As she slid her fingers into the thong he began removing his tie.

‘Well?’ he prompted.

She swallowed noisily. ‘Yes, I’m wet,’ she whispered, knowing she’d never been so wet in her life.

‘Take off the bra,’ he commanded.

Feeling dizzy again, she did as he said and found herself barely able to breathe.

‘Exquisite,’ he murmured, as her boobs fell free. The tie was in his hands now, and she realised it was just like the one that featured on the cover of the book.

‘Happy birthday,’ he whispered, reaching over her.

Oh crap,
she was thinking to herself. But it was OK, even if he gagged her she’d still be able to let him know if she needed him to stop and he definitely would, she felt sure of it.

Anyway, she wasn’t going to want him to stop because she was totally, completely dying for this to happen.

‘
OH NO, DAD,
what are you doing?’ Lainey cried above Sherman’s barks as she rushed to the Aga to grab a burning pan from the heat.

Peter stood aside helplessly, seeming not to understand there was a problem.

‘Another minute and we’d have been on fire,’ Lainey told him, using a chuckle to try and keep her tone light. She didn’t want to scare him, but even if she did she knew he’d have forgotten it by the next time he took it into his head to do some cooking.