Dangerous Sanctuary. Anne Mather

that Tom had benefited from the liaison. For one thing, he was keener now to do well in his exams. Angie had told Jaime—and, of course, Tom—that she intended to stay on in the sixth form. She wanted to go to university, and what had once been something only his mother cared about had become Tom’s prime objective, too.

      However, this time it wasn’t Angie. Although the voice was feminine, the tones were much more mature, and Jaime had no difficulty in identifying their source.

      ‘Jaime? Jaime, that is you, isn’t it? It’s Lacey here. Felix’s wife. How are you?’

      ‘Oh—hello, Lacey.’ Jaime grimaced at her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘What a surprise! I’m—fine. How are you?’

      ‘I’m very well.’ Lacey gave a little, girlish laugh. ‘Or as well as anyone can be who’s just discovered they’re going to have their first baby!’

      ‘Really?’ Jaime was surprised. Felix hadn’t said a word. ‘When is it due?’

      ‘Oh, not for months and months yet.’ Lacey seemed relieved at the prospect. ‘The doctor says it will probably be a Christmas baby. Isn’t that exciting? But it’s early days yet.’

      ‘Of course.’ Jaime moistened her lips, wondering why Lacey should have chosen to ring her with the news. They were hardly friends. ‘Well, congratulations! I’m very happy for you—both.’

      ‘I knew you would be.’ Lacey sounded a little smug now, and Jaime wondered whether she was supposed to relay the news to Margaret Haines. She could think of no other reason why she should have been involved. ‘Felix would have told you, but I insisted on telling you myself.’

      ‘How—nice.’ Jaime bit her lip. ‘Well, as I say, it’s very good news, Lacey.’ She took a breath. ‘Honestly.’

      ‘Oh, good…’ Lacey paused ‘… because we’re having a party to celebrate, and you’re invited. It’s next Saturday. Can you come?’

      Jaime almost gasped. Since Lacey’s marriage to Felix, they had given a lot of parties, but this was the first time her name had been added to the invitation list.

      ‘Well, I—–’ she began, trying frantically to think of an excuse why she couldn’t go, but Lacey was not to be diverted.

      ‘I’d really like you to be there, Jaime,’ she said, and, unable to see her face, Jaime had no way of knowing if she was sincere or otherwise. ‘I know we haven’t seen a lot of one another in the past, but I’m hoping we can change all that. After all, we are going to have something in common now, aren’t we?’

      ‘Are we?’ Jaime couldn’t think of a single thing, but Lacey was quick to elucidate.

      ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed. ‘We’ll both be mothers. Oh, I know things must have changed a lot since you had Tom, but I’d appreciate your advice all the same.’

      Jaime winced. That sounded more like the Lacey she remembered. The barbed comment wrapped in the apparently innocent remark. She hadn’t changed that much, if at all. Even so…

      ‘Perhaps I could call in for a couple of hours,’ Jaime conceded, with some reluctance. Felix was her boss, when all was said and done, and she had no real objections to being civil. She doubted she and Lacey could ever be friends, but the other woman was not going to be given the chance to say her overture had been rejected.

      ‘Oh, good.’ To her credit, Lacey sounded as if she meant it. ‘About eight-thirty, then. You know where we live.’

      ‘All right. Thank you.’

      Jaime grimaced, but the die was cast, and, replacing the receiver, she became aware of Tom’s bathrobe-clad figure seated at the top of the stairs. He was obviously as curious about the call as she had been, but, refusing to give in to his overt speculation, she walked thoughtfully back into the living-room.

      Nevertheless, she was not surprised to hear his hasty descent of the stairs, and by the time he appeared in the doorway she had schooled her features to a bland indifference.

      ‘Who was that?’

      Tom was nothing if not forthright, and Jaime had to smile. ‘You should have answered it yourself, then you’d have known,’ she replied vexingly. ‘What do you want for lunch? Pizza, or salad?’

      ‘Need you ask?’ Tom pulled a face, and then returned to his earlier question. ‘It was Mrs Haines, wasn’t it?’ he added, revealing he had listened to most of the conversation. ‘What did she want?’

      Jaime abandoned the idea of continuing with the vacuuming for the moment, and sank down on to the sofa. Crossing one jeans-clad leg over the other, she said, ‘She wanted to tell me she’s pregnant. She’s going to have a baby at Christmas.’

      ‘I do know what being pregnant means, Mum,’ said Tom impatiently. ‘So what? Why did she want to tell you and not Felix?’

      ‘Mr Haines to you,’ Jaime corrected automatically. And then she shrugged. ‘They’re giving a party. To celebrate. I’m invited.’

      ‘Why?’

      Jaime laughed. ‘That’s not very flattering.’

      ‘Oh—–’ Tom grimaced ‘—you know what I mean.’

      ‘I know.’ Jaime relented. ‘But I’m no wiser than you are. She says she wants us to get to know one another.’

      ‘Do you believe her?’

      ‘I don’t have much choice, do I? Felix is my employer. I can hardly refuse to have anything to do with his wife.’

      ‘But what about Mrs Haines? The first Mrs Haines, I mean. Won’t she think you’re abandoning her?’

      Jaime sighed. ‘You do have the knack of stating the obvious, don’t you?’ she muttered. But all the same, he had a point. Margaret was going to wonder where Jaime’s loyalties lay.

      ‘Anyway, I think you should go,’ declared Tom staunchly, perching on the edge of a chair. ‘It might be quite good fun. And you never go to parties.’

      ‘Oh, thanks.’ Jaime regarded him indignantly. ‘Might I remind you that for the past almost fifteen years I’ve had you to look after?’

      ‘Nana used to offer to sit with me—heaps of times,’ protested Tom at once. ‘And now I’m old enough to baby-sit myself. But you still never go anywhere.’

      ‘Never?’

      ‘Well—only occasionally. I’m sure you could have had a steady boyfriend, Mum, if you’d wanted one. You’re still quite good-looking, and you’re not that old!’

      ‘Gee, you’ll turn my head!’

      Jaime was sardonic, but Tom was not deterred. ‘I mean it. Angie says she’d love to be as tall as you. She thinks you’re really elegant, you know.’

      Jaime gave her son an old-fashioned look. ‘Really!’

      ‘Yes, really.’ Tom was defensive now. ‘What about Mr Price from school? He was really keen, but you just froze him off.’

      ‘I didn’t freeze him off—–’

      ‘Well, what would you call it? He asked you out four times, and you went once!’

      ‘Mr Price isn’t my type.’

      ‘What is your type, then? Someone like Dad? Someone like Uncle Ben?’

      ‘No!’

      Jaime got up from the couch abruptly, and reached for the vacuum cleaner. She should have realised the way the discussion was heading. It might be almost six months since Felix had exploded his bombshell about Ben’s buying the Priory, but she was aware that Tom hadn’t forgotten, any more than she had.

      Her father hadn’t helped. Once he knew that she