The Pregnancy Affair. Anne Mather

      OLIVIA was in her room, sorting through the clothes she’d brought with her and wondering whether a trip to the nearest town for reinforcements was needed, when Jayne knocked at the door.

      Since her arrival a few days ago, her niece had become a frequent visitor, always making some excuse for disturbing her, finding reasons to stop and chat. Olivia guessed the girl found the fact that her aunt had lived in New York for several years fascinating, and her obvious admiration was reassuring in the face of her brother-in-law’s hostility.

      Not that Olivia had seen that much of Martin Dempsey, thank goodness! Apart from the evening meal, which they all shared, he spent much of his time outdoors.

      ‘Hi,’ Jayne said now, coming into the room at her aunt’s summons and casting an envious eye over the clothes spread out on the bed. The girl was tall and slim, much like Olivia herself, but her hair was russet-coloured, like her father’s, and her features were almost completely his. ‘Oh, my, what are you doing?’ She fingered the ruched sleeve of an ivory tulle shirt. ‘You have such beautiful clothes.’

      ‘Thanks. I think.’ Olivia pulled a wry face. ‘I was just wondering if I ought to buy myself some jeans and a couple of T-shirts. I didn’t bring a lot of clothes with me and those I have brought don’t seem appropriate somehow.’

      ‘Who says?’

      Jayne spoke indignantly, but Olivia could tell she wasn’t really interested. And Olivia knew better than to say the girl’s father resented her being here. Martin apparently didn’t like women who showed any independence, and her clothes seemed to be an added source of aggravation.

      Jayne perched herself on the end of the bed and regarded her aunt consideringly. ‘Can I ask you something?’

      ‘You can ask.’ Olivia was half amused.

      ‘Well, were you really married to Joel Armstrong?’ she ventured, and Olivia was taken aback.

      ‘Yes,’ she said at last, warily. ‘Why do you want to know?’

      ‘Oh…’ Jayne looked a little embarrassed now. ‘I just wondered. I mean, Mum said you were and I believed her. But since I’ve got to know you, you don’t seem the type to—well, play around.’

      ‘Play around?’ Olivia caught her breath. Was that what they’d told her?

      ‘Yeah, you know. There was another man, wasn’t there? Or so Mum says.’

      ‘There was no other man.’ Olivia spoke tersely. ‘We were just—not compatible. It didn’t work out. That’s all.’

      ‘Really?’ Jayne stared at her. ‘Cos, like, he’s really hot, don’t you think? Or no, I suppose you don’t. But he drives that really powerful SUV, and I think he’s, like, totally the man!’

      Olivia was stunned. Did Linda know her daughter thought of Joel in this way? Obviously she didn’t share her confidences, and the last thing Olivia needed was one of his groupies on her own doorstep.

      ‘I think I ought to finish sorting these things,’ she said at length, not wanting to offend the girl, but not wanting to continue this conversation either. For heaven’s sake, Joel was old enough to be Jayne’s father.

      ‘Oh—yes.’ The girl got up from the bed now and pressed her fingers to her mouth. ‘I’ve just remembered. Grandad wants to see you.’ She pulled a face. ‘He said to say he’d like you to come down.’

      Olivia didn’t know whether to be glad of the invitation or sorry. She’d been looking forward to finishing this task and then taking a bath. She’d discovered it wasn’t wise to expect to have the bathroom to herself in the mornings. Someone was always hammering on the door, asking how long she was going to be.

      ‘OK,’ she said now, and, seeing Jayne admiring a silk camisole, she picked it up and tossed it across the bed. Perhaps it would take her mind off other things, she thought hopefully. ‘It’s yours,’ she told her when Jayne looked up at her with disbelieving eyes. ‘If you’d like it.’

      ‘Would I?’ Jayne was evidently delighted, cradling the scrap of lace to her chest. ‘Thanks so much, Aunt Livvy,’ she added gratefully. ‘I’ve never worn anything as sexy as this.’

      Olivia managed a faint smile at her pleasure, and, passing the girl, she opened the door and allowed her to precede her from the room. But she hoped it wouldn’t prove another black mark against her. With a bit of luck, Martin Dempsey might never find out.

      Downstairs, she bypassed the dining room, where Linda and Martin were still sitting. She could hear their voices, though not what they were saying, and instead she made her way along the hall to her father’s room. She’d visited him several times in the last few days, but this was the first time she’d been on her own. Usually, either Linda or Jayne was with her, ostensibly to ensure that the old man didn’t upset her.

      Tonight, however, Jayne had scurried off to her room. Probably to try on the new camisole. Which meant Olivia entered her father’s room without an escort, feeling almost conspiratorial in consequence.

      He wasn’t in his chair tonight, he was in the bed across the room, and, closing the door behind her, Olivia crossed the floor. ‘Hello,’ she said, when she saw his eyes were open. ‘How are you tonight?’

      ‘Better for seeing you,’ he muttered, and, although his words were slurred, they were perfectly audible. ‘I see you managed to shake off your watchdog.’ He lifted his good arm and gestured for her to take the chair nearest to him. ‘Come and sit down where I can see you.’

      Olivia didn’t know if he was joking about her having a watchdog, but she acknowledged that Linda and Martin did want to know where she was every minute of the day. ‘Thanks,’ she said, deciding not to take him up on it. ‘I must admit, I’ve wondered how you felt about me coming back.’

      Her father frowned. ‘Because of what happened with young Armstrong?’ he demanded.

      ‘Well, yes.’

      He nodded. ‘That was all a long time ago.’

      ‘You never answered any of my letters,’ she reminded him painfully. ‘According to Linda, you rarely mentioned my name.’

      ‘Yes, well, we all make mistakes, Liv. Mine was in not seeing you were too headstrong to take any advice from me.’

      Olivia sighed. ‘If it’s any consolation, I haven’t exactly made a success of my life.’

      ‘No?’ Her father’s lids twitched in surprise. ‘I heard you were doing well in London. Of course, then you upped and went off to America with that man, Garvey. I gather that marriage wasn’t happy either.’

      Olivia bent her head. For a moment she’d been tempted to say that her marriage to Joel Armstrong had been happy. Until she’d discovered she was pregnant, that was, and panic had set in.

      She could remember well how she’d felt at that time. It wasn’t how she’d have felt now, but that was irrelevant. Then, all she could think was that they were both too young to have a baby, that they couldn’t afford another mouth to feed. She’d wanted Joel’s baby, of course she had. She’d spent hours—days—trying to find a way out of their dilemma that wouldn’t entail her losing the child. Like any other would-be mother, she’d fantasised about what it would look like, whether it would take after him. But the problems had seemed insurmountable at first. After all, they could barely support themselves.

      But her father wouldn’t want to hear that. He and Joel had been on the same side and she had no intention of trying to change his mind now. So instead, she said, ‘I should never have married Bruce. I made the mistake of thinking that because he said he loved me, I’d have everything I’d ever wanted.’

      ‘Was he wealthy?’

      Olivia shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

      ‘Was that really why you married