The Pregnancy Affair. Anne Mather

      ‘I didn’t think I’d be welcome,’ she confessed honestly. ‘And—well, I assumed Joel would still be here.’

      ‘He left. A couple of weeks after you went to London.’

      ‘Yes, I know that now. But not then.’

      ‘Linda kept in touch with you, didn’t she?’

      ‘Yes.’ But her reports were decidedly selective, Olivia thought, though she didn’t say so. ‘Anyway, it’s all in the past, as you say.’

      ‘So tell me about this man you married. Bruce Garvey. What went wrong? Did he treat you badly?’

      ‘No.’ Olivia sighed. ‘It’s a long story, Dad.’

      Her father made an impatient gesture. ‘Well, I’m not going anywhere, as you can see.’

      ‘Why not?’ Olivia used his words to try and change the subject. ‘Don’t you have a wheelchair? Don’t you ever go outside?’

      ‘I don’t want a wheelchair,’ retorted the old man grumpily. ‘Bloody things. They’re for invalids. I’m not an invalid. I’m just—stuck here, that’s all.’

      ‘In other words, you are an invalid,’ said Olivia, without trying to be tactful. She knew her father of old. He could be totally stubborn, even at the risk of cutting off his nose to spite his face.

      ‘And d’ you think I want everyone to know that?’ he snapped shortly. ‘It’s all right for you, coming here and telling me what to do. I don’t want anyone to see I can hardly stand, let alone walk!’

      ‘I should think everyone knows that already,’ replied Olivia practically. ‘This is a small village, Dad. People know you. People care what happens to you.’

      ‘Yes, well, I don’t need their pity,’ said her father, mopping at the trail of saliva that trickled from the paralysed side of his mouth. ‘Nor yours, either,’ he muttered. ‘If that’s all you’ve got to say to me, you can go.’

      Olivia sighed. ‘All right, all right. We won’t talk about it.’ She smoothed her palms over the knees of her trousers. ‘I didn’t come here to upset you.’ She paused. ‘Actually Jayne said you wanted to see me.’

      ‘Hmmph.’ The old man relaxed again. ‘Well, why wouldn’t I want to see my daughter? You’re a sight for sore eyes, and that’s a fact.’

      Olivia smiled. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Don’t thank me. You were always the beauty of the family. And the brains, more’s the pity!’

      ‘Dad!’

      ‘Well, you must know Linda and Martin are running the show around here while I’m—while I can’t.’ Olivia nodded, and he went on, ‘So what do you think of their bright idea?’

      Olivia frowned, not at all sure she ought to ask it, but doing so anyway. ‘What bright idea?’

      The door opening behind them and Linda bursting into the room drowned out any reply the old man might have made. ‘Dad!’ she exclaimed crossly. ‘And Olivia. I thought you were in your room.’ She turned back to her father. ‘You know you’re supposed to be resting. Anything you have to say to Olivia can wait until tomorrow, I’m sure.’

      Olivia was up early the next morning. She’d had enough of being confined to the farm and she intended to catch the bus into Newcastle and spend the day doing some shopping. She also intended to find an agency and hire a car, though she kept that part of her plans to herself.

      ‘Couldn’t you get what you want in Chevingham?’ Linda exclaimed, when she heard what her sister intended to do. ‘Andy could give you a lift in the Land Rover. That would save you having to take the bus.’

      ‘Thanks, but I prefer to go into Newcastle,’ said Olivia politely, still feeling some resentment towards Linda for the way she’d behaved the night before. She’d acted as if Olivia had had no right to go and sit with her father. Not without clearing it with her first.

      And, of course, any chance of further private conversation with him had been over. Although he’d protested, Linda had been adamant that he’d had enough visitors for one day. Olivia had only had time to squeeze his hand and tell him she’d see him later, before her sister had bustled her out of the room.

      It was strange being back in the city after so many years had passed. It seemed so different, so modern, the alterations that had only been in the planning stage when she left now making the centre of town a vibrant, exciting place to visit.

      She found a café and, after ordering an Americano, she took a seat in the window overlooking a shopping mall. It was a relief to be away from the farm and drinking a decent cup of coffee again. The instant brand Linda favoured was so bitter in comparison.

      Revitalised, she left the café and spent some time exploring the shops. There were certainly plenty to choose from and, despite what Jayne had said, Olivia bought jeans and a couple of T-shirts, as well as a pair of combat boots to wear around the farm. The boots looked incongruous with the suede jacket and matching fringed skirt she’d worn to come to town, and she was laughing with the assistant when she looked through the shop window—straight into Joel Armstrong’s eyes.

      She couldn’t help it. Her eyes widened and her breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat, so that when the assistant spoke again she found it very hard to answer her.

      ‘Um—yes. Yes, I’ll take them,’ she said, knowing the girl was looking at her strangely. ‘Thanks,’ she added, quickly slipping her feet into the high-heeled pumps she’d taken off to try the boots on.

      She was at the counter, paying for the boots with her credit card, when she became aware that Joel had entered the shop. It wasn’t that he’d spoken to her or done anything to announce his presence; it was just a premonition she had that it was him.

      It was madness but she could feel him near her, sensed the pressure of the air had changed since he came in. She wanted to turn and look at him, to ensure herself that she wasn’t mistaken. God, she was going to be so disappointed if she was wrong.

      But she wasn’t wrong. When her purchase was completed and she could justifiably collect the bag containing her boots and turn around, he was there waiting for her. ‘Hi,’ he said as she crossed the shop towards him, and once again her stomach started its crazy plunge.

      He looked so good, she thought helplessly. Even in a worn corded jacket with leather patches at the elbows, he looked big and dark and disturbingly familiar. His jeans hugged his legs, worn in places she knew she shouldn’t be looking. And, goodness, she shouldn’t be so glad to see him.

      ‘Hi,’ she answered in return, uncertain what to do next. ‘Are you looking for shoes, too?’

      ‘Do I look as if I need to?’ he countered humorously as they stepped outside, drawing her eyes to the scuffed deck shoes he was wearing. ‘No. You know I’m not.’ His eyes skimmed her face. ‘Are you on your own?’

      Olivia nodded. ‘Are you?’

      ‘Until half-past two, when I’ve got to see one of my students,’ he agreed, his warm breath fanning her cheek. ‘Have you had lunch?’

      Olivia swallowed. ‘No.’

      ‘So—d’ you want to get a sandwich with me?’

      There was nothing Olivia would have liked more, but she knew getting involved with Joel again was dangerous. She’d been sure she was so over him. Now she had goose-bumps just because he’d invited her to lunch.

      ‘Well—I was going to see about renting a car,’ she said lamely, and knew immediately from his expression that he wasn’t fooled by her excuse.

      ‘In other words, you’d rather not,’ he said, lifting one shoulder dismissively. ‘OK.’ He paused. ‘Some other time, perhaps.’