From Mistresses To Wives?. Lee Wilkinson

friends. It’s about time they stopped feuding themselves.’

      Jessica could only agree, though she doubted it happening. She had an hour and a half lunch break, and Covent Garden was easily reached from the office, so there was nothing to stop her from taking up the suggestion.

      ‘Okay, fine,’ she said.

      They arranged to meet at twelve-thirty. Replacing the receiver, Jessica contemplated telling Zac about it if he rang later. However he might feel about Brady, he’d been friendly enough towards Sarah. He could surely have no objection to their seeing one another.

      The question was resolved by his failure to make the call. Retiring to bed alone that night for the first time in weeks, she lay wondering what he was doing right now. Subsidiary companies were apt to lay on entertainment for visiting VIPs. For all she knew, he was out on the town with some French woman detailed to give him a good time.

      She was being paranoid, and she knew it, but it made little difference. What it all boiled down to was that she still didn’t really trust him when it came to other women.

      Sarah was at the restaurant before her. She looked radiant, hair and skin blooming with health and vitality.

      ‘I expected to feel thoroughly done in by now after carrying Junior around for eight and a half months,’ she declared cheerily when Jessica complimented her on her appearance, ‘but I never felt better! Not that I shan’t be happy to have a waistline again. Maternity clothes leave a lot to be desired in the way of fashion.’

      She eyed Jessica with undisguised speculation. ‘You look a bit drained yourself. You wouldn’t, by any chance, be pregnant too?’

      ‘Not by any chance,’ Jessica denied smilingly.

      The speculation increased. ‘You and Zac don’t want children?’

      ‘Not just yet, at any rate.’

      ‘That’s not going to put you in favour with Grandfather Henry.’

      Jessica viewed the pretty face across the table in some uncertainty. ‘That’s surely not the only reason you and Brady decided to start a family?’

      ‘Oh, no. We’d no intention of waiting. Brady knew when he married me how much I wanted children. I always did. Ever since I had my first doll.’ She gave the sparkly little laugh again. ‘I can hardly wait to see the little love in the flesh! Scans don’t give all that good a picture. We already named him. Richard Henry Prescott.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m none too keen on the Henry myself, but Brady insisted. The initials aren’t bad at least. RHP—Right Honourable Person. Useful if he becomes Prime Minister.’

      ‘Very,’ Jessica agreed. She hesitated before saying diffidently, ‘Do you always give way to Brady’s preferences?’

      ‘Most times,’ came the untroubled answer. ‘He tends to take after his grandfather in many ways, and I’m not one for rocking any boats unnecessarily. Men like to think they’re in charge. Gives their egos a boost. I don’t imagine Zac’s any different.’

      Jessica contented herself with a smile and a shrug by way of a reply, not about to be drawn. Zac was strong-minded, true, but far from egotistical.

      The food proved to be as good as Sarah had forecast. It was only gradually that Jessica realised the younger girl was simply picking at her plate. The animation had faded, the faint line drawn between her brows an indication of some inner conflict.

      ‘What is it?’ Jessica asked urgently, seeing the line deepen even as she looked.

      The blue eyes lifted to hers were surprisingly serene. ‘I think I may have started,’ she said. ‘I’ve just had a second contraction, about fifteen minutes since the first. Stronger this time too. It might be a good idea if I get out of here before my waters break. It might put the other diners off their meal.’

      Jessica lost no time in calling for the bill. She also got the desk to order a taxi. Sarah was booked into a private hospital. By the time they reached the place, the pains were coming every seven minutes.

      ‘Will you call Brady?’ Sarah requested before she was wheeled away. She handed over her bag. ‘You’ll find his mobile number in the front of my diary if he’s not at the office. Tell him to get here as soon as possible,’ she added, face compressing again as another contraction started. ‘He wants to see the birth.’

      The way things were going, it was likely that he was going to miss it, Jessica thought, but she could but try.

      She got through to Prescotts on her own mobile, to be told Brady was still out to lunch. While it was likely that his set would be switched off while he was at table, she called the number she had found in the diary, vastly relieved when he answered.

      Thankfully, he wasted no time on questions that could be answered later. He was on the other side of town, it appeared, which meant he would have to contend with the midday traffic. Considering what Sarah had said earlier, Jessica wouldn’t have been all that surprised if he’d commanded her to tell his wife to hold the baby back until he got there.

      Having done all she could in that direction, she went to see how matters were proceeding. Sarah was already in the delivery room, she was told on reaching the floor. In the absence of a husband to hold the patient’s hand, she was asked if she would like to put on a gown and do the honours herself.

      Sarah greeted her appearance with tearful gratitude. ‘It’s all happening so fast!’ she said between contractions almost running together. ‘Brady is going to be so disappointed! You’ll have to tell him every detail, Jessica.’

      If she judged correctly, a second-hand account of his son’s first appearance in the world would be the last thing he’d want, Jessica reflected wryly, giving her assurance.

      She’d once seen a birth on television, but the real-life experience was infinitely more moving. The hand Sarah was clinging to felt gripped by a vice in those final moments as the baby’s head emerged, yet she was too involved in what was happening to be really conscious of any pain.

      There were satisfied smiles and exclamations from the attendant staff when Richard Henry Prescott let out a hearty bawl as he was lifted clear.

      ‘Nothing wrong with this one’s lungs!’ declared the midwife. ‘A good eight pounds, if I’m not mistaken!’

      She proved right within a quarter of a pound. Wrapped in a light blanket, the child was brought back to Sarah, who was now propped up in bed looking amazingly fresh after her ordeal.

      ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ she exclaimed, searching the small, perfectly formed features. ‘He looks just like his daddy!’

      He did, Jessica was bound to admit. He even sported a shock of dark hair. Like all new born babies, his eyes were blue at present, but they’d no doubt turn grey later. The Prescott genes were not easily overcome.

      Looking from child to mother, she felt a stirring of something close to envy. Sarah had no doubts about her marriage. She held the proof of it in her arms.

      She stayed with her until Brady arrived, leaving the two of them alone to share their little miracle. Her mobile rang as she made her way down to the reception area. Zac sounded abrupt.

      ‘Leo says you didn’t come back from lunch. Where the devil are you? It’s gone half-past three!’

      ‘I’m at the hospital,’ Jessica responded. ‘Sarah had her baby sooner than expected. I should have called Leo to explain, but it all happened so fast it completely went from mind. Where are you, anyway?’

      ‘At home,’ he said. ‘I got an earlier flight.’ The pause was brief. ‘How come you were involved?’

      ‘Sarah and I were having lunch together when she started. Unfortunately, Brady missed it all, but he’s there with her now. A boy,’ she added. ‘Eight pounds, four ounces. Both doing well.’

      ‘Glad to hear it.’ Zac paused again. ‘How long