Starting Over (12 page)

Tess smiled slightly. ‘I don’t know that I’d say
disagreeable
…’

Lucasta tutted. ‘You’re a saint if you don’t! Some days he’s as contrary as a tom cat. Even when he does you a favour he makes you feel as if it’s nearly killing him.’

Wandering on when she felt Lucasta was tiring – she was really looking so faded and silvery these days it was worrying – Tess waved at Pete and Jos working in the shady garage. Would Angel fancy a bit of company, she wondered? She might be glad to escape chores, cry, ‘Bliss, you’ve come to rescue me!’ Yes, she’d pop in, see if the family fancied a stroll. Perhaps to the swings behind the village hall, Jenna loved the cage of the infant swing. The higher, the faster, the better she liked it, the more she crowed and shrieked for more. Lovely, lazy day. Her mobile phone was at home so that James couldn’t ring to discuss Olly and whether he could be coaxed back.

And there was McLaren, obviously an escapee again, wagging an enthusiastic hullo and crossing towards her, his brown patches aglow in the sun, eyes bright in welcome. Tess fussed his silky ears. ‘We don’t need horrid old Olly, do we McLaren? Fancy a walk, sweetie?’

Angel was pleased to see her and because
The Dragons of Diggleditch
had been successfully completed she even opened a bottle of wine. Because of the hot weather they drank it quickly. Because their subsequent sunshine-drenched dawdle took them past MAR Motors they felt inclined to linger and chat, pretty loose and giggly. And because Tess felt pleased with herself she proposed, rashly, ‘How about an early finish tomorrow, as it’s Friday, so you can all come to Honeybun to celebrate the completion of my first full book commission in the village?’

Buying a garden parasol for Lucasta – ‘blue, or perhaps mauve. With a fringe’ – Tess was tempted into a little splurge on her own garden. A plain green parasol, a wooden bench, dark green patio chairs of wrought-iron ivy leaves, a table and a gas barbecue.

‘British Racing Green,’ Ratty approved, appropriating a chair and sending McLaren to pant and snap at flies in the shade. ‘Congratulations on finishing your commission.’ Astounding her, he produced a pink patio rose in a pot, a little bottle of
Tendre Poison
and a kiss on the cheek
.

The rose was just the pink of her blush. ‘Oh! I didn’t expect presents! I just felt like sharing my great mood. But here you all are making it a party!’

Toby offered a silver-framed photograph of him and Jenna taken at his playgroup. ‘It’s very good,’ he pointed out. ‘That’s my best shirt and Jenna’s party dress. Mrs Lewis combed everyone’s hair with the same comb and Mummy said she hoped no one had nits.’

Jos brought a corn dolly from the woman in the village who made them and bottles of potato wine he’d made himself. Potato wine? Could wine be made from potatoes? Not wanting to hurt his feelings by asking, Tess repeated, ‘I didn’t expect presents!’

Blinking hot eyes at the
niceness
of everybody, she disguised the moment by touching a little of Ratty’s perfume to her throat. ‘Do I smell good?’

Ratty dipped his face to her neck. ‘As gorgeous as you look.’

Gorgeous
. She let the remark nestle in her mind as she poured wine into new glasses from the new coolbox and brought out the new patio-ware for when the barbecue-sauce-smothered food was ready.

She’d been alone, she’d been low, she’d been uneasy in her own skin. But now she had friends to share her high and she was ‘gorgeous’.

She manned the barbecue from a chair and enjoyed Pete and Angel sharing an eye-watering, wine-induced snorting giggle, the children screaming with delight as Jos gave them horse rides on faded denim knees. Ratty, grinning like the pirate king, sea-blue eyes flicking over her, smile softening.

Ratty. Funny Ratty. Snappy today, kind tomorrow. Hard, sarcastic, mocking Ratty. But also warm, teasing, laughing Ratty who shared the profits from a good deal with his friend-employees, who the children loved. Tess’s eyes drifted upward from the smile and paused to collect that glittering gaze. What did it say? Offer? Would she ever ...?

‘Teth-Teth!’ An insistent little hand patted Tess’s leg and the thought remained unformed. ‘Hul-
lo
, my Jenna.’ She obeyed the outstretched arms and jumped the toddler, pink-cheeked and silken-haired, onto her lap.

‘Bic-bic.’ Jenna showed her the biscuit, softened by being saved for some time in her hand, and settled down to gnaw it.

It was pleasant in the sunshine, swapping lazy insults, emptying the bottles of wine, breathing the summer smells of roses, grass cuttings, hamburgers and chops. Soon Jenna snuggled a hot, chubby head into the hollow of Tess’s shoulder and dozed. Easy to forget that life hadn’t always been so.

A sudden hush alerted Tess to a change.

Angel’s ‘Wow!’ directed her eyes.

And there, marching up the drive over the drying thyme, chin out, was Olly Gray.

Blond hair blinding. His eyes were angry.

The power of speech deserted her.

‘You might look worried,’ snapped Olly, halting in front of her.

She gazed up at him, the weight of Jenna pinning her to the chair.

‘I suppose this is her?’

Here’s Olly
, she thought, stupidly. Here, in the
garden
of
Honeybun Cottage
, was Olly saying something quite incomprehensible. ‘Her?’ She tried to focus through potato wine and the barbecue haze.

‘I suppose this is our baby?’ Had his eyes always been that cold? She didn’t remember them as quite so hard.

Pete snitched Jenna brusquely onto the safety of his own lap, waking her and making her cry.

Angel’s eyes blazed at the good-looking hell-man who’d burst in and ludicrously tried to claim paternity of her baby. ‘Who in God’s name is
this
?’

Tess stared. God. These were her friends – she must deal with this embarrassment! Jolting herself into action she leapt to her feet, lifting her voice above Angel’s. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’

‘I want the truth.’

‘What truth?’ Her hands felt clammy. ‘It
is
... Let’s go inside.’

Set-faced, Olly crowded her through her own kitchen door, snapping it shut behind them to exclude possible hangers-on. He had a glower like King Kong.

‘I know that’s my baby, before you deny it!’

She could only gape, the kitchen table pressed against her hips and Olly towering over her, not bothering with the how-are-yous or nice-to-see-you-agains. She tried to shake her thoughts into order. ‘How on earth can Jenna be yours?’

‘It’s obvious!’ snapped Olly. ‘James let slip you were pregnant when we split up – more than two years ago. And that kid is fifteen to eighteen months old, add nine months ... My baby.’

‘But ...’ She couldn’t back away any further. Her neck hurt from craning to meet Olly’s glare. Confusion turned her tongue temporarily to wood and was useless to moisten paper lips and form a denial. Even if he ever shut up and gave her a chance.

Olly crashed on. ‘James told me how long you stayed with your folks – long enough to produce my baby and get a bit of support through early infancy, collect your money from our house sale and let James set you up in a place just the right size for
two
, I’d say. Guy’s evasive. Mari obviously anxious.’ Hands spread in a concluding attitude.
‘
My baby
!’

‘My father has evidently been indiscreet. Guy’s
always
evasive. And my mother will be anxious – because I’m getting along nicely without her.’

She ducked under his arm and backed two steps away. Such a little distance, two steps, but enough to clear her head. ‘But why?’ she wondered. ‘
Why
would you want her to be your baby? Why would Olly Gray want Jenna to be his baby?’

‘It
is
my baby.’ Two steps for her were one for him and in a second he was right back in her face.

The glower, at such proximity, unnerved her. She sniggered. A tense and probably irritating snigger. ‘It’s very doubtful.’ She smiled. A full, mischievous gloat. ‘She’s not even
my
baby.’

He stopped. Eyes narrowed, feeding new information to his mind and calculating possibilities. ‘James said you were pregnant when, you know ...’

‘I was. When
you jilted me by e-mail
, I was pregnant. Was, was,
was
! Eleven weeks, they told me. Then ... swoosh!’ She made a sliding away gesture. ‘Gone before I really realised it was there. And your baby was ...’ Stopped. Sucked in a huge, necessary breath, searching her mind for the most brutal expression to repay him a little for the fright, pain, subsequent illness. But she hesitated. Maybe he’d ceased to touch her, if she couldn’t muster enough hate to hurt him? ‘... Gone,’ she finished, quietly. ‘And in a few days I was bleeding as if it was a new national sport. I was ill for more than a year ...’ She tailed off. Olly wasn’t listening.

Olly was very still. Body, eyes. She could almost hear his mind ticking. Through the window she was aware of Angel and Pete on their feet, fussing around Toby, soothing Jenna.

‘Did Dad tell you I’d had the baby?’

Slowly, eyes still hard on her face, he shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Did he tell you I’d had a miscarriage?’

He shook his head again. ‘No. We were …’ He hesitated. ‘I explained that I really needed to see you. He said he supposed we really ought to talk things through. Then he asked me if I’d known you were pregnant.’

Tess felt her heart begin to steady as her imagination supplied a vision of Olly taking James aside, pally-pally, earnest and sincere, persuading out of James details that Tess would rather have kept secret. ‘And what did you say?’

Olly’s eyes flicked round the kitchen. After a silence, he admitted, ‘I was angry. I drove off.’

Tess nodded, letting her mind tick. Something had brought Olly here today. When did Olly do something for no reason? ‘What did Guy say?’

Maybe because it wasn’t his main focus, Olly replied unguardedly. ‘He said you’d lent him dosh.’ Then, ‘If you miscarried, why wouldn’t James tell me?’

She laughed, a small, angry sound. She never knew when James would be dependable and when he’d turn round and bite her. ‘I’d guess he thought you’d turn up – as you have. He
likes
you. I’d guess he wants us to get together again. Thought I’d be pleased to see you and ...’
Dosh
. The word resonated suddenly.

‘I bet you’ve run out of money, Olly, haven’t you?’ The key clicked round so suddenly that she actually chuckled. ‘
That’s
why you so wanted Jenna to be your baby! You’ve screwed up and you’re all out of money! You, IT wizard, can write your own cheques in today’s world but somehow you’ve got in a financial scrape. Olly Gray, you sharky bastard!  Here’s me with my own house, doing OK, James in the background to run to, and you can see the answer – temporary, probably – to your problems!’

Colour hectic, breath galloping, she searched his glowering face. ‘Have things gone wrong for you? Can you bear it? That
I’m
successful and solvent and
Olly’s
screwed up?’ She laughed, let her voice become mocking. ‘Olly’s screwed up!’

The furious widening of his eyes and tightening of his lips over clenched teeth gave her warning, but she was too out of practice to dodge the long hand that whipped out and cracked across her cheek.

‘Bastard
!
’
And it hurt! It stung! It all but made her ear pop. It wrenched humiliated, furious tears to her eyes as it had the three times it had happened before. Well, no more! ‘Get out!’ she barked.

She heard his suddenly shaky response. ‘
Tess
! I …’

And that’s when the door crashed back on its hinges, glass shattering, and Tess discovered just how rapidly Olly could find himself back in the lane, leaning on his car and crowing for breath, a bloodied nose to cradle along with his aching midriff, a rip in his trouser knee where he’d landed on all fours.

But Olly obviously allowed himself to be educated by the experience. When a voice growled at his shoulder, ‘
Go, now
!’ – he went.

While Ratty had been watching Tess’s confrontation in the kitchen, Toby had begun wailing that he felt ill. Adding that to the uncomfortable situation of Olly trying to claim their daughter, it seemed sensible that Pete and Angel take the children home.

And now Angel had rushed back to check that Tess was OK, leaving Pete – and by default, Ratty – appointed babysitters.

‘So?’ Pete prompted, circling promising ads in the
Auto Trader
with Toby’s stubby purple pencil crayon. ‘What did Tess think about your heroics? I wanted to shoot back, as you were obviously brewing trouble, but Angel was upset and when Toby, with impeccable timing, threw up, I couldn’t get away.’

‘She cried.’