The Blackmail Pregnancy (11 page)

His eyes followed the agitated movement of her hands as she spoke. Cara thrust them by her sides and glared back at him defiantly.

‘Why must you constantly throw obstacles across the pathway of what we both want?’ he asked with bitterness. ‘You wanted me this morning. It would take me less than five minutes to make you want me again.’

Cara lifted her chin a fraction.

‘How long does it take with Megan?’

Byron’s mouth tightened.

‘So we’re back to that, are we?’

‘It’s proving to be rather a stumbling block, yes,’ she said with heavy irony.

He gave an exasperated sound at the back of his throat.

‘Nothing I say will change what you think, will it?’

She shrugged.

‘I’ve heard it virtually from the horse’s mouth.’

‘Megan?’ he frowned.

‘Let’s say she’s been marking her territory rather convincingly.’

‘That’s just Megan,’ he said. ‘She’s very protective of my family.’

‘And you in particular.’

He didn’t deny it.

‘Megan was there for me when you left,’ he said after a slight pause. ‘She listened while I raved and she soothed while I raged. I’ve done the same for her. She hasn’t had much luck with relationships either.’

Cara hated hearing how Megan had inveigled her way into his life. She couldn’t help thinking it had been deliberate, a specific plan to make him forget about her altogether.

‘What a pity you didn’t hook up with her in the first place,’ she said. ‘You could’ve saved yourself both money and grief, and pleased your whole family in the process.’

‘My family have done all they can to welcome you, both in the past and now, and yet you persist in imagining they’re against you.’

‘Aren’t they?’

‘Of course not. It’s not easy for them, I admit. When a couple goes through a divorce it’s like dropping a stone in a pond. The ripples are far reaching. If they’re a little guarded, particularly my mother, it’s only because they don’t want to see me hurt.’

‘I’m sure Megan will help to salve any subsequent hurt you might feel once I get out of your life.’

‘You are not going out of my life.’ His tone was adamant.

‘You might like to run that alongside Megan before you make it common knowledge,’ Cara said. ‘She has what is commonly referred to as a prior claim.’

He gave another frustrated sigh.

‘Go to bed, Cara. You’re acting like one of my nieces when they’re overtired. You’re not making any sense and it’s pointless arguing with you.’ With that he turned and left the room, leaving her to contemplate the empty room alone.

C
ARA
spent the rest of the night fighting with the bed-clothes. It was impossible to sleep when her mind was crawling with images of Megan and Byron’s expected child. She tossed the pillow aside and turned to stare at the wooden panels of the closed door, her eyes smarting with tears she refused to allow to fall. She knew if she gave in to what she was feeling inside there would be no turning back. It had taken her this long to pull herself out of the abyss of despair that had accompanied her ever since she’d left Byron.

In keeping with her dour mood, the sun rose weakly in the east, shrouded by thick, turbulent clouds that carried a threat of thunder. Cara listened as the house gradually came to life, the children’s voices carrying in the long halls.

She took her time showering, before making her way downstairs to where most of the family were gathered for breakfast.

‘You look positively hungover,’ Sally was saying to Byron as she poured coffee into his mug.

Byron gave a grunt that could have been either denial or agreement. Cara was conscious of several Rockcliffe glances pointed her way as she took the only vacant chair—next to Byron. His eyes flicked over her before returning to the dry toast in front of him.

‘Coffee, Cara?’ Sally hovered with the percolator.

Cara nodded and wished everyone would stop staring at her. She could feel a tide of colour steal into her cheeks as she caught the tail-end of Patrick’s studied gaze resting on her.

‘It was a great party,’ Olivia said, breaking the tense silence. ‘Great-Aunt Milly certainly enjoyed herself.’

‘Excuse me.’ Byron’s chair scraped backwards, and, tossing his unused napkin aside, he left the room.

Cara could feel every pair of eyes on her.

‘Toast, Cara?’ Jan made a valiant effort to ease the tension in the room.

‘No, thank you,’ she said getting to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me…?’

‘Are Uncle Byron and Auntie Cara having a fight?’ Katie asked in a stage whisper to her mother.

Cara didn’t stay to hear the reply. She went back to her room and methodically packed her things, lingering over the task to fill in time.

There was a gentle tap at the door and Cara opened it to find Fliss standing outside, her expression remorseful.

‘I’ve come to apologise for last night,’ she said, stepping into the room.

‘There’s no need…’ Cara began.

‘No, I was out of line.’ Fliss sat on the bed with a sigh. ‘It’s this pregnancy—it’s wreaking havoc on my emotions.’

‘It’s all right.’

‘Don’t be so gracious,’ she said. ‘I’ve spent most of the morning rehearsing this, so don’t let it go to waste.’

Cara couldn’t help a small smile. Fliss had always been a perfectionist, and she could easily imagine her spending hours working and reworking her speech.

‘OK, then,’ Cara said. ‘Fire away.’

Fliss inspected her hands before lifting her gaze to Cara’s.

‘You might not believe this, but I was truly devastated when you left Byron. I missed you, and blamed myself that somehow I’d caused trouble.’

‘No—’

‘I was young and used to being the centre of attention with three big brothers. I wasn’t used to sharing any of them, especially Byron. I took up so much of your time in those early days of your marriage. We all did. It’s a Rockcliffe thing, I guess. Jason’s always telling me how suffocating it can be.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘It
is
suffocating,’ Fliss said. ‘Everyone knows everyone’s business and there’s no privacy. I’m so used to it I can barely see it happening, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. You didn’t stand a chance. We took over your life, trying too hard to make you feel part of the family when what you really needed was time alone with Byron.’

‘Fliss, this is—’

‘No, let me finish. Byron is so unhappy, and so are you.’

‘He has Megan now.’

‘She’s not right for him.’

‘Surely that’s up to them to decide?’ Cara said.

‘No, it’s up to you.’

‘It has nothing whatsoever to do with me.’

‘It has everything to do with you,’ Fliss insisted. ‘Byron needs to sort out the past before he can move on to the future. So do you.’

‘Is this what you learnt in your degree?’ Cara asked tightly. ‘To speculate on people’s private lives and neatly sort out all their hang-ups?’

‘Cara, I’ve spent enough time around broken people to recognise your unhappiness. You’re stuck in a deep groove of pain. It’s as if you think you deserve to suffer, punishing yourself because of past mistakes or because of what your mother did to you.’

‘I don’t wish to speak of my mother. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to finish packing.’

‘Cara, you can’t hide your head in the sand for ever. Byron told me—’

‘He had no right!’ Cara swung around angrily to glare at Fliss. ‘He knows nothing of what it was like. Nothing. And I don’t want to ever discuss this again. Please leave.’

‘Cara, please.’ Fliss’s eyes shone with tears. ‘Don’t throw away what could be your last chance at happiness, what could be Byron’s last chance.’

Cara’s mouth tightened. Her hands were balled fists by her sides and her hazel eyes glittered with anger.

‘Go back to your perfect life, Felicity, and leave me alone. You’re so like Byron it’s unbelievable. You think you can wave a magic wand and start again, but life isn’t like that. I’ve suffered. I’ve really suffered. And the only way I can survive is to lock it away where no one can see it. You have no right to meddle in my life. No right at all.’

‘I have every right,’ Fliss said in a placating tone. ‘I care about you.’

‘Do you?’ Cara asked bitterly. ‘Do you really? Or is this just about playing happy families the Rockcliffe way?’

‘Cara, please—’

‘I don’t wish to continue this discussion.’

‘You still love him, don’t you?’

‘Get out!’ Cara gritted her teeth.

‘You love him, but you won’t allow yourself to have him because you’re so intent on punishing yourself. What did you do, Cara? Why do you hate yourself so much?’

Cara’s face was white with pain. She clenched and un-clenched her fists and fought against the wave of nausea that threatened to consume her.

‘Tell me, Cara.’ Fliss’s tone was gentle but determined. ‘Tell me.’

Cara turned away, her slim back a rigid wall against the probe of Fliss’s words.

‘Tell me, Cara.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You remind me of a princess locked up in a tower,’ Fliss said. ‘But the irony is the key is on the inside, with you. Only you can unlock that door and taste freedom. No one else can do it for you.’

‘I can never be free.’

‘Only because you don’t want to be. People live through the most appalling things and survive. Don’t bury yourself alive in the rubble of your mother’s dysfunctional behaviour. You’re cheating yourself out of your biggest victory—rewriting the past and not allowing the pattern to continue.’

Cara thought about Fliss’s words. How she so wanted to rewrite the past. But it was too late. Byron had already achieved his goal of a child and had no further need of her. His dark mood earlier seemed to suggest he was already cutting her out of his life.

‘I appreciate your concern,’ she said hollowly. ‘I really do. But this isn’t a fairy story. It’s real life. I have to live with the consequences of my own and other people’s behaviour, as we all do. I have to do it my way.’

‘Even if it ruins your life in the process?’ Fliss asked.

‘That’s no one’s business but my own.’

Fliss got up off the bed with a sigh.

‘I’d better go. Jason will be wondering what’s happened to me.’ She turned at the door, her hand hesitating on the knob. ‘Promise me you’ll think about what I said? About the key being on your side?’

Cara gave her a sad half-smile.

‘The key was thrown away a long time ago,’ she said.

The barbecue planned for lunch had to be abandoned when storm clouds exploded over the garden in flashes of lightning and deafening thunder. Mrs Timsby bustled about, cooking meat under the large kitchen grill and deftly tossing salads, while the family gathered for drinks in the library.

Cara sat to one side, trying not to look at Byron. He seemed to be avoiding her, taking a seat on the other side of the room rather than the one next to hers. She pretended she hadn’t noticed but inside she felt raw. She knew she should never have come with him to Melbourne. Too many wounds had been reopened.

‘What time is your flight?’ Sally asked as she perched on the arm of Cara’s chair.

‘Five,’ Cara answered.

‘Tell me about the house. Byron said you’re decorating it for him.’

‘It’s a very grand house,’ Cara said. ‘Nice harbour views. You know Byron—nothing but the best.’

Sally smiled.

‘It’s great that you’re doing it for him. Quite frankly, I didn’t think you would under the circumstances.’

‘Byron can be very persuasive at times,’ Cara commented wryly.

‘Yes, like the rest of the Rockcliffe males.’ Sally laughed. ‘Mind you, I’m not complaining. Patrick’s the best thing that ever happened to me.’

She took one of the nibbles off the coffee table and turned back to Cara.

‘So, are you going to patch things up with him?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Byron and you.’ Sally took an audible bite of her cracker.

‘I’m afraid there’s someone else,’ Cara said carefully.

Sally’s eyes widened.

‘There is?’

Cara nodded.

‘Does Byron know?’

‘Of course he knows,’ Cara said. ‘How could he not know?’

Sally shrugged.

‘Men can be a bit thick sometimes,’ she said. ‘They usually only see what they want to see.’ She reached for another cracker and chewed it thoughtfully. ‘This weekend must have been very difficult for you.’

‘It’s had its moments.’

‘I’m sorry about Katie’s outspokenness. She doesn’t think before she speaks.’

‘She’s only five,’ Cara pointed out. ‘Plenty of time to learn.’

‘You’re extremely gracious.’

‘I was five once.’

‘Yes, of course.’

Just then Jan announced that lunch was ready and the conversation came to a welcome end. Cara could barely hide her relief. As much as she liked Sally, she didn’t want to encourage any confidences when she would so soon be out of Byron’s life. There didn’t seem to be any point.

Cara took the seat next to Byron, at Jan’s insistence, and then wished she hadn’t. Byron pointedly ignored her the whole time, making her feel increasingly uncomfortable. Never had she wished for a meal to be over so quickly.

When Katie spilt her pink lemonade across the table and into Cara’s lap she felt like kissing her in gratefulness. It gave her a valid excuse to leave the table, which she did, with assurances that her skirt was fine and she’d be back as soon as she’d rinsed it.

Finally the afternoon was over. Patrick was driving them to the airport, picking up Megan on the way. Cara said her goodbyes and sat in the back of the car, wishing herself a million miles away.

Megan had lost her pale wan look and was positively glowing as she came out of her hotel on Byron’s arm, smiling up at him girlishly. Cara tore her eyes away and examined the electronic window mechanism with fierce intent.

‘Hello, Cara,’ Megan said as she slid into the seat beside her. ‘I hope you don’t mind me bumping forward on to your flight. I was going on a later one, but I hate travelling alone. Much more fun to go together.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ Cara lied.

Megan monopolised the conversation all the way to the airport and then in the members’ lounge. If Byron was annoyed by it he didn’t show it. He smiled at her amusing anecdotes and addressed one or two comments her way. Cara sat and silently fumed.

The flight was delayed for forty minutes after boarding. Cara thought she would scream with the frustration of having Megan wedged between them, cooing up at Byron like a devoted puppy. To hide her annoyance she buried her head in a magazine and ground her teeth in silent fury.

Soon after arriving in Sydney Megan bade them farewell as she was going out with friends for a late supper. In a stoical silence Cara followed Byron to where he’d parked the car on Friday evening.

‘I’ll take that,’ he said, reaching for her hand luggage.

Cara felt the warm brush of his fingers against hers and almost dropped the bag in her haste to remove her hand. His eyes hardened as they flicked to hers.

‘You used not to find my touch so abhorrent.’

‘You used not to freeze me out with stony silences,’ she shot back irritably.

‘I have nothing I wish to say to you.’

‘Good. Fine by me.’

‘Although I can think of one or two things I should have said a long time ago.’

‘Go right ahead. I’m sure I can cope with it.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. You’re not such a great fan of the truth.’

‘Try me. I suppose you’re going to harp on about me not letting go of the past, like your sister did in her little psychoanalysis session this morning? Say what you like. See if I care.’

He shut the boot and strode to the driver’s door. He started the car and backed out without a word. He waited until he’d paid the parking attendant before speaking again.

‘I didn’t ask Fliss to grill you, if that’s what you’re implying.’

‘I’m not implying anything. I just want this weekend to be over.’

‘I realise it was difficult for you,’ he said a few moments later. ‘But my parents really enjoyed having you there.’

‘Yes, I was the light entertainment for all and sundry. The object of gossip and innuendo. The target of ill-timed confessions of what the children saw. Glad to be of service.’

‘You’re far too attached to the victim role.’

‘And you’re far too attached to the overbearing ex-husband role.’

‘I wouldn’t be your ex-husband if you’d faced this seven years ago,’ he pointed out bitterly.

‘No, of course you wouldn’t. You’d be happily married to the ecstatic Megan, with a brood of Rockcliffe lookalikes about your ankles.’

‘Let’s keep Megan out of this conversation.’