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‘Not yet. She’s just found out herself, I gather, and he’s not there.’
‘He’s never going to be there for her.’
‘Probably. But he can be forced to support her financially. At least she won’t be poor.’
‘Yes, that’s true. But Tara never wanted his money. You know she’s not that kind of girl. She just wanted him to love her.’
‘Yeah, I do know. She’s always been a real romantic. She’s been living in a fantasy world with her fantasy lover and now the real world has come up and bitten her, big time.’
Joyce was shaking her head. ‘I’ve been afraid of something like this for a long time. If that man lets her down, I’m not sure she’ll be able to cope.’
‘She’ll be upset, but she’ll cope, Mum. You brought us up to be survivors. We’re a stubborn pair. Trust me on that.’
‘You’re both good girls.’
‘More’s the pity. If Tara wasn’t so damned good, she wouldn’t have a problem.’
‘Jen, you don’t think she’d ever…’
‘No. Never in a million years. She’s going to have this baby whether lover-boy wants her to or not.’
Joyce looked shocked. ‘You mean he might try to persuade her to get rid of it?’
‘It’s highly likely, don’t you think?’
‘She does love him a lot, Jen. If he puts the pressure on, she might do what he wants. Women in love can sometimes do things they regret later.’
‘If he does that, he’ll be the one to regret it,’ Jen said fiercely. ‘Tara would never forgive him, or herself. Look, I’d better drink this tea and get on home, Mum. Don’t worry too much about Tara. Max can’t put any pressure on her yet, because she doesn’t intend telling him yet. OK?’
Joyce nodded, but inside she was beside herself with worry. Yet she could do nothing to help, because she wasn’t supposed to know!
She glanced over at Jen and tried to work out why it was that daughters always misunderstood their mothers. All she wanted was for them to be happy.
Fancy Jen thinking she’d been ashamed of her when she fell pregnant. How could she possibly be ashamed of her daughters for doing exactly what she had done herself? Fallen madly in love. Maybe she would tell them one day that she had been pregnant when she’d married her beloved Bill.
Tears filled Joyce’s eyes as she thought of the handsome man who’d swept her off her feet and into his bed before she could blink. How she’d loved that man. When he’d died, she could not bear to ever have another man touch her, though there’d been plenty who’d tried. Her daughters might be surprised to know that. But she’d only ever wanted her Bill.
‘Please don’t cry, Mum,’ Jen said, reaching over to touch her mother’s hand. ‘Tara will be fine. You’ll see.’
Joyce found a watery smile from somewhere. ‘I hope so, love.’
‘She’s strong, is our Tara. And stubborn. Max won’t find it easy to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. And she doesn’t want to get rid of her baby. Come on, give me a hug and dry those tears. If you’re all puffy-eyed when Tara gets home, she’ll think I told you and then there’ll be hell to pay. Promise me now that you won’t let on.’
Joyce gave her daughter a hug and a promise. But it was difficult not to worry once she was alone, so she did the one thing she always did when she started to stress over one of her daughters. She took out the photo albums which contained the visual memories of all the good times they’d had as a family before her Bill died.
It always soothed her fears, looking at the man she’d loved so much and whom she still loved. She liked to talk to him; ask his advice.
He told her to hang in there, the way he always did. And to be patient. Some things took time. Time. And work. And faith.
She frowned over this last piece of advice. She had faith in Tara. The trouble was she had no faith in Max Richmond.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_47d36ca6-90b7-5987-8b3c-a0b6c8e4f28f)
MAX replaced the receiver, a deep frown drawing his brows together. Something was wrong. He could feel it. He’d been feeling it all week.
Tara was different. Each night she’d cut his calls off after only a few minutes with some pitiful excuse. Her hair was wet. She wanted to watch some TV show. Tonight she’d said she had to go because she’d forgotten to feed her mother’s cat and her mother was out playing bingo.
As if that couldn’t have waited!
Then there was her definite lack of enthusiasm over their meeting up in Auckland. Tonight she’d even said she might not be able to make it. They were short-handed at Whitmore’s this weekend and she felt obliged to help out. Would he mind terribly if she didn’t come?
When he’d said that he definitely would, she’d sighed and said she would see what she could do, but not to count on her coming. She hadn’t said she loved him before she ended the call, the way she usually did. Just a rather strained goodbye.
Last weekend had been a mistake, Max realised. He’d frightened her.
He shook his head. Hell, didn’t she realise he didn’t really care about that kind of sex? All he wanted was to be with her.
He would ring her back, reassure her. It wasn’t late. Only eight o’clock, her time.
When Mrs Bond answered the phone, he was startled. But not for long. Hadn’t he subconsciously known Tara was lying to him?
‘Max Richmond here, Mrs Bond. Can I speak to Tara, please?’
‘No, you may not!’ the woman snapped. ‘I’m not going to let you upset her any more tonight. She’s been through enough today.’
‘What? But I didn’t upset her tonight. And what do you mean she’s been through enough today? What’s going on that I don’t know about?’
‘Oh, Mum,’ he heard Tara say in the background. ‘How could you? You promised. I should never have told you.’
‘He has to know, Tara. And the sooner the better. Why should you shoulder this burden all on your own?’
Max was taken aback. ‘Burden? What burden? Speak to me, woman. Tell me what’s going on.’
But she didn’t answer him. All he heard was muffled sounds. His blood pressure soared as a most dreadful feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him. He wanted to be there, not here, hanging on the end of a phone thousands of miles away. If he was there, he’d make them both look at him and talk to him.
‘Hey!’ he shouted down the line. ‘Is anyone there? Mrs Bond. Answer me, damn it!’
More sounds. A door slamming. A sigh.
‘It’s me,’ Tara said with another sigh.
‘Thank heaven. Tara, tell me what’s going on.’
‘I suppose there’s no point in keeping it a secret any longer. I’m pregnant, Max.’
‘Pregnant!’ He was floored. ‘But how c—?’
‘Before you go off on one,’ she swept on rather impatiently, ‘no, I didn’t do this on purpose and no, I didn’t even do it by accident. I took that darned Pill at the same time every day. I even had what I thought was a period a few weeks back. The doctor I saw today said that can happen. It’s rare but not unheard-of. I’m about six or seven weeks gone, according to the ultrasound.’
A baby. Tara was going to have his baby. She wasn’t tired of him, or frightened of him. She was just pregnant.
‘Say something, for pity’s sake!’ she snapped.
‘I was thinking.’
‘I’ll bet you were. Look, if you think I’m happy about this, then you’re dead wrong. I’m not. The last thing I wanted at this time in my life was to have a baby. If being pregnant feels the way I’ve been feeling every morning then maybe I’ll never want to have one.’
‘So that’s why you were sick the other morning!’ Max exclaimed. ‘It wasn’t the champagne.’
‘No, it wasn’t the champagne,’ she reiterated tetchily. ‘It was your baby.’
‘Yes, I understand, Tara. And your mother’s right. This is my responsibility as much as it is yours. So how long have you known? You didn’t know last weekend, did you?’ Surely she wouldn’t have encouraged him to act the way he had if she knew she was pregnant!
‘No, of course I didn’t. But when I woke up on the Sunday morning, chucking up two mornings in a row, I began to suspect.’
‘Aah, so that’s why you were so irritable with me that morning. I understand now. Poor baby.’
‘Yes, it is a poor baby, to not be wanted by its parents.’
‘You really don’t want this baby?’ His heart sank. When Grace had told him she was having a baby, he hadn’t felt anything like what he was feeling now. He really wanted this child. It was his, and Tara’s. A true love-child.
Tara’s silence at the other end of the phone was more than telling. He might want their baby, but she didn’t. She’d already raced off to a doctor to find out how far pregnant she was. Why? To see if it wasn’t too late to have a termination?
Panic filled his heart.
‘This is not the end of the world, Tara,’ he said carefully. ‘I don’t want you making any hasty decisions. We should work this out together. Look, I won’t go to New Zealand tomorrow. Pierce can handle that. I’ll catch an overnight flight to Sydney. I should be able to get a seat. I’ll catch a taxi straight out to your place as soon as I land and we’ll sit down and work things out together. OK?’
Again, she didn’t say a word.
‘Tara…’
‘What?’
The word was sharp. Sour, even. Max tried to understand how she felt, falling pregnant like that when she’d taken every precaution against it. She was only young, and just beginning to blossom, sexually speaking. She’d definitely been very excited about travelling with him. She probably felt her whole life was ruined with her being condemned to domestic boredom whilst he continued to jet-set around the world.
But having a termination was not the answer. Not for Tara. It would haunt her forever.
‘Promise me you’ll be there when I arrive,’ he said. ‘Even if the plane is late, promise me you won’t go to work tomorrow.’
‘Why should I make promises to you when you haven’t made any to me? Go to hell, Max.’ And she slammed the phone down in his ear.
Max gaped, then groaned once he saw what he’d done wrong. He should have told her again that he loved her. He should have reassured her straight away that he would be there for her, physically, emotionally and financially. Maybe he should have even asked her to marry her as a demonstration of his commitment to her and the child.
Of course, it wasn’t an ideal situation, marrying because of a baby. He’d shunned marriage and children so far because he’d never wanted to neglect a family the way his father had. But the baby was a fait accompli and he truly loved Tara. Compromises could be made.
Yes, marriage was the answer. He would ring her back and ask her to marry him.
He swiftly pressed redial.
‘Damn and blast!’ he roared when the number was engaged.
Max tried her mobile but it was turned off. Clearly, she didn’t want to speak to him. She was too angry. And she had every right to be. He was a complete idiot.
Max paced the hotel room for about thirty agitated seconds before returning to the phone and pressing redial once more. Again, nothing but the engaged tone. He immediately rang Pierce in the next room and asked him to get on to the airlines and find him a seat on an overnight flight to Sydney, money no object. He was to beg or bribe his way onto a plane.
‘But what about New Zealand?’ Pierce asked, obviously confused by these orders.
‘You’ll have to go there in my place,’ Max said. ‘Do you think you can handle that situation on your own?’
‘Do I have complete authority? Or will I have to keep you in touch by phone during negotiations?’
‘You have a free hand. You decide if the hotel is a good buy, and if it is, buy it. At a bargain price, of course.’
‘You kidding me?’
‘No.’
‘Wow. This is fantastic. To what do I owe this honour?’
‘To my impending marriage.’
‘Your what?’
‘Tara’s pregnant.’
‘Good lord.’
Max could understand Pierce’s surprise. Max was not the sort of man to make such mistakes. But he wasn’t in the mood to explain the circumstances surrounding Tara’s unexpected pregnancy.
‘Just get on to the airlines, Pierce. Pronto. Then ring me back.’
‘Will do. And boss?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thanks.’
‘If you do a good job, there’ll be a permanent promotion for you. And a lot more travelling. I’m planning on cutting down on my overseas trips in future. But first things first. Get me on a plane for Sydney. Tonight!’
Max didn’t sleep much on the plane. Pierce had managed to get him a first-class seat on a QANTAS flight. He spent most of the time thinking, and planning. By the time the jumbo landed at Mascot soon after dawn, he had all his actions and arguments ready to convince Tara that marriage was the best and only option.
‘A brief stop at the Regency Royale,’ he told the taxi driver. ‘Then I’m going on to Quakers Hill.’
The driver looked pleased. Quakers Hill was quite a considerable fare, being one of the outer western suburbs.
Max hadn’t been out that way in ages, and what he saw amazed him. Where farms had once dotted the surrounding hillsides, there now sat rows and rows of new houses. Not small houses, either. Large, double-storeyed homes.
Tara’s place, however, was not one of those. Her address was in the older section of Quakers Hill, near the railway station, a very modest fibro cottage with no garage and little garden to speak of. The small squares of lawn on either side of the front path were brown after the summer and what shrubs there were looked bedraggled and tired. In fact the whole house looked tired. It could surely do with a makeover. Or at least a lick of paint. But of course, Tara’s mum was a widow, had been for a long time. She’d had no sons to physically help her maintain her home.
