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‘Yes.’
She sighed. ‘It doesn’t seem possible, does it?’ Taking his pen, she wrote swiftly. ‘We live in Shropshire.’
Dominic accepted the notebook back. ‘Will you be all right getting home? Is your husband in London with you?’
‘Michael? No.’ Lucy pulled her bag up on to her shoulder and pushed her hands down into the depths of her pockets. ‘Oh, no, Michael’s dead.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Michael died just before Chloe’s fifth birthday.’ She was really quite proud of the way she held her voice steady. ‘I understand how you feel about Abby. I really do. Chloe’s all I have too. I’m never going to let her go.’
CHAPTER TWO
LUCY glanced down at her watch and noticed with a jolt that it was already past seven. It was more than a jolt—she actually felt sick when she saw how late it was.
She’d meant to be so calm when she met Dominic again. She’d meant to be well groomed and in complete control but all her good intentions had turned to dust. Time had just flown by—in the way it always seemed to do when you knew there was something difficult ahead, she reflected as she searched out the small figure of her daughter in the middle of the play park. She was going to have to rush to be ready in time.
‘Five minutes, Clo, and then we need to go to Grandma’s,’ she called out as she stood up to pack away their picnic things.
It was doubtful whether Chloe heard. Her feet were taking her in the direction of the giant slide, her blonde hair streaming out behind her. Lucy smiled. Nothing troubled Chloe’s world and she was determined to keep it that way. Whatever Dominic Grayling had to say this evening. Whatever any court of law had to say on the subject, she’d keep her safe and happy.
‘Chloe, it’s time to go. Five more minutes and that’s it,’ she called again.
Turning to reach for the picnic mat she stilled, suddenly aware of a solitary figure watching them. Perhaps her imagination had conjured him up? She was late, but not that late. He shouldn’t be here. Not now. Dominic wouldn’t do this without arranging it with her first. Would he? She had to be hallucinating, and yet…
With a fatalistic shrug the solitary figure started walking towards her until its identity became obvious.
‘Hi,’ Dominic said as he got close enough to speak.
His calm greeting fanned the tiny spark of anger into a fierce spurt. ‘What are you doing here? You’re more than an hour early.’
‘Curiosity.’
‘How dare you do this? You could be anyone, as far as Chloe’s concerned. You could have scared her.’
‘I’m sorry.’
But he didn’t seem sorry. He seemed so relaxed, so completely in control, so…so what she’d wanted to be when they’d met. ‘What if Chloe had noticed you watching her?’
‘She didn’t.’
‘You can’t know that.’
‘I’m sure she didn’t.’ He turned to look at her, his blue eyes narrowed astutely. ‘Have I scared you?’
His question caught her off guard. Was her anger really all about her? How she felt? She made a quick analysis of her feelings before deciding on honesty. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘For being here or for scaring me?’
But already her anger had dissipated. As a disembodied voice on the telephone Dominic Grayling still had charm, but in person it was more evident. His hair was an indeterminate sandy brown but his bone structure was strong and characterful. A man to trust. A face to paint, she thought inconsequentially. And of course they shared a common bond in their children. It was only natural she should feel a connection to him. As his face relaxed into a lopsided grin she felt the last shreds of her irritation pass—and yet surely that was illogical.
‘I couldn’t sit around at home any longer, and then the traffic from London was so clear I made much better time than I’d anticipated. I should have stopped at a service station and waited the time out, but I couldn’t resist getting here earlier.’
Lucy hated the way she was letting him get away with spying on her. He should have walked down the hill and made sure she knew he was there instead of keeping his distance and watching. Better still, he should have stayed in London until it was really time to leave; he should have been held up on the motorway in a ten-mile traffic jam; he should have got lost at least a dozen times before he arrived at her house…
She turned her back. ‘Do you want a coffee? There’s some left in the flask.’
‘I decided to walk about a bit. I didn’t know you were here, Lucy.’
She turned back to him, hearing the coaxing, warm note to his voice. Sexy. Where had that come from? She didn’t think like that about men any more. It was disloyal to Michael. It was too soon.
And Dominic Grayling wasn’t sexy. He was, no doubt, a perfectly pleasant man, but he wasn’t particularly special and he was a stranger to her. She had to remember that. She might feel she’d known him for months but the reality was different. ‘So, as soon as you knew I was, you walked away?’
‘Would you?’ he asked on a slight smile.
She wouldn’t, of course. The temptation to stand, unseen, to watch Abigail, would have been impossible to resist. To search for physical signs that would really make it possible to believe with her whole heart she belonged to her. Had it been like that for Dominic? Had he found them in Chloe?
‘You’re right; she’s beautiful.’
Lucy hugged the picnic rug to her. ‘Yes. Yes, she is.’
‘She’s got the same ash-blonde hair as Eloise.’
‘Oh.’
He looked at her quickly. ‘Was that the wrong thing to say?’
‘Of course not. It’s just…well, I’m sure you know,’ she finished weakly, unaware of Chloe’s small figure running up to join them.
‘Are we going now?’ Chloe asked, hesitating slightly as she joined them.
Lucy’s fingers closed on her daughter’s shoulder in a gesture she recognised as ownership. How was Dominic feeling now? Did this hurt? ‘We have to.’
‘Can’t I stay five more minutes?’
‘Not this time. We’ve got to get to Grandma’s.’ She hadn’t dared to look up at Dominic but she sensed his stillness. This was an important moment for him—and for Chloe. Lucy took a deep, shaky breath. He didn’t deserve to be ignored. However frightened she was by his presence in her life, by the whole situation. ‘This is Dr Grayling. Do you remember me telling you about him?’
Chloe turned and looked with interest at the stranger. Whatever she saw she liked, because she suddenly smiled. It wasn’t like her to do that. Chloe was always reserved and would rarely talk to adults she didn’t know well. ‘I’m Chloe.’
‘I know. I’ve heard a lot about you from your mother.’ Above her blonde head Dominic’s eyes sought out Lucy’s. It was part thanks, part reassurance. It was a reward in itself. She’d done the right thing and it felt really good.
‘I’m going to sleep at my grandma’s house tonight.’
Dominic smiled down at Chloe. ‘I know. Your mummy told me.’ It was the kind of half-smile that spoke of deep inner sadness. Lucy felt a sudden rush of compassion—for him, for her, for Chloe and Abby, for all the people who loved them. Her mum adored Chloe. She was her grandchild—and, of course, she was not. Somewhere Dominic would have a mother who’d been denied the right to know her own flesh-and-blood grandchild. The ramifications were endless. The ripples went on and on.
‘Are you Mummy’s new friend?’ Chloe asked curiously.
Dominic didn’t pause. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Come on, Chloe. Grandma will be waiting.’ Lucy gratefully squeezed the hand tucked inside hers. The feel of those small fingers was so comforting.
And Dominic was alone. She could only imagine what he must feel like, watching them walk away from him. It must be the most hideous feeling. And it was going to be one she would experience when she met Abby.
Four weeks since her world had come crashing down for the second time and she’d not allowed herself to dwell on Abby. First there’d been the tests on Chloe’s heart and the agonising wait before the all-clear had been given. Then there’d been contact with lawyers, the people who were going to determine the legal status of their children. And finally there was the desperate sense of being alone. More alone than she’d been when Michael died. Now she had to carry a deep, dark secret. One she could share with no one. Except Dominic. His telephone calls had been a lifeline. Calm, good sense in a crazy, shifting world.
‘Am I staying for breakfast?’ Chloe asked with a slight tug on her hand.
‘Grandma would like you to.’
‘Are you going to be there?’
Lucy smiled at the tone of her daughter’s voice. If she said she was Chloe would be so disappointed. She wanted it to be just her and Grandma. ‘No. I’ll pick you up later.’
Chloe pulled back on her hand, looking behind her. ‘Dr Grayling’s still standing there. He hasn’t moved.’
‘Is he?’
‘It’s a bit rude to stare, isn’t it?’
‘Maybe he’s lonely and wishes he could be coming home with us.’
Chloe thought about that carefully. ‘He looked nice. We could both be friends with him.’
Could it really be as simple as that? Lucy wondered, her grip on Chloe’s hand tightening. She wouldn’t let anything hurt her. She’d take any painful blow if it would shield her from the consequences of this mess.
As they reached the corner Lucy risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Dominic was still standing there, watching, his hands thrust deep into his denim pockets and the lines of his body tense. He looked so alone.
And soon that would be her. Could she do it? It was impossible to imagine how that would actually feel. Would something in her recognise Abby as hers? Would she feel the same as she had when Chloe, newborn and angry at her difficult entry into the world, was placed in her arms? That overwhelming sense of love and responsibility. The total wonder at having created anything so perfect. That last thought twisted painfully inside her. She hadn’t created Chloe. Given her life, yes, but not created. That was something she had to concede to Dominic and the fair-haired Eloise.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, Dominic decided as he watched the pair disappear. Light ash-blonde hair and a heart-shaped face. So like Eloise, and yet not.
Chloe was tanned, energetic and healthy. Her skin glowed with vitality and her eyes sparkled. Dressed in a faded T-shirt and old shorts, with tangled hair and a grubby face, she wasn’t the image he’d held in his mind for the last few weeks. And yet this was better than all his imaginings. The euphoric feeling he’d experienced as he’d watched her balancing on the centre of the seesaw was something he’d never forget. She was happy.
Her little hand tucked safely in Lucy’s was hard to see, but the bond between them was obvious. Chloe was loved and cared for. It was what he’d wanted to know and yet now it didn’t feel like enough. He wanted his little girl to know about him. It was a spear of jealousy digging into his flesh.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. And about Lucy. In his mind the two were intricately entwined. Lucy, so different from Eloise. His wife had been many wonderful things—cultured, intelligent, with the face of an angel—but he knew she’d have crumbled under this pressure. But Lucy would cope. Even in the immediate aftermath of hearing the news, shocked and desperately hurting, she’d still seemed strong. She had an inner core of strength that kept her standing. Whatever life threw at her, she would take it on the chin and move on. And it seemed life had thrown a good deal at her. Yet still she’d managed to raise a child who smiled as though her world was completely sunny.
A picnic in the park. He couldn’t remember ever having taken Abby for a picnic. Since she’d started nursery her evenings had been filled with piano lessons, ballet classes and gymnastics. By the time he emerged from his study Abby was usually too tired to do anything but curl up against him for a story. What would Lucy make of that? She glowed with an active vitality that made him wonder whether she’d approve. Made him wonder whether he approved.
The doorbell rang at exactly eight-thirty. Even though she was expecting it, the sound still shocked her.
Lucy snapped on her wrist-watch and grabbed her handbag before opening the door. ‘Do you always do this? You’re exactly on time. To the minute.’
‘I’ve been sitting outside in the car.’
‘Oh,’ she said, slightly deflated. It didn’t seem right for him to have been doing that. She’d been so busy settling Chloe and hurrying back home to shower and change she hadn’t thought about what Dominic was going to do with the spare hour. ‘I suppose so. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’
‘Is Chloe happily settled?’
‘She loves staying with my mum. There’s nothing so lovely as being spoiled, is there?’ Lucy tried to say it with a laugh but it sounded more like a hiccup.
This felt so awkward. It had been easier on the telephone. Then she hadn’t been confused by the tense, hurt look in Dominic’s eyes. She’d only listened to his deep voice and the words he’d said. Calm and sensible, that was how she’d come to think of him. This felt different.
‘Chloe said you looked nice,’ she said on a rush, hoping it would make him feel better.
‘She looks incredible. I don’t know what I was expecting, but she looks so…so healthy.’
Lucy heard the wistful tone in his voice. Even that must be difficult for him, she remembered. Eloise had been anything but healthy, apparently. Did Chloe look like she would have done if she’d been well?
‘I’ve booked a table at the White Horse since it’s so near. I’ve no idea whether the food is any good, but I liked the idea of sitting on the terrace and watching the water.’
‘The food’s lovely,’ Lucy volunteered quickly, glad he’d chosen that restaurant. She loved sitting where she could see water, watching the way the colour changed and shifted on the surface, but this time she liked the idea of having a distraction. Something easy to talk about if the conversation became too difficult, too strained.
They walked in silence for a time. Lucy was aware of the way he kept glancing down at her and she could feel the tension in his body. It didn’t surprise her. What they were having to do was impossibly difficult.
‘I used to go to the White Horse with Michael,’ Lucy remarked, breaking the silence.
He seemed grateful. ‘When you were dating?’
‘No. We couldn’t afford it then. Michael and I met at school and were married by the time we were nineteen. This is grown-up stuff, with grown-up prices. We went there for our last anniversary. A couple of months before he died.’
Dominic stopped and turned to look at her, the angled planes of his face pulled taut. ‘Is this difficult for you? Look, if you’d rather go somewhere else please say so. This is awkward enough as it is.’
‘It’s fine, really. It’s a happy place. I’ve really good memories of coming here.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘Excellent.’
‘What was he like?’
‘Michael?’ She saw the slight inclination of his head, saw his reluctance to ask the question in case it hurt her. Strangely, it didn’t hurt to talk about Michael. What hurt was not being allowed to. Being widowed made other people uncomfortable, and sometimes it felt as if Michael had been erased. ‘He was a lovely man. Very sporty, loved sailing. Always wanting to do the next thing, take on the next challenge. It was an incredible shock when he was diagnosed with the tumour. Of course he’d left it far too late. Wouldn’t go to the doctor. He was the last person you’d ever have thought would…’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, it’s fine. I like to talk about him sometimes,’ she reassured him quickly. ‘We were really happy together. So many of my friends are splitting up now, getting divorced. I know I’ve already had more than some people have their whole lives. If he hadn’t died he wouldn’t have left me, and I know he loved me right up to the end. Me and Chloe.’
‘Do you find that difficult?’ His shoe kicked at a stone. ‘That Michael died believing Chloe was his natural child?’
Lucy watched it skim into the bramble bushes. ‘I’m glad about that. It’s difficult for me to cope with, but Michael would have found it harder still. And if it had come when he was ill…That would have been unbearable. As it is he died happy, knowing I wouldn’t be alone and believing something of him was going on.’ She swallowed painfully. ‘And it still is. Except in your Abby—not in Chloe, as we thought.’
Dominic held open the gate for Lucy to pass through before him, thinking once again how remarkable a woman she was. How did you reach the point where you could be glad for the little time you’d had? Every time he caught sight of an article celebrating someone’s diamond wedding anniversary he felt angry. Every time he saw a mother with her child he remembered Eloise hadn’t had that chance. Was it possible Lucy didn’t share his anger—and guilt?
He waited until they were seated at one of the tables overlooking the canal before he spoke again. ‘Have you ever been on the canal?’
Lucy tucked her handbag beneath her seat and looked up to see a burgundy-and-blue narrow boat passing, small crochet circles hanging in the round windows. ‘Absolutely. I grew up near here. My mum and dad owned a narrow boat for most of my childhood. They had a seventy-two foot boat which they called Little Beauty.’
