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She restrained herself from demanding to know what he was implying. The less she spoke to Greg the better, she decided firmly. She was going to have to tread very warily around him and it didn’t help to descend to personal levels.
She followed him towards the elevator and they travelled upwards in silence for a moment. ‘Will the children be awake?’ she asked at last, as curiosity overtook her.
‘They shouldn’t be.’ Greg glanced at his watch. ‘They are usually in bed by seven in the evening, but then again, neither has been sleeping well and they are excited about your arrival.’
When the doors of the elevator opened Greg led her into the type of penthouse apartment that she had only ever seen in top, glossy magazines. Its opulence and its beauty took her breath away.
The lounge was decorated in shades of gold and white; it was modern in design and very large, with a black wrought-iron spiral staircase curving down into one corner. The views from the windows were spectacular.
New York was spread in front of her in glittering array. It was just starting to get dark; the sky had turned to a dusky lilac colour and the skyscrapers were dotted with lights like huge Christmas trees illuminated against the sky.
‘Make yourself at home.’ Greg waved her towards a white leather settee. ‘I’ll just go and find out where everyone is.’
He didn’t have to move far. He had only taken a step towards a door at the far end of the room when it burst open, and two little five-year-olds flung themselves into Abigail’s arms.
‘Aunty Abbie, it’s been awful,’ Rachel sobbed as she was held tightly against Abbie. ‘Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming home any more.’
Abbie met Greg’s eyes across the room, and she was glad of the semi-darkness of the room so that he couldn’t see the sudden tears that shimmered in her eyes.
She crouched lower down and held the girls as if she would never let them go. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ she whispered as she kissed both of them. ‘Everything is going to be all right.’
It was a moment before she noticed that Greg’s mother was standing in the doorway watching them. ‘Hello, Margaret.’ Slowly she straightened.
‘Abbie.’ The older woman came forward and Abbie was shocked to see how she had aged since she had last seen her. Her brown hair was peppered with grey, and her face seemed hollow somehow, her eyes filled with a deep sadness that just tore at Abigail’s heart.
‘I’m so sorry, Margaret.’ Impulsively Abigail moved to embrace the other woman and for a while they just clung to each other in silent grief.
‘Come on, you two.’ Greg’s voice cut into the atmosphere. ‘Let’s lighten things up a bit.’ He strolled across and picked up the twins, one in each arm, as effortlessly as if they were mere babies instead of two sturdy children. ‘For a start-off, you should be in bed. Maybe if you ask Aunty Abbie very nicely, she will come and tuck you in.’
Abbie nodded as the two children looked over at her expectantly.
‘Good—now kiss Grandma goodnight and let’s go.’
He carried them across and they dutifully kissed their grandmother and wished her goodnight.
‘Poor little things,’ Margaret whispered in a broken voice as Greg carried them out. ‘I still can’t believe it.’
Abigail swallowed hard. ‘Greg tells me the funeral is tomorrow?’
Margaret nodded and led the way over to sit down on the settee. ‘I think we will all feel better when that is over with.’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’ Privately Abigail wondered if she would ever feel all right again. Although it was a year since she had last seen her sister, she had always been in close contact with her. Her death would leave a terrible void in her life.
Margaret sighed. ‘Well, it’s good to see you again, Abigail,’ she said warmly. ‘Even if it is in such terrible circumstances.’
‘I just wish I had come over sooner,’ Abigail murmured. ‘What happened, Margaret? I didn’t even know Jenny and Mike were planning a holiday.’
‘It was a spur of the moment thing.’ Margaret seemed to pull herself together with a tremendous effort. ‘It was a weekend break put on by Mike’s boss. They weren’t going to go only…I offered to look after the girls for them.’ For a moment the woman’s voice cracked. ‘To be honest, Abbie, I can’t help blaming myself. If I hadn’t insisted…If only I—’
‘Come on, Mother.’ Greg’s deep voice interrupted the conversation as he came back into the room. ‘We’ve been over and over this. You are not to blame. How on earth could you possibly have known that there would be such a terrible car accident?’
He squeezed his mother’s shoulder on the way past towards the drinks cabinet. ‘Now, how about a stiff drink?’ he asked, as he pulled down the cabinet at the other side of the room.
‘Not for me.’ Margaret shook her head, then looked over at Abbie. ‘Are you hungry, dear? Shall I make you something to eat?’
Abbie shook her head. ‘Thank you, Margaret, but I had something on the plane.’ In actual fact she had barely touched any of the meals on the plane. She seemed to have lost all interest in food recently, and it was starting to show on her already slender figure. ‘I’ll have a drink, though,’ she said, looking over at Greg. ‘Brandy, if you have it.’
‘I’ll make some coffee to go with that.’ Margaret got to her feet.
‘No, really, Margaret…please don’t go to that trouble. I’m fine.’
‘Well, if you are sure…’ She hesitated and looked at Abbie guiltily. ‘Would you think I was very rude if I said I wanted to turn in for the night, Abbie? I’m just exhausted—it’s all these early mornings with the girls.’
‘No, of course not.’ Abbie stood up quickly and kissed Margaret’s cheek. ‘You go and lie down and don’t worry about the girls in the morning. I’ll see to them.’
Margaret nodded gratefully and, with a smile at Greg, she left the room.
Silence descended on the room after she had left.
Abigail glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll just pop in and say goodnight to the girls,’ she murmured. ‘Which is their room, Greg?’
He walked across and put her drink on the coffeetable. ‘Second door on the right. Try not to wake them if they are asleep.’
Abigail glared at the man. ‘Of course I won’t wake them.’ Annoyed at his suggestion, she rose stiffly to her feet without thanking him for the drink and left the room. It was clear Greg thought she was as useful around children as a chocolate teapot.
The girls occupied a pretty twin-bedded room. Obviously every effort had been made to make them feel at home, because lots of their toys lined the shelves and a large dolls’ house occupied an enviable position by the window, looking out over the lights of the city.
A small night-light sent a warm pink glow over the satin covers of the beds and lent a hint of warmth to the children’s skin.
They were nearly asleep, their eyes sleepily drifting as they struggled to stay awake for her.
Abbie sat on the edge of Rachel’s bed and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘All right, darling?’ she whispered softly.
The little girl nodded. ‘We are now,’ she said in a low voice. ‘You will stay, Aunty Abbie? You won’t leave us like Mummy and Daddy?’
Abbie shook her head, her eyes glimmering with tears as she looked at the little girls. They were both so like Jennifer—both had large blue eyes and blonde curls. ‘Certainly not,’ she promised in a husky whisper as she moved to kiss Daisy. ‘Now, get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.’
Daisy nodded and then clutched at her aunt’s sleeve. ‘Grandma says that Mummy and Daddy are in heaven now. Do you think that’s where they have gone?’
For a moment Abigail had difficulty in speaking. Her throat felt tight with suppressed tears. ‘Yes, darling, I’m sure that is where they are.’
‘Do you think they are happy?’ Daisy looked up at her woefully, her eyes clouded, her face bleak.
‘Oh, darling!’ Abigail put her arms around her niece and cuddled the little body tightly. How did you explain such cruel facts to a five-year-old? How could you explain something you didn’t understand yourself? ‘I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them,’ she whispered softly. ‘I’m sure they are watching over you and they very much want you to be happy.’
For a while she just rocked the little girl helplessly in her arms. When she looked down, the child’s eyes were starting to close as she lost the battle against sleep. ‘See you in the morning,’ Abigail whispered softly as she laid her down and kissed her.
For a moment she just stood in the room watching them, her heart aching. They looked so small, so helpless. Abigail wanted fiercely to make everything better for them, to hold them and protect them from further heartache. She vowed there and then that, whatever it took, she would not let them down. Then she crept silently from the room.
‘Are they all right?’ Greg asked as she rejoined him in the lounge.
She nodded. ‘They are drifting off to sleep now.’ She sat down in the chair opposite his and reached for her brandy. Her hand was unsteady as she lifted it to her lips.
For a while there was just silence as Abigail went over and over the grim situation.
She glanced across at Greg and found him watching her closely, a hooded expression in his dark eyes.
What was he thinking? she wondered grimly. Was he as emotionally torn as she was? Somehow it was hard to relate the powerful turmoil that was inside her to him. He gave such an impression of hard control, as if nothing could ruffle him.
She took a deep breath. ‘Margaret looks absolutely shattered,’ she remarked aloud, glad her voice didn’t tremble as much as she had feared.
‘She wasn’t well before all this.’ He sighed. ‘Michael was three years younger than me, but even at thirty-two years of age he was still her baby. I think it will take a long time before the pain of losing him starts to dull.’
‘It will be a while before any of us gets over this,’ Abbie murmured, a look of deep unhappiness on her young face. ‘In fact, I find myself wondering if I will ever feel the same again. It’s like some aching void has opened up inside me.’
‘I know exactly what you mean.’ The raw edge to Greg’s tone took her by surprise. He tossed back his drink and got up to fix himself another. ‘Michael was my brother, but he was also my best friend.’ There was such a wealth of emotion in Greg’s voice that for a moment Abbie felt overwhelmed by sorrow for his loss as well as for her own. She also felt guilty—guilty for assuming that he was so hard as to be indifferent to everything.
‘I always liked Mike. He was a…a good husband and father.’ She swallowed hard as a sudden picture of Mike’s grinning, good-natured face rose in her mind.
‘Are you OK?’ Greg looked sharply over at her, yet his voice was gentle, his dark eyes concerned. For some reason the gentleness of his tone made her want to cry.
She nodded and looked down into the amber depths of her drink.
Greg sat opposite her again and for a moment there was silence, but strangely it was a companionable silence now. She glanced up and met his eyes. ‘What are we going to do without them, Greg…?’ She tried to hide the anguish in her tone but it was still plainly evident.
‘All we can do is keep going…’ His gaze held hers, a look of deep contemplation on the ruggedly attractive features.
Then she found herself speaking in a low, soft tone…words that she hadn’t planned to say to him.
‘You know, sometimes when I wake up in the mornings I have this surge of hope. I wonder if it’s all been some dreadful nightmare.’ Her lips twisted in self-mockery. ‘Then I remember that it’s really happened and it’s like that void opening up inside me again, only wider and deeper.’
It was the first time she had been able to talk openly about her feelings of grief without breaking down.
Charles had been very sympathetic, very supportive, but somehow it felt incredibly good to be talking like this to Greg, maybe because she knew now that in their grief at least they were united.
Greg sipped his drink, his face etched in stern lines. ‘They say time heals all wounds.’ He grated the words rawly and their eyes met across the room. ‘We will just have to think of the children now—put their well-being first.’
A wave of relief washed over Abigail. Perhaps the question of the children wasn’t going to be as difficult as she had anticipated. At least they both felt the same way.
‘I’m so glad that we are in agreement,’ she said, a note of heartfelt thanks in her voice. ‘I know it will be hard for both you and Margaret to say goodbye to the girls…but you can always visit them on holidays, and England isn’t that far away—’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Greg sat forward in his chair and looked at her as if she had suddenly grown two heads.
‘I’m sorry…Perhaps I should start again.’ She shook her head, realising that in her eagerness to sort things out she had jumped the gun. ‘I think the best thing for the children is for me to take them home to England with me.’
He frowned, then he leaned even further forward in his chair. ‘You can think again,’ he grated roughly.
‘What do you mean?’ With difficulty Abigail held his dark piercing gaze, her relief melting like ice in a microwave. She could feel the cold darts of apprehension trickling down her spine.
‘Let me spell it out for you.’ He almost growled the words, his ruggedly attractive features looking suddenly very grim in the half-light from the table-lamp beside him. ‘The girls are staying here in America with me. This is their home and they are not leaving in any circumstances.’
Abigail’s breath caught painfully in her throat. With extreme difficulty she pulled her senses into some kind of order. ‘Greg, you are not thinking rationally. You can’t possibly give the girls the care and attention they need. As you said yourself, you are working long hours.
Your mother can’t possibly be expected to cope.’ ‘We’ll cope.’ Greg finished his drink in one long swallow and then leaned back in his chair. ‘The girls are American citizens and they are going to remain as such.’
She glared at him, her large blue eyes shimmering with bewilderment and anger. ‘They were living in England up until a year ago…I think they are every bit as English as—’
‘No, Abbie.’ His voice was hard. ‘That’s an end to the subject.’ He put his glass down on the table next to him. ‘They are my brother’s children and they are staying with me.’
‘And to hell with what’s best for them?’ She couldn’t let the subject drop, even though the ominous darkness of Greg’s face should have warned her otherwise.
‘I shall decide what’s best for them.’
She shook her head. ‘No, Greg. I won’t have my sister’s children raised by a housekeeper or a nanny, which is what will happen if they stay with you. They need me, and—’
‘Nobody needs you, Abigail Weston,’ he cut across her firmly as he got to his feet. ‘Except perhaps that poor idiot back in London. I suggest that the best thing you can do is go back to him, where you belong.’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_35e0398e-1fde-5031-b807-c8c065486337)
SOMEHOW Abigail got through the funeral. She felt as if she had been through the worst day of her life as she stood in the lounge of a hotel passing pleasantries with friends of Jenny and Mike.
‘You must be Jenny’s sister.’ The glamorous young brunette who had been standing by Greg’s side throughout the service stopped to talk to her on her way across to the buffet-table.
‘That’s right, Abigail Weston.’ Politely Abbie held her hand out.
‘Jayne Carr—I’m Greg’s girlfriend.’
For a moment Abigail was taken aback. So Connie was a thing of the past! In retrospect she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; no doubt Greg had cheated on the beautiful Connie, just as he had cheated on her, once too often.
With determination Abbie pulled her mind away from the past and from Connie and concentrated on the woman who stood before her. She was heavily made-up, Abbie noticed, with dark kohl pencil around sparkling almond-shaped eyes. Her hair was very short and sophisticated, her body slender to the point of boyishness. ‘Jenny and Mike were dear friends,’ she continued sadly. ‘We are all going to miss them dreadfully.’
‘Yes.’ Abbie nodded and tried to rack her brain to think if Jenny had ever mentioned this woman’s name to her.
Come to think of it Jenny had never mentioned anything about Greg’s social life. The subject of Greg Prescott had been delicately handled after Abbie had made it clear to her sister that she was not interested in him—that she was in love with Charles.
As she thought about that little white lie now, she felt guilty. Her sister had been clearly disappointed. ‘Darling,’ she had said, with that note of deep irritation in her voice, ‘you can’t possibly prefer Charles…Look, why don’t you come over for a holiday and…?’
Swiftly Abbie switched her mind away from that conversation. Jenny had asked her on numerous occasions over the last year to come over to the States, and she had deliberately put the trip off because she didn’t want to see Greg. That fact hurt now. She should have come, and to hell with Greg Prescott.
She glanced across the room and met the subject of her thoughts head on, eye to eye.
Greg looked more attractive than ever today. His dark suit sat easily on his broad-shouldered frame. His hair gleamed raven-black in the late afternoon sunlight.
They had hardly spoken a word since that argument last night. In fact, his manner had been downright abrasive. She glanced sharply away from him, but much to her annoyance she could see him making his way across to her out of the corner of her eye. Desperately she tried to ignore him and concentrate on what the woman beside her was saying, but she broke off in midsentence as Greg reached her side.
‘I see you’ve met Jayne,’ he murmured, putting a rather possessive arm on the woman’s shoulder.
‘Yes,’ Abbie nodded.
