Christmas-Eve Baby (12 page)

‘Ben, it’s slander!’

He just smiled wryly and gave her a slow, lazy wink. ‘Relax. I’ll see you soon at my place. I’ll go via the supermarket and get you something jumping with vitamins and calories.’

She let her smile out at last. ‘You’re a star,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll see you later.’

He went out, crossing the car park briskly and getting into his car just as her father came up beside her. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said firmly, and taking her elbow he propelled her into her consulting room and shut the door.

‘About Carter,’ he began, but she was watching Ben through the window, turning the car and lifting his hand in farewell, and she thought of the dignity with which he’d handled the whole awful, embarrassing situation and she wanted to kill her father.

She turned back to him, her whole body trembling with reaction, and shook her head. ‘You had no right to say those things to him. No right at all! It’s just lies, and you’re flinging them around willy-nilly in front of everybody. It would serve you right if he took you to court, and it’s just rubbish, Dad! You know why she died.’

‘And so do you—and if you’re blinded by his lies, then you’re not the daughter your mother and I thought you were. There are some ugly rumours flying around, Lucy. I don’t
want to believe what I’m hearing, and I don’t. Just don’t give me any reason to doubt you, because the last thing I want to hear is that that bastard has fathered my grandchild.’

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, and then looked across the car park. Ben had pulled out into Harbour Road, but she could follow him—

‘Lucy! Lucy, come back here.’

‘No,’ she said, turning back to look her father in the eye. ‘No, this time you’ve gone too far. The only bastard in all of this is you—oh, and your grandchild, and I’m just about to do something about that.’

She scooped up her bag, ran upstairs for her coat and then ran down, fighting back the tears. Her father was still standing in the door of her consulting room, his jaw set, and without sparing him a second glance she went out to her car, got in it and drove off after Ben.

B
EN
was gutted.

Gutted for Lucy, and furious with her father. If Lucy didn’t manage to silence him soon, then he was going to, because this couldn’t be allowed to go on. Tremayne could think what the hell he liked about him, but he wasn’t going to go spreading it around the county like that. How he hadn’t hit him he had no idea.

He called the solicitor on the way to the supermarket, not really expecting him to be at work still, but to his surprise Simon answered.

‘Hi. You’re working late. It’s Ben Carter—I just wondered if there was any news.’

‘Oh, hi, Ben. It’s all done,’ Simon said, to his surprise. ‘Actually, I was just going to call you on my way out of the office. I’ve had confirmation in writing that the purchaser’s quite happy for you to continue to live in your present house and rent it from him until the end of February, if necessary, so as you instructed I’ve gone ahead and completed on both houses today. The Orchard Way house is sold, and Tregorran House is yours. Congratulations. The paperwork’s all in the post, and the keys of Tregorran House are with the agent.’

‘Amazing,’ he said, stunned. ‘God, you’re efficient! Thank you, Simon. You’re a star.’

‘My pleasure. If there’s anything else I can do, just ask.’

Like getting a restraining order on Nick Tremayne? ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ he said, biting his tongue, and cut the connection, his mind whirling.

Hell’s teeth, he’d done it. He’d got Lucy’s house.

He threw back his head and laughed in relief. There’d been a few moments in the past week when he’d wondered if Nick would try and block the sale, or at least throw up something he could to stall it, but apparently not. He was evidently as pleased to get rid of it as Ben was to have acquired it.

Now all he had to do was tell Lucy. He couldn’t wait to see her face.

He wasn’t there.

Of course he wasn’t. He was going via the supermarket, and he might be ages. And she should have gone via her house and picked up some things, if she was staying here tonight.

She shut her eyes, dropped her head back against the head-rest and sighed. She’d got herself so psyched up, convinced herself she’d be able to do this, but now he wasn’t here, she was losing her nerve. What if he—?

Stop it, she told herself. Deal with it later.

For now she’d ring him, get him to pick her up some knickers and deodorant at the shop. She fished in her bag for her phone and called him.

‘Could you buy me some knickers for tomorrow?’ she asked, and he gave a strangled laugh.

‘What kind? Not those tiny scraps of string.’

She couldn’t help the smile. He loved the tiny scraps of string. ‘No, something a bit more—’

‘Stop there. Just a bit more will do.’

‘Not granny knickers,’ she pleaded, but he just laughed.

‘Don’t panic. What else?’

She gave him a list, and he grunted. ‘Right. I was about done. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be on my way.’

She shut her eyes and leaned back and waited, trying to be calm, trying not to think negatively, and finally she saw the sweep of his headlights against her closed lids, and heard his car pull up beside hers and stop.

Then her door opened, and Ben reached in and hugged her. ‘Come on, out you get, we’re celebrating.’

‘Celebrating?’ she said, wondering what on earth they had to celebrate when her father had been so unreasonable—unless, of course, he’d turned into a mind reader—but he was grinning from ear to ear and taking off her seat belt, all but hauling her out. ‘Celebrating what?’ she asked as he scooped up the carrier bags from the passenger seat and shoved his car door shut with his knee.

‘Aha! Come inside.’

‘Celebrating what?’ she repeated, trailing him in, and he put the shopping down, picked her up in his arms and whirled her round, laughing.

‘The house—it’s ours. We’ve got it—completed.’ He put her down very gently on her feet, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. ‘You’ve got your house, my darling. As of today we are the official owners of Tregorran House. We can get the keys tomorrow.’

She was confused. ‘But—what about this house? Didn’t you have to sell it first—move out of it?’

‘Not yet. The new owner’s renting it to me until the end of February, to give us time to sort the other one out before we move in.’ He stopped talking and searched her face, his eyes concerned. ‘You will move in with me, won’t you? Live with me? In the house? Even if we have separate rooms—’

‘No.’ She put her fingers on his lips. ‘Not separate rooms. I want us together, in the room my grandparents had. When I was little and the cockerel woke me, I used to get into bed with Grannie in the morning and snuggle up, and it was lovely. I’ve always loved that room.’

She felt her eyes fill, and blinked the tears away so she could see his dear, wonderful face. ‘Oh, Ben, thank you,’ she said, and then the tears won and she closed her eyes and let them slip down her cheeks.

‘Hey, you aren’t supposed to cry,’ he said softly, and she laughed and hugged him, bubbling over with joy.

‘Sorry. Just happy. Ignore me.’

‘No. I’m going to make you a cup of tea, and sit you down with your feet up, and then I’m going to cook you supper.’

‘I want vegetables.’

‘You’re getting vegetables. Roasted root vegetables, steamed cauliflower and broccoli, and roast lamb.’

‘Roast lamb?’

‘Don’t you like it?’

‘I love it,’ she admitted. ‘I just never cook it for myself. I don’t think I’ve had roast lamb since Mum died—’ She broke off, the emotions of the day suddenly overwhelming her, and Ben muttered something under his breath, wrapped her in his arms and cradled her against his heart.

‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.’

‘What for?’ she asked, choked.

‘That you haven’t got your mother now,’ he said, going right to the heart of it. ‘She ought to be here for you when you’re having your first baby, and I’m so sad for you that she can’t be.’

‘She’ll never see my children,’ she said, finally voicing one of the huge regrets that had plagued her since her mother’s death. She gave a hiccuping sob, and he held her tighter, rubbing her back gently and cuddling her while she wept. ‘Oh, sorry, I’m being so silly,’ she said, scrubbing the tears away with the palms of her hands.

‘No, you’re not. You’re sad, and you’re tired, and you’ve had another fight with your father.’

‘Oh, I know. He’s a nightmare. I don’t know what to do with him. I want to tell him about the baby—I’m desperate to talk to him, for him to come to terms with you being its father, but I just don’t see it happening. He’s so awful to you—it’s just not like him, and it’s as if I’ve lost him, too.’

‘He’s just angry that she died, and a little lost without her, I guess. He needs someone to lash out at, and I’m convenient. I can cope with it, Lucy.’

‘But the things he was saying, about the inquiry—’

‘Are just rubbish. I know that, he knows that—we all know that. Your mother died because of a whole series of events. She was as much to blame as anyone else. If she’d been a bit more forthright about her condition and told your father how ill she was, or if she’d come to us sooner, it would have been quite different. But she left it too late, and she didn’t check in, and nobody spotted her. It was the whole chain of events that led to her death, and what caused it ultimately was the number of painkillers she’d taken.’

‘And he feels guilty that he didn’t spot anything, that she
could have been feeling that bad and he just didn’t notice.’ She shook her head. ‘If only I’d been at home at the time, but I was away on a course the day she was taken really ill, and I hadn’t been home for ages. I was still living in the hospital after finishing my A and E rotation—it was only days after I’d finished, if you remember. If only I’d still been there, she would have asked for me, and I could have done something…’

Her voice was tortured, and he wanted to weep for her. There was nothing she could have done. Nothing anyone could have done—including him. He hadn’t caused Annabel’s death. He knew that. Deep down, he knew it, but there was still a sick feeling inside him whenever he thought about the waste of her life, and today’s row with her husband had brought it all back in spades. As it was, he just felt sick at heart and deeply sorry for everything that had happened, even though it hadn’t been his fault.

He wondered if Lucy really believed that he wasn’t to blame or, if despite all her defence of him, somewhere deep inside there was a bit of her that wasn’t quite sure. And in any case, her father still clearly blamed him for everything that had gone so horribly wrong the day Annabel had died.

How were they ever going to sort it out if Nick wouldn’t even discuss it?

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ he told her gently. ‘There’s no way you were at fault. You weren’t even there.’

‘No. Nobody was. She gave so much of herself to us all, and when she needed us, none of us were there for her. I think she felt she didn’t matter, that we were all too busy to be disturbed for something as trivial as her illness, and we must have let her think that. Four doctors in the family, Ben, and
we didn’t even realise she was sick. We’re all to blame in that, and Dad’s busy trying to lay the blame at someone else’s door. I feel as if I’ve lost them both.’

She straightened up and gave him a wan smile that twisted his heart. ‘Did you say something about tea?’

‘I did,’ he said, and gave her a gentle push towards the sofa. ‘Go on, sit down, put your feet up and have a rest. I’ll bring it through in a minute. I just want to put the supper in the oven. It won’t take long, it’s only a fillet.’

‘Oh, gorgeous.’ She gave him a weary smile. ‘Thanks, Ben,’ she said softly, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

‘Any time.’

He went into the kitchen, took his feelings for Nick out on the unsuspecting vegetables, shoved the meat in the oven once it was hot, poured the tea and took it through.

At first he thought she was asleep, but then he saw the tears trickling down her face, and he put the tea down with a sigh, sat next to her and pulled her gently into his arms. ‘Oh, Lucy.’

It felt so good to let him hold her. She rested against him for a moment, then tilted her head back and looked searchingly into his eyes. All she could see was love and concern and a fathoms-deep kindness that went all the way to the bottom of his heart. She loved him so much, and if he loved her, too, as much as his eyes said he did, then maybe…

She gathered up her courage. ‘Ben, when you found out about the baby two weeks ago, and we were talking about it, at my flat—you said some things.’

He groaned and closed his eyes. ‘Oh, hell. I said all sorts of things, but if any of them are upsetting you, for God’s sake tell me—’

‘No. Not at all. I just wondered—you said we shouldn’t
rule certain things out, and I wondered if you still felt that way. You see— Oh, I don’t know how to say this, but I just feel… Ben, will you marry me?’

His eyes flew open. ‘Marry?’ He stared at her for an endless moment, and then his eyes filled and he looked away and gave a short cough of laughter. ‘Oh, hell, now
I’m
going to cry,’ he said, and dragged her further into his arms. ‘Of course I’ll marry you, you stupid woman. I’d love to marry you. Nothing would make me happier.’

His lips found hers, and he rained soft, desperate kisses all over her mouth, her jaw, her eyes, back to her lips, then with a last, lingering, tender kiss, he lifted his head. ‘Of course I’ll marry you,’ he repeated. ‘I’d be honoured.’

She smiled, a pretty watery event, she thought, but he was hardly going to be able to criticise her for that. She lifted her hand and gently smoothed the tears from his cheeks, then kissed him once more. ‘You don’t have to go that far,’ she said a little unsteadily, ‘but I’m so glad you said yes, because if you’d said no…’

‘Not a chance,’ he said, his laugh ragged and cut off short. His arm tightened around her, and he tucked her in against his side and leant forward, passing her her tea then going back for his. ‘When did you have in mind? Soon, I would think?’

She shrugged diffidently, still trying to absorb the fact that it was really going to happen. ‘Before the baby comes?’

‘And what about your father?’

‘Oh, lord.’ She sighed, considering the ramifications. ‘What about my father? I’ll ask him. I’ll have to, and if I’m honest, I’d love to have him there, but I don’t know if he’ll come, and I really don’t think it matters any more. It’s not him I’m marrying, it’s you, and I’m not going to let him spoil it.’

‘Good. And I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. You know that.’

‘You already do, Ben.’ She rested her head against his chest, sipped her tea and sighed. ‘We ought to celebrate with champagne,’ she said, ‘what with getting the house and getting married, but I probably shouldn’t drink.’

‘No, and I don’t need to. I’ve got all I need right here.’

‘What, a cup of tea?’ she teased, and he chuckled and hugged her.

‘Absolutely. So, tomorrow, after your scan, I think we should go and get a ring, and then sort out a venue. Register office or church?’

She thought of the pretty little church up on the headland, next to the coastguard lookout station and the lighthouse—the church where her mother, grandfather and uncle were all buried. It would seem so right…

‘The church—St Mark’s, in Penhally Bay, up on the headland,’ she told him. ‘If we can. I don’t know. I’m not sure of the rules.’

‘We’ll find out. And if we can’t do that, maybe we can be married in the register office and have a blessing in the church later.’

‘Mmm. Ben?’

‘Mmm?’

‘I hate to be practical, but is the supper OK?’

He jackknifed to his feet and ran to the kitchen, yanking down the oven door and letting out a cloud of smoke and steam.

‘It’s OK,’ he yelled. ‘Just.’

She got slowly to her feet and went through, to find him examining the vegetables. One or two were a little singed
around the edges, but the rest were fine and the meat looked perfect.

‘Gosh, it smells fantastic. I’m really hungry. What about the cauliflower and broccoli?’