MacAllister's Baby (22 page)

Angus stared. ‘You’ve been suspended from school?’

‘Just for a week. Until things calm down.’ She laughed, though she felt far from confident. ‘It gives me time to catch up on my reading, anyway.’

‘Damn, Elisabeth. That’s not right.’

‘I understand the head’s reasons. He’s putting the students first, and that’s right, no matter what.’

‘And you’re putting them first, too. How do
you
feel about this?’

She saw the gerberas blur before her eyes. ‘Terrible. The entire school is talking about me behind my back. My classes are being taken care of by other people. I’m a story instead of a person.’ She swallowed. ‘I feel as if I’m holding on by my fingernails.’

Angus got out of his chair, took her hand, and raised her to stand close to him. He wrapped his arms around her.

‘The important thing,’ he said, kissing her forehead with warm, wonderful lips, ‘is that we’re together again. I have to tell you something.’

His embrace, his kisses were a siren song she had already steeled herself against. She held his wrists and disengaged herself from him, stepped back from his body.

Even though every inch of her was screaming at her not to do it, every inch of her had been very wrong before.

‘We can’t be together again, Angus,’ she said. ‘It’s not your fault, but my feelings make me do stupid things when I’m around you. I’ve messed up Jennifer and Danny’s chances. My job is at risk. And you—’ she had to look away from his grey eyes ‘—I hurt you too. It has to stop.’

‘All those things will be all right. The kids will be fine; you’ll be back in school in no time. And I’m pretty tough.’ She felt his hands on her shoulders, drawing her close again.

‘No.’ She pulled away. ‘It’s not just those things. It’s everything. Since the moment I met you I’ve been loose, I’ve been out of control, I’ve been spinning. I’m exhausted just trying to keep myself together.’

‘You don’t have to keep yourself together, Elisabeth,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m safe. You can trust me.’

‘You’re not safe,’ she said. ‘Because if I can’t keep myself together I don’t know who I am. I can’t do it, Angus.’

‘Try.’

Throaty, raspy, precious. She looked at his scarred hands, hanging loose by his sides. Thought of everything they could do.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I need to live on an even keel; I need to understand what’s happening around me. All of this is—’ she gestured ‘—too much. You’re too intense, Angus, your world is too wide open to everyone and everything. I can’t cope with it any more.’

He didn’t say anything. She looked at his face. It was still and unsmiling. His eyes looked dulled.

God, she wanted to hold him.

She drew herself upright. ‘I think you’re an incredible person. And you’re a very good man. I loved being with you, and I have an enormous amount of respect for you.’ He flinched ever so slightly at the word.

She hurried on, knowing her words were inadequate, knowing they weren’t telling the real truth. But if she said the real truth, she’d throw away everything and get back together with Angus. And she couldn’t.

‘It was fun,’ she said, ‘but now it’s over.’

‘It was fun,’ he echoed. He sank into his chair, his shoulders slumped. ‘I’m going to need to buy some more ice cream.’

She thought about asking what he meant, but that would draw her into more conversation, and the more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to forget about everything she had just said. She pushed her chair back under the table.

‘I’ll go and get in touch with Jennifer and Danny’s parents, then,’ she said. ‘When should I say you’ll have them here?’

‘Tomorrow at five.’ He was staring at the table top, and she got the impression he wasn’t really thinking about what he was saying. ‘That should be fine. Better make it Thursday and Friday, too.’

Three nights of restaurant business cancelled to help a couple of schoolchildren. ‘Thank you, Angus. You really are extraordinary.’

He nodded, and then suddenly looked into her face. ‘You’ll be here too, of course.’

‘I—’

‘You said yourself that they need stability and a routine.’

‘I did.’ That would be three more rehearsals with Angus, and then the competition on Saturday. Hours and hours with him. Probably too much, but nowhere near enough.

‘All right,’ she said. She leaned forward and pressed a swift kiss on his cheek. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, and left the restaurant before she could kiss him any more, satisfy her mouth and hands and heart. Before she lost control again.

Because if she lost it again, she wasn’t sure she would ever get it back.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

L
ONDON
never really got dark.

Streetlamps, passing cars, the light peeping out through house curtains. Traffic lights changing from red to yellow to green, telling empty streets to go.

London at night was amber and grey and blue. Not black, but different enough from the day to give a feeling of anonymity. Out here at night, Angus MacAllister was another shape. Nobody special.

As he walked he felt the throb of thousands of people around him. Breathed in the smoke of a cigarette or the smell of cooking, even at this hour. He loved London; in London you were never alone.

And he needed reminding of that because, right now, Angus felt more alone than he ever had in his life, even during that Easter holiday when he had been very small in his parents’ big house in Scotland.

It was Friday night. No, it was Saturday morning.

And after Saturday afternoon, he would probably have no reason ever to see Elisabeth Read again.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking. He wasn’t going to sleep, anyway. And sleep without Elisabeth beside him was restless, nearly as exhausting as being awake.

I love you.
He’d been all ready to say it to her. For the first time in his life, to lay his heart in all honesty before someone. Not to impress, not to charm. To offer.

And she’d stepped away and said it was over before it had even begun.

The Royal Albert Hall was lit up like a blood-red wedding cake. Kensington Gardens were cool and dark and he’d walked there with Elisabeth. He turned right, into the quiet streets of South Kensington.

He hadn’t been able to say it to her. Why say it when he was going to be rejected? There was no point.

All the times he’d wanted to call his parents, for example. When he’d earned his first Michelin star.
See, I can do it. There’s nothing wrong with me. Even you have to be impressed by this.

He’d had a party instead.

Angus kicked at a lamppost. Even if he’d wanted to in the past week, Elisabeth hadn’t given him the chance to tell her he loved her. She’d turned up to Magnum at the same time as the kids, and focused all her attention on them. Everything he’d said had been met with coolness. She’d refused to see him alone. It was like when he’d first met her. Except hugely different, because now it hurt.

His mobile phone rang and vibrated in his jacket pocket. He took it out; the screen glowed. He didn’t recognise the number, which was another mobile. Not Elisabeth. With a detached interest he noticed the time: two twenty-six.

‘Hello?’ he said into it. Distraction was good. Even though the news at this time of night was bound to be bad.

‘Angus?’

He stopped walking. The voice was very small and very quiet, though there was a lot of background noise.

‘Danny?’ he said. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the back of a car.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I think I’m about to get nicked.’

Angus swore. ‘Where are you?’

After a pause, Danny gave him a location south of the Thames. ‘And you stole the car?’ Angus asked.

‘My mates. I don’t know what to do. Mum and Dad will kill me—’

‘And why do you think you’re about to get nicked?’

‘Because the police just stopped us.’ He was whispering now.

‘Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Danny, you’ve been bloody stupid, do you know that? The competition is tomorrow. Today.’

‘I—they wanted to and I couldn’t say anything, because—’

Exactly. ‘I’ll be there. Don’t do anything else foolish.’

He ended the call and while he was looking for a cab in the empty streets he dialled another number with his thumb by feel. When he raised the phone to his ear it was ringing.

And ringing. Voicemail answered; he hung up and tried again. A third time.

‘Hello?’ Elisabeth’s voice was bleary with sleep. He pictured her with rumpled hair and flushed cheeks, her lids heavy over her beautiful brown eyes. As she’d been when he’d woken her to make love.

‘Don’t hang up,’ he said. ‘It’s me. Danny’s in trouble and I need you to help me.’

He heard her shifting. Probably sitting up in bed. Out here on the cool night street he could feel how warm the sheets would be from her body. ‘What’s he done?’

‘Silly bugger stole a car.’

She hissed in a sharp breath. ‘Where is he?’

‘Probably on the way to the police station by now.’ He saw a cab and raised his hand to hail it. ‘I’ll be at yours to pick you up in ten minutes.’

‘I’ll call his parents. How do you know about this?’

‘He rang me. He was in the back of the car.’

There was a long silence. ‘Okay. I’ll see you soon,’ she said, quietly, and then ended the call.

As he climbed into the cab he wondered what that silence had meant.

Recriminations, tears, forms and a waiting room that held a hundred posters to instruct and a single dog-eared magazine. In the early morning light Elisabeth watched Danny and his parents get into a car and felt Angus standing beside her on the pavement.

He’d been serious. Magnificent. Supportive. Patient with Danny’s parents. He’d helped her talk down Danny’s father, who’d been ready to explode with rage, and tempered his condemnation of Danny’s stupid actions with praise for the talent he’d seen in the boy and with an offer that had made the Williamses’ mouths drop open.

After they’d all heard the details of Danny’s arrest and what punishment a juvenile could expect with a guilty plea, the boy had been released into his parents’ custody pending his appearance before a magistrate.

But when he’d appeared in the room, he’d gone straight to Angus.

‘I’m sorry,’ Danny said to Angus, his eyes shifting sideways to take Elisabeth and his parents into the apology.

Angus stepped aside so that Danny was facing his parents. ‘Say that to your mum and dad.’

There were tears in the boy’s eyes; Elisabeth thought that he looked as he must have as a small child, before he’d learned to hide his fear under anger and defiance.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said to his mother. ‘I’m not going to do it again.’

Mrs Williams took him in her arms.

Elisabeth noticed that Angus had looked away. But not before she saw his face. He looked as he must have when he was younger, before he’d learned to hide his yearning under self-confidence.

And he hadn’t had to be there in the first place. He hadn’t needed to bring Elisabeth, either. He’d come because Danny needed him, and he’d known Elisabeth would want to help.

Elisabeth loved him so much she could barely stand it.

As the Williams family drove away the pinkness in the sky above the buildings was starting to fade. It was going to be a warm day. ‘What time is it?’ she asked. ‘Around six?’

‘Quarter to. We’ve got about four hours until the competition.’

‘And only one competitor, now,’ she said sadly.

She wanted Angus to put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Should we walk for a little while?’ he said instead. ‘I could do with clearing my head.’

She nodded and they started down the street. She wasn’t familiar with this part of London; she felt as if she were in a whole new city, a new world.

‘Are you really going to let Danny apprentice at Magnum when he leaves school next year?’ she asked.

‘Yes. If I say I’ll do something, I will. I keep trying to tell you that, Elisabeth.’

His face, when she glanced at it, was grim. His eyes looked tired. She flushed with shame at her words.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know you will. I was just—it’s a big risk for you.’

‘Everything worthwhile is a risk. He’ll start at the bottom and if he’s good he’ll work his way up.’ Angus ran his hand through his dark hair and sighed. ‘I owe him a lot.’

Elisabeth looked at him in surprise. ‘You owe
him
?’

‘I owe all three of you. You’ve shown me how much I can care. That there’s more to me than the surface. But I owe Danny especially.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s let me learn from his stupid mistakes. When he rang me he told me he’d helped steal the car because his mates wanted to and he didn’t dare say no. He wanted acceptance at any price. He’d rather do something he knew was wrong than risk rejection. I don’t want to be like that any more.’

She knew already that Angus had changed. She hadn’t known she’d been one of the causes of it. She touched his arm briefly. ‘I understand.’

‘I don’t quite think you do.’ He stopped walking, and Elisabeth, confused, stopped too and faced him.

‘Elisabeth, I love you,’ he said.

The words made her step back, all the wind knocked out of her. She felt something hit the back of her thighs, and, without checking what it was, she sat on it before her legs collapsed beneath her.

‘You do?’

‘Yes. I do.’ He smiled, brightening the whole world for a moment. ‘You should see your face. You look absolutely tragic.’

‘I wasn’t expecting—’

‘I know.’ He sat down beside her on the low brick wall. ‘The irony is, your reaction is exactly what I was expecting. That’s why I haven’t told you up till now.’

He was still smiling but the brilliance had gone. His face looked sad, his eyes heavy. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw and the dimple in his chin.

Pain sliced at her and she looked away at the street they’d been walking up, searching for a hint, a sign, a familiar landmark that would tell her what to do. How to stop them both hurting.

No luck. She was way, way beyond anywhere she had ever been before.