The Patterson Girls (31 page)

‘Thanks for sharing your story, Aunt Mags.' Lucinda paused a beat, nowhere near ready to throw in the towel on trying to get pregnant. ‘And for your advice. I promise I won't leave it so long between phone calls next time.'

Mags chuckled. ‘Let's not make promises, Lucinda dear. Let's just try to do our best. I'm as guilty as the rest of you for not picking up the phone or sending an email. Are you on Facebook? My friend Marlene is trying to get me to join up.'

‘Yes, I am.' Lucinda laughed. ‘You should. I'm not on much, but it does help you keep in contact with people you don't see often.'

They talked for a few more minutes and then Mags promptly ended the call, stating she had to go watch her Friday night show. Lucinda didn't mind as she was eager to find out what Dr Google had to say about curses.

She looked at the entries on the screen. The first was an article about ten well-known families with creepy curses, including Monaco's royal family, the Kennedys, the Onassis family and the Guinnesses, who in addition to being Ireland's most famous brewers of beer were also extremely unlucky.

There were a number of rumoured origins of the Kennedy curse—some said it was caused by cursed stolen coins, others by an angry Jewish rabbi—but whatever the cause, a curse was blamed for a string of terrible events and the fact an unusual number of Kennedys had died young. The Onassis family apparently caught the curse from the Kennedys when Jackie Kennedy married Aristotle Onassis. This made Lucinda smile—as if you could catch a curse like you could a common cold. After an alarming number of accidental deaths and calamities in the Guinness family, it was decided they too were cursed, but she couldn't find any theories about the origins of such a curse.

Yet most of these curses seemed to relate to unfortunate deaths, nothing at all like their situation. Lucinda scrolled through the next few entries—most of which were biblical sites talking about people living under bondage because of the sins of their forefathers—but all these curses seemed wishy-washy, bad luck passed on through generations. The Patterson curse was more like a personal vendetta.

She refined her search to ‘gypsy curse' and waited. There were pages and pages of information once she started clicking. There were articles, links to books she could download, forums for people who believed their family had been cursed by gypsies … it just went on and on and on. But had Wanda's mother been an actual gypsy?

‘Dinner's ready,' Joe announced, popping his head around the corner of the study door.

She glanced longingly at the screen, riveted by an account of a woman in New Jersey who believed her miscarriages were caused by a gypsy curse bestowed upon her great-great-grandparents. Although different to the Patterson curse, it was the closest story she'd found so far. ‘Be there in a minute,' she called back, deciding it wouldn't take long to finish reading.

When she emerged from the study almost an hour later, Joe shook his head at her and stood up, lifting his empty plate off the table. ‘It was hot half an hour ago,' he said, gesturing to the plate of bacon carbonara in front of her seat. ‘Heat it up in the microwave if you want. I'm going to watch TV.'

Lucinda could tell he was pissed off but her energies were too focused on thinking about the curse to agonise over Joe's anger. She waited until she heard the sound of the television in the front lounge room and then picked up her plate and took it back into the study. It didn't matter if the pasta was cold. She had more important things on her mind.

Chapter Twenty-five

‘Are you all right, Abigail? You seem kind of distracted today.'

Blinking at the sound of the little voice, Abigail realised she'd drifted off into her own little world. She summoned a smile as she looked down at Livia, the daughter of Nigel's boss and her first ever music student. ‘Yes, I'm fine,' she reassured her. ‘I was just lost in that beautiful music you were playing.'

Turned out Livia was a total child prodigy. At eight years old, she'd only had violin lessons with another teacher for eight months but was already better than many people who'd been playing for years. Abigail had thought teaching might be a drag, but Livia was a super-bright delight who oozed enthusiasm for music in much the same way Abigail had at her age. Even the few other children she'd picked up through word-of-mouth, although not as talented as Livia, were still fun to teach, but she'd need quite a few more students before she could stop worrying about living expenses.

The little girl frowned and put down her violin on the padded window seat beside them. ‘I stopped playing about thirty seconds ago, but you were off on some other planet. You know, if there's something you need to get off your chest, I've been told I'm a very good listener.'

Abigail swallowed. Caught by a gifted and highly empathetic child. She fought the urge to chuckle at Livia's grown-up offer, but part of her was tempted to sit down and spill her guts. Truth was she
was
distracted. Early that afternoon, she'd done her fifth pregnancy test in twenty-four hours. The fact that they were all negative shocked her perhaps more than that first negative result a month ago.

Although her encounter with Nigel in Hong Kong airport had been right in the middle of her menstrual cycle, they had only done it once during that time. But this last month, she'd gone all out. She'd bought an ovulation test kit and also, after much reading on the internet, been taking her temperature every morning before she got out of bed. Using these two methods, she'd been almost certain she'd predicted the accurate window for conception and she'd engineered seeing Nigel every night for those few key days.

Sex with him still blew her socks off so spending time together was never a hardship, yet despite her efforts, only one line had appeared on each of the five different tests she'd bought.

‘Thanks, sweetheart,' she said, gesturing for Livia to pick up her violin, ‘but we've only got a few more minutes of your lesson and I want to make the most of them.'

Livia sighed, still looking at Abigail with grave concern, but she picked up her instrument, got into position and turned her attention back to the sheet music in front of them. Abigail tried to focus on the music, ready to correct any slight errors, but she found it difficult to concentrate with the burden of disappointment.

A little voice in her head said maybe this was a good thing, a sign she should quit this ridiculous quest to get pregnant while she had the chance, but something had occurred over the last few weeks. The crazy concept of a baby that had once been her get-out-of-London card had blossomed into something else; a deep yearning need. Wherever she went—be it on the Tube or in the local Tesco—she saw babies and pregnant women everywhere. She'd caught herself looking at maternity clothes in Marks and Spencer the other day, and had been surprised at how fashionable some of the outfits were. And whenever she was with Nigel, she looked into his big blue eyes and wondered if their baby's eyes would be the same amazing colour. She simply couldn't help herself.

‘How was that?' Livia asked, lowering her violin and bow and looking to Abigail for approval.

‘Fantabulistic.' Abigail injected enthusiasm into her voice and grinned down at the child. ‘Shall we try a duet before I go?' It was an ambitious suggestion despite Livia's talent, but Abigail hoped playing for a few moments would help stop the thoughts churning in her head.

‘Really? Awesome,' Livia said, bouncing a little in her excitement.

Abigail flicked through the pages of Livia's music book and chose a piece the little girl already knew that they could play together. ‘This one?'

Livia nodded and Abigail stooped to retrieve her violin from its case. She lifted it to her chin and gave the nod for Livia to start. It wasn't the smoothest she'd ever played but it felt good to be playing with someone else again, to be playing for purpose. Just before the end of the piece, she became aware of another presence in the room. Thinking it was Livia's
au pair
or the housekeeper, Abigail continued and Livia followed her lead.

The moment they finished, applause erupted behind them and they turned to see Daniel and Nigel standing there grinning. Abigail's heart hitched a beat at the unexpected sight of Nigel. He wore a dark navy suit and a crisp white shirt, loosened at the collar and looked like he'd stepped right off the cover of
GQ
magazine. As her hormones stood to attention she fought an intense urge to go over and snog him silly.

‘Bravo,' Daniel said, stepping further into the room. ‘That was brilliant, darling.' He beamed down at his daughter, patting her on the head like she was some kind of pet. ‘Aren't we lucky Nigel found Abigail for us?'

Nigel sidled over to Abigail and put his arm around her. ‘Not as lucky as I am.' He kissed her on the forehead and warmth spread from that spot.

She half-laughed, not sure how to respond. He said stuff like that often, stuff that caused her stomach to flip and made her question the casual nature of their relationship, but she couldn't help liking the way it made her feel. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.' She slipped out of his arm and began packing away her violin.

Nigel grinned. ‘We had a meeting in Chelsea and when Daniel said you'd be here with Livia, I thought I'd come see if I could whisk you away for an early dinner.'

As if it could hear him, her stomach rumbled quietly. ‘I could be tempted.'

‘Make sure he takes you somewhere good,' Daniel said with a chuckle.

‘Oh, I will.'

They all laughed again and then Abigail and Nigel said their goodbyes. They emerged from Daniel's large terrace house in well-to-do Holland Park to find a black car waiting for them. For Abigail, who'd been taking the Tube more than ever lately, it felt like such a luxury to climb into the back seat with Nigel.

He barked the address of a restaurant in Knightsbridge to the driver and then slid as close as he could to her, placing one hand on her thigh and the other on her neck as he leaned over and drew her lips to his. Abigail sank into his kiss, pleasure rippling through her body. He was just the tonic she needed after those five disappointing tests.

‘You are possibly the best kisser in the universe,' she whispered when they finally came up for air.

He inched his thumb seductively a little further up her leg, drawing tiny circles on her inner thigh. ‘It's easy to be good when the subject turns me on as much as you do.'

Glowing, she glanced down at her thigh, something low in her belly tightening at his teasing touch. If only they were in one of those limos that had a privacy screen to hide them from the prying eyes of their driver. Her mouth went dry and her spine tingled at the thought. Suddenly the hunger she'd felt when he'd suggested an early dinner turned into another kind of hunger altogether.

‘Shall we bypass dinner and head back to your place?' she asked, her voice breathier than she meant it to be.

Nigel chuckled and squeezed her thigh. ‘Steady on, vixen. A man needs to keep his strength up for what you have in mind.'

She swallowed her pout and asked, ‘Where are we going then?'

He named one of London's top restaurants and she thanked God she'd dressed up a little for the music lesson. If she was ever to teach violin back in Meadow Brook she'd likely wear yoga pants and a sloppy joe, but Livia lived in a fancy neighbourhood and she'd wanted to blend in.

‘Wow, is it a special occasion?'

‘I got a promotion.' He beamed at her. ‘With a corner office and everything.'

‘Congratulations,' she said, genuinely happy for him. ‘What exactly does it entail?'

His fingers still trailing leisurely up and down her leg, he told her about the new role. Although she knew next to nothing about advertising, Nigel spoke about it with such zest and passion, she found herself hanging on his every word. At the restaurant, their driver leapt out of the car and opened the door for them but it was Nigel who offered his hand to assist her. Despite being a hot, smart, ambitious sex god, he was also a gentleman and the more time she spent with him, the more she liked him.

‘What?' Nigel asked when she giggled at that errant thought.

‘Nothing.' She bit her lip and shook her head. Nigel took her violin from the driver and they walked the few steps to the restaurant.

‘You and Livia sounded amazing back there,' he said as they waited for the maître d' to seat them.

She blushed. ‘Oh, that was nothing.'

‘Will you play for me later?'

‘What will I get in return?' she teased.

He rolled his eyes but then leant towards her and whispered exactly what he could offer.

‘Hell … For that I'll play for you naked.'

‘I'm holding you to that,' he promised as a man wearing a tuxedo approached them.

The man bowed his head. ‘Good evening, do you have a reservation?'

Nigel nodded. ‘Under Lewis.'

They were led to a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant and offered the drinks menu. When Nigel ordered a bottle of expensive sparking wine, Abigail decided as she was not yet pregnant, she could indulge this once. So far, whenever she'd been with Nigel and he'd offered her a drink, she'd either made up some excuse or taken the drink and then poured it down the sink or into a pot plant when he wasn't looking. She'd gotten quite skilled at the art of deception.

Once the waiter had retreated, Abigail lifted her glass. ‘To your promotion.'

‘And to your naked violin playing,' Nigel added.

‘You're incorrigible,' she said, giggling before taking her first sip.

‘But you like me.' He winked and then also drank.

Yes
, she thought.
I do
. Perhaps a little too much for their agreement and definitely too much to be trying to have his baby without his knowledge. If only she could get a few more violin students, maybe she'd get enough income to live comfortably in London. Maybe eventually she could tell her family that being in the orchestra hadn't been all she'd imagined it to be and so she'd chosen another direction. They didn't need to know she'd been sacked.