Christmas Child

The look in his eyes, the soft tone of his question, tore her to pieces.

Of course she didn’t want a divorce! In a perfect world divorce was the very last thing she wanted. But this was far from being a perfect world. Fiona was in it. And she wasn’t going to hope that he wanted her to say so. No way would she go down that track again, and if she was even remotely tempted she only had to look at that brown envelope on the table!

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘I see.’ His face went rigid.

Mattie pulled in a deep breath. Everything inside her was shaking in reaction. ‘I think it would be better if you left as soon as the roads are passable.’

He folded his arms across his chest. He looked like a man who was definitely staying put. ‘Just tell me one thing. Why?’ His voice was abrasive. ‘One minute you seemed to be perfectly happy, the next you were telling me you were pregnant and wanted a divorce. And the next thing I knew you’d high-tailed it to God knows where,’ he added bitterly.

‘I would have thought that was obvious!’ she flung at him, all the pain she had suffered making her voice harsh. ‘I knew you didn’t want children, and I knew why because you’d told me. And I knew what would happen if I got pregnant because Fiona told me. You’d throw me out! So I got in there first! And I knew it was her you wanted, not me. You didn’t waste a second before you moved her in.’

For a split second there was a deathly silence, and then he said, his face white with anger, ‘My God, your opinion of me is rock-bottom, isn’t it? You think me capable of that?’

His hands were bunched into fists at his side, as if he was having a hard time stopping himself from punching the wall. Mattie had never seen him so angry. ‘Just as yesterday you thought I’d left you here to cope alone? Or was all that garbage just a convenient excuse?’ His mouth tightened and the coldness of his eyes withered her soul. ‘I was right all along, wasn’t I? There are names for women like you, women who take, and scarper when they’ve got all they want. But you were right in one thing, it’s past time I went. I just hope you can live with yourself!’

‘James!’

But he’d gone. She heard the front door slam. She wanted to run after him, to ask him to explain what he’d meant. Her legs wouldn’t function, though, giving way beneath her. She sank to the floor and buried her head in her hands.

Had she read everything wrong? Had what she’d seen, heard and deduced been nothing but an illusion? Had she lost the only chance of happiness she would ever have?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MINUTES later, when Mattie heard the outer door open and close again she got heavily to her feet, her heart thudding painfully. James. It couldn’t be anyone else.

She expected to hear him going upstairs to collect his gear. He’d been in such a blistering rage he would have forgotten the things he was leaving behind. It would save her the trouble of sending them on, she thought dully.

But the door to the kitchen opened. Mattie couldn’t look at him; she hadn’t the strength. She had never felt so drained, so dispirited, in all of her life.

The silence was like a heavy grey blanket. She couldn’t bear it. Keeping her eyes on the debris of what had been a cheerful breakfast—with laughter, even, over her abysmal sense of direction—she mumbled, ‘Forgotten something?’

‘My common sense,’ he came back heavily. ‘One of us has to access some of the stuff. You never had much at the best of times and mine got flooded out by emotion. Which, I might tell you, is something of a first.’

Emotion? If he was talking about his white-hot rage then it was an emotion she could do without. She couldn’t take any more. Wearily, she began to clear the table, her fingers clumsy.

‘Leave that.’ In a series of loping strides he was at her side, relieving her of the tottery pile of cups and saucers. ‘Sit down while I make coffee. We could both use a cup.’

In a few deft movements he had cleared the table, leaving the baby alarm and the wretched brown envelope that cruelly reminded her that he had no intention of having her or their baby back in his life. And what common sense had to do with anything, she was too burned out to try to imagine.

Mattie could hear him stacking the dishes in the sink, running hot water over them. The kettle was coming to the boil. She didn’t know how he could concentrate on practicalities when everything was so dreadful.

But the mug of hot black coffee he put down in front of her did seem like a good idea. She pushed at the lock of hair that had fallen over her face with the back of one hand as he took the chair opposite. His mouth was straight, his jawline determined, but the silver glitter of his eyes told of some internal battle.

She knew it was a battle he would win when he told her, ‘Logic—not emotion—that’s what I work on, you know that. Mattie, when you sprang pregnancy and divorce on me in the space of two seconds I was shell-shocked. Then logic kicked in, told me to let you sleep on it, simmer down, and we could talk rationally in the morning. But by then, of course, you’d gone.’

She shuddered. She didn’t want to go over this. It was in the past; she’d spent the last six months putting it there. She cradled the coffee-mug in both hands and he said, ‘Well? Nothing to say? Look, I’m going to get to the bottom of what went on inside your head, so let’s push it along, shall we? If our daughter stays asleep for another ten minutes we might just get there.’

Nothing but soft little snuffles came from the baby listener. Mattie almost wished for a hungry wail to give her the excuse to get out of

the corner he’d pushed her into. Unfortunately, he seemed to take her tongue-tied silence for a willingness to be marched down a road she didn’t want to travel.

‘I’ve waited for this for six long, hard months, and I’ll be damned if I’ll wait any longer. I’ve known where you were, ever since you settled. But I didn’t come demanding answers for the same reason I’d had your father pass on my letters—I was afraid you’d take off again. So I waited. Waited until I’d acquired this place in your name, waited until our child was born.’

The look of determination on his strong features told her he wouldn’t wait any longer. ‘I can’t tell you anything you don’t already know,’ she mumbled defeatedly.

‘Try me. No? Then let’s come at it from a different direction. Out there, ten minutes ago, I was set to break all records back to London—snow or no snow. Do you know what stopped me?’