‘I’m off to the cloakroom again...don’t draw everybody’s attention to it,’ Kelda begged with a wry grin.
She was feeling sick, although she was trying to hide the fact. In addition she had a nagging pain in her lower abdomen. It was not the first time that she had experienced such symptoms in recent days. The pain came and went, sometimes only irritating, but on at least one other occasion actually quite painful.
She had meant to make time to go to the doctor but she was quite convinced that she knew what was wrong with her. The thick pregnancy manual she had bought described what was called ‘round ligament pain’, something to do with the stretching of the ligaments that supported the uterus and nothing to worry about. She would make an appointment at the clinic for the day after tomorrow, she promised herself. Just to be on the safe side.
In the cloakroom she looked at her reflection and made a face. Her cunningly cut, flowing dress concealed the firm swell of her stomach from all but the most intent observers, but she still felt like a beached whale. Seven months pregnant and feeling it, she thought ruefully.
She had kept so busy over the past five months that the time had flown but sometimes, like now, in the middle of a convivial crowd of friends, something that was more than tiredness would swamp her. It was a combination of loneliness, self-pity and emptiness, and she thoroughly despised herself for the weakness. After all, she had been been very lucky and she was not alone, except in the sense that she did not have a supportive male in her life.
Every other day, Tomaso and Daisy were either on the phone or the doorstep, having failed to fulfil Angelo’s prophecy that they would spend most of their time abroad. Tim appeared regularly, invariably clutching yet another fluffy toy to add to a steadily growing collection. And, best of all, Russ and Gina had returned to London to set up a modelling agency of their own and tomorrow they were getting married. That was one reason why Kelda had no intention of being a wet blanket.
Her friends had been marvellous. When the first unmistakable signs of her burgeoning stom
ach had forced her to stop modelling, Russ and Gina had stepped in to offer her a job. Gina was in so much demand as a model that it was impossible for her to devote much time to helping Russ with their agency. Russ, in turn, was either out on a shoot or in the studio. Kelda had been installed to handle the bookings and run the small agency on a day-to-day basis.
She was not rich but she was no longer in debt. She had managed to work long enough to clear all outstanding bills. Then she had cut up her credit cards and returned them, accepting that she had to learn to exist on a much reduced budget until such time as the baby was born. Her hand slid down to her stomach in an unconsciously protective movement. The years ahead would be a struggle and she had faced that reality head-on, but her commitment to her unborn child remained unchanged.
Gina was talking almost fiercely to Russ when Kelda rejoined them. One of those sudden awkward silences fell. ‘Do you want me to go away and come back again?’ Kelda said only half-jokingly.
‘You look tired,’ Russ told her abruptly. ‘Do you want to go home?’
‘Dear Russ...such fabulous tact,’ Gina breathed, throwing her fiancé a dirty look. ‘Why should Kelda scuttle off home because he’s here?’
More even-tempered than Gina, Russ sighed. ‘I only thought—’
Gina grabbed Kelda’s arm. ‘Look, there he is over there!’
Kelda didn’t want to look. Suddenly she turned cold. Angelo was here. There was only one male capable of rousing Gina to such fury. It had to be Angelo. Sometimes, Kelda wished she hadn’t told her friends the truth, but she had known they would be discreet, and a lie which promised to stretch ahead of her year after year had not seemed practical.
‘Lousy, womanising swine!’ Gina hissed in her ear. ‘That’s Isabel Dunning with him. She’s really top-drawer.’
Isabel, Kelda rhymed inwardly, to follow on from Adele, Caroline, Felicity and Fiona. In five months, Angelo had worked through the English upper classes with a fine-tooth comb, but not one of the lovely ladies had lasted. The gossip columnists were agog at such volatile romancing. Then they didn’t know what Kelda knew...Angelo was scouring society for a suitable wife. A conservative wife from a good background with no scandals in her past.
‘She’ll run to fat in a few years,’ Gina said nastily.
Kelda was looking, although she had tried so hard not to. But there was this terrible, wicked craving inside her. She had not seen Angelo in the flesh since that night at the cottage. His partner was slender, blonde, impeccably dressed and distinctly beautiful. And Angelo? The air locked in her throat. A shudder ran through her. Angelo was Angelo. Striking, vital, magnificent. She could not dredge her hungry gaze from him.
‘Care to dance?’ Russ demanded.
‘Yes, go ahead.’ Gina gave her a determined push. ‘Don’t be a wallflower with him around!’
Kelda found herself out on the floor without knowing how she had arrived there. As Russ whirled her around with more enthusiasm than rhythm, she caught flickering glimpses of Angelo. His hard-edged profile...the uncompromising set of his jawline...the sheen of his ebony hair beneath the lights. Had he lost weight or was that only her imagination? Maybe it was the shadows which carved those dark features into leaner, older lines.
Suddenly, she was filled with self-loathing. She was not some lovesick teenager, still longing for some arrogant young male, who had treated her badly! Where was her pride? While she struggled to survive, Angelo had been breaking all known records with a constant stream of other women. And a sixth sense warned her that he might well be announcing his marital plans soon. Angelo, married, introducing her to his wife...she broke out in nervous perspiration.
The imagery summoned up made her feel sick and dizzy. Would Tomaso retain his silence when Angelo brought home a wife-to-be? She was painfully aware that her stepfather was finding that silence harder and harder to maintain. Five months ago he had perhaps hoped that his son and his stepdaughter might reconcile without any interference from him and then all constraint would be at an end within the family circle. But after this length of time Tomaso could no longer sustain such a hope.
‘Could we sit down?’ she gasped breathlessly.
‘Too energetic?’ Russ grimaced. ‘Sorry, I keep on forgetting...’
I don’t, Kelda reflected miserably. Russ curved a supportive arm to her spine and by the worst possible misfortune chose the path back to their table that went closest to Angelo’s. They came face to face in the aisle.
‘Kelda...’ Angelo stilled. Tension thickened the atmosphere but he stared at her with impassive dark eyes, cold as charity. ‘What a pleasant surprise,’ he drawled. ‘Let me introduce you to Isabel...Isabel, this is my stepsister, Kelda—’
‘I’m delighted to meet you.’ Isabel extended a polite hand.
Stepsister...the term, the very word shattered Kelda. Angelo had never used it before. Like a robot, she forced her arm up to meet Isabel’s fingers, briefly, loosely connecting and dropping away again.