Force of Feeling

‘Please let me go, Guy,’ she said, as evenly as she could.

‘I want to talk to you.’

He really was a good actor, she marvelled. He sounded almost distraught, even a little frantic, and the look in his eyes… If she hadn’t known better, she could almost have mistaken it for an anguish to match her own.

‘What about?’ she asked politely, and as distantly as she might a stranger. ‘I really must go, Guy. I promised Lucy I’d help her with the food.’

‘I take it you’re not here alone?’

Not here alone? There was an odd glitter in his eyes. His mouth was tight and hard.

‘That’s right. I’m not,’ she lied, hating him, and hating herself for allowing herself to be so easily manipulated. Of course she must tell him what he wanted to hear. She must allow him to pretend that he had not hurt and discarded her, that she had quickly and easily replaced him in her life as he would do her. She must lift from his shoulders any burden of guilt or blame.

She spun away from him as he released her, not waiting to see him claimed by the blonde she could see approaching them out of the corner of her eye.

She saw them leave, though.

The brunette, with three small children, and the blonde, linking her arm through Guy’s.

CHAPTER NINE

‘I’M AFRAID there could be one or two complications.’

Campion stared at the specialist.

‘What kind of complications?’ she croaked, her rebellious stomach heaving.

It had been like this ever since Christmas, and now, on a bleak, freezing cold January day, she had just received very definite confirmation that she was pregnant.

‘A vitamin deficiency—nothing that can’t be put right, but I’m afraid your pregnancy won’t be easy. Of course,’ he looked down at his immaculate desk and then back at her, ‘you could always go for a termination.’

It took several seconds for the words to sink through, but, when they did, she was horrified.

Abort Guy’s baby? Never!

‘No! No, I don’t want to do that.’

‘No, I can see that. Well, if you’re sensible,’ he paused and looked hard at her, ‘if you eat and rest properly… Of course, we’ll have to monitor your progress. The baby’s due in August. It’s January now. You’re going to have to take things very quietly for the next six weeks.’ Unspoken, but there none the less, was the threat of a possible miscarriage.

Campion listened as he talked about tests and vitamins, but her mind was only half on what he was saying.

She had known before, of course, that she was pregnant, but she had not known until now how much she wanted her child. She would do anything, anything to protect its fragile hold on life.

‘You work as a writer. Writers forget to eat, they become absorbed in what they’re doing. It might be a good idea if you stopped work for the next six weeks. Do you live alone?’

Campion nodded.

‘Mmm… Do you have any family? A friend you could stay with?’

So he didn’t trust her to obey him on her own.

‘No family. Some friends, but…’

Tactfully, he had said nothing about her baby’s father, other than to ask for medical details, which she hadn’t been able to supply.

‘I shall be perfectly all right on my own,’ she told him brightly, preparing to leave.

But would she? Her flat depressed her. A London flat was no place in which to bring up a child. A child needed a home—a proper home.