Her aunt seemed tense and almost nervous over breakfast. She kept darting glances at Heather, and Heather suspected she was probably worrying that she might break her promise. ‘Look, I won’t put a foot outside the garden,’ she assured her affectionately. ‘Stop worrying.’
They were doing the washing up together when her aunt said suddenly, ‘Heather, you know that I love you as though you were my own, don’t you? I always wanted another daughter, and you’re very precious to me… to us both. If I thought…’ she broke off, and Heather wondered if she was trying to talk to her about Neil. There was no need, she could guess how torn her aunt was, wanting what was best for both of them.
‘Everything will work out,’ she told her, trying to sound comforting. ‘You just wait and see….’
She was rewarded with a rather vague smile, and when she waved her aunt and uncle off an hour later she was left with the distinct impression that something was worrying the former.
Neil had already gone, and knowing Dr Barnes of old and his addiction to the golf course, Heather guessed he wouldn’t be back until much later in the afternoon. Not that she minded. It was almost a luxury to have the house and garden to herself. The air was warm with the promise of summer to come, her uncle’s well-tended garden a mass of blooms. The new leaves on the chestnut tree were freshly green, and after she had finished tidying her room, Heather gazed out at it, tempted to go and lie in the sun.
Her body had changed during her pregnancy, and she studied it thoughtfully as she slipped off her clothes and took clean panties and dress from her wardrobe. Her breasts felt slightly tender, her nipples darker, her skin silky smooth. The thought of holding Race’s child in her arms made her tremble with longing; there was an unmistakably primitive pleasure to be found in the knowledge that her body was flowering with Race’s child, she acknowledged wryly, still finding it vaguely surprising that she should be capable of such earthy thoughts and desires. She had always thought of herself as cool, even perhaps genuinely not capable of finding much pleasure in sex, until she met Race. Now barely a night went by without her aching for him; without her longing to wake up and find herself in his arms.
Suppressing a sigh, she dressed slowly, enjoying the feeling of the cool cotton against her skin and the freedom from the restriction of her bra. The cotton did little to conceal the shape of her body, but it scarcely mattered; she had plenty of time to get changed before Neil was due back.
A book she had got for her aunt from the library caught her eye and she took it into the garden with her, using the cushion off one of the garden chairs as a pillow for her head as she stretched out beneath the shelter of the chestnut tree, lulled by the smooth sound of the breeze amongst the leaves. It was blissfully relaxing just lying here, suspended between waking and sleeping, the warm, growing scent of the garden all around her, birdsong a distant and pleasing refrain, the ground warm beneath her fingers, the sun warm on her skin.
She didn’t know what woke her. One moment she had been deeply asleep, the next she was wide awake, conscious that something had disturbed her tranquillity.
‘Hello, Heather.’
Her eyes shot open, her body tensing in disbelief.
‘Race?’ He was standing in front of her, long, muscled legs clad in faded denim, a cotton shirt open almost to the waist, his eyes shadowed and remote as he studied her recumbent form.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Looking for you.’
‘For me? But….’ Her thoughts whirled in disjointed disorder. Had Jennifer broken her promise to her? Why had Race come? Had he thought it might be amusing to pay a visit on her while he was in the area? She gasped suddenly as the baby kicked—hard.
‘Heather? Heather, are you all right?’ He was down on his knees beside her, his fingers curling against her shoulders in the old, remembered way. She would know Race’s touch anywhere, she thought achingly; even without seeeing his face her body would recognise him.
‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, ‘the… the baby kicked,’ she added huskily, unable to look at him. ‘What are you doing here, Race?’
‘I saw your photograph in the paper. I have some friends who live near Gloucester. I’ve been spending a few days with them and I saw it.’
‘So Jen didn’t….’ Heather bit her lip, and saw his face harden into anger.
‘No, damn her, she didn’t,’ he said harshly. ‘She wouldn’t even give me your address, or tell me where you were.’
What had he wanted to know that for? Had he felt guilty about her, perhaps? What did it matter now? The baby kicked again and she placed her hand automatically over the small bump.
‘God, Heather, why didn’t you tell me?’
She didn’t pretend not to know what he meant, or to deny his words, and was glad she hadn’t seconds later when he said hoarsely, ‘When I saw that damned photograph, saw you like this…. I knew the child must be mine. I damn near tore the place apart looking for you. I got your address from the newspaper offices, and I drove down yesterday, but you weren’t here. I saw your aunt.’
So that was why her aunt had been so unhappy! She had connived with Race so that he could talk to her alone.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Race repeated slowly. ‘Didn’t you think I had any right to know?’
‘Not really,’ she said quietly. ‘Let’s face it, it was an accident… my responsibility, because I’m sure you thought that I would have… taken precautions. There didn’t seem any point in telling you,’ she added musingly.
‘No point? Damn you, Heather!’ he suddenly shouted, grasping her shoulders, ‘that’s my child you’re carrying, mine! So don’t tell me there wasn’t any point. Why did you decide to go on with the pregnancy?’ he asked curtly, looking away from her. ‘You could have….’
‘Had an abortion?’ She was angry now. ‘Yes I could have, and I suppose from your point of view that would have made life much less… messy. But you don’t need to worry, Race. I absolve you totally from all responsibility. I could have had an abortion, but I didn’t choose to. I have enough money to support myself and my child, and….’
‘A cousin just ready and waiting to marry you?’ he said harshly. ‘Oh yes, I know all about that. Well, you might be noble enough to “absolve” me from all responsibility, Heather, but what about my child? Will he or she feel the same way, will they be able to forgive me, or you for that matter, for denying it the right to two parents? Oh, I know it’s the fashion for women to take charge of their own lives, do their own thing, bring up their own children on their own. Very nice—for them, but does anyone take into account the views of the kids? Do you know that ninety-five per cent of children of divorced parents, secretly, deep in their hearts, want their parents to get together again?
‘I know what it’s like not to have a father, Heather. My mother was the forerunner of the modern woman. She chose to have her child alone; her lover was a married man, and she told me once she didn’t particularly love him, she just felt the time had come when she had to submit to the biological urge to reproduce. Is that what you’re going to tell our child? Not that it was conceived in love, but out of a “biological urge”? Well, I’m not going to let you. You and I are going to get married, just as soon as it can be arranged. No,’ he said sharply when she would have interrupted, ‘listen to me. That’s my baby growing inside you, and I’ll see you in hell before I’ll let you deny me my child. We’ve got some very enlightened judges these days—there are ways I could make you share the child with me, and you know it. Is that what you want? Because I warn you I’m not prepared to simply disappear and let you have it all.’
Marriage to Race! Heather’s mind couldn’t absorb it. She wanted to refuse; wanted to tell him that she didn’t want him without his love. But what about her aunt and uncle? They knew now that Race was the father, wouldn’t they want her to marry him? Her aunt would, she knew, although she would never try and influence her decision. And there was Neil to consider. He loved her,
but once he saw her as the wife of another man….
And then there were her own feelings…. Didn’t she secretly long to be Race’s wife? Wasn’t there a small part of her that clung to the hope that somehow he might come to love her? Perhaps in marriage, sharing their child, love would take root and grow.
‘Race, I’ll have to have time,’ she protested hesitantly. ‘I….’
‘No.’ His voice was thick with suppressed emotion. She had never dreamed he would feel like this. Or had she? Had she always suspected that if he found out about the baby, he would come after her? ‘We’re both responsible for our child, Heather,’ he said unsteadily. ‘We’ve created it, and we owe it our love, both of us,’ he underlined. ‘You must want it or you wouldn’t have let your pregnancy continue. Don’t you love your child enough to want it to have two parents, to know the security of a proper family unit? You lost both your parents, you must know what that does to a child, just as I know what it’s like to grow up without a father. Either you marry me, or I’ll take you to court to take the baby away from you, and I’ll find someone who will marry me!’