is, I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father.’
It was bound to come as a bit of a shock, thought Dulcie. She could understand that. She had to make allowances. When it began to sink in, the idea would grow on him. She just had to plant the right seeds.
‘Nobody’s ever sure they’re ready for children,’ she told Liam soothingly, ‘but once it’s happened, they wonder how they ever lived without them. Look at all your old tennis pals ...
John McEnroe, Pat Cash ... they’re devoted to their kids! And it makes men so attractive, too,’
she enthused. ‘Look at Sting, Simon Le Bon, Tom Cruise ...’
Dulcie had worked out the best way to play it, and she was right. Even in his shell-shocked state, Liam was drawn to the sexy-but-caring image. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; he could do it Rod Stewart style, have umpteen kids by a succession of drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriends .. .
Then he thought of the astronomical child support and shuddered.
‘Look, Dulcie, we do need to think about this.’ He paused, not wanting to upset her, choosing his words with care. ‘Weneed to think about it seriously. There are other ... well, other options, you know.’
Dulcie, her green eyes huge, gazed at him like a wounded fawn. Her lower lip began to tremble.
‘How could you even think that?’
Her hands clutched her stomach. Liam instantly felt dreadful, like an axe murderer.
With a sigh, he supposed he was lucky this hadn’t happened before. He was almost thirty-five, had been firing on all cylinders since he was fifteen ... well, that was a pretty good innings.
Okay, so he’d been let down by a faulty condom, but they were said to be only ninety-seven per cent effective anyway, weren’t they? And he’d certainly used more than ninety-seven condoms in the past twenty years.
Anyway, looking on the bright side – at least now he knew he wasn’t infertile.
Liam decided to give in gracefully, he may as well make the best of it. He’d been caught out, but so what? It might not be what he wanted but then neither was it the end of the world.
He relaxed, sat back in his chair and smiled at Dulcie.
‘So how are you feeling?’
Dulcie hurled herself at him as joyously as Arthur had hurled himself earlier at Anita, the glorious golden retriever of his dreams.
‘Oh I knew you’d be thrilled,’ she cried, covering his face with kisses. ‘Imagine, our very own baby! Our own future Wimbledon champion—’
‘Do you feel okay?’ Liam studied her face. Dulcie certainly seemed to be glowing.
‘Sick.’ Belatedly she remembered her long list of symptoms. ‘But that’s normal. Hundreds of food cravings, which the doctor says I should just go along with. Oh, and I’m tired so I have to rest a lot, mustn’t do too much.’
‘Really?’ Liam looked alarmed.
‘Otherwise your ankles swell,’ Dulcie explained. ‘It can be dangerous.’
He glanced at her ankles, which looked okay to him, but Dulcie was reaching down, miming them blowing up like balloons and exploding. She pulled a face and shook her head.
‘That’s what my doctor said. Yuk, imagine. So no more tennis, which is a real shame. Still, you have to do as you’re told, don’t you?’ Patting her stomach, looking regretful but at the same time serene, Dulcie added caringly, ‘The baby comes first.’
Never having had any involvement with pregnant women before, Liam’s knowledge of the subject was largely limited to the old black and white movies he had watched on TV as a teenager. Happily for Dulcie, their attitude towards mothers to-be was pretty much on a par with hers.
Liam racked his brains for a second and came up with, ‘You’d better lie down. Shall I make you a cup of tea?’
Dulcie, who had watched a lot of the same films, happily did as she was told. This was more like it. Liam was going to turn into Cary Grant, she’d be Audrey Hepburn and together they would live happily ever after ...
‘Tea, brilliant.’ She sank back on to the sofa and put her feet up. ‘Actually, I’m just craving a bowl of peanut butter ice cream. There’s some in the freezer.’
When he had switched the kettle on, Liam came back into the sitting room with a spoon and the tub of ice cream. He frowned as he read the list of calories per 100 mls. and the percentages of sugar and fat.
‘This stuff’s lethal. You’ll end up the size of a sumo wrestler.’
‘No I won’t.’ Reaching up, Dulcie grabbed the tub and the spoon. Liam watched her expertly peel off the lid and balance it on one knee.
‘I’ll go and get you a bowl.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Dulcie, swooning with pleasure, ‘I’ll manage like this.’
Chapter 30
Liza hated the word toyboy. She wished it didn’t get to her, but it did. If you’re ugly you can wear make-up, if you’re bald you can wear a wig and if you’re short you can wear high heels .
But if you’re nine years older than the man in your life, Liza thought with rising frustration, there’s damn all you can do about it. Because you can’t wear anything to make you younger than you are.
It didn’t bother Kit at all. He really couldn’t care less.
‘You have to come to the party with me,’ he urged. ‘What’s the problem? Everyone knows I’m seeing you. Now
