Reunited: Marriage in a Million

‘Do you love him?’

‘Oh, please!’

‘You had unprotected sex.’

‘There’s no other way to get a baby.’

‘You wanted…’ She swallowed. Of course she did. Someone who would love her without reservation.

‘She shouldn’t have told you I was pregnant. That nurse. That kind of stuff is confidential.’

‘She wanted me to understand why you’d passed out.’ Wanted to be sure that someone responsible knew. Someone who would take care of her. ‘Are you booked into an antenatal clinic? Getting vitamins? Have you been tested?’

‘What is this? The Inquisition?’

‘Your baby needs you to protect her. Keep her safe.’

‘Like you would know all about that.’ Then, ‘I’ll sort it, all right? I’m still getting my head around the idea.’

‘How pregnant are you?’

‘Totally. It’s the only way.’

Her sister had a sense of humour. Things were looking up. ‘I’ll rephrase the question. When can I plan on being an aunt?’

‘I didn’t know I was pregnant until last night. I’m about six weeks gone, so somewhere between seven and eight months, I suppose.’ Then, ‘I didn’t pass out on purpose, despite what Ivan the Terrible thinks.’

Belle struggled to hold back a smile. ‘He’s not so terrible. In fact he offered you five thousand pounds. Why didn’t you take it?’

‘He just wanted to get rid of me.’

‘No…’ The word had been an automatic response, but having thought about it, she said it again. ‘No. He was just testing you.’

Protecting her. Treating her like some idiot who didn’t know what she was doing.

‘Then I guess I passed,’ Daisy said.

‘You don’t have to prove anything to me,’ Belle snapped. Then, ‘Sorry. Late night.’ And, changing the subject, she said, ‘Okay. We can fix you up with a clinic. Go to classes together, if you like.’

‘I don’t need you.’

‘Everyone needs someone,’ she said. Someone to reach out a hand, to say ‘…Call me…’. Someone who you know will be there. Who cares how you’re feeling.

How was Ivo feeling?

How had he felt when she’d told him she was leaving? Really?

She buttered bread, keeping her hands busy, but her mind needed total distraction. ‘What about a job?’ she asked. ‘Or are you at college?’

‘No.’

This was not going well.

She was paid ridiculous amounts of money to chat to total strangers every morning. She put them at their ease, made them laugh, drew them out with open-ended questions. The difference being that she’d done her homework on the people she interviewed. Knew the answers before she asked the questions, mostly. The trick was to avoid the obvious, get them to open up, forget the answers they’d prepared ahead of time and relax.

There was only one rule. Never ask a question that could be answered with a simple yes or no.

It hadn’t occurred to her that it was a rule she would need when she finally came face to face with her sister. That a shortage of words would be a problem. On the contrary, she’d imagined that all the feelings would just come tumbling out. The anger, yes, she’d expected that, but had believed that the early years when they had been everything to each other, when she’d taken care of Daisy, looked out for her, would mean enough to override the years they’d spent apart.

It wasn’t going to be that way. The wound had gone too deep and despite the fact that it would probably choke her, she bit into her own sandwich simply to stop herself from blurting out needy questions about her sister’s life, the people who’d adopted her, knowing that she was just longing for answers that would absolve her of guilt, somehow justify what she’d done.

‘Thanks for the sandwich.’

While she was still chewing through her first mouthful, Daisy had finished and she slid off the stool.

‘You’re leaving?’

Let her go. She’ll come back.

That would be Ivo’s advice, she knew. But then, detached, emotionally disengaged, that was easy for him to say. Much harder for her.

‘Don’t you want to stay and help me search for your dad on the Internet?’

‘You think I haven’t done that?’ Daisy said, heading for the door. ‘I’m not dumb.’

‘I was going to contact an agency who specialise in finding people.’

For a moment she hesitated. Tempted. Then she said, ‘What’s the point? If he wanted to know, he’d be looking for me.’ And she kept walking.

‘Maybe he’s scared, Daisy. Maybe he thinks you wouldn’t want to know. Have you any idea of the courage it takes to seek out someone you’ve hurt? Let down?’

Her sister paused, glanced back from the doorway, her thin face wreathed in sudden doubt. But she rallied, said, ‘Maybe he just doesn’t care. Maybe he’s just a…’ She stopped, apparently unable, despite her defiance, to say the word.

‘Say it, Daisy. It won’t be anything I haven’t heard before.’

‘Babies can hear, can’t they?’

Belle tried not to smile at this unexpected evidence of maternal care. ‘So I understand.’

‘You don’t have any kids?’

She shook her head just once.

‘Men are a waste of space.’

‘Not all of them,’ Belle said. Then, trying to keep the need from her voice, ‘You can stay here, Daisy. There’s a spare room. All the hot water you can use.’

‘I’ve got a place.’

‘Somewhere suitable for a baby?’

‘I lived in worse when I was a kid,’ she said.

‘Then you know enough not to inflict it on your own child.’

‘I was happy…’ She snapped her lips shut, her lips a thin tight line.

Happy then? Was that what she’d been about to say? If that was her yardstick for happiness, what horror had she lived through since?

Belle shivered, but managed to hold in her concern. ‘The offer’s open. Any time.’ Then, ‘Do you need anything?’

‘From my glamorous, famous big sister who couldn’t be bothered with me all these years?’ Belle caught the telltale sparkle of tears before Daisy blinked them away. Not so tough, then…‘I worshipped you.’ Then, ‘Not you. Belle Davenport. She was everything a big sister should be. Fun, warm, smart, caring and just so lovely. I used to watch her every morning and think if my sister had been anything like her I’d have been the luckiest girl in the entire world. Big mistake, huh?’

‘It wasn’t…That wasn’t me.’

‘Absolutely right. You’re both fakes.’

‘Daisy, please-’

‘Please what? Fifteen years and all I get is a three-line letter and a photograph; what was I supposed to do, Bella…sorry, Belle? Fall at your feet in gratitude because you’d finally found time out of your busy life to remember that you had a little sister?’

‘I never forgot you.’ Belle stopped. What was the point? How could she expect Daisy to understand when she didn’t understand herself. ‘It wasn’t your mistake, Daisy. It was mine.’ Then, ‘I’ll see what I can find out about your dad, so next time you ring…don’t hang up, hmm?’

‘Who says I’ll ring again?’ she demanded, then flung open the door and ran down the stairs.

Belle fought the impulse to go after her, to go to the window to see which way she went. She didn’t have any