He’d stopped going into the office, had abandoned ongoing projects to his more than capable deputies, who were doubtless delighted at the chance to show what they could do, using the excuse that he needed to sort out the Camden house.
When he’d seen the flat below hers was for sale it had seemed as if it was meant. Quite what he was going to do with it he hadn’t decided. But then Daisy had turned up and it had all seemed so simple. He’d convert the garden flat for Daisy. Move in between them. Be a friend. A father…
Stupid.
Now, the keys in his hand, the empty rooms mocking him, he wasn’t able to rouse himself to care about anything very much.
His cellphone bleeped to warn him that he had a text message. His first reaction was to ignore it, but there were people relying on him, for whom he was responsible. He pulled it from his pocket, flipped it open. Stared at it. He hadn’t thought his day could get any worse, but it just had.
There was a tap at the front door to the flat. ‘It’s probably the removal men wanting a cup of tea,’ Belle said, drying her hair. ‘Can you handle it?’
‘No problem.’
She looked at her face in the mirror, pinched her cheeks to put a bit of colour in them. Put on a pair of earrings. Realised that everything had gone very quiet.
‘Daisy?’
‘Your sister said to tell you that she’s meeting Manda for lunch.’ Belle spun around on the stool. Ivo was standing in the doorway watching her. ‘Your message said you wanted to see me. To talk about the future.’
For a moment she could hardly catch her breath, let alone speak. It had been just over a month and he looked no better than her. Gaunt, hollow-eyed…
‘I only sent that text a few minutes ago.’
‘I was in the flat downstairs.’
She frowned. ‘But it’s empty. It’s been empty for weeks…’
‘Not any more. I’ve been taking possession of my latest acquisition. What do you want to see me about, Belle? If it’s-’
‘The flat? You’ve bought the flat?’
‘Actually, I’ve bought the whole house,’ he said impatiently. ‘All of it except this floor. Does it matter?’
‘That depends on your reason. Are you going to move in?’
‘Yes. No…’ He shook his head. ‘Belle, if you want to talk about a divorce-’
‘What? No,’ she said. ‘No.’ She turned and picked up a silk jewellery roll that was lying on the dressing table. Offered it to him. ‘It’s this.’
Ivo took it. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it and see.’
He shrugged, undid the tie, then placed it on the bed and rolled it open.
In each pocket there was a small plastic stick. Each one was slightly different. He’d never actually seen one before, but it didn’t take a genius to work out what they were. What he didn’t understand was what she was doing with them. Telling him. Until the last one. That said it in one simple word.
He thought he knew pain, understood every way in which the heart could be wrenched open, torn apart, bleed. But in that moment, as the possibilities raced through his head, he learned different.
‘Oh, my love…’ Somehow he was on his knees and she had her arms around him, holding him, crushing him to her. ‘What have you done?’
‘Me?’ She drew back a little.
‘Was it a donor? Were you that desperate?’
‘No…Don’t you understand, Ivo?’ She took the pregnancy test strip, knelt before him, holding it out. ‘What this is, my love, is a miracle. You asked for one, remember? For me.’ She lifted a hand, touched his cheek. ‘It’s your baby, Ivo. My baby. Our baby.’
He was swamped with confusion. ‘Our baby? But…’
She laid a finger on his lips. ‘I assumed, from what you said, that the doctor told you that your vasectomy was irreversible. That there was nothing to be done.’
‘No. He did his best, but warned me he couldn’t guarantee anything.’
‘It would have stood a rather better chance if I hadn’t been taking the pill for the last three years, don’t you think?’ she asked, smiling.
‘But…’ He stopped. ‘No. You wanted a baby. Why would you take the pill?’
‘I saw your face, Ivo. You didn’t have to tell me that you didn’t want children. I spent twenty-four hours after you left me alone on our honeymoon island coming to terms with that. At the end of it I chose you for as long as you wanted me. Not for your money. Not for the security. For no other reason than that I loved you.’
‘I didn’t know…’
She stopped him with a kiss. For a moment he had no thought but to take the blissful moment, forget anything else.
Later he said, ‘You stopped taking the pill when you left?’
‘Why would I need them? There wasn’t anyone else I was planning to have sex with.’ She smiled. ‘To sleep with.’
‘Keep it that way,’ he said, then drew back a little, looking at her as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. ‘Our baby?’
‘Ivo, children need parents who want them. Who can love them. I know this wasn’t what you wanted. I want you to know that I can do this on my own.’
It was a question. She needed to know. Had a right to know.
‘You don’t have to do anything on your own ever again, Belle. You’re right. This is a miracle. But the biggest miracle is not that you loved me enough to stay, but found the strength to leave. Forced me to acknowledge the truth. I love you, Belle Davenport, love the baby we made.’ Then, ‘Or are you telling me that I don’t have a choice? That your sister still comes first.’
‘It was Daisy who made me call you.’
Belle looked up as the brass band in the marketplace struck up ‘Joy to the World’. Then she turned back to him. ‘You’ve seen the decorations? I should warn you that she’s planning a traditional old-fashioned family Christmas. How do you feel about that?’
‘Here?’
‘Could you bear it?’
‘I could bear Christmas in a tent if it meant sharing it with you.’ He laid his palm over her stomach. ‘Both of you.’
‘There’s Daisy and Manda as well.’
‘Maybe not a tent, in that case. I think perhaps I’d better get the flat downstairs furnished, just as a stopgap, or it’s going to be a bit cramped.’
‘A stopgap?’
‘My plan was to restore the house to a family home, bit by bit. Make it so welcoming that you couldn’t resist moving in.’
‘What about the house in Belgravia?’
‘Would you move back?’
‘I’d rather take the tent.’
‘Then it’s history.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I just wish I could wipe out the last three years as easily, so that we could start again. Begin anew.’
‘You really mean that?’
‘With all my heart.’
They were still kneeling, face to face, and she took his hands in hers and said, ‘I, Belinda Louise, take thee, Ivan George Michael, to my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for
