Juggling Briefcase & Baby

damaging your piano,’ Romy said, raising her voice over the crashing chords.

‘She’s all right,’ said Lex. ‘It’s a good thing to let her get used to just sitting at a piano if she likes it. Maybe she’s going to be musical.’

Romy opened her mouth to suggest that he could teach Freya to play properly when she was a bit older, but shut it again almost immediately. What was she thinking? By the time Freya was old enough to learn the piano, they would be long gone.

‘She wouldn’t get it from me,’ she said instead.

‘Perhaps her father is musical,’ Lex said evenly.

‘Perhaps. I must ask him.’ Romy shifted on the arm of the sofa. ‘If I remember, I’ll ask him this weekend.’

Lex looked up sharply. ‘This weekend?’

‘Yes, I…I emailed Michael this morning.’

She shouldn’t feel awkward about it, Romy knew. It was past time for her to let Michael know that he was a father. She had been putting it off because it felt as if she would somehow lose some of her independence if he decided he wanted to be part of Freya’s life.

Whichever way she looked at it, a relationship between Freya and her father would be a tie. Never again would Romy be able to move on the moment it suited her. There would always be someone else to take into account. Of course, she had to take Freya into account now, but it wasn’t the same.

What if Michael wanted to see Freya regularly? What if he wanted a say in where she lived or where she went to school? Romy knew that she ought to be glad if it turned out that he wanted to be involved in his daughter’s life, but she hated the idea of anyone limiting her freedom in any way. She knew it wasn’t logical or justifiable or fair, but the prospect of involving anyone else in the life she had built with Freya smacked too much of commitment for Romy.

And yet, today she had emailed him. It didn’t make Romy feel any better to realise that she had only done it because she had been so thrown by that kiss this morning.

It was stupid. It hadn’t meant anything, but she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind all day. This was just what Romy had been afraid of. She didn’t want her pulse to jump every time Lex walked into a room. She didn’t want to be waiting for him, looking for him, unable to settle unless he was there. Next thing she knew, she would be hopelessly in love with him. She would be needing a man who had been very straight about not wanting anything to do with a baby.

Romy knew how that would end. So she had done what she always did when she felt herself getting too close to anyone. She made her plans to move on.

‘I asked if we could meet,’ she told Lex. ‘He replied straight away.’

Lex’s head was bent over Freya’s as he guided her hands on the piano keys. ‘Did you tell him about Freya?’

‘Not yet. I thought it would be better to tell him face to face. I’ve got a friend who lives in Taunton, which isn’t far from Michael. I’m going to stay with her tomorrow, and she’s going to look after Freya while I go and see him on Sunday morning. It might be too much of a shock if I turned up with her.’ Romy had a nasty feeling that she was babbling, and made herself stop.

‘He must be keen if he’s meeting you at such short notice,’ said Lex after a moment. ‘You’ve arranged it all very quickly.’

‘Well, I’ve waited long enough. I thought I might get too nervous if I had to think about what to say to him for too long.’ Romy fiddled with her bracelets. ‘Besides, I thought it might be nice for you to have the flat to yourself for the weekend.’

‘Thanks for the thought, but I won’t be here myself. I was going to say the same to you.’

‘Oh?’ Her fingers stilled. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To visit my parents, who I sincerely hope won’t have heard any rumours about our supposed relationship just yet.’ Lex’s smile gleamed briefly, but without much humour. ‘I’ll be able to tell my father about the deal with Willie Grant. It looks as if both of us will be passing on surprising news this weekend, doesn’t it?’

Lex drove back to London early on Sunday afternoon. A chance for some time to himself, he had decided. Some quiet. Some order. To catch up on some work. To walk across his living room without tripping over a squeaky toy and to admire his spectacular view without Freya squealing and shouting in the background.

But when he let himself into the flat, it didn’t feel quiet. It felt empty.

Romy and Freya had only been in residence two days. What was it going to be like when they left after a month?

By then he would be desperate for some peace, Lex told himself. He would be sick of tripping over the pushchair every time he came through the door. He could take those rounded rubber clips off the corners of the coffee table, and the plastic covers off his state-of-the art steel sockets. The waxed tablecloth with its pattern of brightly coloured dots would be gone, and he would be able to see his stylish dining table again.

There would be no little clothes drying on airers. No baby food in the fridge. No toys scattered on the floor or plastic ducks in the bath.

No Freya.

No Romy.

Lex could smell her perfume in the air. She was such a vivid presence that her absence was a shout in the silence. He could picture her exactly, barefoot, swinging Freya into the air, dark eyes aglow.

Was he going to have to endure another twelve years of memories? Twelve years of remembering the nape of her neck, the back of her knee, the scent of her hair. And this time it would be worse, Lex knew. Now he knew there was more to Romy than that wild, passionate girl she had been at eighteen. She was intelligent and capable and charming. She was warm. She was practical. She was tender.

And she was so damned stubborn.

Romy would never change her mind. If she said she would leave, she would leave. He had better get used to it.

Alarmed at the maudlin train of his thoughts, Lex pulled himself together sharply. Why was he feeling so glum? He had what he wanted. What he needed. He had the Grant’s Supersaver deal in his pocket. He had control of Gibson & Grieve. Control of his life. No one asking anything of him that he couldn’t give.

What more did he want?

Refusing to let himself even think about an answer to that, Lex sat at the piano and started to play, but he wasn’t able to lose himself in the music the way he usually could, and when he heard the sound of the front door his hands paused above the keys and, in spite of everything he’d had to say to himself, his heart missed a beat as Romy appeared in the doorway.

Her dark hair was spangled with rain and she pushed it behind her ears with a stilted smile. ‘I thought I heard the piano.’

‘Where’s Freya?’ The constriction in Lex’s chest made it hard to speak.

‘Asleep in the hall.’ Romy glanced over her shoulder. ‘I’ve left her in the pushchair.’

There was a pause.

‘I wasn’t expecting you back yet,’ he said at last.

‘I didn’t think you’d be back until later.’

‘I decided to come home early.’

Romy moved into the room, hugging her arms together. ‘Wasn’t it a good weekend?’

‘It was fine.’ He shrugged. ‘The usual.’

‘How was your father?’

Lex made a face. ‘Not so good. He seemed…tired.’

‘Did you tell him about the deal?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

‘Nothing. He just looked away.’

Romy found herself clenching her fists on her sleeves. She knew Gerald Gibson was ill, but would it have been so hard for him to congratulate Lex, to somehow make it clear that he was proud of him?

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.