Holly fitted into that category, she just failed to realise it. A baby. She hadn’t seen that coming. Ken reached forward and kissed her neck. It was a light touch, one of affection rather than anything more sexual.
“I’m sorry I kept the notes secret from you.” She knew she should be irritated by that but even her levels of hypocrisy wouldn’t descend that deep. “I should have said.” She was tense. Not directly as a result of his proximity or touch but his attempt at reassurance only seemed to heighten her angst. Forcing herself to respond, she shook her head.
“I understand,” she replied. The words sounded hollow and not genuine. Ken didn’t appear to notice, giving her arms a further squeeze before lessening his grip. He stepped away and she took a deep breath turning to watch his back as he walked away. “The baby… was it yours?” The words stung her as they passed her lips. How could he have been so foolish. Then it dawned on her. The obvious. This was Ken she was talking about. A man who was driven by two things, his art and his penis. Often the two crossed one another. He stopped, glancing down. Reluctant to face me? She heard him take a deep breath.
“I don’t know. I guess it might be.” The reply was unsatisfactory, bordering on pathetic. How could he not have an inclination and if he thought it possible, how could he be so naïve?
“Ken! You ought to know better.” Her tone was fiery, consumed with frustration, fear and above all else, jealousy.
“Things happen, you know,” he replied, turning. For a moment she thought he was going to cry again. “I didn’t know she was pregnant until she showed up on Friday night. I swear.”
“It would explain why Colin Bettany was so furious. How does he know if you didn’t?”
Ken shook his head. “He is a doctor. Maybe he figured it out.”
“And you. How did he figure out you were sleeping with his little girl?” Ken baulked at that question. Her choice of words was emotive. She knew it. She chose them on purpose. “Barely seventeen, Ken. Still a girl in my book.”
“You were doing far worse by her age!” She felt a surge of anger but quelled it. Judging from his expression, he saw how that point hit home. It was true. She had. Without those experiences, there was no way she could have coped with a man as dysfunctional as her husband. “And seeing as we’re not holding back, why did you lie?” She held his stare with one of her own. A show of defiance. “We didn’t spend Friday night together. You didn’t even see me until Saturday morning. If you doubt me so, why lie to them?”
She broke his gaze, striding into the living room. “I need a bloody drink!”
“Yeah, sure because that’s going to help isn’t it.” His voice was raised. He hadn’t spoken to her like that in ages. “Why, Jane? Why back me up if you think I’m guilty of something?” The accusatory nature of his tone was growing stronger as he followed her. For a moment she felt something other than anger. Fear. Fear of her husband. An emotion she’d never really experienced in all their years together. Usually, she would dismiss him with a spiteful comment but something in his attitude made her think again.
Unscrewing the cap from a bottle of gin, she poured a large measure into a tumbler and added a pitiful amount of tonic water. Raising an unsteady hand, she sipped at the drink. It was far too strong and bitter but the shock steadied her. Ken cut an imposing figure, standing between her and the dining area waiting for an answer to his question. “Because you’re my husband. No matter what else, we are a family and I will do whatever I have to do to keep us all together.” His eyes narrowed. She was unsure if the reply was the one he expected or sought. Either way, he stepped aside allowing her to pass.
“You haven’t asked me,” he said quietly as she reached the kitchen. Turning to face him, she raised her glass again, averting her eyes from his.
“Asked you what?” She knew what he was referring to. In reality, she didn’t want to know. To ask the question would be scary enough but how might she react to the truth? Her attempt at deflection failed. His frustration showed. “I’m not going to ask, Ken. I won’t be put in that position.”
“Position. What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Where I can’t lie for you.” She turned away, leaving him open-mouthed.
“You just did lie for me!”
“No,” she said over her shoulder, correcting his assertion, “I lied for me… and the children.”
Ken swore under his breath and stalked from the room, stamping his way up the stairs much like William would often do. Her head was pounding with an oncoming stress headache. Thinking on the notes, she wanted to know what was written on the others. The one Inspector Janssen held up for her was readable but the others remained on
