One-Night Pregnancy (11 page)

‘D
ARLING
, you mustn’t upset yourself any more,’ Mary Baxter, formerly Tully-Smith, said soothingly. ‘This is not the end of the world.’

Bridget raised her tear-streaked face to her mother. ‘How can you say that? All I’ve ever done is be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s led me into getting caught up in an absolute maelstrom of—I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d never heard of the Beaumont family!’

‘If only I hadn’t left you to go overseas!’

‘Mum, this could have happened to me if you’d lived in—in the same street.’ Bridget wiped her eyes with her fingers.

‘What are you going to do?’ Mary asked cautiously.

Bridget propped her chin on her hands and licked some salty tears off her lips. She’d probably never forget the awkward little scene that had ensued when she’d opened the door to her mother and received her embrace, plus her excited explanation that she had a whole week to spend with Bridget.

Then Mary had noticed Adam, and she’d started to apologise for barging in on anything, but Bridget had seen her mother’s quick summing-up of Adam Beaumont as she’d introduced him, and how impressed Mary had been.

In fact she’d said as much—‘What a pleasure to meet you, Adam! May I call you Adam?’

Then her eyes had fallen on Bridget’s engagement ring, forgotten in all the trauma and still sitting on her daughter’s left hand, and Mary had drawn a deep, deep breath.

Her next words had been, ‘Is this what I think it is? But you’ve been so secretive, darling! Mind you, I have been away—oh, congratulations!’

Adam had been the one to find the right words.

He’d said quietly that they were engaged, but that things had got a little complicated between himself and her daughter and he knew Bridget wanted to speak to her alone. So he would leave them together but—and here he’d turned to Bridget with an unmistakable warning in his eyes—he’d be in touch tomorrow morning. And he’d left the flat, leaving her mother open-mouthed.

That was when Bridget had sunk down at the dining table in floods of tears, until she’d finally found some composure and told her mother the whole story.

‘What am I going to do? I have no idea.’ She sniffed and blew her nose, then reached out and pressed her mother’s hand. ‘Thank you for not reading me the riot act. I know you must be thinking I’m insane or something.’

‘Oh, my dear.’ Mary returned the pressure. ‘Of course not. These things happen.’

Bridget closed her eyes. ‘He doesn’t love me. Adam.
Well, I knew that, but I didn’t know what he felt for her—not really. She was a background figure, and as such I could ignore her—more or less. Now I can’t.’

‘No,’ Mary agreed, and surprised her daughter as she added firmly, ‘Therefore the last thing you want to do is marry him.’

Bridget opened her mouth but closed it again. ‘I
am
pregnant,’ she said at last, a little forlornly.

‘Well,’ her mother replied, ‘that’s going to take a bit of thinking about—but you have got me, darling! I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

Uh-oh
, Bridget heard herself say to herself.

She lay in bed that night and couldn’t recall when she’d felt more lonely or miserable.

Yes, it was reassuring up to a point to know that her mother now knew it all, and was asleep in the spare bedroom. But how she was going to go forward, what she was going to say to Adam, were the kind of questions that resembled a secret form of torture.

Then there was the problem of her mother, even if it was reassuring to have her close by. Vague and unworldly Mary Baxter might be at times, but she could also be particularly stubborn once she set her mind on a course.

This could ruin her marriage, Bridget thought. It wouldn’t be so bad if they lived here, but Jakarta was a long way away, and Richard had at least nine months of his fellowship to go. What was she going to do?

If these thoughts weren’t bad enough, after she did fall into an uneasy sleep she woke and reached instinctively
for Adam—and cried tears into the pillow as every time he’d made love to her came back to her. But he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there physically, and he wasn’t there for her in any sense now. She couldn’t allow him to be. Not now.

And nothing can change that, she thought. Nothing…

‘Mum, I
need
to do this. Please believe me.’

It was early, about six o’clock, and cloudy, so it was grey outside and not a hopeful kind of day—which was in tune with Bridget’s mood.

She’d got up to make a cup of tea, and her mother had appeared almost immediately in her favourite violet candlewick dressing gown.

‘Well, I know I advised you not to marry him last night,’ Mary said, ‘and I stand by that. But to just disappear?’ She stared at Bridget, anxiety written in her eyes.

‘I need some time on my own, otherwise I might find myself getting married for entirely the wrong reasons,’ Bridget said firmly—although she was feeling far from firm. She felt like a jelly inside, to be precise.

‘So—what’s he like? Apart from all this?’ Mary queried.

Bridget stared out of the kitchen window. They were sitting with their tea at the kitchen table. ‘That’s the problem,’ she said at last. ‘He can be—’ Her voice broke, but she took control. ‘He can be lovely. But he can also be like a force that’s impossible to resist.’

‘Come with me, then,’ Mary suggested. ‘We’ll go to Perth. That’s where Richard is, with his daughter. We
can both go to Perth. I know Richard will understand completely. And you can think things out there.’

‘No. Thank you, Mum,’Bridget said warmly, ‘but I just want to be alone for a bit. I’m not even going to tell you where I’m going, although I will be in touch, I promise. I don’t really know where, but I need to go soon.’

‘How soon?’

‘In the next half-hour. I’m so sorry to leave you, but it’s the best thing to do. Once he comes—if he comes—’ She broke off.

Mary Baxter straightened. ‘Let him come! I’ll deal with him! No, Bridget, I simply cannot allow you to go off on your own. If you want to, we’ll go now—we’ll go wherever you want—but we’ll go together!’

Bridget opened her mouth, but her mother simply said, ‘You’re not the only one with a mind of your own, you know.’ She stood up and added, ‘I haven’t even unpacked, so it will only take me a moment to get ready.’

Bridget spent two weeks in Perth with her mother and Richard Baxter, at his daughter’s house.

The only person she’d contacted was her boss, to ask for an extension to her leave, but she hadn’t given him her whereabouts.

Every time a phone rang—although she’d left her mobile in her flat—and every time someone knocked on the door of the pleasant beachside home Richard’s daughter and her husband lived in, she expected it to be Adam. But it never was.

At the same time as she cursed herself for living in
foolish hope, she couldn’t believe it would have been that difficult to trace her movements—if he’d been so inclined.

But then she re-examined her assumption that he could have traced her easily. Maybe not. He didn’t know her mother’s surname, and even if he’d found that out, and found they’d flown to Perth, once they’d arrived there, it might be like looking for a needle in a haystack, without any idea of Richard’s daughter’s married name, mightn’t it?

As the days slid by, her warring state of mind took its toll. If anything she lost weight, and she would have given anything for the peace and serenity the baby within her must surely need.

On one hand, she was sure she was doing the right thing; on the other, there were days when she felt so alone it was frightening. And times when she was filled with a raw, yearning ache for him there seemed to be no cure for.

There was also a looming decision to be made about where to go from Perth. And what to do about her mother?

Feeling traitor-like, now they’d been in Perth for two weeks, she prompted her mother and Richard to talk about their life in Jakarta, and they gave glowing reports of it. Yes, it was a big, teeming city, but they were growing accustomed to the local customs, and the whole thing was a splendid adventure, her mother said enthusiastically.

Bridget gathered herself to say that there was no reason for them not to return to Jakarta, that she was quite able to take care of herself.

But no sooner had she shown that enthusiasm than Mary took a deep breath. She reached for Richard’s
hand and said, ‘Darling, I think—we think—you need to go back, and you need to see Adam Beaumont and talk this through with him. Or at least communicate with him somehow. I’ll come with you if you decide to see him, and Richard will advise you if you decide to do it through a lawyer.’

Bridget could only blink several times. Then she found her voice. ‘But you told me not to—’

‘I know,’ Mary interrupted. ‘But I was extremely annoyed when I first said that. To put it mildly, I could have killed him for…’ Mary paused and did not elaborate. ‘I’m not suggesting you marry him. But it is his baby, so he bears some responsibility for it, and for you.’

Richard Baxter cleared his throat. ‘I do feel it’s the best way, Bridget. And we just want you to know that, wherever you decide to be while you have this baby, we’ll be there too.’

Tears misted Bridget’s eyes. ‘Look, that’s so—so wonderful of you, but what would make me happiest is for you both to go on being happy in your new life together. Anyway, there’s the fellowship and so on.’

They looked at each other, Mary and her husband, and there was so much love and confidence in the mutual decision shining in their eyes as they shrugged almost identically, as if to say
that’s a minor detail
, Bridget could hardly bear the pain that slammed into her heart.

If only she and Adam had that…

‘Bridget,’ her mother said quietly, ‘you can’t only think of yourself now, sweetheart. You need some kind of stability. It’s important.’

Two days later she flew back to the Gold Coast. On her own. It was the one small victory she’d achieved, although she’d promised her life on the matter of staying in touch with her mother.

It was a bright day, lovely in the sun, but with a hint of winter in the air out of it.

She looked round her flat when she got in, and found she was happy to be home. Amongst her mail there was a letter from Levy, Levy & Cartwright, who proved to be Julius Beaumont’s solicitors. They were holding her bequest for her, and required her to collect it and sign for it.

She picked up her mobile phone, lying exactly where she’d left it, but of course it needed charging. She hadn’t left her landline answering machine on, so her mobile was the only way Adam might have tried to contact her. But as she carried it towards the charger it slipped out of her hand and crashed to the tiled floor.

She cursed herself for being unbelievably clumsy, and bent to pick up the pieces, but the phone was now history.

Since it was late afternoon, she decided she would spend the rest of the day laying her plans and working on what she would say, both to Levy, Levy & Cartwright, and to Adam Beaumont, should she be unable to avoid him.

She went into the bedroom to unpack, and her gaze fell on her painting of the coral ixora flowers that Adam had admired, and she stopped what she was doing as memories came crowding back.

There was something else about pregnancy she was
discovering, that often took her by surprise. She could and did sometimes fall asleep on the spot, and it had been a four-hour flight from Perth, with all the attendant travelling to and from airports on top of that.

Stopping only to pull her shoes off and wrap the doona around her, she slept through until early the next morning.

Anyone checking her flat for a presence, via some lights, for example, would have had no idea she was home…

‘Miss Tully-Smith,’ Mark Levy said the next morning in his office. ‘I’m delighted to see you.’

‘Thank you. Please call me Bridget. I’ve come to collect my pictures, and also to ask a favour of you.’

‘I’m happy to help if I can, Bridget. Your pictures are boxed and ready for you. All I need is a signature.’

Bridget signed the form, then withdrew a package from her purse. ‘Do you act for Adam?’ she asked.

Mark Levy nodded. ‘At times, but I’m not the only one. Is it—business?’ he asked a shade cautiously.

‘No. I just wanted this delivered to him, if you wouldn’t mind.’ She handed over the package. ‘There’s an explanatory note inside.’

Mark Levy studied her thoughtfully. He noted that although the only other time he’d met Bridget Tully-Smith she’d been wearing an engagement ring, this was no longer the case. It seemed, therefore, not unlikely that she and Adam had parted ways. In fact it wouldn’t surprise him at all, he decided, if her engagement ring was in this package. Nor did she look well.

‘I’ll do my best, Bridget,’ he said. ‘But Adam is a little hard to pin down at the moment, so if it’s urgent…?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘No. Hard to pin down?’ Bridget just couldn’t help herself.

‘I think he might be taking some time off,’ Mark said. ‘It will be common knowledge in the next day or two—he has ceded all his holdings in Beaumont Minerals to his brother, Henry, and since then he hasn’t been around a lot.’

Bridget blinked, then stared at the solicitor, wide-eyed. ‘Surely that’s quite contrary to his uncle’s wishes?’

Mark Levy shrugged. ‘This is only my personal opinion, Bridget, but I think it’s foolish to want to rule from the grave.’

‘So do I, now I come to think of it,’ Bridget murmured. ‘But I don’t understand,’ she said helplessly. ‘Has something happened in the family?’

Mark took his time. It
was
a known fact in the legal world that Adam had relinquished all his interests in Beaumont Minerals. What he did not know was why.

He stirred at last. ‘I’m afraid I can’t help you there. You haven’t been in touch with Adam himself?’

Bridget cleared her throat. ‘No. I was hoping…’ She paused. Did it need to be a secret? ‘I was hoping not to have to. Do you—would you know if Marie-Claire has gone back to Henry?’

Mark felt a pang of regret for this girl as he thought, So that’s what’s at the bottom of it all—for her, at least. But he could only tell her the truth. ‘I believe not.’