Gina and Paolo were good company. They were really her only close friends. After her experiences with the Press Briony had been wary of confiding in anyone. She had returned once to the village where she had been brought up, but the story had spread like wildfire and she had been treated like an outcast. Sir Arthur had been very well thought of locally, although people didn’t have much time for his son, and Briony had left, vowing that she would never return.
‘Oh, by the way, I spoke to your boss,’ Gina announced carelessly, unaware of the effect of her words. ‘He was most concerned when I told him you were ill.’
‘You didn’t mention Nicky?’
Gina looked puzzled. ‘No.’
Briony sagged in relief, forcing a smile. ‘It’s just that the people at work don’t know about him.…’
Although Gina accepted the explanation, Briony sensed that she was curious and prayed that her friend would never have occasion to set eyes upon Kieron.
Nicky chattered unceasingly as she got him ready for bed. He paused in the middle of telling her how brave he had been when Paolo threw him up in the air, studying her reproachfully.
‘Why haven’t I got a daddy?’ he asked tremulously.
‘You’ve got me,’ Briony said casually. ‘Aren’t I enough?’ She knew she wasn’t being fair, but Nicky was still far too young to appreciate the complexities of adult relationships.
‘I want a daddy as well,’ he insisted stubbornly, refusing to let her hug him. ‘You can’t play with me properly like a daddy can.’
He didn’t mean to be hurtful, Briony reminded herself as tears blurred his small soapy body. It was easy to distract his attention from ‘daddies’ to bears as she reminded him that she was taking him to the Zoo, but as she read his bedtime story, she wondered wryly why the writers of children’s stories always assumed that their readers’ worlds encompassed two solid, dependable parents with neatly outlined roles in life.
Tonight she had managed to sidestep his questions, but she could not do so for ever, and for the first time it struck her that her son might eventually grow to resent her for what in his childish eyes might seem to be her deliberate denial of his father. The injustice of the thought brought fresh tears. If Nicky was adult she could explain to him properly, but by the time he was it would be too late.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE good weather held, and on Saturday morning Briony dressed Nicky in the beautiful Italian woollens Gina’s mother had sent him for Christmas. The jumper and little trousers had been a little on the large side at the time but now fitted him perfectly, and her heart swelled with maternal pride as they set off hand in hand.
Paolo worked for an uncle who ran a wine importing business in London, and as he had to be in the office on Saturdays, he offered to give them a lift.
Riding in a car was a treat for Nicky, and he chattered constantly, drawing Briony’s attention to wondrous new sights.
The Zoo was crowded, but with the morning stretching ahead of them there was no need to rush. Briony had brought Nicky’s pushchair for when he grew tired. It was only when she saw other children that she appreciated how well behaved her own son was. He stared at the animals in awed delight, his concentration drawing admiring smiles from other adults. Holding his hand and feeling his solid body pressed against her in trust and love, Briony felt almost overwhelmed with emotion.
Before they began the long trudge home she bought him an icecream, mopping up the drips and spills as he licked it enthusiastically.
As she had expected, he was tired when they got off the bus. He had gone off to sleep in her arms, and as she put him in his pushchair he opened his eyes drowsily to smile at her.
The day had turned unseasonally hot and sticky. Gina had gone to spend the afternoon with some friends who lived on the other side of London, and when she had put Nicky down for his nap Briony changed into an emerald green and white striped bikini and went to lie out on the lawn.
Her book failed to hold her attention and gradually her eyes closed and her body relaxed into the rug, the warmth of the sun beating into her.
She woke up with a start, conscious that she was no longer alone, her mind still fuzzy with sleep.
‘Gina?’
‘I hope not,’ a cool, male voice drawled laconically, its owner coming to stand over her, his eyes appraising her curves beneath their flimsy covering.
‘Kieron!’ His name was a shocked whisper, her eyes clouding over as she tried to comprehend what he was doing in her garden. He was dressed casually in cream jeans and a thin cotton shirt open to the waist, a pair of tinted sunglasses in one hand.
‘You left this in my car,’ he announced, producing a thin lipstick case. ‘It must have rolled out of your handbag.’