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The Baby Scandal(21)

By:Cathy Williams


"Darling, you're not... !"

"Which  is why we...well, jumped the gun a bit... and got married!" Her  voice  was thick with a cer¬tain unnatural gaiety which fortunately her  parents  ap¬peared not to notice.

"You're married!" The exclamation,  uttered in iden¬tical tones of  shock, was shrieked in unison, and Ruth  raised miserable grey eyes to  them.

"I know it's an awful shock..." she said, wringing her hands. "I wanted to say something ... but..."

"But,  darling, where is he?" Her mother had reached out her hand to  Ruth's  and was now patting it com¬fortingly across the remainder of  their  lunch.

"That's the thing..." Ruth took a deep breath and pleaded  with God that  she really was doing all this to s pare her parents, whom  she loved  more than any¬thing. So could He please not strike her down  just yet  with a bolt of lightning? "He was called away on an urgent  matter and  he could be gone for weeks... months, even...that's why we  rushed into  things..."

"Oh, darling, where?"

"Where what?"  Ruth looked blankly at her parents. "Where has he gone to  do his  reporting? Is it one of those war-torn countries?"

Ruth, not  wanting to get too technical over the de¬tails, sought refuge  in a  forlorn expression and ex¬pressed a heartfelt desire not to talk  about  it.

It was to become her refrain as the days lengthened into one  week, then  two. Twice she called the office, and the second time she  called after  hours, leaving a brief message that they should perhaps  start thinking  about her replacement. Her conscience was unquiet as it  was, and lying  into an answer-machine somehow seemed less unforgivable  than lying to  her boss.

Her parents, having ridden the shock of  their daugh¬ter's pregnancy,  had taken to proudly announcing it to all  and sundry in the parish,  wistfully explaining that the father of the  baby was out of the  country, risking life and limb for the freedom of  others.

Wherever she went she could not escape the well wishes of one and all and constant questions as to her husband's whereabouts.

After  a week and a half Ruth had resorted to briefly explaining that  her  beloved husband was out of tele¬phone contact due to the  precariousness  of his situa¬tion. In time, she knew, the fracas would  fade, and she  personally couldn't wait. Telling the lie had been  mon¬umental enough.  Maintaining it threatened to drive her to an early  grave.


She  was quietly skulking at home, putting the fin¬ishing touches to the   roast leg of lamb she had pre¬pared for their supper, when she glanced   through the kitchen window at the sound of a car crunching up the  gravel  drive to the house.

A childhood spent in various vicarages had  inured her to  this...unexpected visits from parishioners at the least  appropriate  times. Many was the time when grace would have been said and  knives and  forks raised, and the doorbell would ring.

Her brain  half registered the fact that she would now have to stop her   preparations and make social small talk for half an hour or so until  her  parents returned from doing their rounds. She had a fleeting  impression  of a big car in a dark color, then the doorbell went.  Several short,  sharp rings that had her clicking her tongue in  annoyance and hurriedly  drying her hands so that she could rush to get  the door.

She  pulled it open, wondering which of her father's elderly fan club  members  had become so demanding, and the welcoming smile on her face  froze.

Her  facial muscles, now in a state of paralysis, were quickly joined by  the  remainder of her body. "Surprised?" The smoky, sexy voice that had  not  too long ago been capable of turning her legs to jelly, was cold  with  contempt. "Did you think that I wouldn't come looking for you? Did  you  think that you could run away without explanation and I'd just  accept  it?" Ruth gave an involuntary squeak of horror. What was he  doing here?

He  should be ...he should be ...he should be in some war-torn country,   incommunicado, possibly for ever. The possible ramifications of her   elaborate lies carne

home to roost with terrifying force and she held onto the doorframe to stop herself from collapsing.

She had to get rid of him before her parents re¬turned.

"Inside!"  she hissed, pulling him in and then peering outside to see  whether  there was anyone about. The vicarage, thankfully, was well out  of range  of passers¬by, by virtue of its location, set in three acres  of  sprawling gardens, but there still always seemed to be someone,   somewhere, hovering.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded,  shutting the door and hitting  him with the full force of her  desperation. She placed her hands  squarely on her hips and did her best  not to be destabilized by the  cold blue eyes looking at her with  avenging rage.                       
       
           



       

Having spent the past three hours in a car,  battling with traffic and  an eminently unhelpful map, Franco was in no  mood for reasonable  discussion, even though reasonable discussion was  precisely what he had  told himself he wanted when he had set out earlier  that afternoon.

Naturally, as soon as she opened the door and he  saw the face that had  driven him crazy for the past few weeks, any  possibility of reason had  flown through the window. He had been engulfed  in a black, smoldering  anger that he could feel physically waft-ing  from his body in waves.

It was infuriating enough that he had  found himself here, running  behind some damned chit of a girl, when  every bone in his body had told  him that he should just leave the wretch  to get on with her life,  wherever she chose to live it and with whom.  He had never had to wage  war with his better judgement and it still  galled him to admit that he  had lost. He had just not been able to let  the things go.

Even more infuriating was the fact that a less  re¬morseful visage he  had yet to encounter. If she had been wrapped up  in self-pity and  regret, ruing the day she walked out on him, ready to  plead for entry  back into his life, then leniency might have crept in  some¬where, but  she looked every bit as angry as he felt. And allied to  that anger was  something else, some¬thing he couldn't put his finger on  but which  could only mean one thing: another man. It was a possibility  he didn't  dare even contemplate.


"What do you want?" she repeated, casting anxious glances behind him to the closed door.

"Expecting someone, Ruth? My replacement, per¬haps?" He gave her a twisted smile.

It  occurred to Ruth that arguing was not going to win the war, nor was  it  going to get rid of him, and get rid of him she must, so she smiled   sweetly and forced her posture to relax into something a bit less   uptight.

"Look, this isn't a good time. Perhaps if we arranged to meet up later. Maybe tomorrow."

"I'm  not going anywhere until you answer one or two questions." He  pushed  himself away from the door and strolled into the hall, looking  around  him with frank curiosity. "So this is where you live."

"How did you find me?" Ruth glanced at her watch and followed a few paces behind him.

"You  must have forgotten. You mentioned where you lived the very first  time  we met. It didn't take long to trace your full address." He turned   around and looked at her. "Why did you up sticks and leave? I won't   begin to tell you how disappointed everyone at the office is with your   behavior. They became wor¬ried about you, you know, when they kept   telephoning your London number and got nowhere. They had no idea where   you lived, because, happily for you, your parents' address had never   been recorded on your ap¬plication form. They all assumed the worst   about your mother."

Ruth blanched. I'm sorry...I didn't mean to..."

"To  what, Ruth?" His voice was like a whiplash. "Lie? Deceive people  who  trusted you? Run away be¬cause you couldn't handle what was  happening  be¬tween us? Because that's why you ran away, isn't it?" His  blue eyes  bored into her until she felt giddy. So far she had  experienced no  morning sickness during the pregnancy, but right now she  felt very  nauseous indeed.

"No. You don't understand." She was almost weep¬ing now. "You must go. Please!"