Pippa glanced quickly at the menu, which was rather more extensive than the lunchtime menu, decided on minestrone soup followed by chicken Stroganoff with rice.
The waiter came along to take their order. As he left again, Alex asked her, 'Did Johnny get Room Service?'
'Yes, cheeseburger and fries!'
'I wouldn't mind that, myself. I guess I'm primitive-I prefer junk food to the sort of posh stuff they serve here. Mind you, I have to eat a lot of salads and fruit, to keep my weight down. You can't have a fat golfer, not if you want to win tournaments. Is Johnny okay up there on his own, do you think?'
'He was asleep when we left him, but I told him to ring Reception if he woke up and felt frightened.' She glanced at Renata, who was toying with her champagne flute, looking bored. 'I'm sorry I kept you waiting; I was making sure Johnny settled down in bed.'
Alex gave her a warm, reassuring smile. 'That's okay, it was kind of you to take care of him. He's a good kid. I've got quite fond of him. I promised to take him to one of my tournaments some time. He seemed keen to come along. His friends at school are golf fans, he told me; some of them play at a course near the school. I think he wants to impress them.' He looked at Randal. 'If that's okay with you?'
'In principle, yes, but remember, he's at school a lot of the time and can't just go off for the day. In the summer holidays he has plenty of free time, but not at other times of the year.
'Oh, don't worry, Randal, we don't want to drag around with the kid in tow too often, whining and wanting burgers all the time,' Renata said with a snap. 'He's a nuisance, always wanting attention. Unless we hire a nanny to take care of him. I guess we could do that I can't wait for him to grow up a little. I wouldn't mind a teenager hanging around, someone you can talk to. But little kids are a pain.'
'You're his mother, for God's sake! You're supposed to love him, enjoy taking care of him!' erupted Randal, glaring at her. 'Pippa has ten times more patience with him than you do!'
Renata gave Pippa a derisive glance. 'Yes, well, Pippa's obviously the maternal type, doesn't mind running around after a spoilt, whiny kid.'
Dark red colour splashed Randal's cheeks. 'Johnny is not spoilt, nor is he whiny!'
Alex chimed in, 'No, he isn't. He's fun, a great kid!' He made an apologetic gesture. 'But Renata simply isn't the motherly type, you know.'
'No, I'm certainly not!' she said, tossing her head, the diamond earrings dangling from her ears swinging to and fro.
Alex added, 'Some women are, some aren't.'
'We're not all the same!' Renata drawled, giving Pippa another of those dismissive looks.
Alex said, 'Maybe Pippa has the sort of mother who's a maternal role model, the type who loves kids, cooks, cleans the house-all those old-fashioned things a modern woman doesn't want to waste her life doing.'
'Is it a waste of life?' queried Pippa. 'You think so?' Her tone made it clear she didn't agree.
'Well, no, I guess not, if that's what you enjoy,' Alex placated, smiling at her. 'But Renata's mother was a career woman who left her with a nanny and never bothered about her-you can understand why Renata isn't the motherly type when you know that.'
Brusquely, Randal retorted, 'Pippa is an orphan. She had no mother at all, and grew up in orphanages and foster homes. She had no motherly role model.'
It made her feel odd to hear him defending her, explaining her. She was touched; maybe he understood her better than she had imagined.
Alex looked at her with sympathy. 'That must have been tough; not a fun childhood, I guess. I bet you're dying to have a family now, to finally have all the things you never had as a child.'
'Yes, I suppose so,' Pippa admitted, feeling Randal's eyes on her profile.
Renata drawled. 'Which explains why you're so keen to take care of Johnny! You get a ready-made family right off.'
Their first course arrived in time to save Pippa answering that; she felt resentment burning in her throat and would have liked to slap Renata's face. Instead, she concentrated on the food. When conversation did start again it was Randal, asking Alex about his golf success, and Pippa didn't have to join in; she just sat there, listening. Every so often Renata leaned towards Randal and spoke softly to him, sometimes letting her red-tipped fingernails drift along his sleeve, smiling at him, her long, false lashes flicking up and down.
He watched her with an expression in his eyes that Pippa could not read. At times she felt he disliked his ex-wife; at other times she thought he was still fascinated by her, sexually responsive to her.
Renata was so beautiful. How could any man not be responsive to looks like that? She radiated sex appeal.
'Do you like sport, Pippa?' Alex asked her, and the other two turned to stare at her.
'I like watching it; Wimbledon, for instance. I always enjoy that on TV. But I wouldn't say I was the sporting type. I've never had the time; I've always had to work too hard. I'm afraid I've never even played golf, or watched it. And it's an expensive sport, isn't it? You need clubs and the right shoes, and stuff.'
'Johnny said something about going riding this weekend,' Renata said. 'Are you two going with him?'
'I shall, but Pippa probably won't,' Randal told her.
'I haven't got the right gear,' she said, meeting Renata's contemptuous smile with dislike.
When they were drinking their coffee after the meal people began dancing on a small parquet floor in front of the band's dais. Renata stood up, held out her hand to Randal.
'Shall we?'
He hesitated, but eventually rose and took her hand. They threaded their way through the tables and began to dance the waltz being played. Jealousy stung inside Pippa; she looked down, reluctant to watch them, Randal's arm around his ex-wife's waist, her arm around his neck, their bodies very close, moving in harmony.
'Would you care to dance, Pippa?' Alex asked her without real enthusiasm, and she shook her head, smiling politely.
'Sorry, I'm too tired.'
'It's not a very good band,' he grimaced.
She laughed. 'No.'
A moment later a waiter came over to them and bent to murmur in her ear, 'Reception has had a message from your suite, madam. Your little boy seems to be upset.'
She was on her feet immediately, relieved to have an excuse for leaving. 'Thank you, I'll go up to him.' She smiled at Alex. 'Please give my excuses to Renata and Randal. It was a pleasure to meet you. Goodnight.'
When she got upstairs and let herself into the suite she heard low sobbing from the double bedroom and hurried through there at once. Johnny was a heap in the bed, lying on his face, crying quietly. Pippa sat down on the bed and lifted him, turning him towards her.
'What's wrong?'
He hiccuped. 'I had a nightmare.'
His face was damp and flushed, his eyes wet Pippa laid him down again and went to the bathroom, ran water over a flannel, squeezed some of the water out before taking it to bathe Johnny's hot face.
She got him orange juice from the mini fridge in the room, brushed his tangled hair back from his face, made him sit up to drink his juice.
'What was the nightmare about?'
'I was being chased by something. I couldn't see what it was, it was dark, but it made horrid noises.'
'I hate dreams like that,' she said, and his small body fitted itself against her heavily.
'Do you have them?'
'Oh, yes, everyone does, even grown-ups-they're the worst, because you don't know what's after you.'
He finished his juice. She took the glass from him as he yawned.
'Tired?' she murmured, helping him to lie down again. 'You go back to sleep; I'll stay here. You only have to yell and I'll come running.'
His eyes had closed; in the lamplight she saw his lashes flutter down against his flushed cheeks. What had he been dreaming about? she wondered. What monsters haunted his sleep?
When she was sure he was breathing rhythmically, fast asleep, she tiptoed out into the sitting room, leaving one lamp burning beside the bed, in case Johnny woke again.
Going into her own bathroom, she undressed, washed, put on a white silk nightdress and matching robe, brushed her chestnut hair, then returned to the sitting room and lay down on the couch to read her book. She did not want to be out of earshot in case Johnny called her.
At some point she fell asleep; the book slipped to the floor. She did not have nightmares; she was too tired to dream.
She woke with a start, hearing a sound, and looked up to find Randal sitting beside her, his fingers stroking her cheek.
'Oh, hello,' she said, startled, shifting to dislodge his hand. 'Did Alex explain why I left? Johnny had a nightmare, but he's asleep again now.'
'I know. I checked just now. He's deeply asleep. Thanks for coming up to take care of him.'
'That's okay.' Under his possessive stare she was suddenly conscious of her bare legs, of her semi-transparent nightdress, the silk clinging to her warm body, her breasts visible at the low neckline. 'Well, I'll go to bed myself now and leave you to take care of Johnny.' She tried to slide off the couch but Randal was in the way, his lean body blocking her escape route.