Rachel's Child

She was already walking away before she had even finished speaking, the polite words more a dismissal than a real statement of regret. Stephen watched her striding along the beach, the sun in her hair, the breeze catching her dress, and knew there and then that he wanted to see her again. Frankly, he couldn’t recall ever wanting anything so much...!

‘Here we are. I’m sorry it’s only instant. Aunt Edith never drinks...drank anything else.’

Rachel came in with the tray, pausing when Stephen stared blankly at her before he put down whatever he had been holding. He turned to take off his overcoat and she wondered if she had imagined the expression on his face.

She set the tray down on the small table in front of the sofa and handed him a cup, spilling a little coffee into the saucer when Stephen’s fingers brushed hers as he took it from her.

‘Thank you.’

Stephen’s voice grated, resonant with something which made Rachel’s heart leap, perhaps a reflection of what she thought she had seen on his face just now. Yet when she chanced another look at him there was nothing but coldness in his eyes.

Rachel sipped her own coffee, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her lids. What a fool she was to look for something which had died a long time ago. Stephen felt nothing for her now, nothing at all!

She took a deep breath, disguising the pain beneath a veneer of politeness. ‘So, how have you been? Obviously life has treated you well, Stephen.’

Stephen settled back in the chair and crossed one long leg over the other, a cynical smile touching his mouth. ‘If you mean am I a rich man now, Rachel, then the answer is yes. I can honestly say that I have more money than I really know what to do with.’

His tone was mocking; it brought a sudden heat to her cheeks. Rachel set her cup down, her eyes blazing. ‘That wasn’t what I asked! Frankly, I don’t give a damn whether or not you’re rich as Croesus, Stephen. Life doesn’t revolve around money, and if you haven’t discovered that yet then pity help you!’

There was a moment’s silence before Stephen replied, his tone less abrasive. ‘I apologise. Let me answer your question the way you meant it to be answered, then. I have achieved all I set out to and probably more than I’d hoped, but it hasn’t been easy. There have been failures to set against the successes, including a marriage which ended in divorce.’

Rachel felt the shock ripple through her in small waves and looked down at her hands. ‘I...I didn’t know that you’d been married.’

‘Why should you? We went our separate ways many years ago, Rachel. Why should you know anything about what has happened to me since? And it’s obvious that I know very little about what has happened to you!’

Stephen raised his cup, noticing in surprise that his hand was trembling. He took a sip of the coffee then set the cup down on the table, not enjoying the fact that Rachel could still affect him in any way at all. ‘So, tell me, are you married?’

She shook her head, her pale hair shimmering as it caught the light from the old glass fitment overhead. ‘No, I’ve never been married.’

‘Why not?’ He shrugged lightly enough but his gaze was searching. ‘Surely you must know that the last thing Robert would have wanted was for you to waste your life grieving for him?’

God, how the lies grew and demanded more! Rachel’s hands tightened on the soft cord of her trousers, her fingers cold as ice. ‘Maybe I just never found anyone to...to match up to him.’

Stephen felt the pain of that statement like a physical blow. His voice was hard and uncompromising with the effort not to show how he felt. ‘I see. A touching tribute to my cousin, indeed. I must say, Rachel, that I never suspected how you and Robert felt at the time—although, thinking about it in the light of recent revelations, I suppose there were signs if I had taken the trouble to read them properly.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rachel stared at him in confusion.

He gave a soft laugh which made a shiver dance down her spine because it reminded her for a moment of how Stephen had used to laugh. But when she looked at him there was no hint of genuine amusement in his glittering eyes, little trace of the Stephen she had once loved so desperately.

‘Oh, small things which seemed insignificant at the time, like the way you and Robert used to laugh together over some magazine story or other.’ Stephen smiled narrowly, studying her with an almost clinical detachment. ‘You and he always did share the same off-beat sense of humour, didn’t you, Rachel, the same sense of the ridiculous? I used to be pleased that you and Robert got on so well. Only, apparently, it wasn’t quite so innocent as it seemed! However, I don’t blame Robert for what happened. He was undoubtedly as taken in as I was.

‘Still, that’s all water under the bridge, as they say, and I do think that you are making a mistake by clinging to the past. The boy needs a father, and I’m sure that Robert would have been the first to agree with that sentiment.’

Robert most probably would have! Dear, sweet Robert, who would have forgiven her these lies because he had understood only too well what Stephen was like and how much Rachel had loved him!

Rachel couldn’t believe that Stephen was actually saying these things, that he really could read more into the innocent friendship she and Robert had enjoyed than had been there. Yet wasn’t that just what she had wanted? She had wanted to convince Stephen that Jamie wasn’t his child, yet that very success left behind a bitterly unpalatable taste.

‘I’m sure you’re right, but unfortunately life isn’t quite that simple.’ Rachel gave a strained laugh, aching at the thought of how readily Stephen had dismissed all they had been to one another. ‘Few men are interested in taking on another man’s child, Stephen, so the offers haven’t exactly been pouring in over the years.’

‘But I’m sure there must have been some. You are a beautiful woman, Rachel. The boy would be just a minor handicap in most men’s eyes.’

‘I don’t want my son to be viewed as a “handicap”!’ Her eyes blazed back at him. ‘Not even if it means spending the rest of my life alone. I have made a life for Jamie and myself without help. I saw no need to...to sell myself for a meal ticket!’

Stephen’s smile was cynical. ‘That wasn’t what I was suggesting. However, it isn’t beyond the realms of possibility that you might meet someone and fall in love, is it?’ He paused deliberately, ‘That is if you really understand what love is, Rachel.’

Rachel knew that Stephen was alluding to the fact that she had told him that she loved him so many times and yet, apparently, had gone off with Robert! Her heart ached, but the anger she felt carried her through the pain.

Stephen should have known that she had loved him...him, no one else! The fact that he doubted her just proved what a sham their relationship had been.

Rachel got to her feet rather shakily but her voice was steady. ‘I know what it means to be in love, Stephen. I know how it feels to put someone else’s needs before your own, to make a decision you know you will regret because it is the only one which will make the person you love happy. I know what real love is, but do you? Answer me that!’

Stephen stood up too, big and intimidating as he faced her. There was a nerve ticking along his jaw and his lips were drawn into a tight line which spoke of restraint. But there was no heat in his anger when he answered. It was icily controlled, and far more hurtful because of that.

‘Oh, I know what love is, Rachel. I know what a fool it makes of a man so that he sees things in a woman which aren’t there, believes things which aren’t true because he is blind to the truth.’ He gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘I know that above all else, above the passion and the desire, love means fidelity and trust—and they are two things you have no conception of and probably never will have. So don’t stand there, Rachel, and lecture me on love, because you don’t have any idea what you’re talking about!’

Stephen picked up his overcoat and left, the sound of the front door slamming echoing like an accusation. Rachel stood where she was, her hands clenched at her sides, her whole body stiff with pain yet she couldn’t cry. Tears wouldn’t relieve this agony she felt. It went too deep and hurt too much. To know just how low she had sunk in Stephen’s estimation was almost more than she could bear.

CHAPTER THREE

‘I WISH we weren’t leaving, Mum. You said we could stay a few more days.’ Jamie picked up a sweater and rammed it into the case, his lower lip trembling. ‘I’ll miss the school trip.’

Rachel bit back a sharp retort, realising that it was unfair to take her feelings out on Jamie. All night long she had lain sleeplessly, going over what Stephen had said to her. She’d got up just before dawn and made coffee, then sat at the kitchen table with it growing cold as she had come to a decision.

She had to leave the town. Staying here now was out of the question. She couldn’t face the thought of seeing Stephen again. He hated her and she would have to live with that for the rest of her days.

‘I’m sorry, darling. I know it’s disappointing for you, but there will be other trips when you get back to your old school.’

‘Not like this one! I hate my old school, I hate that horrible flat and I hate that man—because he’s why we’re going!’

Tears rolled down Jamie’s face but Rachel remained stunned into immobility. ‘Wh—which man?’

‘You know who—that man who came here yesterday. He scared you and that’s why we’re going. I hate him, I hate him, I hate—!’

‘Stop it!’ Rachel gripped her son by his thin shoulders, her face ashen. ‘Stop that right now. I will not have you behaving like this, Jamie.’

She rarely spoke to the child so sharply, but then he had never thrown a tantrum like this before. She let Jamie go, feeling the tears burning her eyes. Their lives were falling apart, everything she had striven so hard to achieve crumbling around them. Yet she couldn’t explain to Jamie what was happening and why. He was far too young to cope with such a burden.

She took a steadying breath, her voice as level as she could make it. ‘We are leaving today because we have to. It has nothing to do with Stephen Hunter. Now, I want you to pack your things like I told you to and let’s have no more of this nonsense.’

Jamie scuffed the toe of his trainer against the rug. ‘I wish we could stay though, Mum.’

Rachel forced a smile, her heart aching at his downcast expression. ‘I know you do, darling, but we can’t. Quite apart from the fact that I don’t have a job here, we would have no place to live. Aunt Edith only rented this house and the landlord wants to let it to someone else as soon as he can.

‘So come along, let’s get a move on. If we hurry, we can catch the train before lunch. Then there will be time to see your friends when we get home and tell them everything you’ve been up to.’

Leaving Jamie to finish packing, Rachel hurried downstairs. Most of the furniture was too shabby to bother with, but there were some small items of Aunt Edith’s which she wanted to take with her.

She found a sturdy cardboard box then set about emptying the shelves in the sitting room of their ornaments. None of them were of any great value, but Aunt Edith had treasured them and Rachel couldn’t bring herself to throw them out.