Rachel's Child

She stowed them carefully into the box, then paused when she came to the photo. She had forgotten it was there—had almost forgotten about it being taken during her last year at the Academy. Now, as she took it off the shelf, she knew it was what Stephen had been looking at the night before.

How had he felt, seeing it again after all this time? Had it brought back memories of what they had shared? Or was that time so long ago now that Stephen couldn’t even remember how they had felt about one another that summer?

With a pang Rachel realised that she would never know the answer, and maybe it was better that she didn’t. She packed the photo then found some tape to seal the box and it felt almost as though she was sealing away her past.

Whatever happened now it was over between her and Stephen Hunter. Now there wasn’t even the sweetness of memory to bind them together...

‘I don’t know how you pulled it off, Stephen! What a coup!’

David couldn’t hide his admiration. Stephen smiled, but his eyes showed little genuine pleasure at what would go down as the deal of the century. The phones had been buzzing all morning but he had refused to take any calls, telling his secretary to inform everyone that he would be making a statement shortly. Once what he had achieved would have buoyed him up for months. Now it made little impression.

David appeared not to notice his lack of enthusiasm. ‘Did you have it planned from the outset? You did, didn’t you? My God, but you must have nerves of steel, Stephen. If you’d lost then the whole lot would have gone...’ David looked round the elegant office and swallowed. ‘But instead you allowed Rogerson’s to show their hand and ended up taking them over! I don’t know what to say.’

‘You seem to be managing quite well.’ Stephen heard the dry sting in his own voice and sighed. He got up from the desk and went to a cabinet hidden behind the pale grey ash panelling. He took out a bottle of malt whisky and poured some into a glass then offered it to David. ‘Join me in a toast?’

‘Thanks.’ David took it but his expression was puzzled. ‘I’ve never known you to drink at this time of the day.’

Stephen poured whisky into a second glass and swirled it around, his mouth twisting wryly. ‘There’s a first time for everything, so they say. So—a toast, then: to success; the only thing which matters in this life!’

He tipped the whisky down his throat but its fire did little to ease the coldness within. He set the glass down and went back to his desk, aware that David was watching him with an astonishment which made him feel instantly annoyed with himself. He didn’t want people speculating, wondering if there was anything wrong! But if David had any idea how he really felt...

Stephen picked up a file to study the figures on a projection sheet, but the numbers started to swim before his eyes as his mind raced back to what had happened yesterday, what had been said last night...

‘There’s nothing wrong is there, Stephen? We went through those figures a dozen times or more after you left.’

‘What?’ Stephen glanced up in confusion then shook his head. ‘No. I just wanted to double-check before we set everything in motion. Get on to Rogerson and tell him that I’ll be wanting to see him later today.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Around three, I imagine. Don’t take any bull either. Rogerson won’t be happy about this, but make sure he knows he’ll have a hell of a lot more to lose by not co-operating.’

‘Will do.’ David sounded relieved. ‘I’ll get on to it right away. Will you be in your office until then or what? Just in case we need you...’

‘I’ll leave word with Trish. Check with her. You’ll be able to get me on the mobile anyhow.’

Stephen looked down at the projection sheet again as David left, but the figures were still dancing around. With a sigh he got up and went back to the drinks cabinet, then stopped with his hand halfway towards the bottle. That wasn’t the way to clear his head.

He walked back across the room to his private bathroom and sluiced his face with cold water, then stood and stared at his reflection in the mirror on the wall above the basin. He had just pulled off a deal most men would have given their right arm for, even though he hadn’t planned on doing it when he’d got up yesterday. Yesterday he had been prepared to let the whole lot go, and yet he had ended up taking over the company which had attempted to buy him out!

Now the combined power of Hunter Electronics and Rogerson’s would make the new operation so big that none could match it. He was right at the top, higher than he had even dreamed of going, yet he felt neither pleasure nor any sense of achievement, just this empty ache...

Rachel could never have loved him; he saw that now, finally. All these years the memory of her love had stayed with him, but he had simply fooled himself into believing something which hadn’t been true. Rachel had loved Robert, borne Robert’s child, had stayed faithful all this time to his cousin’s memory...

God, how it hurt to discover that, but the truth had to be faced—as did the fact that there were certain obligations he needed to attend to. Yesterday he hadn’t been thinking clearly, had failed to see the implications of what he had found out.

Now Stephen realised it couldn’t end here. There were more loose ends to tie up than he had imagined. But after that was done Rachel was going out of his life for good!

It was raining when the taxi dropped them at the station. Rachel stacked their case and the box on the pavement then paid the fare. She added a very small tip, ignoring the driver’s obvious disgust as he roared away. She had just as much need of the money as he, and she couldn’t afford to be overly generous!

There seemed to be a lot of people milling around outside the main entrance. Rachel worked her way through the crowd, only to be brought to a halt by a uniformed station employee.

‘Sorry, miss, you can’t go in. Station’s closed.’

‘Closed? But we have a train to catch in fifteen minutes.’

The man shook his head, putting out a restraining hand as another passenger tried to walk past. ‘Sorry, sir. Like I was just telling this young lady, station’s closed. Been a derailment further down the line, there has, and until we’ve sorted it out all trains have been cancelled.’

As though to reinforce the seriousness of the situation, a cavalcade of emergency vehicles came roaring along the road with their sirens wailing. Within minutes the police were clearing the area and setting up yellow and black tape barriers to keep sightseers at bay.

Rachel hurried Jamie away, the weight of the case and the box dragging on her arms. She stopped to put them down, wondering what to do. The rain was beating down now and she didn’t relish the thought of standing around getting soaked until the trains were running again, but what choice did she have? She had handed over the keys to Aunt Edith’s house on their way here, so they couldn’t go back.

Jamie shivered, his small face pinched and wan as he stood dejectedly at her side. ‘I’m cold, Mummy.’

Rachel bent and gave him a quick hug, ‘I know, sweetheart. Maybe we can find a café and have a drink to warm us up?’

She straightened up and looked round, but the only café in sight already had a queue out of the door. Her gaze moved on over the traffic, which had been brought to a halt by the police, and she felt her heart lurch as her eyes locked with a pair of grey ones staring from the window of a big maroon Jaguar.

For a second Rachel stood stunned into immobility by the sight of Stephen, then she turned away, her heart thundering. Taking a firm grip on the suitcase and the box, she reached for Jamie’s hand. But at that moment the police sent a group of football supporters streaming noisily away from the station. Suddenly Rachel found herself caught up in the mêlée, saw to her horror Jamie being carried along with them.

‘Jamie... Jamie!’ she shouted, but within seconds the child had been swallowed up by the crowd. Dropping the case and the box, she tried to push her way through the people to get to him, but they resisted her efforts, a couple of the younger men deliberately barring her way.

‘What’s the hurry, darling? You don’t want to go rushing out of my life when we’ve only just met, do you?’

One of the men grabbed her around the waist and stared lustfully into her face while his friends laughed.

‘Let me go! Let...me...go!’ Rachel beat against the man’s chest with her clenched fists, panic eroding any caution.

The man’s smile faded, his face turning ugly. ‘Now that isn’t very nice. I don’t like people who don’t know how to take a joke...’

‘The joke’s over. Let her go.’

Stephen hadn’t raised his voice, but then he didn’t need to. Every word cut like a lash, making the younger man blanch. He let Rachel go at once, then elbowed his way into the crowd with his cronies following.

Rachel sucked in a terrified gasp but still felt breathless, her face bloodless. Stephen caught her arm, his fingers biting into her flesh through her wet raincoat.

‘Are you all right? Did he hurt you? Rachel?’

‘Jamie...!’ she managed to gasp, then saw that Stephen had no idea what she meant. ‘He...he’s caught up in that crowd! I can’t see him... I can’t see him, Stephen!’

‘I’ll get him. Stay there.’

Stephen didn’t hesitate as he pushed his way into the swell of bodies. He was a head taller than most, which was obviously an advantage. Suddenly he bent, and as Rachel watched he swung Jamie up in his arms.

He carried the child back, his powerful body forging a path through the crush of people. He set Jamie down beside Rachel then crouched down and looked sternly into the child’s frightened face.

‘You scared your mother half to death, young man. Make sure you hold onto her hand next time. Understand?’

Jamie nodded, too scared by what had happened to speak. He caught hold of Rachel’s hand and held it tightly, his eyes huge as he stared up at the man towering over him.

Rachel felt her legs go weak as reaction set in, and she swayed unsteadily. She heard Stephen utter something harsh as he slid his hand under her elbow. He retrieved her case and the box then led her to where he had left his car.

‘Get in. You look as though you’re likely to drop right where you’re standing.’