For The Sake Of His Child

‘Oh, heavens, I’ve offended a client!’

‘That’s a little unfair when I’ve been at pains not to be offended.’

‘But I scratched your Rolls,’ she said, aghast.

‘Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Anyway, you can make up for it by putting me in the picture about Philip Hale, who’s going to handle my affairs. I’ve never met him before. Describe him.’

‘Philip Hale,’ she echoed carefully. ‘Well, he’s the most recent partner—everyone says he’s brilliant—you couldn’t have a better man—’

‘You really do dislike him, don’t you?’ he asked, easily reading between the lines.

She gave up. ‘Yes—no—it’s more that he dislikes me—disapproves of me. He thinks I’m a lightweight, and he didn’t want to employ me. Mr Page, I’m really not the person you should ask.’

He smiled again, becoming delightful for a moment. ‘I wish you could see your face this minute. All right. I’ll spare you. Why does he think you’re a lightweight?’

‘By his standards, I suppose I am. But he can’t fault my paperwork. I’ve done jobs for him that even he had to admit were up to scratch.’

‘Paperwork? No dramatic courtroom appearances?’

‘No, thank you,’ she said hastily. ‘I’m quite happy beavering away in the background.’

‘Isn’t that a bit dull for a young woman?’

‘Not for me,’ she said earnestly. ‘You see, for years I—’

‘Go on.’

‘No, I’m just burbling away about myself, and I don’t know why. I don’t normally go on like that.’

‘But I’m interested. What happened, “for years”?’

‘I was—ill, that’s all. And it didn’t seem as though I could live a normal life. But now I do. I’ve got a good job, and my own modest little bit of success, and it’s all like a dream to me. You said it must be dull, but I don’t find anything in my life dull, because it’s more than I ever hoped for.’

He looked at her, intrigued by the light that had come into her face, wondering if he’d really found that rarest of creatures, someone who was contented with her lot.

‘What kind of illness?’ he asked gently.

But she shook her head. ‘That’s enough about me. Please, I don’t want to say any more.’

To her relief he didn’t press the matter. It made her nervous to be talking to Philip Hale’s client, even if he had promised to keep her secret.

Gina had fought to study for her legal exams and passed them well. Renshaw Baines wasn’t the biggest legal firm in London, but it had a first-class name and could take its pick of applicants. She was proud of her value to her employers.

At twenty-six she was modestly pretty, with reddish hair, a pale skin and a slim, elegant figure. Her one real beauty was a pair of thrilling eyes, with the colour and depth of emeralds.

But few people had seen how lovely she could be. The circumstances of her life had taught her the value of caution and keeping a low profile. At work she dressed quietly, and even at play she didn’t splash out. She had a job which gave her a sense of self-worth, plus a boyfriend who was like an old slipper. And she was content.

His mobile rang and he answered it. It was Harry, at the garage.

‘They say it’s going to take a whole new engine to make that heap of junk roadworthy. And that’ll cost.’

‘Tell them to do whatever’s necessary,’ Carson said, without hesitation.

‘Look, guv, you don’t need to buy that woman a new engine—’

‘Just do it,’ Carson Page said brusquely, and hung up. ‘They’re working on your car now,’ he told Gina.

‘Is it bad?’

‘Nothing that can’t be fixed.’

‘Is it going to cost you a lot?’

He dismissed the subject with a shrug. ‘It’s history. Leave it.’

‘But—’

‘I said leave it.’ He sounded impatient. ‘You’ll have your car back in working order, but I should think you could afford a better one if you’re a lawyer.’

‘I haven’t been qualified long, but I suppose I might think of it now.’

‘You certainly should, for everyone’s sake,’ he said gravely, but his eyes were kind.

Impulsively she said, ‘You’ll probably think I’m crazy but I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to my “peanut”. It’s been a good friend and it’s sad to think that I’ll go onward and upward while my friend will languish in a scrapyard, waiting to be broken up.’

‘Not for a while yet. When the garage has finished with it you’ll be able to sell it to someone equally crazy.’

‘That’s true,’ she said, brightening. ‘And they might love it as I do.’ She tucked into her salad, which had arrived while they were talking, plainly feeling happier now.

Carson watched her in fascination as he munched on his sandwich. Then he turned his inward eye on himself and was incredulous. He prided himself on not being sentimental, but he’d accepted the blame, and the expense, for something that had been only partly his fault.

And why? Because he’d wanted to see her smile. That was the only explanation he could think of. And it wasn’t good enough.

Then he’d compounded his own idiocy by spending time in this dump, with a girl who was plainly cuckoo. He had a thousand better things to do than sit here listening to her talk nonsense.

Or did he?

Suddenly his brows contracted and he rubbed his eyes like a man in pain.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘Do you have a headache?’

‘No,’ he said quickly.

It was true that his head ached, but it did that so often these days that he disregarded it.

‘I think you do,’ she said.

For a moment he was annoyed at her persistence. He’d said no and that should be the end of it. But her eyes were gentle and concerned and his flare of anger died.