Rachel's Child. Jennifer Taylor
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.
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...