Conditional Surrender Page 18

`I'll move out if you like,' he offered, his voice clipped with strain.

  `No—I have to leave this place as much as . .

  `As much as me,' he finished for her with an abrupt, humourless sound. 'There's no need to spare my feelings, Kate.

  Not at this stage. Where were you planning to go?'

  `I don't know—I hadn't thought beyond getting away.' `Your parents?'

  `No!' she cried emphatically, the thought rousing her from her apathy. 'I don't want them to know. Not yet. Mom would be round with chicken soup before I could draw breath!'

  Greg sighed, perhaps at the reminder of happier days, but the bitter taste of defeat was breaking through his rigid control. `How would you feel about going to Wales?'

  `Wales?' She could not think; her brain was wrapped in cotton wool. He averted his gaze as she looked up blankly, and raked his fingers through his dark hair.

  `I bought the bungalow from Sam.' His lips twisted with irony. 'It was going to be your Christmas present.' He breathed deeply. 'You seemed . . . happy there for a while?'

  `I—yes, all right. That's fine.'

  `You want to go now?'

  `Yes!' She was very near breaking point.

  He gave a curt nod. 'I'll bring the car round while you finish packing.' He paused at the door. `Kate—if you don't want your parents to know, I'll have to spend some time with you. I won't get in your way,' he promised harshly when she did not reply.

  Then he left.

  The long weeks following their painful parting proved an enforced maturing process for Kate. It was, she discovered, still possible to function as a human being; to eat, to sleep—sometimes to exercise. Her body took control whenever her mind rebelled.

  In the beginning, it was her pregnancy which saved her from falling apart. The knowledge that, whoever else would be missing from her life, a part of Greg would be with her for all time was a great consolation to her.

  She discovered that long, lonely nights of sleeplessness were a small price to pay for those few precious months of believing that Greg was falling in love with her. Her own all-encompassing love for him transcended the hurt he had caused her. For she did still love him, wanted, with a hunger so gut-wrenchingly intense at times, to live in their invitingly warm

  home with Greg and their baby—the baby she was certain had been conceived the night she had finally admitted, if only to herself—that she loved him.

  Long weeks of isolation gave her the opportunity to contemplate their relationship more thoroughly than ever before, and she was forced to the conclusion that she had no one to blame for her current predicament but herself.

  Greg had warned her from the very start that love had no place in his life. It would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to lie to her as many men would have done given her whole-hearted response to his lovemaking. She had been all too ready to lap up any soft murmurings of love and devotion—and would consequently have been even more devastated now. But he had been honest, even as he schemed to force her capitulation.

  She had self-righteously accused him of trying to change her into the sort of woman he would have preferred her to be, but hadn't she tried to force the same compromise from him? She had done her best to turn him into a warmer, more loving man. Surely each was as reprehensible as the other, each demanding something the other was simply not capable of providing.

  Emotional detachment was as alien to Kate as emotional involvement was to Greg.

  And that, of course, was why she had mentally fought him for the two years leading up to their marriage. She had felt incompetent to the challenge of living with such a man, of giving her heart to someone so self-sufficient. Her warm, loving nature had rebelled against laying herself open to the very rejection which had her scuttling away like a scared rabbit rather than face his pity or, worse—his sense of responsibility. Something she had not taken into account when she left, but which she should have known would negate a complete severance of their relationship.

  The notion of a long-distance relationship had not entered her mind in all the emotional turmoil of their parting. Her only thought had been escape. But now, having faced her cowardice, she felt obliged to compromise for all their sakes—hers, Greg's and not least of all their child's.

  If she could accept the only things he had promised

  her—honesty, and fidelity, then there was a chance their marriage could survive this crisis in some shape or form. And, it had to be admitted, those two considerations, crucial to any relationship, were more than a lot of marriages possessed.

  With this more maturely objective outlook, a certain serenity descended upon her, fuelled by the growing realisation that a new phase had begun.

  Their journey to Wales had been completed in silence. Kate, exhausted by the preceding emotion-packed hours, slept heavily most of the way. Greg stayed a scant five minutes at the bungalow, checking that she had everything she needed for the night.

  As he drove away, she stood motionless at the window, dry-eyed even as she knew he took her heart with him. Her misery cut too deep for tears. She slept the clock round, emerging groggily into the kitchen in the late afternoon in a muzzy search for coffee. She found a note.

  Greg had returned while she slept. The fridge was stocked with fresh provisions. Arrangements had been made with the local doctor for her ante-natal care. A middle-aged woman, Mrs Vera Claybourne, had been hired to take care of the bungalow. A car would be delivered for her use the next day. A list of local telephone numbers was attached: hospital, doctor, fire service, central heating engineer, plumber, garage, the police. She was also instructed to telephone Greg at the apartment each evening.

  At the time Kate could have, indeed did, scream, feeling that he was haunting her even from miles away, but she came to realise he would have been dogging her footsteps no matter what.

  Their originally stilted phone conversations became guardedly friendly. Curt enquiries regarding her health were gradually transformed into ever-lengthening discussions about anything and everything. Greg talked about his work—the new contract Courtney's had received, his plans for a new factory in Northern Ireland. He spoke of Sam and Marie, of Kate's parents. Of how well her father's new business was doing. Of Toby Marchant's enforced transference to Fast Anglia. Kate in turn talked about her days: Vera's insistence on her drinking milk—which she hated, but Mrs Claybourne was, in her way, as

  formidable as Mrs Arthur. There was the craving she had developed for oranges and sardines—fortunately not at the same time! She told him of her tour of the local cottage hospital where she presumed her baby would be born.

  They also began a series of long-distance chess games. After six weeks, their nightly chats were consuming more than an hour at a time—longer than they had ever spoken during the whole time they were together. The only taboo subject recognised by both parties was their future.

  And slowly Kate found she might have lost a lover, but she was gaining a friend.

  It was Christmas Eve before she saw him again, two months to the day after she had left. She had phoned him in a panic a couple of days earlier when the import of the date hit her. She had nothing prepared, but Greg calmly assured her that everything was in hand.

  He arrived late on Christmas Eve. Kate was feeling incredibly confused at the thought of seeing him again. She was very conscious of how drastically her body had altered over the weeks since she had last seen him. As she had always been small-breasted it came as a distinct shock to look down one morning to find she had a very well-defined cleavage. She was now, in fact, bordering on the voluptuous! That alone would have been eminently acceptable, but the size of her belly had also increased dramatically, so much so that her doctor had sent her for a scan in the event that she might have been expecting twins, but only one baby had been determined.

  But, more than her appearance, which had never really overly concerned her, she was very apprehensive of how Greg would treat her now he was aware that she was in love with him.


  So it was with a measure of relief that she discovered Greg was not alone. He had brought her parents and brothers to stay for the holiday—quite a feat, considering her father's well-known reluctance to budge from his own fireside at Christmas time. Kate greeted them all with tearful hugs. It felt so good to be part of a family again.

  She lifted shyly grateful eyes to Greg, who, after one comprehensively roaming look, pulled her gently towards him and bestowed a swift, hard kiss on her surprised mouth. Once

  her family were settled and the enquiries over health and the oohs and aahs over the luxurious appointments of the bungalow had taken place, Greg followed Kate into the kitchen to prepare refreshments.

  `Your parents think I've been spending my weekends here,' he began warily as Kate discreetly drank in his appearance. He was looking tired, she thought—and he seemed to have lost weight. His face was leaner, his cheekbones prominent. His eyelids hooded his expression from her, but she sensed, with her deep instinctive knowledge of him, that he was as acutely miserable as herself: 'You did say you didn't want them to know about our—separation.'

  `Yes, thank you. And thank you for bringing my family, Greg. I—I didn't realise how much I was missing them.'

  `Even with the complications they present?' A familiar brow rose in sardonic enquiry. She looked at him blankly. 'The bedroom accommodation, Kate. Yes, precisely,' he added as her face flamed in comprehension—and expectation?

  Of course they would have to share a room, she thought with a half-forgotten leap of the senses. Her parents' suspicions would be aroused immediately if Greg were to sleep elsewhere. They must already be wondering why Kate had moved to Wales. She gathered from her mother's phone calls that Greg had proffered explanations which seemed to have sufficed, though Kate did not probe too deeply. Her lashes lowered to hide the flash of hope she knew her eyes would reveal. Greg didn't seem too thrilled at the prospect.

  `Well, it can't be helped,' she said woodenly, and fixed her sight on a point over his shoulder to await whatever taunting barbs he chose to throw her way.

  `You're seeing the doctor regularly?' he asked curtly, his eyes moving restlessly over her expanding figure. Kate blinked at the change of subject. She had been certain Greg would derive great amusement from her predicament.

  I—er—well, I've only seen him twice, so far.' He frowned. `There's no need for further check-ups yet,' she reassured him. Not until the last couple of months. Everything is fine. Really.' How absurd to feel shy under Greg's scrutiny!

  `Pregnancy would appear to suit you, Kate,' he said finally,

  and picked up the laden tray. 'You're looking very—well,' he added, motioning for her to open the door.

  They passed a surprisingly pleasant evening. After tea, Greg brought in a large Christmas tree from the trunk of his car, together with a box of decorations and an enormous pile of presents.

  `Your mother helped me out,' he explained with a crooked smile at Kate's astounded face. And she was astounded. Did this mean Greg had actually asked her mother for a favour?

  Inevitably, though, the evening drew to a close, and before she knew it Greg was closing the bedroom door behind them. The bedroom which had witnessed her initiation into love.

  `Would you like to shower first?' he asked quietly.

  `I—er—yes. If that's all right?' Kate could not meet his glance, remembering the showers they had shared while on honeymoon here. She kept her eyes fixed on the cream-coloured carpet.

  `You have no need to worry, Kate,' he told her harshly, misreading her expression. 'I have no intention of taking advantage of the situation!'

  Oh, if only you would, Kate thought longingly, but held her tongue. Any moves to re-establish their relationship had to come from Greg this time. Kate had learnt her lesson well.

  She was lying still as a mouse on the extreme edge of the bed when Greg joined her. She tried to control her breathing so he would think her asleep, but she need not have bothered. He snapped off the light and lay on his side, his back towards her.

  She sighed, absurdly disappointed by what seemed to be a firm rejection of her. She closed her eyes sadly, willing sleep to come and put her out of her misery, but a sudden fluttering in her stomach made her eyes snap open again. As always, the wonder of Greg's baby moving inside her filled her with a thrillingly possessive awe. She put her hand over the spot and felt again the as yet feeble tremors of life within her.

  `What's the matter, Kate? Can't you sleep?' Greg asked gruffly, her movements, though slight, obviously disturbing him.

  `Oh, Greg! Nothing's the matter. Feel!' Impulsively wanting to share the moment, she grabbed his hand and placed it over the mound of her stomach. 'It's our baby. Can you feel it?'

  `Yes . . .' he muttered thickly, and jerked his head away as if he had been burnt.

  `Greg . . .?'

  Tor heaven's sake, Kate! It's bad enough trying to sleep with you just lying there—but . . . Oh, to hell with good intentions!'

  He pulled her to him roughly, kissing her with the dammed-up hunger of the past two months. There was no thought of denying him. She responded blindly, her hands roaming restlessly over his naked body, as his own hands discovered the altered contours of hers.

  They moved together exquisitely. Never had Kate received such tenderness from him as they made poignantly ecstatic love.

  And afterwards, Greg kissed away the tears she had been unable to stem. Tears comprised of so many things—the waste, the loneliness, the longing—the love.

  `We'll work it out, Kate. I promise.'

  Kate clung to that promise in the following weeks. Greg visited her at least once a fortnight, ostensibly to keep up appearances. But Kate knew he had never given a damn for other people's opinions. Sometimes he brought her family, sometimes Sam and Marie. And once he brought Terry, laying that particular ghost to rest for all time. Kate was grateful for Greg's intuitive understanding. She hated the thought of a rift appearing in the friendship she valued so highly. She was also pleased to see a friendship developing between the two outwardly disparate men.

  This time around, she did not dwell on the idea of building a new relationship with Greg, simply accepted whatever came her way during their all too brief reconciliations. Their nightly telephone conversations spilled over to their meetings, tentatively at first, but deepening into an easy comfort in each other's company—until they retired to bed. There was no pretence of separate bedrooms. Their hunger for each other was undiminished.

  The memory of those long nights of lovemaking kept Kate sane through the lonely days until Greg returned. At the very least, she had the consolation of knowing he still desired her. She had not the slightest fear that he was involved with anyone

  else. Their lovemaking was so very urgent, as if they were both terrified it would be their last contact. And gradually it became clear that Greg intended their marriage to stand.

  Except that not once did he ask her to return to him.

  If this long-distance relationship was all they would have, Kate was prepared to accept it. She had already learnt that pride was a cold bedfellow. She was even glad in many ways that Greg knew how she felt about him. But, as her time grew near, she grew ever more conscious of experiencing a state of suspended animation, of the need to know exactly what her future held.

  `Nest building', Marie would have called it. Certainly the bungalow shone from Kate's constant cleaning. But how could she build a proper nest if she did not know where it was to be situated? She found it impossible to believe Greg was happy with the present arrangements, even though he did nothing to alter them. She had sensed his basic loneliness even at the height of their lovemaking. Her growing maternal instincts longed for the right to care for him, to check that he was eating and sleeping properly and not burying himself in work.

  A breathing space, he had said. Surely nearly five months was long enough? The Greg she had married would have made up his mind in an instant, but this new, guardedly friendly Greg was ob
viously not so sure of himself. Kate sighed as a vicious kick to her ribcage reminded her of the baby due in the next two weeks. Would his or her arrival signal the end of this incessant waiting period? Or would it precipitate the end of her marriage? Even in her darkest moments she could not believe that.

  She and Greg between them had created a new life, fusing them together in the most intimate way possible. Greg had to be part of her foreseeable future. Hadn't she once told him he accepted the consequences of his actions? No, there was no way he would ever turn his back on his child. And his wife? Whatever he decided about her, Kate knew she was now strong enough to accept. If only she knew what it was to be!

  She admitted that part of this continual restlessness was caused by the fact that Greg had not been near her for a month. He had begun phoning her instead of the other way round. He was pretty busy, he had said. Solicitous as ever, but—busy. Kate could not help but feel a little neglected, especially as the baby

  had seemed to double in size since she had last seen her husband. Was that why he hadn't come? Because it was impossible for them to make love?

  Which was why she found herself sitting staring at the phone one windy early April morning, willing the phone to ring—and knowing it wouldn't for at least another eleven hours. She gave a wistful sigh and made to move away, only to almost jump out of her skin a moment later when the ringing sounded throughout the emptiness of the bungalow.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  `GREG?' she whispered into the receiver, hardly daring to believe it could be him.

  "Fraid not, princess,' came Terry's apologetic though cheery voice.

  `Oh—hello.' She tried to inject a little more enthusiasm into her voice. 'What's got you out of bed this early—or should I say who?'

  `I always thought pregnant ladies became sweet and placid,' Terry complained. 'I was merely wondering if you fancy some company today?' he added in a casual tone which didn't fool Kate for a moment. He was up to something. But that didn't matter. She was tired of her voluntary exile.