Captive Loving. Carole MortimerЧитать онлайн книгу.
had ceased to be aware of those looks long ago; she knew only raging pain at this moment. Never! She would never allow Alicia to be Penny's mother.
The taxi-driver must have thought her very strange as she sat silently in the back of the car—especially as he had to accompany her to the door so that she could pay him!
‘Had a row with your hubby, have you?’ he said cheerfully, handing her the change. ‘Never mind, love, it happens to the best of us.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed jerkily. ‘I—Thank you.’
‘ ’Night, love,’ and he whistled tunelessly as he returned to his taxi.
Peg was frowning when Jessica joined her in the lounge. Penny was asleep on the sofa, her mischievous face angelic. ‘Have you?’ she asked softly so as not to wake the child. ‘Argued with Andrew, I mean?’
She shrugged, having eyes only for Penny. ‘I'll get her up to bed now,’ she bent to lift her daughter into her arms, the small blonde head resting trustingly on her shoulder as she carried her up the stairs.
‘I tried myself a couple of times,’ Peg told her softly, following to fold back the bedclothes. ‘She began to wake up each time I touched her.’
‘I know,’ Jessica nodded, smoothing her daughter's hair back on the pillow and tucking the bedclothes about her. ‘She always does with anyone but me.’ Her eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her daughter.
Peg frowned as she followed her out of the room. ‘Is there anything I can do, Jessica?’
‘No.’ She blinked back the tears, leaving the night-light on in Penny's room as she closed the bedroom door.
‘But you have argued with Andrew?’ Peg persisted.
‘Yes,’ she sighed, ‘you could say that.’ She chewed on her bottom lip. ‘He—he wants a divorce.’
‘He what?’
‘A divorce.’ They were back in the lounge now, the tears at last spilling down on to her cheeks. ‘Andrew wants a divorce,’ she repeated brokenly, her face buried in her hands.
‘He wants one?’ Peg gasped disbelievingly, sitting down to put her arms about the sobbing Jessica. ‘After the abuse you take from him …! Well, don't worry, love,’ she said angrily. ‘George and I will take care of you—and Penny, of course.’
Penny. Dear God, Penny! Jessica sat up suddenly, knowing what she had to do. I'm going away, Peg. Tonight. I——’
‘You can't go this time of night!’ Her friend was scandalised. ‘Come next door and stay with George and me for a few days, until Andrew comes to his senses.’
Next door! ‘No, I have to get away,’ Jessica insisted, standing up. ‘I have to go somewhere Andrew can't find us.’
‘Maybe he had just had too much to drink,’ Peg encouraged. ‘He'll probably have forgotten all about it by the time he comes home.’
‘He isn't coming home—at least, not tonight,’ Jessica said bitterly, and she knew that when he did he wouldn't have changed his mind. Andrew was determined this time.
‘But where is he—Oh,’ Peg blushed, realisation dawning. ‘At least leave it until the morning, love. If he isn't coming back tonight there's no rush, is there?’
‘No,’ Jessica acknowledged slowly.
‘Sleep on it, Jessica,’ her friend suggested. ‘You can't just go off into the night.’
No, she couldn't. She had until morning to make her plans properly, find somewhere to stay where Andrew couldn't find them. Besides, it would disturb Penny to wake her now, would frighten her. Things were going to be traumatic enough without Penny becoming upset.
‘You're right,’ she told Peg. ‘I'll leave in the morning.’
‘I'm sure you won't need to do that,’ Peg patted her hand comfortingly. ‘Once Andrew thinks this over, about how much you love him, I'm sure he'll change his mind about the divorce.’
How much she loved him …! She might have loved Andrew once, in fact she knew she had, but she certainly didn't love him now. Her love had been that of an adolescent who needed someone to care for her, and she soon realised the disillusionment of that.
‘Maybe,’ she agreed with Peg, knowing that it wasn't true. She had known it would end one day, had dreaded it, and she knew without question that this was it. Andrew might change his mind, given time, he had done it in the past often enough, but Alicia wouldn't. She was determined to get Andrew, and Jessica doubted the other woman was denied much that she wanted.
‘I'm sure I'm right,’ Peg encouraged.
‘Yes, of course you are.’ Jessica gave a bright smile, hating having to deceive her friend, but knowing that not even to Peg could she tell the truth. ‘You go on home now, George will be getting worried.’
‘Are you sure …?’
‘Of course,’ Jessica nodded.
‘You'll be all right?’
‘Yes,’ she smiled.
‘Well … All right, then. But don't hesitate to call if you need anything,’ Peg offered.
‘I won't,’ Jessica assured her friend.
She spent the next hour packing her own and Penny's things. It was amazing how much had been accumulated, not so much by her, but by Penny, all of her daughter's toys suddenly seeming necessary.
She had called a quiet unobtrusive hotel in London and booked a room for Penny and herself, knowing she would have to get well away from this small eastern town. London seemed the only choice. It was big and impersonal, the place where thousands of people went missing each year. Andrew couldn't possibly find them there.
But he would look for them, she knew that. Whenever the divorce threats came up he always warned her that any move to take Penny away from him would be met by opposition. Not that he spent a great deal of time with their daughter, he just wasn't going to let Jessica have her.
She jumped nervously as the front doorbell rang a little after twelve, wondering who it could be. It couldn't be Andrew, he had his own key. Unless he had forgotten it …!
She frantically hid the suitcases and bag in her bedroom before running down the stairs to answer the door, still wearing her evening dress. If it was Andrew he was already impatient, the doorbell ringing for a third time before she managed to open the door, looking up breathlessly at the man who stood there.
‘Mr Sinclair!’ she gasped dazedly.
Matthew Sinclair looked at her with dark tawny eyes, his face white and haggard, his hair golden. ‘I didn't get you out of bed …?’ His voice was husky.
She looked pointedly down at the blue dress. ‘No,’ she confirmed softly. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you, Mr Sinclair?’
He seemed at a loss for words, swallowing convulsively. ‘I—I think we should both sit down,’ he said at length. ‘Could we perhaps——’
‘Andrew?’ she queried sharply, sensing something disastrous here, dismissing the idea that Matthew Sinclair had come here to carry on his flirtation. He would never be so nervous about that, and he was nervous, extremely so. ‘Has something happened to Andrew?’ her voice rose sharply.
‘Jessica——’ His eyes were full of compassion.
‘Tell me!’ She clutched on to his arm, searching his pale features for what he seemed unable to tell her. ‘I—Is he—Is Andrew——’
‘He's dead, Jessica,’ Matthew told her in a pained voice. ‘I don't know how else to tell you! There was an accident, and——’
She didn't hear