The Pregnancy Affair. Anne MatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
eyes went wide. ‘You mean, my father asked you to leave?’
‘Hell, no.’ Joel gave her a satirical look. ‘Not everything revolves around you, you know. I did what I should have done years ago. I took my qualifications and got myself a degree in IT at Leeds University.’
Olivia blinked. ‘IT?’
‘Information technology,’ he said patiently. ‘Computers, for want of a better word.’
Olivia pressed her shoulders back into the soft leather of the seat. ‘I see.’ She paused. ‘I’m glad things have worked out so well for you.’
‘Oh, yeah.’ Joel was sardonic now. ‘Two failed marriages and a child that might or might not have been aborted. Life’s been peachy, Liv. So how has it been for you?’
FORTUNATELY, Olivia was saved the need of answering him. They’d reached Bridgeford and the Lexus splashed through the ford at the edge of the village before accelerating up the slope to the village green. She could pretend she hadn’t heard him, pretend she hadn’t been knocked off balance by the callousness of his words. Struggling with emotions she didn’t even want to acknowledge, she looked instead at the Georgian homes and the handful of cottages that circled the village green. As a shiver of remembered agony slid down her spine, the beauty of her surroundings was a blessed panacea.
The village, at least, didn’t seem to have changed much, she thought gratefully, although she could see the roofs of some new houses just visible beyond the trees in the churchyard. There were daffodils blooming here, too, and the almond blossom was just beginning to appear.
‘Do your parents still live in the village?’ she asked a little stiffly, feeling obliged to say something. The Armstrongs had never approved of Joel’s relationship with her, and even after they were married Olivia had been left in no doubt that Mrs Armstrong didn’t consider her good enough for her son.
‘My father’s retired now,’ replied Joel amiably enough. Mr Armstrong was an accountant and had used to work for a firm in Chevingham, a small town some ten miles south of Bridgeford. ‘They still own the house in Blades Lane,’ he added, ‘but they’ve recently bought a place in Spain. They spend a lot of time there in the winter months. They’re in El Fuente at present, actually.’
Which explained a lot, thought Olivia cynically. She wondered if Joel would have been so willing to come and meet her if he’d had to explain himself to his parents first.
They passed the house Joel’s parents owned on their way to the farm. Rose Cottage was set a few yards back from the road, screened by a tangle of wild roses that blossomed profusely in the season.
It reminded Olivia irresistibly of when she and Joel were teenagers. How many times had she come running down from the farm to find him waiting for her at his gate? They’d both attended the comprehensive school in Chevingham and the school bus used to pick them up at the end of Blades Lane.
Of course, Joel had been a year older, and once they’d got to school there’d been no opportunity to be together. Was that why their relationship had progressed so swiftly? she wondered. Had the excitement of forbidden fruit coloured that youthful infatuation?
‘Does everything look the same?’ Joel asked abruptly, and Olivia was grateful for the reprieve. She’d been in danger of remembering things that were best forgotten. As Joel said, they’d both moved on.
‘Pretty much,’ she said after a moment, forcing herself to take an interest in her surroundings. They were turning between white-painted gateposts now, crossing a cattle-grid that caused the vehicle’s wheels to vibrate, and then accelerating up the drive to the farmhouse itself.
When the Lexus stopped, Olivia knew the journey was over. However, she felt—and she really wasn’t feeling very good—she had to get out of the car and face whatever was to come. It would have been nice, she thought, if her father had invited her here. But it was Linda who’d suggested this visit. Linda, who’d told her so little of what to expect.
‘You OK?’
She realised that Joel was looking at her now, probably wondering why she hadn’t opened her door. And, dammit, she so didn’t want to show him how she was feeling. Joel, with his new career and his precious son.
So, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she answered, with assumed lightness. She gathered her handbag into her arms and reached for the door handle. ‘Thanks for the ride, Joel. It’s been—illuminating.’
Now, why had she said that? she chided herself impatiently, as Joel’s eyes narrowed on her face. ‘Why do I get the feeling that you’re mad at me?’ he countered, but before Olivia could say anything else, Linda came out of the house.
At once, Olivia fumbled with the door catch, as eager to get away from Joel as she was to greet her sister. But she was all thumbs and, without asking her permission, Joel leant past her and thrust the door open for her, the hard strength of his forearm pressing briefly against her breasts.
She scrambled out then, dropping down from the high seat, almost ricking her ankle in her haste to get away from him. Steadying herself against the wing, she mentally squared her shoulders before starting a little uncertainly across the forecourt.
‘Hi, Linda,’ she said, in what she hoped was a confident tone. ‘It’s good to see you.’
Her sister shook her head and Olivia was surprised to see tears in her eyes. ‘Oh, Livvy, it’s good to see you, too,’ she exclaimed eagerly and, opening her arms, she gathered the other girl into a welcoming hug.
Olivia was shocked. She hadn’t expected such a warm greeting. Linda had never been a touchy-feely kind of person and when they were younger any contact between them had always been initiated by Olivia herself.
But evidently the years had mellowed her, and when she drew back she regarded Olivia with what appeared to be genuine affection. ‘I’m so pleased you decided to come,’ she said. ‘This is still your home, you know.’
Olivia was trying to absorb this when Linda’s eyes moved beyond her to where Joel was standing beside the Lexus. ‘Thanks, Joel,’ she added. ‘We owe you, big time.’ She paused. ‘You’ll come in and see Dad, won’t you?’
‘Not right now,’ said Joel, opening the back of the car and hauling out Olivia’s suitcase. ‘I’ve got a tutorial at four o’clock, I’m afraid.’
A tutorial!
So he was a lecturer, no less. If Olivia was surprised, Linda clearly wasn’t, going to take charge of Olivia’s luggage without further argument. ‘Well, come back soon,’ she said, as he climbed back into the vehicle. ‘Just because Livvy’s here, you don’t have to be a stranger.’
‘Yeah, right.’
If Joel’s response was less enthusiastic, Linda didn’t seem to notice it, and, with an inclination of his head towards Olivia, he reversed the car across the yard. Still cringing from the childish name her sister had always called her, Olivia was motionless, and it wasn’t until he’d driven away that she realised she hadn’t even waved goodbye.
Pulling herself together, she went to rescue her suitcase from her sister. ‘I can take that,’ she said, but Linda wouldn’t let it go.
‘In those heels?’ she asked, with just a trace of the animosity that had blighted Olivia’s childhood after their mother died. ‘No, I can manage. Come along. I’ve warned Dad to expect you.’
‘You didn’t warn me that he’d had a stroke,’ ventured Olivia as she climbed the shallow steps after her, and Linda’s back stiffened in what might have been resentment.
‘I thought it was wiser,’ she said as they entered the square hall of the farmhouse. She set the suitcase down at the foot of the stairs and then went