For One Night. PENNY JORDANЧитать онлайн книгу.
of three and it had a long back garden running down to the river. Beyond the river stretched endless fields; and she had already ascertained that there were plenty of schools and other facilities in the area. She and her child could settle down here and put out firm roots. She remembered with love and gratitude her own childhood in the Yorkshire Dales. Engrossed in her own thoughts, she scarcely heard what Mr. Soames was saying to her. Not that it mattered a great deal. She had already made up her mind. Just as soon as it could be arranged she was going to move down here.
On the way back to London she found herself wishing that Leslie could have been here to share the excitement with her. Unhappiness shadowed her eyes momentarily; and then she reflected that had it not been for Leslie’s death she would not be making these plans, because there would have been no child to plan for. This child was nature’s way of compensating her for the friend she had lost. She felt no guilt or remorse about the way her baby had been conceived. She had shut the night and the man out of her mind. They had no place in this new life she was making for herself. They had met and parted as strangers. For the first and last time in her life she had acted out of character. Indeed, sometimes she wondered, rather fancifully, if a higher authority had perhaps directed her actions that night. Certainly it was not the sort of thing she had ever previously contemplated doing; nor would do again. And equally certain was the fact that she had had no deliberate intention of conceiving—but she had. She touched her stomach gently and turned to Mr. Soames.
“You will get everything sorted out as quickly as possible, won’t you?” she asked him.
“Well, if you’re sure, my dear. I’ll have to have the agreement of my cotrustee, of course. He should be back within the next few days. I’ll get in touch with him just as soon as he is.”
Diana wasn’t listening. The property would be hers; instinctively she knew it. It was just as meant to be as her conception had been ….
The move to Heppleton Magna was accomplished smoothly and easily. In anticipation of the baby’s birth and the life she would soon lead, Diana had traded in her small nippy runabout for a much sturdier and larger estate car.
The flat she and Leslie had shared had been sold, and with it the modern, designer furniture they had chosen together. All she had kept had been various photographs and keepsakes. She wanted her child to grow up knowing her friend.
She had already transported most of her clothes and bits and pieces down to Herefordshire, and she paused beneath the window of the flat to say a final goodbye to it, before getting into her car.
A shaft of sunlight caught the bright gold of the wedding ring she was wearing, and she touched it lightly, her mouth curling in a wryly amused smile.
Perhaps it was wrong of her to pretend she was a widow, but the country wasn’t London, where single parents were almost the norm. Heppleton Magna had a predominantly elderly population, and she had no intention of allowing her child to grow up under the shadow of their disapproval.
Of course, there would come a time when he or she would ask about its father. Quite what she would say she had no idea. It would be difficult to make anyone understand the force that had driven her that night. She wasn’t sure she understood it properly herself, and she was sometimes inclined to wonder if her behaviour hadn’t at least in part been motivated by that extremely large gin and tonic she had consumed, on top of a sleeping pill.
It wasn’t important now, now it had happened, she told herself firmly. She was on the brink of starting a new life; it was time to put the past well and truly behind her.
She didn’t rush the journey—after all, there was plenty of time. She stopped off for a leisurely lunch and arrived at her new home late in the afternoon. A heavy workload at the TV station had meant that she had had no time to spare to furnish or equip her new home before leaving London so she had taken the precaution of booking herself into the local pub for a couple of weeks.
Because her new property was a listed building there were certain rules and regulations she would have to abide by in any alterations and improvements she had carried out, but luckily she had discovered a building firm locally who specialized in renovation and repairs of the kind she would need. She had an appointment to meet with their representative in the morning, when they would go over the house and shop together to list and discuss what had to be done.
She knew exactly how she wanted her home to look. The building was three stories high, with a lovely large sitting room, a breakfast room/kitchen, and two good-sized bedrooms, so she would have plenty of space.
The almost euphoric sense of freedom and happiness that possessed her these days must be something to do with her changing hormone structure, she decided guiltily as she thought of Leslie. Her friend would have wanted her to be happy though, she knew that. The baby—her new life—these were fate’s bonuses and she must look upon them as such.
The local pub was another Queen Anne building; next to it was the rectory, and next to that the church and the small local school; all relics from the days when a rich landowner had designed that part of the town to please a new wife, who had been entranced with their quaint prettiness.
Diana had a room overlooking the rear of the pub. The river flowed past the bottom of the long garden—the same river that flowed past her own, and she made a mental note to ensure that at some stage she had adequate, childproof fencing erected as a protective measure.
The room’s four-poster bed was part of the original furnishings of the pub; it was huge and cavernous, and Diana surveyed it with a certain amount of wry bemusement. This was a bed for lovers, for couples.
Off it was her bathroom and a small sitting room. She could if she wished either have her meals in her suite, or take them downstairs in the dining room.
After she had unpacked, she wasn’t hungry enough to want to eat again, and so instead she decided to go for a quiet stroll around the town.
The town was still very much a working country town whose businesses focused on the needs of the local farming population. The Queen Anne “village” had long ago become part of the growing market town, which was now a mishmash of several architectural styles. In the centre was an attractive town square, and the cattle market. Her own property fronted on to this square, and was in the busier area of the town.
As she wandered around she discovered, tucked away down a narrow alley, an interesting looking dress shop. As yet her figure had barely changed, but new clothes of the fashionable variety would be something she wouldn’t need to buy for some considerable time.
She paused to linger for a moment outside a shop selling nursery equipment and children’s clothes. She could see from the window display that the shop catered for the wealthier inhabitants of the town. Of course, this part of the country was well established as a rich farming community.
A very traditional coach-built pram caught her eye and she found herself imagining what it would be like to push. A small fugitive smile tugged at her mouth. What was happening to her? She had never once in her life imagined herself having such maternal feelings and longings, and yet here she was drooling over prams. How Leslie would have laughed.
For the first time it struck her that she had no one with whom she could share her pleasure in the coming child. Her parents and brother were too far away, and even if they had not been, she knew that they would have been shocked at her disregard of all the conventions. They would have loved and supported her of course, but … but they wouldn’t have understood.
She would make new friends, she told herself sturdily. She wouldn’t always be a stranger here.
Her meeting with the builder proved more rewarding than she had dared to hope. Contrary to her expectations he was not full of doubts and criticisms of her plans, but enthusiastically entered into them. It was obvious from his conversation that he considered himself and the men who worked for him to be craftsmen, and he had a craftsman’s pride in his work. He only struck one worrying note, and that was over the large beams upstairs which she wanted to expose.
“One or two of them will have to be replaced,” he told her forthrightly, “and you’ll