Marriage Under Suspicion (18 page)

each other's company. Liking her friends to be friends.

She drew a deep breath. 'My God, just how dumb can anyone be?'

'Dumb I can understand, but why so angry?' Louie gave her an uncertain look. 'Honest to

God, Katie, just now you looked as if you hated me. As if I was the scum of the earth.

And I didn't do anything.'

'So where have you been?' Kate was still wary.

Louie sighed. 'After I cancelled my plane ticket, I holed up at one of the airport hotels—

lived on room service. I cried a bit, and got angry with myself.' She pulled a wry face.

'The usual things. I know it was stupid, and it left you in the lurch, but I just needed to—

bury the past in my own way. I was sure you'd understand.'

'I don't think I understand very much at all—even now,' Kate admitted wearily. 'I'm sorry,

Lou. I've clearly got hold of the wrong end of all kinds of sticks. I think I need to get

away myself, and cry and be angry.'

Louie's eyes were compassionate. 'You look as if you could do with a rest,' she agreed.

'What does Ryan think?'

'Ryan's not around.' Somehow she managed to keep her voice from wobbling. 'He's up in

the north, lecturing.'

With someone I thought was you, and though I'm so glad to be wrong it doesn't make the

actual situation any better.

In fact, she realised, Louie's revelation had thrown everything back into the melting pot.

'So, he's away. I see.' There was an odd note in Louie's voice. 'Kate—tell me to mind my

own business if you want, but is everything all right with you and Ryan?'

Kate lifted her chin, her heart thumping violently. 'What makes you ask?'

Louie had confided in Ryan, she thought. Perhaps there'd been some kind of reciprocal

arrangement. Maybe Louie had even been asked to break the news to her.

However, Louie was directing a significant glance towards the bowl of yellow roses.

‘These for one thing. They were delivered in person half an hour ago by a tall blond job,

drop-dead gorgeous, with voice and smile to match. Said his name was Peter and he was

calling by to make sure you were all right.' She gave Kate a straight look. 'Well—are

you?'

'I shall be,' Kate said steadily. 'And—Peter—the flowers—aren't what you think. He—

he's just a friend.'

Louie sighed. 'I should have such friends,' she muttered. 'I wish I'd said you were on the

danger list, then he might have called again.'

In spite of her inner turmoil, Kate felt a reluctant grin fight its way to the surface.

'Lou, you're the limit.' She paused. 'And I need a favour—a couple of days off, no

questions asked.' She saw her friend's eyebrows snap together and added hastily, 'And it

has nothing to do with Peter Henderson, I swear.'

Louie's forehead was still furrowed. 'Are you sure I can't help?'

'Not right now.' Kate's throat tightened. 'But maybe in the future...'

Louie hugged her with sudden fierceness. 'I can't begin to guess what's going on,' she

whispered. 'But take all the time you need.'

It was evening by the time Kate reached Allengarth. She had driven steadily,

concentrating doggedly on the traffic sharing the motorway with her, calming herself

with her favourite tapes played over and over again. Not letting herself think about what

might face her at the end of the journey.

Simply allowing herself to acknowledge that she was thankful the uncertainty would be

over soon. And that knowing the whole truth at last could only be a relief.

It was only a small village, sheltering in the Dales, a cluster of sturdy grey stone houses

around a church and a chapel. There was a pub too, with a bed and breakfast sign

propped in a window.

Kate went in and booked herself a room. Under the circumstances, she could hardly

expect to stay at the Centre, she reasoned. And it was unlikely she would feel like making

an immediate return journey to London either.

The way to the Centre was clearly sign-posted, so Kate left her car in the parking area at

the rear of the pub, and walked the half mile out of the village.

The air was cool and clean, and she drew it deeply into her lungs. As she reached the

Centre's gates, she hesitated momentarily, then squared her shoulders and went up the

broad drive.

There were lights on in the building ahead. Kate let herself in through the double glass

doors, and stood looking around. There was a reception desk on the right, and through an

open door she could see a bar area with groups of people gathered, talking. She went over

and looked in, but couldn't sight Ryan.

The obvious thing was to ask at Reception, but she was reluctant to do this.

After all, she thought painfully, she'd driven a lot of miles to catch him unawares.

She glanced around, and saw on one of the walls an enormous pinboard covered in

notices. Most of them were the usual kind of thing—a plan of the building, a copy of the

programme, instructions about mealtimes and fire alarms. But there was also a list of all

the delegates attending the convention—and their room numbers.

Scanning it, she saw that Ryan was occupying the Main Suite on Floor One.

Kate swallowed, her fingers closing convulsively round the strap of her bag. The time

had come, and there was nothing she could do to turn back the clock to happier days.

She found the suite without difficulty, its door facing her at the end of a long corridor.

There was a notice attached to the handle, stating 'Please do not disturb'.

I bet, thought Kate, bitterness clenching her throat.

She was about to knock when impulse prompted her to try the door instead, and, to her

surprise, it opened at once.

She flung it wide, hearing it bang as it knocked against some piece of occasional furniture

inside, and marched in.

She was aware of movement. Of heads turning. But the only person in the room she saw

was Ryan.

He had risen to his feet, and was looking at her, head thrown slightly back, his eyes

hooded.

He said quietly, 'Hello, Kate.'

She had planned it all on the walk here. She was going to be dignified—civilised. She

was not going to break down, or make a scene.

But at the sight of him—his self-possession when she was falling apart—something

exploded in her head.

Her voice when it emerged was on the edge of a scream.

'Don't you dare say "Hello" to me. Don't you bloody dare. I'm pregnant, do you hear me?

Pregnant.'

There was a stunned silence, then hesitantly someone began to clap. Others joined in, the

applause hammering in her ears, alerting her consciousness. She was in a sitting room,

she realised, suddenly becoming aware of a dozen chairs set in a semicircle, of surprised

smiling faces turned towards her.

Only Ryan's face remained serious, almost watchful. He said quietly, 'As you can gather,

ladies and gentlemen, this is not part of the course.' He waited for the brief ripple of

laughter to die down, then added, 'Maybe we could resume tomorrow.'

There was a murmur of acquiescence. People began to rise, moving chairs back to the

wall, collecting papers, picking up briefcases, as Ryan began ushering them to the door.

Kate, standing as if she'd been turned to stone, could feel their eyes upon her. Could

sense the interest, the half-whispered comments.

But where was the girl she'd come to see? Certainly, not among this group. The only

woman present had reached early middle age by her reckoning.

There was another door in the far wall. Kate crossed to it, threw it open, and went in. The

room beyond was spacious, with fitted wardrobes and chests of drawers, and a large

double bed covered by a handsome patchwork quilt. It was also empty.

Kate marched over to the wardrobes, and pulled open the doors. In the first, she found

Ryan's clothes—jeans, a pair of trousers, shirts, and his favourite jacket—hanging there

in splendid if lonely isolation. The others contained nothing at all.

In one of the chests of drawers, she came upon his socks and underwear. But there were

no signs anywhere of the feminine occupation that she.'d.expected.

'I'd just been talking to them about dramatic openings,' Ryan said laconically from the

doorway. 'Your arrival couldn't have been more timely.'

'Don't,' she said between her teeth, 'just don't you laugh at me, you bastard.'

'Do you see me looking even remotely amused?'

She couldn't pretend that she did. His face looked as if it had been hacked from granite,

his mouth grim, the lines beside it deeply scored.

He said quietly, 'How long have you known— about the baby?'

'I found out today.'

'And came straight to accuse me.' It was a statement rather than a question. 'Also, no

doubt, to receive my apology for having thrown a spanner into the works of your brilliant

career. Well, you'll wait a long time for that, Katie.'

Kate's head was whirling. She'd arrived to confront him and now, it seemed, the tables

had been turned in some way, and she was in the wrong.

Her lips parted in denial but Ryan cut across her. 'So what happens next? Do we move to

an even bigger and better flat, hire a nanny, and watch our lives eventually resume their

normal pattern after this minor disruption?'

Kate lifted her chin. 'I didn't come to discuss any of that. I—I'm not sure I actually meant

to mention the baby.'

'Now that I can believe.' His tone was bitter. He gestured towards the open drawer.

'Looking for something?'

'I was, but you seem to have disposed of the evidence. Is that something your thriller

writing has taught you?'

'It's certainly taught me that things are not always what they seem.' He detached himself

from the doorway, and walked across to her. 'So, what have you come here for—if not to

tell me I'm going to be a father.'

'Because you're having an affair. And I want to face you with it. To see her.' She

slammed the drawer shut. 'Don't pretend to me, Ryan. I—I know. I've known for weeks.'

He sat down on the edge of the bed. His eyes never left her face. 'How did you find out

about her?'

So, he wasn't even going to attempt a denial. Pain twisted in her throat. She said huskily,

'I had a letter—a beastly anonymous thing.'

'May I see it?'

Kate shook her head violently. 'I tore it up. Then I burnt the bits.'

'Pretty comprehensive treatment,' Ryan acknowledged drily, after a pause. 'Can you

remember what it said?'

'Just that you loved another woman.' She swallowed a sob. 'And it was signed "A Friend".

That was the worst thing of all. She may be your woman, but don't you think that's pretty

disgusting, Ryan?'

'Why have you never mentioned this letter before—as it clearly made such an impression

on you?'

'Wasn't that what it was intended to do? Or didn't you know it had been written?'

'Yes,' he said, and there was an odd note in his voice. 'I knew. But it didn't produce the

effect I expected.'

'Did you hope I'd leave—walk out on you, leaving the way clear for her?'

'On the contrary, I thought you'd confront me with the bloody thing. Fly at me—

scream—hit me, even. Demand to know what was going on.'

'What good would that have done?' She lifted her chin. 'I—I'm not going to make a scene

even now. I've made enough of a fool of myself on past occasions. All I came for was

proof.'

'Why did you think you'd find it here?'

'Because she came with you. You booked her in as your wife. That's why they gave you

this suite.'

He shook his head. 'Wrong, Katie. I booked you in as my wife. Although I wasn't

altogether sure you'd come. I just—prayed that you would. I relied on you caring enough

to follow me.'

'Why? Because your other woman let you down?'

He said gently. 'You're my other woman, Katie. You, and no one else. There never has

been—and there never will be anyone. Only you.'

Her lips parted in bewilderment. 'But the letter...'

'I wrote it,' he said. He reached up and took her hands, drawing her down on the bed

beside him. She realised he was shaking.

'I'm not proud of it,' he went on. 'But I was desperate, and I couldn't think what else to do.

I could see you walking away down this bright tunnel—your eyes fixed on a different

horizon—getting further away from me, and the girl I married, with every day that

passed.'

He shook his head. 'You will never know how lonely I was. How frightened. Do you

realise whole days went by when we barely spoke? Whole weekends passed, and I never

saw you. All our dreams and plans seemed to have been sidelined. And I'd watched Joe

go through the same kind of thing in his marriage, and nearly lose everything.'

He drew a ragged breath. 'I thought I was losing you, Katie, and I couldn't bear it.'

He paused. 'I needed to know if you could bear to lose me. I always told you I was a