For Our Children's Sake

‘How did you discover Abby—’ her voice hovered over the unfamiliar name ‘—wasn’t your natural child?’

‘She has a rhesus—’

‘Negative blood type. I remember. Dr Shorrock said.’ She smiled sadly as he looked across at her. ‘So do I.’

‘I wish I’d never found out.’ Dominic held her gaze. ‘I love her more than anything in the world. She may not be my natural child but she’s more mine than anyone—’

He broke off as though he’d suddenly remembered whom he was speaking to. Yet Lucy didn’t mind. She looked at the passion in his face and was glad Abigail had found somewhere safe.

Safe. It was so strange. This stranger made her feel safe. Just sitting with him had begun to make the panic recede a little. The pain was still there. A hard knot at the very centre of who she was. And yet, looking at Dominic, she could believe she’d survive. That there might be a way to claw through this nightmare.

‘I understand,’ she said softly. ‘I love Chloe.’

His eyes were moist as he breathed the name. ‘Chloe. It’s a beautiful name.’

‘She’s beautiful. An incredible little girl.’ Lucy stood up and dropped the empty cup into the remains of a burnt-out litter bin. ‘Shall we walk?’

‘Yes.’

They took the path across the grass. ‘Abigail’s a lovely name too.’

‘It means ‘‘father rejoiced’’. I wanted her to know I didn’t blame her. When Eloise died,’ he said awkwardly, and then he shrugged. ‘It seemed important at the time.’

An understanding of just how much this man must have suffered washed over Lucy once again. His wife had died giving birth to Abigail.

Losing Michael had been painful, but she didn’t have any sense of guilt about it. From the little he’d said it was obvious Dominic Grayling blamed himself, in part at least, for agreeing to the IVF treatment. Yet even in the midst of that tumult of emotion he’d still thought about his baby girl, how she would feel every birthday, and he’d given her a name that told her she was loved. He had to be a special kind of man.

‘Is Abigail like me?’ she asked, suddenly feeling the need to know. She turned to look at him, the wind whipping her hair across her face.

‘A little. In the colour of her hair. But more, I think, in the way she moves. She moves like you.’

It was faintly embarrassing to have this stranger look at her in such a way. Focused. As though he could see nothing but her. Lucy looked away.

‘And Chloe?’

‘Yes,’ she said hurriedly. ‘She has your shape face, your hands…’ His hands. She hadn’t even registered she’d noticed his hands—and yet Chloe had the same long fingers. She’d always loved her daughter’s fingers. Right from a baby. ‘Artist’s hands,’ Michael had called them.

‘I’d like to see her.’

He’d spoken quietly and yet the words were like a slap. Her head snapped up.

‘No.’

‘Don’t you want to see Abigail?’

Lucy let his words flow over her.

‘Can you really go your whole life without knowing what she’s like?’ He paused. ‘Whether we like it or not, other people are going to start making decisions for us. When I first found out about Abby…Hell, this is hard.’ He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘My instinct was to keep it all quiet. Make sure no one discovered the mistake. Keep her mine. Just mine.’ And his voice rang with possession.

Lucy met his eyes and the intensity in his kept her looking.

‘But we can’t do that. Either of us. Both girls have the right to know their genetic make-up. Chloe could perhaps need that more than Abby.’

A shiver of cold washed through her as she understood the implications of what he was trying to tell her. ‘Is Eloise’s heart condition hereditary?’

‘It’s possible for her to have inherited the same problem,’ he stated baldly. ‘But not likely.’

Lucy turned away as she felt the panic begin to rise up again. ‘I can’t bear this.’

‘We have to.’ Dominic caught her arm. ‘Our girls are only six. Far too little to deal with this. We’re the grownups here and we’re going to have to deal with it.’

His fingers held her arm still, preventing her from walking away. She could almost imagine the warmth from his hand was giving her strength. Passing from him to her. She turned back towards him. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispered.

‘If I could tell you everything’s going to be all right I would. But I don’t know that. I only know I’m going to do anything to protect Chloe and Abby from the consequences of this. I don’t want to sue the hospital. I don’t want any publicity.’

The mention of the word ‘publicity’ took the whole situation into another dimension. Lucy hadn’t had time to think about the full ramifications of what had happened. She’d heard the defensive tone in Dr Shorrock’s voice but it hadn’t registered with her as anything other than awkwardness. But, yes, they could sue the hospital for negligence. But if they did, what then? A tragic mix-up at an IVF clinic would have all the elements needed to shoot the story to front-page prominence.

And then she thought of Chloe. A bright, sunny little girl who was already having to live her life without her daddy. Who had so few memories of the man who’d loved her for the first five years of her life.

‘I don’t want any publicity either.’

The tension in Dominic’s face relaxed and he let go of her arm. ‘I’m sure the courts will do everything they can to protect the girls. They’re so young…I don’t want to make this any more difficult for you and your family than it already is—but we can’t pretend it hasn’t happened either. I imagine we’ll be asked to sign something that gives up all legal right to our biological children.’

Lucy frowned as she struggled to keep up with his conversation. He’d had longer to come to terms with the truth.

‘But I’d like to see her,’ he continued. ‘Maybe have a photograph. A letter at Christmas. I can’t make this situation right but I want my natural daughter to know I would have loved her. That I’ll be there for her if ever she needs me.’ His sincerity was tangible. ‘And you must want that too. For Abby? Don’t you?’

The little girl she didn’t know? Abby? Yes, she wanted Abby to know she’d have loved her. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I do want that.’

‘I think they’re too young to be told everything. If you let me see Chloe occasionally you can be certain I’ll never do anything to hurt her. I would just like to meet her. Talk to her for a little while so I can imagine her when I think about her.’

‘And Abby?’

He nodded. ‘I’d like her to know who you are. For you to be someone she likes so that when I have to tell her the truth she won’t feel abandoned. I want her to know I did everything I could to make things right for her.’

Lucy looked back the way they’d walked unseeingly. ‘I’d like to see Abby.’

‘Good.’

‘And you can meet Chloe. But later. I can’t do it now. Not now.’

His eyes softened and she felt the panic recede again. Dominic Grayling was a man to be trusted. The words popped into her head and they were comforting.

‘First you must have Chloe checked out. Let’s know what we are playing with.’

Lucy kept looking at his eyes, as though they were a life raft that was going to stop her being smashed against the jagged rocks. ‘She was a very healthy baby.’

‘That’s good, then, isn’t it? Let’s just make sure.’

‘I want to go home now.’

Dominic pulled a notepad from his pocket and finished filling out his name and address. ‘Here,’ he said, passing it across.

Dr Dominic Grayling. ‘You’re a doctor?’

‘Not of medicine. I did a PhD. May I have your address?’

Lucy kept staring at the paper. ‘Grayling. That’s what Dr Shorrock meant. I hadn’t realised before.’ She looked back up at him. ‘He said ‘‘possibly there was some confusion over the names’’. I’m Grayford.’

‘Yes.’

She sighed. ‘It doesn’t seem possible, does it?’ Taking his pen, she wrote swiftly. ‘We live in Shropshire.’

Dominic accepted the notebook back. ‘Will you be all right getting home? Is your husband in London with you?’

‘Michael? No.’ Lucy pulled her bag up on to her shoulder and pushed her hands down into the depths of her pockets. ‘Oh, no, Michael’s dead.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Michael died just before Chloe’s fifth birthday.’ She was really quite proud of the way she held her voice steady. ‘I understand how you feel about Abby. I really do. Chloe’s all I have too. I’m never going to let her go.’

CHAPTER TWO

LUCY glanced down at her watch and noticed with a jolt that it was already past seven. It was more than a jolt—she actually felt sick when she saw how late it was.

She’d meant to be so calm when she met Dominic again. She’d meant to be well groomed and in complete control but all her good intentions had turned to dust. Time had just flown by—in the way it always seemed to do when you knew there was something difficult ahead, she reflected as she searched out the small figure of her daughter in the middle of the play park. She was going to have to rush to be ready in time.

‘Five minutes, Clo, and then we need to go to Grandma’s,’ she called out as she stood up to pack away their picnic things.

It was doubtful whether Chloe heard. Her feet were taking her in the direction of the giant slide, her blonde hair streaming out behind her. Lucy smiled. Nothing troubled Chloe’s world and she was determined to keep it that way. Whatever Dominic Grayling had to say this evening. Whatever any court of law had to say on the subject, she’d keep her safe and happy.

‘Chloe, it’s time to go. Five more minutes and that’s it,’ she called again.

Turning to reach for the picnic mat she stilled, suddenly aware of a solitary figure watching them. Perhaps her imagination had conjured him up? She was late, but not that late. He shouldn’t be here. Not now. Dominic wouldn’t do this without arranging it with her first. Would he? She had to be hallucinating, and yet…

With a fatalistic shrug the solitary figure started walking towards her until its identity became obvious.

‘Hi,’ Dominic said as he got close enough to speak.

His calm greeting fanned the tiny spark of anger into a fierce spurt. ‘What are you doing here? You’re more than an hour early.’

‘Curiosity.’

‘How dare you do this? You could be anyone, as far as Chloe’s concerned. You could have scared her.’

‘I’m sorry.’

But he didn’t seem sorry. He seemed so relaxed, so completely in control, so…so what she’d wanted to be when they’d met. ‘What if Chloe had noticed you watching her?’

‘She didn’t.’

‘You can’t know that.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t.’ He turned to look at her, his blue eyes narrowed astutely. ‘Have I scared you?’

His question caught her off guard. Was her anger really all about her? How she felt? She made a quick analysis of her feelings before deciding on honesty. ‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For being here or for scaring me?’

But already her anger had dissipated. As a disembodied voice on the telephone Dominic Grayling still had charm, but in person it was more evident. His hair was an indeterminate sandy brown but his bone structure was strong and characterful. A man to trust. A face to paint, she thought inconsequentially. And of course they shared a common bond in their children. It was only natural she should feel a connection to him. As his face relaxed into a lopsided grin she felt the last shreds of her irritation pass—and yet surely that was illogical.

‘I couldn’t sit around at home any longer, and then the traffic from London was so clear I made much better time than I’d anticipated. I should have stopped at a service station and waited the time out, but I couldn’t resist getting here earlier.’

Lucy hated the way she was letting him get away with spying on her. He should have walked down the hill and made sure she knew he was there instead of keeping his distance and watching. Better still, he should have stayed in London until it was really time to leave; he should have been held up on the motorway in a ten-mile traffic jam; he should have got lost at least a dozen times before he arrived at her house…

She turned her back. ‘Do you want a coffee? There’s some left in the flask.’

‘I decided to walk about a bit. I didn’t know you were here, Lucy.’

She turned back to him, hearing the coaxing, warm note to his voice. Sexy. Where had that come from? She didn’t think like that about men any more. It was disloyal to Michael. It was too soon.

And Dominic Grayling wasn’t sexy. He was, no doubt, a perfectly pleasant man, but he wasn’t particularly special and he was a stranger to her. She had to remember that. She might feel she’d known him for months but the reality was different. ‘So, as soon as you knew I was, you walked away?’

‘Would you?’ he asked on a slight smile.

She wouldn’t, of course. The temptation to stand, unseen, to watch Abigail, would have been impossible to resist. To search for physical signs that would really make it possible to believe with her whole heart she belonged to her. Had it been like that for Dominic? Had he found them in Chloe?

‘You’re right; she’s beautiful.’

Lucy hugged the picnic rug to her. ‘Yes. Yes, she is.’

‘She’s got the same ash-blonde hair as Eloise.’

‘Oh.’

He looked at her quickly. ‘Was that the wrong thing to say?’

‘Of course not. It’s just…well, I’m sure you know,’ she finished weakly, unaware of Chloe’s small figure running up to join them.

‘Are we going now?’ Chloe asked, hesitating slightly as she joined them.

Lucy’s fingers closed on her daughter’s shoulder in a gesture she recognised as ownership. How was Dominic feeling now? Did this hurt? ‘We have to.’

‘Can’t I stay five more minutes?’

‘Not this time. We’ve got to get to Grandma’s.’ She hadn’t dared to look up at Dominic but she sensed his stillness. This was an important moment for him—and for Chloe. Lucy took a deep, shaky breath. He didn’t deserve to be ignored. However frightened she was by his presence in her life, by the whole situation. ‘This is Dr Grayling. Do you remember me telling you about him?’

Chloe turned and looked with interest at the stranger. Whatever she saw she liked, because she suddenly smiled. It wasn’t like her to do that. Chloe was always reserved and would rarely talk to adults she didn’t know well. ‘I’m Chloe.’

‘I know. I’ve heard a lot about you from your mother.’ Above her blonde head Dominic’s eyes sought out Lucy’s. It was part thanks, part reassurance. It was a reward in itself. She’d done the right thing and it felt really good.

‘I’m going to sleep at my grandma’s house tonight.’

Dominic smiled down at Chloe. ‘I know. Your mummy told me.’ It was the kind of half-smile that spoke of deep inner sadness. Lucy felt a sudden rush of compassion—for him, for her, for Chloe and Abby, for all the people who loved them. Her mum adored Chloe. She was her grandchild—and, of course, she was not. Somewhere Dominic would have a mother who’d been denied the right to know her own flesh-and-blood grandchild. The ramifications were endless. The ripples went on and on.

‘Are you Mummy’s new friend?’ Chloe asked curiously.

Dominic didn’t pause. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Come on, Chloe. Grandma will be waiting.’ Lucy gratefully squeezed the hand tucked inside hers. The feel of those small fingers was so comforting.

And Dominic was alone. She could only imagine what he must feel like, watching them walk away from him. It must be the most hideous feeling. And it was going to be one she would experience when she met Abby.

Four weeks since her world had come crashing down for the second time and she’d not allowed herself to dwell on Abby. First there’d been the tests on Chloe’s heart and the agonising wait before the all-clear had been given. Then there’d been contact with lawyers, the people who were going to determine the legal status of their children. And finally there was the desperate sense of being alone. More alone than she’d been when Michael died. Now she had to carry a deep, dark secret. One she could share with no one. Except Dominic. His telephone calls had been a lifeline. Calm, good sense in a crazy, shifting world.

‘Am I staying for breakfast?’ Chloe asked with a slight tug on her hand.

‘Grandma would like you to.’

‘Are you going to be there?’

Lucy smiled at the tone of her daughter’s voice. If she said she was Chloe would be so disappointed. She wanted it to be just her and Grandma. ‘No. I’ll pick you up later.’

Chloe pulled back on her hand, looking behind her. ‘Dr Grayling’s still standing there. He hasn’t moved.’

‘Is he?’

‘It’s a bit rude to stare, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe he’s lonely and wishes he could be coming home with us.’

Chloe thought about that carefully. ‘He looked nice. We could both be friends with him.’

Could it really be as simple as that? Lucy wondered, her grip on Chloe’s hand tightening. She wouldn’t let anything hurt her. She’d take any painful blow if it would shield her from the consequences of this mess.

As they reached the corner Lucy risked a quick glance over her shoulder. Dominic was still standing there, watching, his hands thrust deep into his denim pockets and the lines of his body tense. He looked so alone.

And soon that would be her. Could she do it? It was impossible to imagine how that would actually feel. Would something in her recognise Abby as hers? Would she feel the same as she had when Chloe, newborn and angry at her difficult entry into the world, was placed in her arms? That overwhelming sense of love and responsibility. The total wonder at having created anything so perfect. That last thought twisted painfully inside her. She hadn’t created Chloe. Given her life, yes, but not created. That was something she had to concede to Dominic and the fair-haired Eloise.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done, Dominic decided as he watched the pair disappear. Light ash-blonde hair and a heart-shaped face. So like Eloise, and yet not.

Chloe was tanned, energetic and healthy. Her skin glowed with vitality and her eyes sparkled. Dressed in a faded T-shirt and old shorts, with tangled hair and a grubby face, she wasn’t the image he’d held in his mind for the last few weeks. And yet this was better than all his imaginings. The euphoric feeling he’d experienced as he’d watched her balancing on the centre of the seesaw was something he’d never forget. She was happy.

Her little hand tucked safely in Lucy’s was hard to see, but the bond between them was obvious. Chloe was loved and cared for. It was what he’d wanted to know and yet now it didn’t feel like enough. He wanted his little girl to know about him. It was a spear of jealousy digging into his flesh.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. And about Lucy. In his mind the two were intricately entwined. Lucy, so different from Eloise. His wife had been many wonderful things—cultured, intelligent, with the face of an angel—but he knew she’d have crumbled under this pressure. But Lucy would cope. Even in the immediate aftermath of hearing the news, shocked and desperately hurting, she’d still seemed strong. She had an inner core of strength that kept her standing. Whatever life threw at her, she would take it on the chin and move on. And it seemed life had thrown a good deal at her. Yet still she’d managed to raise a child who smiled as though her world was completely sunny.

A picnic in the park. He couldn’t remember ever having taken Abby for a picnic. Since she’d started nursery her evenings had been filled with piano lessons, ballet classes and gymnastics. By the time he emerged from his study Abby was usually too tired to do anything but curl up against him for a story. What would Lucy make of that? She glowed with an active vitality that made him wonder whether she’d approve. Made him wonder whether he approved.

The doorbell rang at exactly eight-thirty. Even though she was expecting it, the sound still shocked her.

Lucy snapped on her wrist-watch and grabbed her handbag before opening the door. ‘Do you always do this? You’re exactly on time. To the minute.’

‘I’ve been sitting outside in the car.’

‘Oh,’ she said, slightly deflated. It didn’t seem right for him to have been doing that. She’d been so busy settling Chloe and hurrying back home to shower and change she hadn’t thought about what Dominic was going to do with the spare hour. ‘I suppose so. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘Is Chloe happily settled?’

‘She loves staying with my mum. There’s nothing so lovely as being spoiled, is there?’ Lucy tried to say it with a laugh but it sounded more like a hiccup.

This felt so awkward. It had been easier on the telephone. Then she hadn’t been confused by the tense, hurt look in Dominic’s eyes. She’d only listened to his deep voice and the words he’d said. Calm and sensible, that was how she’d come to think of him. This felt different.

‘Chloe said you looked nice,’ she said on a rush, hoping it would make him feel better.

‘She looks incredible. I don’t know what I was expecting, but she looks so…so healthy.’

Lucy heard the wistful tone in his voice. Even that must be difficult for him, she remembered. Eloise had been anything but healthy, apparently. Did Chloe look like she would have done if she’d been well?

‘I’ve booked a table at the White Horse since it’s so near. I’ve no idea whether the food is any good, but I liked the idea of sitting on the terrace and watching the water.’

‘The food’s lovely,’ Lucy volunteered quickly, glad he’d chosen that restaurant. She loved sitting where she could see water, watching the way the colour changed and shifted on the surface, but this time she liked the idea of having a distraction. Something easy to talk about if the conversation became too difficult, too strained.

They walked in silence for a time. Lucy was aware of the way he kept glancing down at her and she could feel the tension in his body. It didn’t surprise her. What they were having to do was impossibly difficult.

‘I used to go to the White Horse with Michael,’ Lucy remarked, breaking the silence.

He seemed grateful. ‘When you were dating?’

‘No. We couldn’t afford it then. Michael and I met at school and were married by the time we were nineteen. This is grown-up stuff, with grown-up prices. We went there for our last anniversary. A couple of months before he died.’

Dominic stopped and turned to look at her, the angled planes of his face pulled taut. ‘Is this difficult for you? Look, if you’d rather go somewhere else please say so. This is awkward enough as it is.’

‘It’s fine, really. It’s a happy place. I’ve really good memories of coming here.’

‘Really?’

She nodded. ‘Excellent.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Michael?’ She saw the slight inclination of his head, saw his reluctance to ask the question in case it hurt her. Strangely, it didn’t hurt to talk about Michael. What hurt was not being allowed to. Being widowed made other people uncomfortable, and sometimes it felt as if Michael had been erased. ‘He was a lovely man. Very sporty, loved sailing. Always wanting to do the next thing, take on the next challenge. It was an incredible shock when he was diagnosed with the tumour. Of course he’d left it far too late. Wouldn’t go to the doctor. He was the last person you’d ever have thought would…’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘No, it’s fine. I like to talk about him sometimes,’ she reassured him quickly. ‘We were really happy together. So many of my friends are splitting up now, getting divorced. I know I’ve already had more than some people have their whole lives. If he hadn’t died he wouldn’t have left me, and I know he loved me right up to the end. Me and Chloe.’

‘Do you find that difficult?’ His shoe kicked at a stone. ‘That Michael died believing Chloe was his natural child?’

Lucy watched it skim into the bramble bushes. ‘I’m glad about that. It’s difficult for me to cope with, but Michael would have found it harder still. And if it had come when he was ill…That would have been unbearable. As it is he died happy, knowing I wouldn’t be alone and believing something of him was going on.’ She swallowed painfully. ‘And it still is. Except in your Abby—not in Chloe, as we thought.’