Charlie's Dad. Alexandra Scott

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      Ellie was feeling guilty. He was such a kind man, a great GP, and, she feared, just waiting for the green light which would signify a formal courtship. It was with relief that she saw the gates at the end of her drive and reached down for her handbag. But before the car had even stopped in front of the mellow stone-built house, the front door was thrown back and a small figure threw herself down the few steps.

      ‘Mummy, Mummy.’ A mini-tornado draped itself around Ellie, hands round her neck, legs about her waist. ‘I’ve missed you such a lot. It’s been so awful without you.’

      ‘And I’ve missed you too, Charlie.’ She laughed, sniffed, blinked away a tendency to tears. ‘But I can’t imagine it’s been too awful when Wendy’s been looking after you.’

      Over the child’s head she directed an apologetic glance towards the young woman who stood smiling and shaking her head at the top of the steps. Wendy Cummings had been with her since Charlie was a toddler, had held the fort on innumerable occasions when she had been forced to go off on business trips. Without her, Ellie could hardly have carried on—certainly IGRAINE Woollens would not have progressed as it had done over the last few years... It was a relief to see Wendy shrug forgivingly as well, safe in the knowledge that for most of the time she and Charlie were the best of friends.

      ‘Come on then, poppet.’ With an arm about the small shoulders, she led the way inside, followed by David, who dumped her cases in the hall and returned to the car to retrieve the collection of packages. They walked together into the kitchen. ‘Am I glad to be back, Wendy.’

      ‘Hectic trip?’ Wendy swung round from the Aga with a tray of scones.

      ‘You could say...’ Then, laughing at the insistent questioning of her daughter, ‘No, I didn’t forget. If you go and ask David for the large blue bag you can see what’s inside. And tell him Wendy has the kettle on, so if he would like a cup of tea and one of her scones he should come straight through.’

      ‘I won’t, thanks, Ellie.’ The doctor’s head poked round the kitchen door. ‘I think you’ll have enough on for the rest of the day, but I’ll call you about Friday. See what you think when you’ve had time to relax.’

      When she had seen him drive off towards the village, Ellie returned to the kitchen with a feeling of release, in time to see Charlie for once very nearly speechless as she gazed at the beautifully dressed Siamese doll Ellie had brought from Hong Kong.

      ‘Oh, Mummy, thank you. She is so gorgeous.’

      ‘Well, she’s just another one for your collection—oh, and all her clothes come off too. And if you pick up that pink bag and give it to Wendy, I think she deserves a present too, for looking after you so well.’

      ‘Yes, she does.’ And when the package was opened, the silk blouse drooled over, they all sat down round the large kitchen table drinking tea and eating hot buttered scones and strawberry jam while Ellie entertained them with the highlights of her trip.

      Except...except that one highlight wasn’t mentioned. She omitted the minor fact that while there she had, for the first time since her conception, met the man who was Charlie’s father. Little point in bringing that up, since everyone was under the impression that Charlie’s father had died soon after she had been born, and, more to the point, that her real father had not the slightest notion of her existence. And if she, Ellie Osborne, had anything to do with it then he never would. It was so obvious that he did not care.

      Men who embarked so casually on affairs and promptly forgot them were simply contemptible. And she was far too proud ever to confess to being one in a long line of lovers of any man. Even of one as rich and famous as ‘Jonas Parnell’ had become. A line so lengthy that he had no recollection of her existence. It was hard to think of anything more humiliating.

      CHAPTER THREE

      AMAZING how quickly life could return to normal. That at least was the comforting message Ellie fixed her mind on at night before falling asleep, but waking, as she did now, in the early hours brought an entirely different perspective.

      Now, tossing and turning in a frustration she did not care to identify, she knew life could never be quite as simple again. That, having met Ben Congreve, it was impossible for her to convince herself as she had done before that their affair had been a pretty typical holiday romance, something which in any event would not have lasted.

      And there was one vital matter she forced herself to face: She must admit at last that the blame could not be placed entirely at his door. So mad had she been for him she had assured him, quite without foundation, that there was no risk of pregnancy. Over the years she had convinced herself that he had allowed her to lie to him...well, that was what suited most men, wasn’t it?

      But how frightening it had all been, finding herself alone, pregnant, deserted. Looking back, it was hard to imagine how she had pulled herself together, to plan for some kind of future. It had been her great good fortune to meet Greg Osborne and marry him, and, of course, the greatest good fortune of all was Charlie herself. Charlie, who had brought more love and joy into her life than she could have imagined. That one shining fact made any kind of regret redundant.

      Only...meeting him again now threatened all the feelings and emotions kept so carefully damped down over the years. Even now, her relationship with David Merriman was a tentative, arm’s length one, no matter that he had made it clear he would like it to develop into something warmer. And Ellie was afraid even that prospect must now be consigned to the dustbin.

      ‘Oh...’ She groaned, put her head beneath the covers, desperately trying to restore sleep before the image of Ben Congreve intruded again, but it was impossible. For how could she pretend to herself that if they had met as strangers at the dinner date in Singapore she would not have been interested? And the fact that he had showed so clearly that he was interested too... that simply made it more difficult.

      Oh, it had all been more restrained and civilised than all those years before, but that was natural—they were older, less abandoned than that group of sexually experimental youngsters had been. And it had taught her a crucial lesson: she was very much more wary, less trusting, but still... If only they had been meeting for the first time and both free... But, there, that would imply that Charlie...

      Oh, it was all too tormenting and she wished they hadn’t met up after all, was glad—positively—that nothing had come of it, and... And, oh, how she longed for sleep.

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