The Pregnant Registrar. Carol Marinelli

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СКАЧАТЬ up speed, she drifted out of the baby aisle, pushing aside her intention to make one purchase a week for the baby. Why change the habits of a lifetime? She always did her Christmas shopping at the last minute and undoubtedly the baby gear would be dealt with in the same vein.

      It would all get done in the end.

      Humming abstractedly to the piped music, Lydia filled her trolley with a stash of meals for one, before turning into the soft-drink aisle, her lethargic spirits lifting as with a jolt she saw Corey Hughes—or at the least the back of him.

      It was becoming a rather familiar response these days. They’d been working alongside each other for a week now and even though the atmosphere between them was still strained, to say the least, even though Lydia thought him a rather arrogant know-all, her body simply refused to listen, insisting upon darkening her face with a blush and sending her heart rate into overdrive every time she glimpsed him!

      Disappointingly, though, one arm was rather protectively around an incredibly tiny, incredibly pretty woman, while with the other he struggled to contain the most appallingly behaved child in the history of the world.

      For a second Lydia considered making a hasty U-turn, darting back to the relative safety of the nappy section, but the thought of Corey catching her making a rapid retreat, of seeing the effect he was having on her, was enough incentive to beat back her blush. She sauntered in what she hoped was a casual way along the aisle, pretending to concentrate on the soft drinks, practising a casual hello and smile in her head as she worked her way nearer, then realising as she edged closer that she needn’t have bothered.

      Corey was so engrossed in cartons of orange juice that, had she stripped off and congad naked behind her shopping trolley, she doubted he’d have even looked up. Instead of disciplining his appalling child, instead of forcing the squealing, tantrum-throwing toddler back into its stroller, his deep loud voice droned on and on about the merits of home brands as opposed to named ones, to check for any special offers and, of course, to always look at the contents. It might look like a bargain but if there were only four hundred mls in the container…

      It was at that point that Lydia questioned the merits of first impressions.

      That sexy, rugged, good-looking guy evaporated there and then. To see him at his domestic worst truly pulled the wool from Lydia’s eyes and she was eternally grateful for it.

      She hated meanness in men, hated it more than anything in the world, well, except for adultery, but that wasn’t the issue here. She could just imagine him in the loo-roll section—he’d probably whip out a calculator and work out the sheets per roll and the benefits of two- as opposed to four-ply.

      ‘Lydia!’

      Truly caught, she had no choice but to smile, but due to her sudden insight there was no trace of awkwardness. ‘So you’re a late-night shopping addict, too.’

      ‘Absolutely.’ Corey smiled warmly. ‘Fewer people…’

      ‘More chance of spotting a bargain.’ Lydia muttered. Glancing down at her own trolley, she realised how empty her statement sounded. For all her determination, for all her self-conditioning and occasional attempts, somehow cooking chicken massala from scratch seemed so dammed complicated and, perhaps more to the point, when flour and coconut milk weren’t staples of your larder, so damned expensive.

      She was saving money really!

      Still for tight gits like Corey, her trolley probably did look rather extravagant!

      ‘This is Adele.’ Corey gave a wide smile as Lydia nodded politely. ‘And this is Bailey.’

      Bailey didn’t look up. He was too busy pulling orange juice off the shelves and creating chaos to care about introductions as Adele stood silently, her pretty face almost surly as she eyed Lydia, clearly uncomfortable at the intrusion.

      ‘Best get on.’ Lydia smiled, moving gratefully into aisle four and immersing herself in two-minute noodles.

      They met again at the checkout, Lydia blushing to her roots as Corey counted out the notes to the cashier, checked and rechecked his change with the unfortunate Adele while Bailey helped himself to a large slab of chocolate from the display stand.

      ‘Poor woman,’ Lydia muttered to the checkout girl as finally they moved off.

      ‘Oh, I don’t know…’ The checkout girl looked dreamily over her shoulder as the trio departed, didn’t even offer Lydia the mandatory ‘How are you tonight?’ ‘I think he’s kind of cute.’

      This was the bit she hated—unloading the groceries from the boot of the car, lugging them up the garden path and heaving the bags into a dark, empty house. No one to come out and offer to help, no one to moan she’d forgotten to get coffee-beans…

      No one, full stop.

      Not that she minded her own company. When Gavin had still lived there, invariably he’d be away on some course or interstate on some business trip—at least, that’s what he’d said he’d been doing, Lydia thought darkly, filling her freezer with her purchases. She hadn’t minded a bit—in fact, she’d actually enjoyed it in many ways. Having beans on toast, or just toast for dinner, even taking the said toast into bed and curling up with a good book.

      Gavin had hated that.

      Come to think of it, Gavin had hated a lot of things in the last few months of their marriage.

      Slamming the freezer door closed, Lydia pulled a couple of slices of bread out of the pantry and loaded them into the toaster.

      Toast, a good book and bed.

      What more could a girl want?

      ‘I’ve saved you a ticket.’

      Frowning into the telephone that seemed to be permanently glued to her ear these days, Lydia looked up.

      ‘For what?’

      ‘The special care unit Christmas fundraising ball. It’s held every year at the beginning of December and it usually turns out to be a great night.’

      ‘No, don’t put me back on hold,’ Lydia yelped as finally a human voice responded, but as the music droned on Lydia settled back for the long haul, digging in her pocket for a proverbial ten-dollar note then baulking as she eyed the gold-rimmed ticket more closely. ‘Two hundred dollars!’

      ‘It’s a black-tie do.’ Corey shrugged. ‘And the money goes to a good cause.’

      ‘It’s a bloody rip-off.”

      He thought she was joking. Looking up, she watched him laugh, waiting for her to pull out her cheque book, to sign herself up for taxi fare both ways and a maternity ballgown that would make the ticket price pale into comparison, but for the first time in her adult life Lydia couldn’t do it, couldn’t write a cheque for the sake of it, couldn’t rob Peter to pay Paul. Suddenly money mattered when it never had before.

      ‘I’ll let you know.’ Frowning into the telephone, Lydia turned away but still he persisted.

      ‘You’re not working.’ Corey grinned. ‘I’ve checked, so there’s no excuse.’

      ‘How about this for an excuse?’ Swinging her chair around, Lydia СКАЧАТЬ