LITMIR.BIZ

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leave you?’

      ‘Not with a family,’ he said bluntly. ‘Jake takes after Rita. He retreats into his acting world. Reality blurs. For me, though, try as I may, I’m my father’s son. I enjoy running this company. I enjoy control. But all my life...’ He took a deep breath. ‘Ever since my mother died I’ve avoided the personal. One night, one vicious outburst and my father destroyed our family. Rita told me I was responsible for Jake. After she died I swore I’d never be responsible for anyone else.’

      And she got it. She could read it on his face. ‘You think you might end up like your father, too?’

      ‘I’ll never put myself in the position to find out.’

      ‘No one’s asking you to.’

      ‘You’re asking me to be a father.’

      ‘No. I’ve given you the opt-out clause, remember?’

      ‘How can I opt out?’

      ‘Easy,’ she said, and somehow she found the strength to drum up a smile. ‘You can smile at me, say congratulations, wish me all the best and say goodbye.’

      There was a long silence. He looked at her, he simply looked, and when he nodded she knew that somehow he’d moved on.

      ‘I’ll give you lunch first.’

      ‘I’ll accept lunch,’ she said, still smiling determinedly. ‘But nothing else. I’m no risk to your world, Ben, and neither is our baby. You’re still free to be...as free as you wish. You’re not responsible for our baby.’

      * * *

      Our baby.

      The two words stayed with him as they left the building, but they weren’t small. They echoed over and over in his head, like a drumbeat, like an off-rhythm metronome.

      Like a nightmare.

      He couldn’t be a father. How could he risk...?

      It’d been his stupid idea to steal the Lamborghini. The consequences had stayed with him all his life. His mother had died because of his stupidity.

      His father had been a gross bully. He’d battered his wife but he hadn’t killed her. He had done that by ignoring her, by not reading the difference between real and fantasy.

      He’d spent his life trying not to tell Jake, trying to pretend it had never happened, being responsible. But one revelation from a slip of a girl and he’d told her everything.

      Why? She wasn’t asking him to commit to any part of this baby’s life. There’d been no reason to spill his guts, and yet...the look on her face... To turn away from her was like slapping her.

      He could do financial support. He decided that as they reached the ground floor. He’d be in the States. She’d be in New Zealand. There was no reason for him ever needing to see his...the child.

      When...it...turned eighteen...it...might want to meet him. That could be okay.

      ‘You’re putting a note in your mental diary to have dinner when he turns twenty-one,’ Mary said, and he turned and stared down at her. They were in the foyer. His colleagues, his staff were casting curious looks at the woman by his side.

      The mother of his baby?

      What was it with this woman? How could she read his mind?

      ‘How did you know what I was thinking?’

      ‘You’re like an open book.’

      ‘I’m not. And I wasn’t thinking his twenty-first. It was his eighteenth.’ Deep breath. ‘Do we know if it’s a he?’

      ‘I don’t have a clue,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Does it matter?’

      ‘Of course not.

      But then he thought, A son.

      And then he thought, A daughter.

      ‘You’re getting that hunted look again,’ she told him. ‘You needn’t worry. If you turn into your father, I’ll be between you and our child with a blunderbuss.’

      ‘I believe that,’ he said. ‘I’ve watched you playing roller derby.’

      It was her turn to stare. ‘Where?’

      ‘YouTube.’

      ‘You watched me?’

      ‘Last year’s finals. A woman who plays like that...who looks like that... I wouldn’t get in her way for the world.’

      ‘There you are, then. You don’t have to worry about being like your father. I’ll put on full make-up and intervene.’

      ‘Don’t,’ he said, suddenly savage.

      ‘Don’t?’

      ‘Put on make-up. Pretend. Jake does it all the time. My mother did it. They move into their acting world and disappear.’

      ‘Is that what Jake’s done now? Is that why you’re hurting?’

      ‘Can we quit it with the inquisition?’ It was a savage demand but she didn’t flinch.

      ‘Sorry.’ She sounded almost cheerful. They’d negotiated the revolving doors and were out in the weak spring sunshine. New York was doing its best to impress.

      Where to take her for lunch?

      Clive’s was his normal business option, with comfortable seating, discreet booths, excellent food and an air of muted elegance. Clive himself always greeted him and no matter how busy, a booth was always assured.

      He took Mary’s arm and steered her Clive-wards, but she dug in her heels.

      ‘The park’s thataway, right?’

      ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘And it’s Central Park. That’s where the Imagine garden is. Strawberry Fields Forever. I loved John Lennon. Can we buy a sandwich and go there?’

      ‘It’ll be full of—’

      ‘Kids and dogs,’ she finished for him. ‘Exactly. My kind of place.’

      ‘I guess it will be if you have this baby.’

      ‘It is anyway,’ she said, her voice gentling, as if she needed to reassure him. ‘I’m a district nurse. Kids and mums and oldies are what I do. Along with grass under my feet. Ben, I’m still jet-lagged. Fresh air will do me good.’

      Now that she mentioned it, she was looking pale. He should have noticed before, but she was wearing drab clothes, she looked incredibly different from the last time he’d seen her and the news she’d brought had been shocking. Now he took the time to look more closely.

      ‘You’ve been ill.’

      ‘Morning sickness,’ she said darkly. ‘Only they lie. Morning... Ha!’

      ‘But you decided to fly to New York, morning sickness and all.’

      ‘It didn’t seem right not to tell you.’

      ‘Telephone?’

      ‘I wanted to watch your face when I said it.’

      ‘So you’ve said it. And I’ve been found wanting.’

      ‘You haven’t,’ she said, and tucked her arm into his. ‘You’ve explained why you’re afraid of being a father. If I’d telephoned I’d never have got that. I’d have raised Gertrude or Archibald to think Dad doesn’t care, rather than Dad cares too much. Where can we get a sandwich?’

      Dad. The word did his head in.

      ‘If we’re having a sandwich we’re having the very best sandwich,’ he growled, fighting an emotion he didn’t know how to handle.

      ‘Excellent. Lead the way. We’re right beside

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