CHAPTER SIX
FEELING totally shocked and stunned by what she’d just heard, Samantha left the chairman’s office in a daze.
Taking the elevator down to her own floor, she walked slowly through the deserted corridor leading to her office. It was by now the end of a long working day, and all her colleagues had obviously gone home, leaving only the silent army of security staff and office cleaners within the large building.
With a heavy sigh, Samantha sank down into the chair behind her desk, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling as she tried to get to grips with the situation that she now faced.
‘You may well come to feel that we have handed you a poisoned chalice,’ the chairman had told her earlier, his words accompanied by a thin-lipped, sardonic smile. And he’d been quite right Although, of course, he had no idea of the extra, additional problems which she now faced.
In essence, it all boiled down to two vitally important questions: Did she have a conflict of interest in this case? And, if so, what the heck was she going to do about it?
The facts of the situation were very clear indeed.
Matthew Warner, chief executive of Broadwood Securities, was now facing an attempt by another, if smaller firm to take over, buy up and possibly dismantle his large company. And it looked as if the ensuing battle might prove to be very nasty, indeed.
Her chairman had not minced his words. ‘It is likely to be a highly acrimonious, no-holds-barred fight,’ he’d warned. ‘It’s been clear for some time that Broadwood had over-extended itself, and thus become vulnerable to just such a take-over. As I’m sure you’re well aware.’
‘Well...er...I don’t have all the facts...’
‘However, I understand that their newly appointed chief executive, Matthew Warner, has been ruthlessly sorting out the sheep from the goats, with the next half yearly accounts likely to show a distinct improvement. Although even achieving that minor miracle may prove to be too little and too late to save his company.’
‘What...er...what’s the position of the two companies at the moment?’ Samantha had asked through stiff lips, feeling distinctly sick as she struggled to master the seething ferment of fear and panic racing through her mind and body.
‘My sources tell me that Kendal-Laval were determined to get their financial backers tightly sewn up before the news became public. In which they seem to have been successful,’ the chairman had told her. ‘As for Mr Warner—having obviously realised that an outside agency was buying up large blocks of his company’s shares—I’m told, on good authority, that he’s been working flat out to shore up his defences, get his Swiss bankers on side, and is now, I hear, digging in for a long, hard fight.’
‘So, the battle lines have already been drawn up?’
‘Oh, yes—I’m afraid so, my dear,’ her boss had agreed with a rueful smile. ‘So, we’ll just have to wait and see which company will triumph in the end.’
Except, of course, that wasn’t strictly true. Because, as her chairman had so accurately pointed out, it was a battle in which Minerva Utilities Management had not only a strong vested interest but they also held the balance of power. In other words the ultimate, casting vote.
He had also been very specific and down-to-earth about the problems she faced.
‘Our firm, through its various pension fund investments, has a large holding in each of these two companies—who are about to go to war with each other,’ he’d said. ‘Sufficiently large, in fact, to swing the result one way or the other. So, it will be our decision—after carefully deciding which company offers the best investment for our clients—which will be absolutely crucial to the outcome of this take-over battle.’
‘A real bed of thorns!’ she’d muttered to herself, a point which had been immediately picked up by her chairman.
‘Precisely!’ He’d given a bark of dry, sardonic laughter. ‘Especially as there’s no doubt that it will be a very nasty, drag-out fight—with the press watching and commenting on every move. Incidentally,’ he’d added, ‘I’ve been tipped off that there is likely to be a long article about the take-over in the city paper. So, you must be very careful. No careless talk. And make sure that you avoid all journalists like the plague!’
Newspaper reporters were the very least of her problems, Samantha now told herself, almost groaning out loud as she leaned her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands, desperately trying to sort out the various arguments running frantically back and forth through her mind.
Talk about a really enormous can of worms!
What on earth was she going to do? Because there were some very worrying ethical and moral questions which she had to answer. Such as: what about her involvement with Matt?
It was maybe lucky that she’d told Henry to say she was out, if any calls came through from a Mr Warner. Because if she’d been taking his calls, and was also in the throes of an ongoing, passionate love affair with Matt, there was no way she could have taken on this job. Like Caesar’s wife, she must be above suspicion.
Because, even if Samantha believed herself perfectly capable of taking an impartial decision between the two companies, no one else was going to see it that way!
All of which meant that she’d probably have to go to her chairman first thing tomorrow morning. And, after facing the horrendous embarrassment of explaining exactly why she had to declare a conflict of interest, request that she be taken off the case.
‘Oh, Lord!’ she groaned out loud, her shoulders sagging as she realised that her wonderfully enjoyable, fulfilling career was just about to hit the buffers—before quickly grinding to a shuddering halt.
 
‘Thank you for calling. Please leave a message, and I will get back to you as soon as possible.’
Matt slammed down the phone in disgust. What the hell was that girl up to? And why wasn’t she returning any of his telephone calls—not even when he left messages at her apartment?
Restless and angry, he rose from his chair to stretch his tired limbs, staring out of the large plate-glass window at the New York skyline.
So, OK...it was now a potentially delicate situation, businesswise. And maybe...maybe he should have told Samantha about the threat to his company from that two-bit European company. But surely she was far too sensible to hold that against him?
Working in the City herself, she must know the score. She knew how important it was to keep things under wraps. Besides, he had played fair. He had said that he might not be able to see her. Not that he’d really meant it, of course. How could he, when the thought of her lovely body was having such a disastrous effect on his ability to concentrate on the serious problems facing him?
His lips tightened with irritation—principally at himself for being such a fool. The trouble was, the damn girl had got under his skin. She was a very necessary part of his life now—and there seemed little he could do about the situation. Not at the moment, anyway, he told himself with a heavy sigh, trying to clear his mind of Samantha’s beautiful face and slim, full-breasted figure as he sat down at his desk once more.
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted as one of his assistants knocked and entered his office.
‘OK, sir. We’ve now got a complete breakdown of the figures,’ the young man told him, clutching a thick file to his narrow chest. ‘It looks certain that Minerva Utilities Management will have the casting vote.’
‘It doesn’t take a genius to see that,’ Matt snapped irritably, not bothering to raise his dark head as he concentrated on signing some urgent letters. ‘So, what else have you got for me?’
‘Er... nothing, really. Except it really would be very helpful if we knew which way Minerva is going to swing their votes.’
‘Indeed it would,’ Matt murmured sarcastically. ‘Unfortunately, not having a crystal ball to hand, we shall just have to concentrate on the figures, won’t we?’
‘Oh, I think we can do better than that, sir! I mean,’ the young man added hurriedly as his boss raised his head, visibly wilting under the icy green glint in the older man’s eyes, ‘I think we really ought to try and make sure the result goes our way.’
‘And just how do you propose to do that?’ Matt queried, leaning back in his chair and regarding the young man with some interest.
‘Well, sir—I reckon it might be a good idea to try and get on the right side of their new pension fund manager, Miss Samantha Thomas. You know, sort of sweet-talk the lady into...’ His voice trailed away as his boss gave a harsh, sardonic bark of laughter.
‘I can assure you,’ Matt told him grimly, ‘that Miss Thomas does not have a “right side” at the moment. I also happen to know that the idea of sweet-talking her into anything—up to and including answering the phone—is a pure waste of time!’
 
 
By the time she returned to her apartment that night, Samantha was beginning to get things sorted out in her mind, and feeling marginally less gloomy than she had earlier in the evening.
Unfortunately, her cautious optimism over the question of her job versus the state of her feelings for Matt lasted just as long as it took for her to check the calls on her answering machine.
‘Hello, Sam.’ Matt’s strong, incisive tones flowed swiftly from the tape. ‘You must be aware by now that I’ve been leaving messages for you at the office. So, why haven’t I heard from you? We’re both very busy, of course, but I really do need to contact you, fairly urgently. If you can’t talk to me at work, give me a ring when you get home. OK?’
There’s no way I can talk to you, she told him silently as she sank wearily down on to the large sofa in the middle of the room. Not now. And most definitely not until she’d finally made up her mind about what she was going to do about this very, very difficult situation.
As far as she could see, it all came down to the question of just how involved she was with Matt Warner...
Trying to think clearly and logically as she later paced up and down her large sitting room, she continued to weigh up the pros and cons.
Yes...she and Matt had enjoyed a passionate affair in the past, many years ago. And yes...over the past eight weeks or so she’d spent two equally passionate weekends with the same man. However, since Matt—for some strange, completely mysterious reasons of his own—had quite deliberately kept her in the dark, Samantha could truthfully claim that she’d had no prior knowledge of the imminent take-over battle.
So, not only did she know nothing about what had been going on over the past two months—as far as Matt and his business was concerned—but she also had, at the present time, no in-depth information about the other company involved. Which meant that, as far as she was concerned, it really was a level playing field.
Leaving aside the deep anger bubbling away at the back of her head, regarding the fact that Matt had clearly not trusted her in any shape or form, she now realised that her basic instincts had been quite correct. It did very much look as though Matt had been swiftly backing out of her life ever since the last weekend they’d spent together—almost as quickly as he’d swept into her life two months ago in New York.
So, since he’d made it plain that he was not intending to see her in the immediate future, their brief love affair would appear to have been just that: short, sharp and now completely over.
Having finally arrived at the conclusion that she was morally and ethically in the clear—and that she could, with a good conscience, refute any charges of being too personally involved with one of the contenders, during the forthcoming take-over battle, Samantha had to admit to an enormous feeling of relief.
Besides, it might not come to a battle at all. The City of London was littered with companies who’d attempted to take over other firms—only to have their plans disrupted, one way or another. So, it made sense for her to sit tight. Do nothing. And wait and see which way the cookie crumbled.
However, having come to a reasoned, sensible decision about her present non-involvement with Matt, she still had the massive problem of having to deal with her own personal problems.
Unfortunately, they were far more tortuous and difficult to sort out than those to do with business...
What the hell did Matt think he was playing at? she raged silently, still feeling deeply troubled and as miserable as sin by the time she finally went to bed that night. If there was anyone whom you should be able to trust completely in this world, surely it ought to be your lover?
Although she and Matt had both been swept off their feet by a sudden, mutual passion for each other, they did have a past history of a warm and loving relationship. And, although she’d been totally devastated when that earlier affair had been so abruptly terminated, Samantha had always known, in her heart of hearts, that it had probably been inevitable. Indeed, with heavy pressure exerted by the university authorities—together with Matt’s concern for her youth, inexperience and her future career—he’d probably had no choice but to behave as he did.
However, all those years ago, there had never been any underlying, hidden agenda. Absolutely the reverse. And, if she could now see that Matt had behaved cruelly, he had at least been ruthlessly honest and up-front about his reasons for doing so.
However, this time it was quite different. She wasn’t a fool. She had gone into this renewal of their love affair with her eyes wide open. She’d always realised that the frantic, white heat of their mutual, overwhelming desire wasn’t likely to last for ever. But she’d also believed that, when the frenzied urgency of their passion had faded—as it inevitably must sooner or later—they would at least remain good friends.
More fool you! she told herself roughly. Because, if she hadn’t been entirely certain that she could handle their affair—fearing that she might become too emotionally involved with Matt—she had trusted him.
And why not? When they’d met up again in New York, he’d been brutally frank about his lack of long-term commitment, and had made it quite clear that he was only interested in a love affair. So, she’d known exactly where she stood. But at no point in their relationship had it ever occurred to her that he would quite deliberately not tell her about such a major development in his life as this forthcoming take-over battle.
Why...why hadn’t he trusted her? Did he seriously believe that she was capable of doing something awful, like going to the newspapers and giving them details of his business affairs? Did he really think she was so shallow and untrustworthy?
Unfortunately, it now looked as if that was precisely what Matt had thought
Well...to hell with him! she told herself defiantly. It was now clearly obvious that she’d never really known him at all. In fact, she ought to be deeply thankful that she wouldn’t be seeing him any more.
However, despite her defiant thoughts, it was his sheer deception, together with a deep sense of betrayal, that now left her feeling so utterly devastated. If you haven’t got trust in someone, you have nothing, was her last, despairing thought as she slipped into a deeply disturbed, restless sleep.
 
Burying herself in work was obviously one way of coping with personal problems, and over the next few days Samantha had the satisfaction of knowing that, while she might be feeling tired and weary, she’d also achieved a good deal.
She did have grave doubts about Henry’s ability to keep his mouth shut about their firm’s role in the take-over, of course. But there was little she could do, other than to warn him sternly of the dangers—hoping that he wouldn’t get carried away and become indiscreet when out drinking with his friends.
On the plus side, however, all the members of her department were clearly excited by the challenge she’d set before them, with the research and analysis teams already hard at work preparing the necessary charts and data.
So far so good, Samantha told herself as she poured some hideously expensive oil into the bathtub after a hard day’s work.
Lying back and relaxing in the hotly scented water, she could almost feel the strain and tensions of the day gradually seeping away from her weary mind and body. Determinedly pushing any thought of Matt to the very back of her mind, she concentrated on making a mental list of all the things she had to do tomorrow.
It was a busy schedule, including not only an early morning visit to the doctor, to get the results of her tests—and hopefully some medicine to stop her feeling so tired and nauseous—but also a quick lunch with her sister.
Edwina, who was coming up to London to do some shopping, would undoubtedly have bought up most of Harrods by the time they met! Which, in fact, could prove to be a blessing. There should be no problem about keeping her sister’s attention fully on her own purchases. Because, given half a chance, Edwina would almost certainly want to know all about the current state of her involvement with Matt.
Oh, no! She was definitely not going to think about him. Absolutely not! Samantha told herself fiercely, quickly getting out of the bath and roughly towelling herself dry. He was now history, right? So, the sooner she forgot all about him the better!
Unfortunately, that was something which was easier said than done. Slipping on a towelling dressing gown, she had just left the bathroom, and was walking through the main living room, when she was startled by the sharp, urgent ringing tone of the telephone.
As always—and especially at this late hour of the night—she allowed the call-screen facility to come into action, enabling her to check who was on the other end of the line, before deciding whether she wished to answer the phone.
‘Sam...I’m still waiting for you to phone me.’ She froze, completely unable to move as the sound of Matt’s voice, harsh and impatient, echoed loudly around the main room of her apartment. ‘I’m up to my eyeballs in work at the moment. Give me a ring at home, although I know the time difference makes things difficult. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. But we need to talk.’
The faint click as he firmly replaced the phone without even, she noted grimly, a polite goodbye—let alone any endearment!—left her feeling shattered and trembling with nervous tension.
Even if she wished to, there was no way she could ring him back at his office. While the time difference he’d mentioned would mean her having to stay awake until three or four o‘clock in the morning if she wanted to reach him at home. So, however much she might like to have a few, hard words with the rotten man, it was perhaps just as well that she wasn’t going to have an opportunity to do so.
Unfortunately, she was so strung up following his phone call that it took her a long time before she fell into a restless sleep. And, once again, despite all her good intentions, there seemed nothing she could do to prevent Matt’s lithe, tall, dark figure from striding arrogantly through her dreams. Which meant that she was already feeling washed out and exhausted as she left home to keep her first appointment of the day.
 
Samantha stared in open-mouthed shock and disbelief at the woman sitting on the other side of the desk.
‘You must be joking!’ she managed to croak at last, shaking her head as she desperately tried to make sense of this totally bizarre situation. ‘I mean...I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous.’ She gave a high-pitched, incredulous laugh. ‘Total claptrap!’
‘The results plainly show...’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t care what the so-called “results” may or may not show. Somebody has clearly made a bad mistake. You’ll simply have to ask them to do the tests again. Because the whole idea is...well, it’s just too absurd.’
And there were plenty of other, much ruder words she could have used to describe this farcical situation, Samantha told herself angrily. Quite apart from the fact that, once again, she’d overslept—what was wrong with her these days?—and should have been sitting at her desk in the office by now.
All of which meant that she really couldn’t spare the time to listen to such rubbish. After all, she’d only made this appointment in the hope of clearing up a small problem—right? So, who needed this amount of grief and hassle?
She didn’t want much, for heaven’s sake. Merely a bottle of medicine. Nothing fancy. No bells and whistles. And certainly not anything requiring a Ph.D. in nuclear physics before being able to read the label. Just something to stop her feeling sick all the time. So, why wouldn’t this stupid woman just get on with it, and write out a prescription?
The ‘stupid woman’ sitting behind the desk gave a heavy sigh. This situation was, of course, something she frequently had to face in her job. Which didn’t make the present case any easier to deal with. However, as usual, she was simply going to have to talk matters through, slowly and steadily, until the girl in front of her managed to calm down—and listen to what she had to say.
‘I’m afraid there is no possibility of error in this case, Miss Thomas,’ she told Samantha. ‘You’re going to have to accept the fact that, as your doctor, I do know what I’m talking about.’
‘But...but the whole idea is so ludicrous...’ Samantha waved her hands distractedly in the air. ‘I mean...’
‘Nevertheless, you are pregnant,’ the doctor continued in a firm but gentle voice. ‘You are expecting a baby, which will be born in approximately seven months’ time.’ She leaned forward to consult a calendar on the desk in front of her. ‘A January baby. That’s nice.’
‘Nice...?’ Samantha gasped in horror, before lapsing into a stunned silence. This simply could not be happening to her. She...expecting a baby? Oh, no. There had to be some mistake. There just had to be!
The doctor gave another heavy sigh. ‘Lets take it from the top, shall we?’ she began, giving the girl a tired smile. ‘You were engaged in a sexual relationship at some point in April?’
‘Well...yes, I was,’ Samantha admitted with a reluctant nod. ‘But...’
‘And were you taking adequate precautions?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she snapped.
‘On each and every occasion?’ the doctor queried. ‘Please think very carefully, Miss Thomas,’ she added patiently. ‘Because there must have been at least one time when you were, perhaps, just a little careless...?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Samantha retorted swiftly, her cheeks flushing at the recollection of Matt’s tender lovemaking, and the way in which he’d so carefully and adroitly ensured that she’d have no worries about the risk of conception.
Just about to open her mouth and firmly deny that she, or Matt, would have been so stupid as to ignore the principles of ‘safe sex’, Samantha suddenly realised that there had...maybe...been just the one occasion when they hadn’t been so sensible.
Oh, my God! Could it be the result of the very first time they’d made love—both totally in the grip of a feverish, frantic explosion of overwhelming lust and passion—after dining at the Four Seasons, in New York? So overcome by their consuming need and desire for one another that they hadn’t...there’d been no time to...
The doctor leaned back in her chair, watching the conflicting emotions flickering rapidly over the girl’s pale features. ‘So, there was at least one occasion when you didn’t use any form of birth control?’
‘Yes...’ Samantha muttered, staring blindly down at the nervous, tensely clenched hands in her lap, before desperately trying to pull herself together. ‘But...but it was only once. Surely it’s not possible...?’
The doctor shook her grey head. ‘A young, healthy woman, under thirty years of age? Oh, yes, I’m afraid that it is only too possible,’ she said wryly. ‘Do I take it that you are not married?’
Samantha shook her head.
‘And is that likely to prove a problem? Because if you need any help or counselling please feel free to contact me at any time.’
‘Er...thank you,’ Samantha muttered, still not really able to believe that she was pregnant.
However, by the time she left the doctor’s consulting room, she’d finally realised that—totally and utterly incredible as it might seem—she really was going to have a child.
Leaving Harley Street, she wandered in a daze until she found herself standing outside a coffee shop in Marylebone High Street. Briefly managing to pull herself together, Samantha still took some moments, helplessly fumbling through her large handbag, before she located her mobile phone. And then, leaning weakly against a stone column in an empty doorway, she dialled her office. Mumbling some excuse about not feeling very well and that she was taking the day off, she entered the café and ordered a very strong cup of coffee.
You’d better make the most of this, she told herself grimly, recalling having read somewhere that caffeine was bad for expectant mothers—and only with great difficulty suppressing an urge to scream out loud in rage and frustration.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have a baby. It was just... well, she hadn’t even got around to thinking about marriage, children, and all that sort of thing. That was a part of life which, up to now, she’d always thought of as being an experience which lay ahead of her. Something to look forward to, in the future. Not an urgent problem which needed to be dealt with here and now. Not when she’d just achieved the first great success of her career. And most definitely not when a brief love affair, with an old flame, had proved so disastrously short...and she never wanted to see the foul man ever again!
Oh, Lord! She’d been so preoccupied with her own problems that she’d completely forgotten all about Matt.
OK...OK...cool down! she warned herself urgently, suddenly feeling faint and dizzy.
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, and staring blankly down at the coffee cup in front of her, Samantha gradually calmed down as she tried to sort out the jumbled chaos in her brain.
You’ve got to relax...and stay very, very calm, she told herself desperately. In fact, you’ve absolutely got to think this through sensibly. Because how Matt was likely to react when he heard the news that she was expecting his baby was desperately important.
She’d always prided herself on being able to think rationally and logically about a problem. And this was definitely one time when she was going to need every ounce of clear-headed, practical and down-to-earth sense she could lay her hands on.
By the time she was on her second cup of coffee, Samantha had firmly rejected any thought of abortion. Whatever happened, she definitely was going to have her baby.
Right—that was one decision. Now for the one-million-dollar question: what was she going to do about Matt?
Even the thought of having to break the news to him was enough to make her feel faint and panic-stricken. Unfortunately, however much she dreaded the idea—because, of course, she had absolutely no idea how he would react to the news—there was no doubt in her mind that she must do so.
Matt might not welcome fatherhood. He could well feel, as she did, utter consternation and dismay that one brief moment of careless rapture could produce such a dramatic result. But she had no alternative. She must tell him. Because, quite simply, he had a moral right to know that, in the fullness of time, she would be giving birth to his baby.
 
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Samantha called out as she quickly threaded her way through the tables of the restaurant to where her sister, Edwina, was sitting. ‘The...er...the traffic was awful, as usual.’
‘I don’t know how you can bear to live in London,’ Edwina said as her younger sister gave her a quick peck on the cheek, before sitting down at the table beside her. ‘Everyone seems in such a tearing hurry all the time. Not to mention the petrol fumes and general pollution, which is simply dreadful!’
‘Yes, I’ve already heard your views on the Great Metropolis—about a million times!’ Samantha retorted with a grin, suddenly realising just how much she’d needed the comfort of her sister’s kind, warmly caring personality.
When Georgie had been born, and with two young children to look after as well as the baby, their mother had been rushed off her feet. Which was when her older sister had begun to loom large in Samantha’s life. It was Edwina who’d picked her up when she’d fallen, wiped her tears when she was unhappy, and who throughout their earliest days at school had always protected and guarded her younger sister.
‘So, how’s work?’ Edwina was saying. ‘Busy as usual, I suppose?’
‘You’re quite right,’ Samantha told her brightly, trying to put her own desperately upsetting worries aside for a moment. ‘Incidentally, you’re now looking at Minerva’s new pension fund manager.’
Edwina beamed at her sister. ‘Oh, darling! I’m so pleased. What a feather in your cap, to have got the job you wanted—and at such a young age.’
‘I don’t feel young.’ Samantha grimaced. ‘One more year and I’ll be thirty. Do you remember how we used to think that anybody over twenty-five was practically in their dotage?’ she added with a wry smile, before asking how the shopping expedition had gone. ‘Did you find everything you wanted?’
‘No—nothing seemed to fit. I shall just have to go on a diet,’ her sister told her gloomily. ‘But not until after lunch, of course! And, since I arrived here early—and I knew that you’d be in a tearing hurry, as usual—I went ahead and ordered for both of us. Ah, here it comes now,’ she added as a waiter approached their table. ‘I chose one of your favourite starters—shrimps sizzling in hot garlic oil. I must say, it smells delicious!’
Normally very fond of the dish, Samantha could only stare down at her plate in dismay. The thought of eating even one mouthful was quite, quite beyond her.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ Edwina murmured, gazing at her sister with concern. She did look very pale and not at all her usual, bubbly self. ‘If you don’t want it we can always order something else. Maybe a salad would be a better choice? Or...’
‘No, it’s OK...’ Samantha muttered, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to ignore the strong, normally delicious aroma of garlic rising from the dish in front of her. ‘I...er...I’m sorry, but I just don’t think I can eat anything at the moment.’
‘Darling—what’s wrong?’ Edwina frowned. ‘You don’t look at all well. Maybe you should see a doctor?’
Samantha could feel a dark bubble of hysterical laughter rising in her throat. ‘I don’t need to see a doctor!’ she ground out through nervously clenched, chattering teeth. ‘If...if you want to know the truth I’ve already s-seen one today. And...and apparently I’m g-going to have a b-baby,’ she added, before suddenly bursting into tears.
‘Oh, Sam!’
‘I...I’m sorry....’ she muttered, desperately searching through her handbag for a tissue. ‘I...I didn’t mean to say anything...such a fool...in a restaurant of all p-places!’
‘Who cares? They can just put up with it,’ Edwina stated firmly, passing a large white handkerchief to the sobbing girl, before beckoning imperiously to a waiter and ordering a weak brandy and soda. ‘Besides, no one can see us here, in the corner,’ she added comfortingly. ‘So, come on. Dry your tears—and tell me all about it.’
‘Wh-what can I t-tell you?’ Samantha sniffed, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. ‘I’ve been a stupid, careless fool. That’s all there is to it.’
‘Oh, really? I should think there is a lot more to it than that,’ her sister murmured sceptically as the waiter returned to their table with the brandy and soda. ‘Now, sip it slowly, and you’ll feel a lot better.’
‘How...how can you take this all so calmly?’ Samantha asked, instinctively doing as she was told, and becoming aware that the nauseous feeling in her stomach was gradually subsiding.
Edwina smiled and shook her head. ‘Darling—it’s hardly the end of the world, you know. I...er...I’m assuming that it’s Matt’s baby, right?’ And when her sister gave an unhappy, tearful nod she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, I really don’t see too many problems. You’re both clearly mad about each other. So, what’s to stop you getting married, and living happily ever after?’
‘You...you simply don’t understand!’ Samantha wailed, before burying her face in the handkerchief once again. ‘Oh, Lord—I’m not normally the sort of person who bursts into tears,’ she added helplessly. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me lately.’
‘It’s hormones, I’m afraid,’ Edwina told her with a rueful smile. ‘Now, exactly what is it that I don’t understand? Because, believe me, there’s always an answer to every problem.’
However, after she’d managed to persuade Samantha to explain fully the state of affairs in which she found herself, even she could see that there was no obvious, easy solution to what sounded a very complicated situation.
‘Well, I think that you’re just going to have to take one step at a time,’ she said at last. ‘And you’re quite right. Because there’s no doubt that the first thing you must do is have a long talk with Matt.’
‘And just how do you suggest I do that? The damn man is thousands of miles away, in New York. And it’s not exactly the sort of news one wants to tell anyone over the phone,’ Samantha pointed out grimly, having by now managed to pull herself together. ‘Besides, I’ve been walking all around London this morning, desperately trying to think this whole thing through. And got precisely nowhere!’
‘Yes, but...’
‘The facts are that Matt and I had an affair—which is now more or less over. He always made it crystal-clear that he just wanted a love affair—no commitment, no hassle. So, I tell him that I’m pregnant with his baby...and it’s shock, horror all round. Will he wonder whether I’m blackmailing him into marriage? Yes, probably he will. And, even if he doesn’t, he’s going to feel obliged to do at least “the right thing” and support me and the child.’
‘And so he should!’ Edwina retorted firmly. ‘It takes two people to make a baby. And he’s got to face up to his responsibilities, whether he wants to or not.’
Samantha shook her head. ‘You’ve lost sight of the main point. Which is all this ghastly business of the take-over battle. If I do tell him about the baby I’ll have to give up my job. Because there’s no way I can pretend that we aren’t heavily involved with each other. On the other hand, our very brief affair is now over. Which means that if I don’t name the father I can keep on working. And, as a single mother, it’s going to be desperately important that I do so—if only to provide for my child.
‘So, that’s it, in a nutshell. To tell Matt—and lose my job. Or to keep silent, keep my job...and look after my baby.’
‘Oh, darling! I...I simply don’t know what to say...’
‘Yeah, well, that makes two of us,’ Samantha told her sister grimly. ‘And, unless you can come up with an inspired solution to the problem, it looks as though it’s going to be just about the hardest decision I’ll ever have to take. And one which will have vital consequences for the rest of my life.’