Reunited: Marriage in a Million

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BELLE began, quite irrationally, to hate the doorbell. Not because of who it might be-network people, her agent, who didn’t seem to understand the word ‘no’-but because of who it wasn’t.

Just how stupid could one woman be?

First she’d left Ivo and then, when he’d bared his soul, admitted that he’d been prepared to compromise his own desperate decision, overcome his own fears to give her what she wanted, she’d sent him away. Rejected him, put her sister first. Made it clear that he came second.

No man was going to stand for that, come back for more. Especially not a man like Ivo Grenville.

She picked up the entry phone. ‘Yes?’

‘It’s Miranda, Belle. Can I come up?’

She buzzed her in. His sister was no substitute, but she’d breathed the same air, talked to him, could tell her how he was…

‘Great sofa,’ Manda said, sweeping into the room in a dramatic swirl of the season’s most cutting-edge style, a whisper of some rare scent, picking out the one thing that she hadn’t chosen. ‘Very eye-catching.’

Oh, right. She was being sarcastic.

‘Ivo said your flat had a certain appeal.’

‘Really?’ What else had he said…?

‘I have to confess, I thought his view was coloured by lust but actually he’s right. Of course what you really need is to completely restore the house, turn it back into a family home. Maybe convert the lower ground floor into a garden flat for Daisy. So much more suitable for a pram,’ she said.

‘What can I do for you, Miranda?’ Belle enquired sharply, refusing to be drawn into whatever game she thought she was playing.

‘Nothing. It’s your sister I’ve come to see. I understand she’s in the market for a job.’ She didn’t wait for an answer but, turning to Daisy, said, ‘I saw you on television last month. You’ve got your sister’s smile.’ Before Daisy had time to demonstrate it, she continued, ‘I have no doubt that the rest of you will catch up in time. Motherhood can do wonders, I understand.’ She extended her hand. ‘I’m Manda Grenville, Ivo’s sister.’

‘Ivan the Terrible and Cruella de Ville,’ Daisy replied, ignoring it. ‘A neat match.’

Manda’s eyes widened slightly and then, even as Belle held her breath, she threw back her head and laughed. ‘The buxom Belle but with an edge. Brilliant. We’re going to get along just fine.’

Infuriating though it was, it seemed that they did, perhaps recognising something in one another. And Belle had to admit that the job offer was good news. She hadn’t expected Ivo to remember. She should have given him more credit; he might be hurt, but he wouldn’t take his feelings out on Daisy.

She had tried to talk to her sister about the future; she was quick, clever, could easily get a place at college. She’d refused to even discuss it with her.

‘Is there any hope of a cup of coffee, Belle?’ Miranda asked.

About to remind her that if she wanted coffee she knew where the nearest deli was, she held her tongue, glad to have her as an ally on her sister’s behalf, even if she’d never been a friend to her.

‘Of course. Daisy? Can I get you anything?’

‘Is there any of that honey and camomile tea left?’

She boiled the kettle, took the coffee from the fridge and spooned some into the cafetière; wrinkling up her nose at the smell, she decided to join Daisy in a cup of herb tea.

Daisy and Manda were, unlikely as that seemed, deep in conversation when she carried through the tray. She turned down the heating, then opened the French windows.

‘Good grief, Bella, do you want us to freeze in here?’

‘It’s so stuffy in here,’ she said. Then, realising that they were both staring at her, ‘Maybe I’m coming down with something.’

‘It must be something going around,’ Manda said pointedly. ‘Ivo has matching symptoms.’

‘He’s not well?’

‘Nothing that a decent night’s sleep wouldn’t fix. Why don’t you go and have a lie down?’

‘I’m fine, really,’ she began. Then, as Manda poured out the coffee and the smell reached her, she realised that was not the case and had to make a run for the bathroom, only just making it before she threw up.

She refused to let Daisy or Manda make a fuss, waving them away. ‘It’s just some bug. I’ll lie down for a minute.’

Manda was still there when she emerged an hour later, slightly fuzzy from a nap and starving hungry.

‘Is that pizza…?’

‘We sent out for it. Daisy’s choice.’

‘Bliss. Did she leave any anchovies?’

‘What is it with the pair of you and anchovies?’ Manda demanded as Belle, spotting one that had been overlooked, picked it off and ate it.

‘Belle!’ Daisy protested. ‘You hate anchovies.’

‘I just fancied something salty.’ She licked the tip of her thumb. ‘What?’

They shook their heads as one and Manda quickly said, ‘I’m glad you’re back with us. Daisy and I are all sorted. All we need now is you.’

‘Me?’

‘It’s this kids’ charity thing I’ve got involved with. It seems to have been provoked by the huge response to your coverage of the charity bike ride. There’s been a bit of a popular outcry and politicians are feeling bruised by the criticism. Things need to be done. The question is what things.’

‘You’d like me to give you a list?’

‘I was hoping for rather more than that, to be honest. A picture being, as we both know, worth a thousand words, what I need is someone to take a camera crew and show the world just how bad things are. An ambassador for the street kids, if you like. With your credentials, you appear to be the obvious choice.’

Daisy’s face was glowing with excitement. ‘Manda wants me to go with her on a pre-filming recce. As her assistant.’

‘You’re pregnant, Daisy.’

‘Well, duh! This is the twenty-first century; I don’t have to stay at home in purdah. It’ll be during the middle three months.’ Her voice was pleading. ‘We’re going to South America, the Far East…’

‘I’ll take care of her, Belle.’

‘Will you?’ Then, because she had to ask, ‘Was this your idea?’

‘You think Ivo is behind it? I promise you, he expressively forbade me from asking for your help.’

‘Oh.’ Belle felt like a tyre with the air let out. It was like the doorbell, she thought. She understood that it couldn’t possibly be him, but she would keep hoping…

‘Please, Belle!’ Daisy begged. ‘Please say you’ll do it.’

She weighed up the options. Daisy, sulking and miserable under her feet day and night. Or with an exciting job, a future.

And not just Daisy. This was a new chance for her to do something important. Something that would make a difference.

‘I guess you’d better go to the Post Office and pick up a passport application form,’ she said.

‘You saw her? How is she?’

Ivo might have tried to discourage his sister from whatever scheme she was hatching, but he’d been pacing the library, waiting for her to come home.

‘Feeling a little under the weather, if you really want to know.’ Manda settled on the sofa and put her feet up. ‘Some tedious little bug, no doubt. It’s that time of year.’ Then, ‘You’re right about her flat, by the way. It’s charming. Shame about the sofa.’ She tilted her head to look at him. ‘Did you know that there’s one just like it for sale on the next floor?’

‘The sofa?’

‘Her flat.’

‘Not any more.’

She swivelled round. ‘You’ve bought it? When did you organise that?’

‘I put in an offer the Monday after Belle left me.’

‘Really? Does she know?’

‘Not yet.’ Then, ‘You might as well know that I’ve bought the other two flats as well. I now own the entire house except the top floor.’

She wrinkled her brow in a thoughtful frown. ‘All the flats were for sale at the same time?’

‘If you offer enough money, anything is for sale.’

‘And your plan is?’

‘Shot to pieces, if you really want to know.’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Once I’ve whisked Daisy Dreadful off to South America the coast will be clear. You can move in downstairs and lay siege to the fair lady. Ply her with pizza. Just make sure to specify extra anchovies.’

‘She hates anchovies.’

‘Yes. Interesting.’ Then, ‘Whatever. Just think about it.’

‘What on earth is going on downstairs?’ Belle demanded.

The noise was driving her mad. No. Everything was driving her mad. The fact that her perfect minimalist flat had been taken over by the Christmas fairy in the shape of Daisy. That everything capable of carrying a decoration had been lit, baubled and tinselled.

That the freezer was full to the brim with food that made her ill just to think of it.

That all she wanted to do was lie down in a darkened room until the whole thing was over.

‘The ground floor tenants are moving out today,’ Daisy said. ‘They’ve bought some swanky place in Bankside, apparently.’

‘That’s the whole place empty except for us? Does everyone else know something I don’t?’ Then, as Daisy placed a beautifully gift-wrapped package in front of her, ‘What’s this?’

‘An early Christmas present. Something I think you might find a use for.’

She eased herself up into a sitting position, told herself not to be such a Grinch-Daisy deserved this Christmas-and made herself smile. ‘That’s so sweet. Thank you.’ She kissed her sister, undid the blue bow, loosened the silver wrapping paper. Frowned in confusion as she looked at the box in her hand. Then thought for a moment that she was going to be sick again. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘No, it’s a pregnancy test kit. The latest high-tech job. No little blue lines or crosses on this one. It actually says “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant”. How neat is that?’ Daisy said, totally pleased with herself.

Belle swallowed. Not neat at all.

‘I’m not pregnant,’ she said.

‘You’re sick all the time,’ Daisy said, shifting all her weight to one leg, sticking out her hip and ticking off her counter-arguments on her fingers, one by one. ‘The kitchen cupboard is stacked with cans of anchovies as if you’re afraid they’re about to go extinct. You go green if I mention coffee. And yesterday I caught you eating a pickled cucumber out of the jar. Two months ago that was me.’ Then, pulling a face, ‘Except for the pickle.’

‘I like pickled cucumbers.’

‘Are your breasts tender?’ she persisted. ‘I have noticed that you’re wearing your softest bras.’

‘Well, maybe, but-’

‘But nothing. Quit with the excuses. It’s time you stopped hiding from the truth and admitted you’re up the duff. In the club. That there is, in the vernacular, a bun in your oven.’

Vernacular? She’d been spending way too much time with Manda.

‘No, darling,’ she said, pushing her lank fringe back from her forehead with a shaking hand. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t possibly be pregnant.’

‘You’re doing a very good impression of it.’

‘It’s just a bug. Something I picked up when I was abroad.’

‘They do the delayed action kind now?’

‘Please!’ she begged. ‘I can’t…Ivo can’t…’

‘What?’

‘He can’t have children.’ Daisy did not look convinced. ‘He had a vasectomy.’

‘Is that a fact? So who’s been a naughty girl, then?’

‘No!’

‘I was kidding, Bella.’ Daisy placed the box in her hands, eased her to her feet. ‘The bathroom is that way. Do you want me to come and read the instructions for you?’

‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Really? So prove it.’

Belle sat on the edge of the bath staring at the little wand she was holding. The single word.

‘Pregnant’

Around her, the world went about its business, unheeding. The bumping and shouting as the removal men shifted furniture.

An impatient motorist hooted.

A child cried.

A brass band in the market was playing a Christmas carol.

‘Bella?’ Daisy’s voice was no longer teasing but anxious. ‘Bella, can I come in?’ She didn’t wait, but opened the door. Took the stick from her hand. ‘I really hate to say I told you so…’

‘It’s wrong.’

‘Oh, Bella…’ Daisy put her arms around her. ‘It’s okay.’

‘No. No, it’s not. It can’t be true,’ she said. She wanted it to be true. Longed for it to be true. But it couldn’t be. ‘It would take a miracle.’

Ivo had begged for one. For her sake, she reminded herself. Nothing had changed for him.

‘Maybe it’s a dud,’ Daisy offered gently, as if she were talking to a child. She didn’t understand. Couldn’t know…‘Why don’t I go and get another kit? A different kind.’

‘Whatever it takes to convince you.’

An hour later they were surrounded by empty cartons, the little sticks they’d contained, each one telling her, with blue lines, pink lines, blue crosses, the same thing.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

‘There’s one more,’ Daisy said.

‘I couldn’t squeeze out another drop.’

‘So what? You’re ready to accept that they’re right?’ Then, misunderstanding, ‘It’s not so bad, you know. And our kids will be almost like twins.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Maybe I do.’ Daisy knelt in front of her. ‘It’s okay, really.’ Then, ‘I’m going to be okay. Selfish. A brat. Afraid that you’d get tired of me. But you sent him away for me, didn’t you? Even though you love him.’

‘No!’

‘Then why hasn’t he been to see you?’

‘He’s busy.’

‘He hasn’t even called you.’

Belle, unable to speak, just shook her head.

‘I’m off to South America after Christmas,’ Daisy said, ‘but I don’t think I can go if you’re going to be on your own.’

‘Don’t be silly. I’ll be fine.’

‘I don’t think you will. No. That’s the deal. Call him or Manda will have to find someone else to run her errands.’

‘Daisy…’ She reached out, caught her hand. ‘You know I’d never let you down, don’t you? That I’ll always been here for you.’

‘Yes, Bella, I know.’ Then, leaping to her feet, ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Call Ivan the Terrible, tell him that, snip or not, he’s about to become a daddy.’

Ivo had used work, from his earliest days at school, to block out the emptiness in his life. For the first time in his life it wasn’t working.

He’d stopped going into the office, had abandoned ongoing projects to his more than capable deputies, who were doubtless delighted at the chance to show what they could do, using the excuse that he needed to sort out the Camden house.

When he’d seen the flat below hers was for sale it had seemed as if it was meant. Quite what he was going to do with it he hadn’t decided. But then Daisy had turned up and it had all seemed so simple. He’d convert the garden flat for Daisy. Move in between them. Be a friend. A father…

Stupid.

Now, the keys in his hand, the empty rooms mocking him, he wasn’t able to rouse himself to care about anything very much.

His cellphone bleeped to warn him that he had a text message. His first reaction was to ignore it, but there were people relying on him, for whom he was responsible. He pulled it from his pocket, flipped it open. Stared at it. He hadn’t thought his day could get any worse, but it just had.

There was a tap at the front door to the flat. ‘It’s probably the removal men wanting a cup of tea,’ Belle said, drying her hair. ‘Can you handle it?’

‘No problem.’

She looked at her face in the mirror, pinched her cheeks to put a bit of colour in them. Put on a pair of earrings. Realised that everything had gone very quiet.

‘Daisy?’

‘Your sister said to tell you that she’s meeting Manda for lunch.’ Belle spun around on the stool. Ivo was standing in the doorway watching her. ‘Your message said you wanted to see me. To talk about the future.’

For a moment she could hardly catch her breath, let alone speak. It had been just over a month and he looked no better than her. Gaunt, hollow-eyed…

‘I only sent that text a few minutes ago.’

‘I was in the flat downstairs.’

She frowned. ‘But it’s empty. It’s been empty for weeks…’

‘Not any more. I’ve been taking possession of my latest acquisition. What do you want to see me about, Belle? If it’s-’

‘The flat? You’ve bought the flat?’

‘Actually, I’ve bought the whole house,’ he said impatiently. ‘All of it except this floor. Does it matter?’

‘That depends on your reason. Are you going to move in?’

‘Yes. No…’ He shook his head. ‘Belle, if you want to talk about a divorce-’

‘What? No,’ she said. ‘No.’ She turned and picked up a silk jewellery roll that was lying on the dressing table. Offered it to him. ‘It’s this.’

Ivo took it. ‘What is it?’

‘Open it and see.’

He shrugged, undid the tie, then placed it on the bed and rolled it open.

In each pocket there was a small plastic stick. Each one was slightly different. He’d never actually seen one before, but it didn’t take a genius to work out what they were. What he didn’t understand was what she was doing with them. Telling him. Until the last one. That said it in one simple word.

Pregnant.

He thought he knew pain, understood every way in which the heart could be wrenched open, torn apart, bleed. But in that moment, as the possibilities raced through his head, he learned different.

‘Oh, my love…’ Somehow he was on his knees and she had her arms around him, holding him, crushing him to her. ‘What have you done?’

‘Me?’ She drew back a little.

‘Was it a donor? Were you that desperate?’

‘No…Don’t you understand, Ivo?’ She took the pregnancy test strip, knelt before him, holding it out. ‘What this is, my love, is a miracle. You asked for one, remember? For me.’ She lifted a hand, touched his cheek. ‘It’s your baby, Ivo. My baby. Our baby.’

He was swamped with confusion. ‘Our baby? But…’

She laid a finger on his lips. ‘I assumed, from what you said, that the doctor told you that your vasectomy was irreversible. That there was nothing to be done.’

‘No. He did his best, but warned me he couldn’t guarantee anything.’

‘It would have stood a rather better chance if I hadn’t been taking the pill for the last three years, don’t you think?’ she asked, smiling.

‘But…’ He stopped. ‘No. You wanted a baby. Why would you take the pill?’

‘I saw your face, Ivo. You didn’t have to tell me that you didn’t want children. I spent twenty-four hours after you left me alone on our honeymoon island coming to terms with that. At the end of it I chose you for as long as you wanted me. Not for your money. Not for the security. For no other reason than that I loved you.’

‘I didn’t know…’

She stopped him with a kiss. For a moment he had no thought but to take the blissful moment, forget anything else.

Later he said, ‘You stopped taking the pill when you left?’

‘Why would I need them? There wasn’t anyone else I was planning to have sex with.’ She smiled. ‘To sleep with.’

‘Keep it that way,’ he said, then drew back a little, looking at her as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. ‘Our baby?’

‘Ivo, children need parents who want them. Who can love them. I know this wasn’t what you wanted. I want you to know that I can do this on my own.’

It was a question. She needed to know. Had a right to know.

‘You don’t have to do anything on your own ever again, Belle. You’re right. This is a miracle. But the biggest miracle is not that you loved me enough to stay, but found the strength to leave. Forced me to acknowledge the truth. I love you, Belle Davenport, love the baby we made.’ Then, ‘Or are you telling me that I don’t have a choice? That your sister still comes first.’

‘It was Daisy who made me call you.’

Belle looked up as the brass band in the marketplace struck up ‘Joy to the World’. Then she turned back to him. ‘You’ve seen the decorations? I should warn you that she’s planning a traditional old-fashioned family Christmas. How do you feel about that?’

‘Here?’

‘Could you bear it?’

‘I could bear Christmas in a tent if it meant sharing it with you.’ He laid his palm over her stomach. ‘Both of you.’

‘There’s Daisy and Manda as well.’

‘Maybe not a tent, in that case. I think perhaps I’d better get the flat downstairs furnished, just as a stopgap, or it’s going to be a bit cramped.’

‘A stopgap?’

‘My plan was to restore the house to a family home, bit by bit. Make it so welcoming that you couldn’t resist moving in.’

‘What about the house in Belgravia?’

‘Would you move back?’

‘I’d rather take the tent.’

‘Then it’s history.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I just wish I could wipe out the last three years as easily, so that we could start again. Begin anew.’

‘You really mean that?’

‘With all my heart.’

They were still kneeling, face to face, and she took his hands in hers and said, ‘I, Belinda Louise, take thee, Ivan George Michael, to my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part…’

Her eyes filled as she said the words, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks as Ivo followed her lead and reaffirmed the vow he’d made three years before.

‘From this day forward,’ he said again and tenderly, gently kissed her. ‘Until the end of time.’

Once Christmas-starting with a trip to the midnight service to thank whoever was watching over them for giving them all so much-was over, Ivo and Belle had a blissful month alone, while Manda and Daisy took off for foreign parts to explore the possibilities for their film.

They spent it planning their new home together, relaxed in each other’s company, discovering the simple pleasures of marriage for the first time. Cooking together, sleeping together, waking in each other’s arms. Neither of them in a hurry to be anywhere else.

It was tough being apart while they did the filming, yet exhilarating too. Belle’s new-found confidence had given her a harder edge that had the media clamouring for more; by the time she and Manda were helping Daisy through her delivery and she was welcoming her new nephew into the world, it had already garnered half a dozen nominations for an award.

On the night it won the first of them, Belle was panting through her own contractions, Ivo at her side, calm, quietly supportive, even when she completely lost it at one point, told him and anyone else who’d listen that she’d changed her mind about having a baby.

He was totally in control until the moment his baby daughter was delivered into his hands.

Then, tears streaming down his face, he was reduced to incoherent gratitude and joy as he laid their child in her arms.

‘So small, so helpless. Like a kitten,’ he said, when he was, at last, able to speak.

‘Maybe we should call her Minette.’

‘You’ve been working on your French.’ He smiled, kissed them both. ‘Welcome, Minette.’ Then, when the midwife made it clear that there were things she needed to do, ‘Manda is waiting for news. And Daisy.’

‘Will you call Claire and Simone too? I promised. They said no matter what time of day or night.’

‘No problem. I want to tell the whole world that I’m a father.’ He kissed her forehead and said, ‘Did I tell you today that I love you?’

‘With every piece of ice. Every damp cloth. When you massaged my back.’ She grinned up at him, ‘When you agreed with every word of the abuse I heaped on you.’

‘It was all true.’

‘Not all of it…’ She took his hand, kissed his palm where her nails had dug in, and then looked up, suddenly grave, ‘Most of all, my love, when you cried.’ Then, ‘Did I tell you?’

He looked down at his beloved wife, who was almost asleep.

‘I promise you that there isn’t a man on earth who feels more loved, more blessed, than I do at this moment,’ he said, but softly, so as not to disturb her.