Page 97 of A Perfect Algarve Villa
Emily watched her friend. ‘Everything will be fine, you know. The NHS will be there for you and the baby, and I’m sure your mother will help too.’
Fran looked startled. ‘I’m not worried about having the baby!’
Emily smiled across the table. Fran attempted to return the gesture, but it was only a crease in the girl’s face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Was there something her friend was hiding? ‘You’ve got something to tell me, haven’t you?’
Fran blinked furiously, then looked away. ‘I’m torn. I’ve replayed this moment so many times in the last twenty-four hours.’ She paused. ‘I don’t want you to get angry.’
Emily’s heart was beating faster. ‘Tell me,’ she urged.
Fran closed her eyes and dropped her face into her hands. ‘The baby is Mark’s.’
Emily waited until the guests were seated in their hire car. She’d booked them into Monica’s, drawn them a map, recommended the tapas, all with a grin pasted on her face and her stomach roiling with the memory of Fran’s confession. She should’ve guessed herself; Mark was still behaving like he’d developed a sudden crush on Emily, offering to come on dog walks, cooking dinner, cups of tea in bed. Emily wasn’t going to become a stepmother, no matter how much she liked Fran. The outcome of Mark’s actions was non-negotiable, but in her opinion, there were two wrongs here: he shouldn’thave slept with someone else, but worse, he should not have been duplicitous. He knew he was the father – the DNA test confirmed that – so, just when was Mark planning to bring his wife into this sorry loop?
She placed a hand either side of the kitchen doorway, steadying herself. ‘Mark, a word,’ she said testily.
He trotted to the hob, used his fingers to slide diced onion into the frying pan, and stepped back. The pan sizzled and popped. ‘Be with you once these are caramelized,’ he said, shaking the pan.
‘Now.’
His eyes darted her way, and she averted her own. She couldn’t face him.
He wiped his hands on a tea towel and turned off the gas. ‘OK, what’s this all about?’
‘I think you know,’ she said coldly.
He inhaled deeply and blew out a long sigh. ‘Who said what?’
‘Fran told me everything.’ Emily couldn’t contain her disgust any longer. ‘You promised me after that American lawyer you wouldn’t stray again.’ Her voice rose as she thought about the heartlessness of what he’d done. ‘I can’t believe you’d do this to me. Tous. Just when we’ve got everything back on track!’
His shoulders sagged, and he chewed at a thumbnail.
‘Have you got nothing to say? I hope you won’t try telling me this istemporary!’ she yelled, emphasizing the last word. ‘And do not claim you can sort this one out if I just give you six months.’ She shook her head. ‘You, of all people, know how important it is for a father to be there for a child.’
‘Can I—’
‘No, you can’t. I don’t want to hear your sordid little story. I want a divorce!’ she shouted.
Mark watched the Fiat 500 disappear and walked back inside, closing the door behind him. He poured himself a glass of coldwater, adding ice from the freezer, and took it outside, the cubes clinking together as he walked. The oleander hedge, the sole survivor of Miguel’s drastic reshaping of the outside area, was in full flower. The new border was backed by waist-high ornamental grass with dark purple stalks and long caramel-coloured grass heads, which bobbed and swayed in the breeze as if waving at him.
Could he blame Emily? He may be cock-a-hoop the child wasn’t his, but she was right, he’d broken his promise of fidelity a second time. She had every right to demand a divorce.
Mark’s phone rang. He sat in a daze, unable to answer, letting it click into his message system. Should he just sign their remaining assets over to Emily and start a new life? The phone rang again, he glanced down and, seeing who it was, picked up.
‘Hi, Alex, howzit?’ he said, trying to sound interested. He must tell Alex before his mother did.
Mark heard someone inhale then listened to ragged breathing. Mark’s heart started beating a little faster. Not more bad news, surely? ‘Hey, what’s wrong?’
‘It’s not Alex,’ said a tremulous female voice. ‘It’s Jess ... and ... I’ve got some bad news.’
Mark gulped; he’d had enough bad news to last a lifetime. ‘What’s happened to Alex?’ he asked. He heard a cough, a tongue being clicked, a long, strangled sigh. Mark felt his chest tightening. ‘What is it? Spit it out, Jess, the suspense is agony!’
There was another cough, then Jess said, ‘I’m bound by a professional ethics code.’
Mark shook his head. ‘Is that all? Don’t worry about it, Jess. I spent twenty years in the same position.’
‘W-what do you mean?’ said Jess querulously.
‘I guessed you’d want to make that call. I’ve already made it, and ponied up,’ Mark said, switching his attention back to the view, a smile stretching across his face. This was a beautifulcountry but, after transferring over £2 million to the UK taxman, there was no need to live here anymore.
