his eyes flashed with pain momentarily. “I shall make it up to you, I promise.”
And then he left.
Chapter Nine
The sun was bright overhead as Kris walked along the piers and sea-front beside Fisherman’s Wharf. She had not been eager to return to the hotel particularly quickly, especially not if Daniel was not back, and so had come to visit the tourist attractions for a while. The water of the bay was a deep blue, tinged with greens and sparkling as the shallow waves of the protected sea glinted in sunlight.
She had decided to avoid the most obvious tourist traps, such as the wax museum and the Ripley’s Believe it or Not: she’d had more than her fill of such things as a child growing up in London, and they were inevitably tawdry to her now. Nonetheless, as she caught a tram alongside the piers and alighted in Ghirardelli Square, for a few moments she had imagined herself back in Lisbon and her spirits had lifted.
Sitting outside a restaurant, she sipped her coffee and sketched in a book she had brought with her, determined to take her mind off things, watching people walk by and making quick, sure marks on the white paper of the pad, recording her own impressions of the place more securely than if she had brought a camera with her. For a while she succeeded, but then the recollections of the morning returned to her.
She was still worried about Daniel, that much was certain, but at this present time it was something else that disturbed her.
Accompanying Anne, Andrew and Elaine to the airport in a taxi (surprisingly for him, Daniel had taken their designated driver and not returned him), she had waited for a while at San Francisco International to wish them well on their flight. She apologised to them all that Daniel was not with them, but her three companions did not appear to mind. Anne and Andrew were still a little overawed by him, while Elaine seemed to understand in a way that was more profound than Kris’s own comprehension.
“Don’t expect life to be easy with him,” she had told Kris when the two of them were on their own. “It won’t be—Daniel Stone is not an easy man. He never has been. That is why, in our different ways, we love him so much. But remember this: he loves you, more than I have seen in a long time. Not everything he does is for himself. In fact, though he would hate me saying it, he is capable of being one of the least selfish men I know.” At this, the older woman’s eyes flashed down Kris’s body. “In any case, there’ll be another for him to look after soon.”
“What do you mean?” Kris’s tone was suddenly sharp—much sharper than she had intended.
“Oh,” Elaine replied, withdrawing into herself slightly with an enigmatic smile. “Ignore an old woman’s folly. Ah, our flight is ready to board. I must go—much as I would love to see more of San Francisco, I don’t think any of us should intrude on you and Daniel any longer.”
And so she had gone. Returning to San Francisco, Kris had indeed dismissed her words as folly: she knew precisely what the headmistress was getting at, but how on earth could she know and Kris not realise what was going on in her own body. And yet, as she had sat in the restaurant, picking at the crab she had ordered but suddenly much less hungry than she had been before, her mind began to fit together certain pieces.
She was on the pill: pregnancy was impossible. And yet Kris’s care and attention had begun to waver in the months before her exhibition. She had, frankly, become a little scatty in many things as her focus fixed upon the paintings which demanded everything other than the love she had to show Daniel when he was with her.
But even so, she had been through her period. Actually, when had her last period been? Suddenly, Kris was not so sure. Totting up the days, she realised with a shock that perhaps six weeks had come and gone since the last one, and even that had not been particularly heavy.
Her weight,
And then he left.
Chapter Nine
The sun was bright overhead as Kris walked along the piers and sea-front beside Fisherman’s Wharf. She had not been eager to return to the hotel particularly quickly, especially not if Daniel was not back, and so had come to visit the tourist attractions for a while. The water of the bay was a deep blue, tinged with greens and sparkling as the shallow waves of the protected sea glinted in sunlight.
She had decided to avoid the most obvious tourist traps, such as the wax museum and the Ripley’s Believe it or Not: she’d had more than her fill of such things as a child growing up in London, and they were inevitably tawdry to her now. Nonetheless, as she caught a tram alongside the piers and alighted in Ghirardelli Square, for a few moments she had imagined herself back in Lisbon and her spirits had lifted.
Sitting outside a restaurant, she sipped her coffee and sketched in a book she had brought with her, determined to take her mind off things, watching people walk by and making quick, sure marks on the white paper of the pad, recording her own impressions of the place more securely than if she had brought a camera with her. For a while she succeeded, but then the recollections of the morning returned to her.
She was still worried about Daniel, that much was certain, but at this present time it was something else that disturbed her.
Accompanying Anne, Andrew and Elaine to the airport in a taxi (surprisingly for him, Daniel had taken their designated driver and not returned him), she had waited for a while at San Francisco International to wish them well on their flight. She apologised to them all that Daniel was not with them, but her three companions did not appear to mind. Anne and Andrew were still a little overawed by him, while Elaine seemed to understand in a way that was more profound than Kris’s own comprehension.
“Don’t expect life to be easy with him,” she had told Kris when the two of them were on their own. “It won’t be—Daniel Stone is not an easy man. He never has been. That is why, in our different ways, we love him so much. But remember this: he loves you, more than I have seen in a long time. Not everything he does is for himself. In fact, though he would hate me saying it, he is capable of being one of the least selfish men I know.” At this, the older woman’s eyes flashed down Kris’s body. “In any case, there’ll be another for him to look after soon.”
“What do you mean?” Kris’s tone was suddenly sharp—much sharper than she had intended.
“Oh,” Elaine replied, withdrawing into herself slightly with an enigmatic smile. “Ignore an old woman’s folly. Ah, our flight is ready to board. I must go—much as I would love to see more of San Francisco, I don’t think any of us should intrude on you and Daniel any longer.”
And so she had gone. Returning to San Francisco, Kris had indeed dismissed her words as folly: she knew precisely what the headmistress was getting at, but how on earth could she know and Kris not realise what was going on in her own body. And yet, as she had sat in the restaurant, picking at the crab she had ordered but suddenly much less hungry than she had been before, her mind began to fit together certain pieces.
She was on the pill: pregnancy was impossible. And yet Kris’s care and attention had begun to waver in the months before her exhibition. She had, frankly, become a little scatty in many things as her focus fixed upon the paintings which demanded everything other than the love she had to show Daniel when he was with her.
But even so, she had been through her period. Actually, when had her last period been? Suddenly, Kris was not so sure. Totting up the days, she realised with a shock that perhaps six weeks had come and gone since the last one, and even that had not been particularly heavy.
Her weight,
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