Starting Over by Sue Moorcroft Page B

the bottles of wine, breathing the summer smells of roses, grass cuttings, hamburgers and chops. Soon Jenna snuggled a hot, chubby head into the hollow of Tess’s shoulder and dozed. Easy to forget that life hadn’t always been so.
    A sudden hush alerted Tess to a change.
    Angel’s ‘Wow!’ directed her eyes.
    And there, marching up the drive over the drying thyme, chin out, was Olly Gray.
    Blond hair blinding. His eyes were angry.
    The power of speech deserted her.
    ‘You might look worried,’ snapped Olly, halting in front of her.
    She gazed up at him, the weight of Jenna pinning her to the chair.
    ‘I suppose this is her?’
    Here’s Olly , she thought, stupidly. Here, in the garden of Honeybun Cottage , was Olly saying something quite incomprehensible. ‘Her?’ She tried to focus through potato wine and the barbecue haze.
    ‘I suppose this is our baby?’ Had his eyes always been that cold? She didn’t remember them as quite so hard.
    Pete snitched Jenna brusquely onto the safety of his own lap, waking her and making her cry.
    Angel’s eyes blazed at the good-looking hell-man who’d burst in and ludicrously tried to claim paternity of her baby. ‘Who in God’s name is this ?’
    Tess stared. God. These were her friends – she must deal with this embarrassment! Jolting herself into action she leapt to her feet, lifting her voice above Angel’s. ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’
    ‘I want the truth.’
    ‘What truth?’ Her hands felt clammy. ‘It is ... Let’s go inside.’
    Set-faced, Olly crowded her through her own kitchen door, snapping it shut behind them to exclude possible hangers-on. He had a glower like King Kong.
    ‘I know that’s my baby, before you deny it!’
    She could only gape, the kitchen table pressed against her hips and Olly towering over her, not bothering with the how-are-yous or nice-to-see-you-agains. She tried to shake her thoughts into order. ‘How on earth can Jenna be yours?’
    ‘It’s obvious!’ snapped Olly. ‘James let slip you were pregnant when we split up – more than two years ago. And that kid is fifteen to eighteen months old, add nine months ... My baby.’
    ‘But ...’ She couldn’t back away any further. Her neck hurt from craning to meet Olly’s glare. Confusion turned her tongue temporarily to wood and was useless to moisten paper lips and form a denial. Even if he ever shut up and gave her a chance.
    Olly crashed on. ‘James told me how long you stayed with your folks – long enough to produce my baby and get a bit of support through early infancy, collect your money from our house sale and let James set you up in a place just the right size for two , I’d say. Guy’s evasive. Mari obviously anxious.’ Hands spread in a concluding attitude. ‘ My baby !’
    ‘My father has evidently been indiscreet. Guy’s always evasive. And my mother will be anxious – because I’m getting along nicely without her.’
    She ducked under his arm and backed two steps away. Such a little distance, two steps, but enough to clear her head. ‘But why?’ she wondered. ‘ Why would you want her to be your baby? Why would Olly Gray want Jenna to be his baby?’
    ‘It is my baby.’ Two steps for her were one for him and in a second he was right back in her face.
    The glower, at such proximity, unnerved her. She sniggered. A tense and probably irritating snigger. ‘It’s very doubtful.’ She smiled. A full, mischievous gloat. ‘She’s not even my baby.’
    He stopped. Eyes narrowed, feeding new information to his mind and calculating possibilities. ‘James said you were pregnant when, you know ...’
    ‘I was. When you jilted me by e-mail , I was pregnant. Was, was, was ! Eleven weeks, they told me. Then ... swoosh!’ She made a sliding away gesture. ‘Gone before I really realised it was there. And your baby was ...’ Stopped. Sucked in a huge, necessary breath, searching her mind for the most brutal expression to repay him a little for the fright,