Chapter 2
‘Mrs Campbell-Ross.’ The doorman in his blue uniform was still standing in the same spot under the striped canopy outside the apartment building, as he had been when Eleanor had left that morning. He opened the glass door.
Eleanor noted the raised eyebrow as he glanced at the street. The customary Jag was nowhere to be seen. She had the impulse to tell him she was quite capable of getting the tube, like normal people – and for that matter, thoroughly enjoyed it as well. It was nice to fade into the crowds and just be Mrs Nobody.
Squeezed into the bustle of early Thursday evening commuters, Eleanor had spent her ten minutes in the real world, studying people’s faces, hoping they would give her some clue as to what it was like to be normal; not rich, not poor – just average.
Eleanor walked into the marble foyer and waited for the lift. She thought of all the anonymous faces and the irony that most of the people she had seen would undoubtedly love to swap their drudgery for her privileged lifestyle. The question was, would they be able to cope with the boredom, the lack of direction, the lack of mystery about what the future held? In truth, Eleanor often fantasised about what it was like to live in such a world, with that freedom and independence.
The lift took Eleanor up to the floor below the penthouse suite. She tipped the bored porter, who was neatly dressed in a striking red uniform; her father’s idea of course – the porter, the uniforms, the marble fountain in the entrance foyer. People often attempted to walk in off the street – and were stopped by Harry at the door, of course – having mistaken the building for a very grand, old-fashioned London hotel, not realising its true nature; an apartment building for executives of the Ross Corporation.
Eleanor stepped into her apartment and closed the door on her polite, self-contained public persona. Then she had a tantrum. Stamping her feet, clenching her fists, and screaming obscenities until she was red in the face.
Next, she threw her Gucci coat on the floor and her Prada bag at the door and, lifting one foot at a time, kicked off her Jimmy Choo shoes, hitting the expensive sideboard to her left with one and nearly knocking herself out with the other.
She unzipped her black skirt as she walked through the marble entrance hallway towards the double doors at the far end. She let her skirt fall to the floor and stepped out of it, nearly tripping up as she abandoned it in the hallway. She threw open the double doors to the lounge and started rolling down her tights as she headed for the other side of the room, hopping on one foot and then the other before leaving her tights discarded on a chair.
She entered the inner hallway while slipping off her blouse. She reached the bedroom in just her panties and bra, flung open the wardrobe door and walked in. One side was his, the other hers. She walked to her side and reached above the rack of designer suits, which she hardly ever had occasion to wear; it wasn’t as though she worked. She stood on her tiptoes and patted her hand along the top shelf, dislodging hats, bags and shoes until the search was over.
In the bathroom, Eleanor turned on the shower and placed her favourite cosy set of clothes, the ones that she loved lounging about in, on the loo seat.
She showered. As the water cascaded down her shoulders, she sobbed.
Eleanor stepped out of the shower and wiped the bathroom mirror. She stared at her reflection. She tied her thick black hair loosely in a ponytail. Her face was devoid of make-up, just the way she liked it, showing her hazel eyes and a flurry of freckles over her plump cheeks. ‘It shouldn’t be happening. I’m too young. I haven’t done anything with my life,’ she confided to the unhappy twenty-six-year-old staring back at her. She watched the mirror steam up and her face gradually fade from view. She stood for a moment, staring at the mirror, praying that by some miracle the Harley Street doctor had been wrong.
Eleanor got dressed. The dungarees were tighter than she remembered. Her old grey college sweatshirt had turned grey with age after too many washes, and her brown suede moccasins were patchy and worn out of shape, but she didn’t care what she looked like. She hadn’t felt this comfortable, this at home, since she had last worn them.
She was trying to work out when that had been, but her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door closing.
‘Honey, I’m …’
Eleanor stepped out of the bathroom and cocked her head to one side at the sound of her husband’s voice.
‘If I find you, can I have you?’ his voice rang out on a happy note. Eleanor frowned, wondering what on earth he was talking about.
The bedroom door handle turned. ‘I bet the last two items are in here.’ He opened the door wide, a smile on his handsome face and a pile of Eleanor’s clothes, collected from the hallway and the lounge on his way through the apartment, slung over one arm. ‘Ah,’ he said, his smile fading as he took in Eleanor’s paint-stained dungarees. His eyes dropped in dismay to her worn moccasins.
‘Oh,’ said Eleanor, staring at the pile of clothes and realising Jake had misinterpreted the situation. On any other occasion, any other day, she might have found it funny. But not today.
‘You’re not redecorating the place again – are you?’
She caught the inflection in his voice. He was not doing a good job of masking what he was thinking – that it would be a waste of time. It probably would. But, she thought, who could blame me if I was? There was nothing else to do. And besides, it gave her an opportunity to indulge her passion – interior design. It was what she’d studied at university. But her husband’s jet-setting lifestyle, working for the corporation, meant she was never in one place long enough to put down roots and find a job. And now she had something else on her plate that was definitely going to put paid to any immediate thoughts of a career.
Jake smiled at Eleanor as he walked toward her, tossing her clothes on the bed. He stood in front of her and fingered the straps of her dungarees. ‘Not quite what I had in mind, but …’ He grasped the straps and gently pulled her towards him.
‘No.’ Eleanor pushed him away. ‘Jake, we need to talk.’
‘Can’t it wait?’ He tugged at the straps playfully.
‘No, it can’t.’ Eleanor prised his fingers off her dungarees.
Jake sat down on the end of the bed and loosened his tie. ‘From the looks of things,’ he sighed heavily, well aware that she had attended her appointment in Harley Street that afternoon, ‘I’m guessing you’re going to tell me it’s not good news.’
Eleanor hesitated. ‘I want,’ she began, and took a deep breath before continuing, ‘I want to spend this holiday together.’
Jake held out his arms, placing his hands on her thighs. ‘But of course we will,’ he reassured her. He tried to pull Eleanor towards him, but she wouldn’t budge from her spot.
‘I want it to be just the two of us, here in the apartment together,’ she reiterated, staring down at him. She took in his faded tan, his blond hair, his green eyes. His expression shifted. She thought she detected irritation in those beautiful eyes.
His hands dropped. ‘Ask me any other time of the year, but not Christmas, Eleanor. It’s a family tradition. You know that.’
She stared at him intently. Why do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Revert to my full name when you’re cheesed off with me?
‘Who said I’m cheesed off with you?’
‘So, you’re not annoyed I asked that question? That I said I want us, just the two of us, to spend Christmas together?’
Jake sighed heavily and dropped his gaze, running his fingers through his hair. ‘It’s been a long day at work.’
Eleanor could feel her temper fraying, her frustration building. ‘For goodness’ sake, Jake! Did you marry me, or did you marry my family?’
Jake stood up. ‘Now that’s not fair, Eleanor.’
She knew it wasn’t. He’d been part of the family since he was a child: a best friend to Eleanor, a best friend to her brother, Marcus. And now, he was her husband.
‘Look, it’s not me,’ he continued. ‘Think of your mother.’
Eleanor fixed Jake with a cold stare. Why did she have to think of her mother?
‘Well, think of your father.’
Eleanor looked at the floor; she wasn’t going to win this argument.
Jake’s head was bobbing about under her nose, trying to get her attention. He gently lifted her chin. ‘He’ll be disappointed if you’re not there.’
She knew it was true.
‘And then there’s Marcus.’
‘No,’ Eleanor cut in, ‘Marcus will be more disappointed not to see you.’ She knew her brother would miss seeing his best friend at Christmas. ‘And I think you’d rather spend Christmas with him than with me.’
‘Eleanor, that is ridiculous! You’re my best friend,’ said Jake, trying to placate her, trying to reach for her hand.
‘Then prove it.’ She had him cornered. ‘Choose to stay with me, here, for Christmas.’
Jake stared at her.
She watched his brow furrow as he wrestled with the conflicts, the divided loyalties. She stood her ground. She wasn’t going to give in; she had suddenly realised just how important this was. If Jake couldn’t choose her, put her first over the family just this once, she was beginning to wonder what that meant for their future together.
‘I know.’ His face brightened. ‘We could spend a couple of days together, just the two of us.’ He smiled at Eleanor. ‘After the Christmas break, we could go …’
‘You’re not listening to me, Jake,’ Eleanor hissed.
‘What is so important that it can’t wait?’ Jake threw up his hands in frustration.
Eleanor choked back tears. ‘I wanted to …’ She swallowed. ‘I’ve got something to tell …’ She stopped. ‘Why can’t you just say yes? I have my reasons, which you’ll find out soon enough. Why can’t you just put me first for a change?’
Jake moved forward and took her hands in his. He cocked his head to one side, a pensive look on his face.
The sudden change in his demeanour strongly suggested to Eleanor that she had finally won him over.
Jake studied her hands as he spoke. ‘I can’t disappoint William.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Eleanor pulling away from him. ‘You see my father almost every day at work.’
‘Look, can’t you be reasonable?’ Jake pleaded. ‘You know it’s a family tradition, everyone going to the house in Scotland for Christmas.’
Eleanor slowly backed away from Jake. ‘I wanted it to be just the two of us.’
‘Why? Tell me. I don’t understand.’ Jake took a step towards her.
Eleanor backed into the bathroom door. She held out her hand for Jake to stop. ‘You know how much I love Christmas, don’t you, Jake?’
‘Of course I do, darling.’
‘I wanted it to be just the two of us, on Christmas Day, when I give you my present.’
‘Okay,’ Jake said slowly. ‘I’m still not getting it. We always exchange presents on Christmas Day with the family. Look, I’m not a mind-reader. Can’t you explain what’s so important about this year that we’ve got to change our usual plans? Then I’ll consider it.’
She turned away from him, the tears welling up in her eyes. Barely able to see the bathroom door, she flung it open, stepped inside and turned around to look at her husband.
‘Consider this,’ she screamed before slamming it shut. ‘I’m pregnant!’