‘He didn’t tell us anything, dear, only that it had been a miserable experience for you.’
‘It was,’ she confirmed.
’And Charles and I aren’t that old-fashioned that we can’t see the logic of the two of you sharing Leon’s apartment for a few weeks.’ Mrs Masters’ cheeks coloured delicately. ‘And if your relationship is deeper than that then that’s none of our business. Leon’s a grown man, and having been married once you perhaps don’t feel so strongly about the wedding night being your first time together. I can see the sense in that.’
‘You can?’ Helen gulped.
‘Oh yes. The physical side of marriage can be very important. Not that it’s everything,’ Mrs Masters added hastily. ‘But if that side of the marriage doesn’t work out then you invariably find that the rest of it fails too.’
How right she was! ‘Leon and I haven’t slept together,’ Helen told his mother quietly. ‘And we don’t intend to. Our living together is exactly that, just a way for me to see whether what I feel for Leon is enough for—’
‘Leon did explain, dear. And as you haven’t yet discussed a wedding date I don’t suppose you’ve discussed having a family either.’ Mrs Masters gave a rueful smile. ‘Forgive me, Helen, I’m just a doting mother who can’t wait to hold her first grandson in her arms.’
Helen felt her heart give a sickening jolt. ‘Surely one of your daughters…’
‘Neither is in a hurry to have any more children for a while. Carly and Natalie are lovely children, but they don’t exactly make either of my daughters feel like taking the plunge into motherhood for a second time. Leon will make a wonderful father.’
The statement conjured tortuous images into Helen’s mind, pictures of Leon bouncing a chubby red-faced baby on his knee, a baby with his golden hair and tawny eyes. She couldn’t bring the other features into focus, the baby was sure to have some of its mother’s characteristics. But she wouldn’t be the mother! She couldn’t be Leon’s wife, so she couldn’t possibly be the mother of his children.
‘You’ve gone quite pale, Helen.’ Mrs Masters looked concerned. ‘I hope my talk of babies hasn’t upset you.’
‘No. I—It—I was going to have a baby once,’ Helen said haltingly.
‘Oh, my dear, I am sorry!’ She put her hand over Helen’s. ‘I didn’t know.’
Helen forced a bright smile. ‘It was a long time ago. I don’t suppose Leon thought it important enough to tell you. And I’m sure you’re right about him making a wonderful father.’ But not to her children!
‘If you’ve finished your lunch we may as well get on with our shopping,’ Mrs Masters said briskly. ‘I hope you’re ready for the siege.’
‘That sounds ominous!’ Helen made her tone sound light.
‘Oh, it is,’ Mrs Masters laughed.
If Helen thought she was joking she was mistaken. By the end of the afternoon they seemed to have visited every shop in London, or at least, her feet felt as if they had. Mrs Masters bought a few things, but certainly not enough to merit the exhaustion they both felt.
Max provided them with a much-needed tea when they returned to the flat. Helen sat back in one of the armchairs, easing her shoes off her tired feet. ‘I don’t know how you do it,’ she murmured. ‘I’m exhausted and you still look as if you’re going strong.’
‘Practice, Helen,’ Mrs Masters smiled. ‘Practice.’
Helen giggled. ‘I see now why your husband cried off. I may need to rest for a week or so before I could attempt another marathon like that.’
‘She’s worn you down too, has she?’ Leon remarked teasingly as he came into the room. He bent to kiss his mother on the cheek, refusing the tea and pouring himself a glass of whisky.
‘Don’t worry about me, Leon,’ his mother smiled. ‘I promise not to blush if you kiss Helen,’ she teased.
’No,’ he agreed lightly, ‘I’m sure you won’t blush, but Helen might.’ For the first time his tawny gaze levelled on her. ‘Wouldn’t you, darling?’
Helen shivered at the cool detachment she could see in his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she defied him. It seemed their argument of the evening before wasn’t to be forgotten, despite his casual use of the endearment.
‘In that case…’ He bent smoothly and kissed her slowly on the lips.
Helen’s cheeks flamed when he finally released her. To his mother it may have looked like a light caress, and maybe it had been, but there had been nothing light about the emotion behind the kiss; there was nothing light about contempt.
‘You see?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘I told you she’d blush.’
His mother smiled. ‘Stop embarrassing the poor girl! What sort of day have you had?’
‘Nowhere near as hectic as yours, by the look of you two.’ He continued to talk with ease about his day’s filming.