Iâm doing. I get paid, too.â She couldnât help slipping that in, but regretted it a moment later as Harryâs face went a mottled red.
Itâs funny how fair-skinned men show their emotions so easily,
she thought.
âAre you trying to tell me I donât provide for you adequately?â
Margaret looked at him sitting in his chair, complete bewilderment on his face. He
really
couldnât see what was wrong with their life.
My God, we are so polite with each other. We canât even have a real mud-slinging, loud row.
Even our sex life has become polite. For a brief moment she felt sorry for him, but that was snuffed when he said, âWhat will they say at the firm? And theyâre bound to find out that my wife . . . of all people, my wife,â he spluttered, âis working in a sleazy rundown detective agency.â
âActually, Harry,â she said, as she scooped up the cups fromthe coffee table, âI donât give a damn! And neither should you!â And she marched out the door. In the kitchen, she took a few deep breaths before she began putting the dishes away on the shelves, banging a few cupboard doors for good measure.
And Iâm sure as hell not going to give up my job!
CHAPTER SIX
Sixteen-year-old Sally Fielding desperately wanted her mother. But even more than that, she wanted the awful pain to stop. She buried her face in the pillow to muffle her cries as the next wave of pain wracked her body, but the stern-faced nurse appeared at her bedside anyway.
âEnough of that,â she said as she leaned over Sally to prod her swollen abdomen with icy fingers. âYouâre going to need all your strength soon. Are you timing your pains like I told you to?â
âYes. Every two minutes,â Sally answered miserably. âWhen is it going to be over?â
âSoon, I hope,â the nurse said over her shoulder as she walked toward the door, then added for good measure, âWhy do I always get the difficult cases?â
But it was several more hours before Sally looked down at her little dark-haired daughter lying across her stomach. She was still attached to her by the umbilical cord, and Sally put out a tentative hand to touch the damp little head. âSheâs . . . sheâs beautiful.â
âYou did well,â the doctor said kindly. âLie still for a little while and weâll soon have you cleaned up.â
She watched the delivery room nurse clean the babyâs eyes, fasten a bracelet around the little ankle and then wrap her in a pink blanket. And she knew then what was meant by a brokenheart, as she listened to the cries of her newborn baby getting fainter and fainter as they carried her away. âI canât give her up . . . I canât.â But they had made it quite clear that if they helped her solve her problem, there would be no turning back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Harry hid behind his newspaper and gave a grudging thank you when Margaret placed his cereal and coffee before him. He folded the paper precisely to the stock exchange section and reached around it for the cup.
As Margaret gathered up her dishes to take to the sink, Harry finished reading, carefully refolded the paper into its original lines and placed it squarely on the table. âMy grey pinstripe suit will be ready at the cleaners,â he said, putting the stub on the table, âif you think you can spare the time to pick it up.â
âIâll get it tomorrow, Harry,â she answered, âwhen I do my Saturday shopping.â
âI take it you intend to go on with this nonsense.â
âI havenât changed my mind.â
He stood up and brushed non-existent crumbs from his jacket. âIf you embarrass me in any way, Margaret, Iâll . . .â
âHow the hell can my having a job embarrass you?â
âWhat the girls will say, I canât imagine. And . . .â Another awful thought had come into his