CHAPTER ONE

      ‘I BEG your pardon?’

      ‘Well, we could do a blood test but I don’t think it’s necessary—from what you’ve told me and from this sample there seems to be no doubt. Congratulations, Clare!’

      Clare Montrose stared at her doctor, a woman in her late thirties whose bright, cheerful expression faded somewhat as she took in her patient’s stunned eyes.

      ‘You ... didn’t expect or plan this?’ Valerie Martin queried.

      ‘No. That is to say, no.’ Clare swallowed. ‘Are you sure? I’m on the pill, as you know, and I’ve never forgotten to take it.’

      ‘Ah. Yes, I did prescribe a low dose, so-called mini-pill but I also explained the circumstances that can sometimes interfere with its effectiveness if you remember, Clare.’

      Clare opened her mouth, closed it and said shakily, ‘But ... but nothing like that, well, not really—Oh, no,’ she said hollowly. ‘I didn’t even stop to think!’

      ‘Tell me,’ Valerie said gently.

      ‘I had a twenty-four-hour virus a while back,’ Clare said helplessly. ‘Nausea, gastric upset, but two days later I was as right as rain and I didn’t give it a second thought I was run off my feet at the time, too so—you mean that could have done it?’

      ‘It could. It’s not common but it could if it was a severe enough bout. Have you had no other symptoms? This—’ Valerie smiled a little ruefully ‘—seems to have come like a bolt from the blue.’

      ‘No. Well, I came to see you because my cycle seemed to have gone haywire but I’ve had that problem before—before I went on the pill, anyway,’ she amended, and sat back dazedly. ‘How much pregnant?’

      ‘We need to discuss a few dates but I would estimate six to eight weeks.’

      Clare pulled her diary from her purse and did some rapid mental arithmetic. ‘Yes,’ she said hollowly at last, ‘I imagine that would be about right—eight weeks. But why haven’t I had any morning sickness or—anything?’

      ‘We don’t all get it and we don’t all get it at the same time; you may be one of the lucky ones but I’d be surprised if you didn’t very shortly see some changes. Like a loss of appetite or suddenly being starving all the time. Such as feeling sleepy a lot of the time...’

      ‘Craving jam on pickles, that kind of thing,’ Clare said gloomily. ‘How could this happen to me?’

      ‘Clare.’ Valerie Martin stopped and watched her intently for a moment. And marvelled inwardly because she knew Clare Montrose quite well. They had their practices in the same building in the seaside town of Lennox Head although Clare practised law. And over the past few years this tall, quietly spoken though assured and obviously very intelligent girl had expanded the sleepy practice she’d bought to keep pace with the town’s growth and turned it into a profitable one with a growing reputation that was spreading throughout the district.

      And yet, Valerie mused, over the matter of getting herself pregnant, there seems to be a certain naiveté. Not quite what I would have expected from someone who can be as coolly competent as she undoubtedly can.

      ‘Clare ...I don’t like to pry, but...is it not Lachlan?’

      Clare blinked her eyes that were the colour of the sea at certain times, a greeny blue that could best be described as aquamarine, and her face, beneath shining dark hair parted on the side and falling in a curly bob, reddened.

      Valerie looked fleetingly amused. ‘You can’t keep anything a secret in this village, my dear, but particularly not Lachlan Hewitt. His family has been in the area for generations; they’ve been shire councillors and the biggest landowners around Alstonville, Ballina and Lennox Head ever since I can remember. Besides, I didn’t think you were trying to keep it a secret.’

      ‘We weren’t,’ Clare said, gloomily again. ‘That is to say, once his divorce came through, it didn’t seem to be anyone’s business but our own, but...we weren’t exactly trying to flaunt it.’

      ‘I’m sure you weren’t. These things get noticed, though. Lachlan is the kind of man who gets noticed—as you’re the kind of woman who does, my dear. So...this wasn’t on the agenda?’

      ‘No,’ Clare said baldly after a moment.

      ‘Circumstances change cases, as I’m sure I don’t have to point out to a lawyer, but...’ Dr Martin paused ‘... I’m also sure I don’t have to point out to you that there are other—options.’

      Clare breathed raggedly and her eyes widened. ‘Oh. No, that’s not an option—the thought of it just—’ She shivered then shrugged. ‘I don’t think I could do it.’

      ‘Well, I’m