CHAPTER TWO

      MERREN had a nightmare that night. She awoke frightened, breathless and crying out. Feeling stiff and bruised, she switched on the light and calmed herself by reflecting that it wasn’t surprising she should dream violently of being hit, being chased—chased to the edge of a cliff—and of falling, falling.

      She didn’t know how long she had been yelling, but supposed it couldn’t have been for very long, or very loudly either, because she hadn’t disturbed anyone. Though, since she had moved up to the attic bedroom, it was unlikely anyone had heard her. No one was rushing up to rescue her from her night-time villains anyhow.

      She felt wide awake, and would have liked to go down to the kitchen and make a warm drink, but feared, albeit that Robert and his family were heavy sleepers, that she might wake the baby. Baby Samuel had been fretful from birth, and, as she well knew, could cry for hours!

      Not unnaturally, she supposed, thoughts of Jarad Montgomery came into her head. Had she really asked him for two thousand pounds? Had he really agreed to loan the money to her? And, if he had, how on earth was she going to pay it back?

      That one thought kept her sleepless for the next hour. She still hadn’t come up with any answer when from utter weariness, she fell asleep again. It was daylight the next time she awakened—and the baby was crying.

      Merren left her bed to go down a flight of stairs to see to her little nephew. She couldn’t remember having been hit on her shoulders, but her shoulders ached when she moved, while other parts of her body were vying with each other for rainbow effect bruising. The baby seemed heavier to lift out of his cot than usual, but, for once, he was being a little gentleman and decided to beam gummily at her after she’d changed him and given him a drink.

      ‘You’re a rascal,’ she told him affectionately, and he grinned some more.

      Then her dressing gowned brother came to join them, and, clearly wanting a word before anyone else was about, began, ‘I’ve been thinking, Merren, that if I met you at the jeweller’s at lunchtime, I could take the money and settle the…’

      ‘Actually,’ she butted in quickly, ‘I’m—er—taking the day off work. I’ll have the money back here by one.’ Fingers crossed.

      ‘Can I have the car?’ he asked, assured of the money, wasting no time going on to his next priority.

      But for once—feeling extremely vulnerable about money-carrying after her mugging yesterday—Merren just had to refuse.

      ‘It’s yours after one o’clock,’ she replied, and would not be persuaded otherwise.

      Once she’d handed the baby over, Merren bathed and returned to her room, and kept out of the way until Robert walked Queenie and Kitty to school and Carol was occupied with Samuel.

      Merren studied her wardrobe. She did not want to remember the sketch she must have looked yesterday. She wouldn’t forget Jarad Montgomery’s, ‘You won’t want to go through the streets looking like that’ in a hurry. Today, when she saw him again, she wanted to look smart. Why she should feel that way she didn’t know. Her old friend pride, she supposed.

      Dressed in her newest suit of deep blue, which brought out yet more blue to the colour of her eyes, Merren was walking through the revolving doors of the office of Roxford Waring before it so much as occurred to her that she might not even see Jarad Montgomery! ‘Come to my office’, he said. But he hadn’t actually said he’d see her.

      She approached the reception desk and almost asked if Mr Montgomery had left a package for her to collect. But quickly she pulled herself together. Get a grip! He’d want to know how she was going to pay him back—if only she knew! No one was going to hand over that sort of money to a complete stranger without asking some pretty pertinent questions.

      ‘I’m here to see Mr Jarad Montgomery.’ She smiled at the smart receptionist. ‘Merren Shepherd,’ she gave her name.

      She was expected! Merren rode up in the lift with her insides all of a churn. She did so hope she wasn’t here on a fool’s errand. He’d meant it, hadn’t he? She just wouldn’t be able to go home again, wouldn’t be able to face Robert if he hadn’t.

      She tapped on the door she had been directed to. She’d expected his PA to invite her in. But the door was opened by Jarad Montgomery himself. Though for a moment he did not invite her in, but just stood there looking at her. But, while his glance went over her blonde-streaked reddish hair—tidy today in comparison to yesterday, for all she still wore it loose—Merren took a moment to study him.

      He was as tall as she remembered. But in his immaculate business suit, crisp shirt and tie, he looked even more authoritative today than he had yesterday—and that was saying something.

      ‘You’ve polished up well,’ he drawled, and suddenly her nerves were disappearing.

      You’re looking pretty snappy yourself. ‘I made an effort,’ she countered, hoping he would think she was joking.

      ‘Come in.’

      Merren entered his office, noticed the communicating door to his PA’s office was closed, and was glad about that. By the look of it he was treating this as a private matter.

      ‘How are you feeling?’ he enquired, indicating a chair before going and taking a seat behind his desk. ‘You were pretty shaken up yesterday,’ he recalled.

      ‘The bruises will soon fade,’ she smiled. And, not wanting to prolong this interview any longer than she had to, she went on, ‘I’m sorry I had to reverse the charges last night when I rang. I didn’t have any change with me.’

      ‘You didn’t want to ring from your home?’

      Sharp! Merren quickly realised they didn’t come very much sharper than him. ‘I—er—didn’t—don’t want my family to know that I was mugged.’

      ‘Or that you were robbed of that two thousand pounds you were carrying?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Where did you get it?’ he wanted to know.

      ‘I came by it honestly,’ she bristled—but, recognising that perhaps he had some right to know, she added more evenly, ‘I sold an item of jewellery.’

      ‘It was yours to sell?’ he asked quickly.

      She resented his question, and resented his tone. ‘I…’ she began sharply back, and then realised she couldn’t afford to fire up at him. She needed his help. And, she supposed reluctantly, his question, since he didn’t know the first thing about her, was a fair one. ‘It was a ring belonging to my mother.’

      ‘Your mother’s in need of two thousand pounds?’

      ‘My mother died ten months ago,’ she replied stonily.

      ‘So the money’s for you. What for?’ He pursued his line of questioning, and, as if he’d summed up why she hadn’t wanted her family to know, his look was suddenly fierce. ‘You’re pregnant!’ he rapped.

      ‘No, I’m not!’ she snapped back. Honestly! ‘Chance would be a fine thing!’ His hint about what she wanted the money for infuriated her!

      ‘You