Sleeping With A Stranger. Anne Mather
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‘Right now this is a comparatively small operation,’ Sam said. ‘Most of the wineries on the islands only bottle their wines for local consumption. We do that, of course, but at present we’re involved in talks with a supermarket chain. As yet it’s not all cut and dried, but it should give us a foothold on the mainland. If it comes off, it should make a great difference to our business.’
Helen looked at him. ‘You love it, don’t you?’
‘Being my own boss?’ Sam grimaced. ‘Who wouldn’t? But the best part of it all is knowing that this is my achievement. Maya’s father was an alcoholic, you know, and when we came here the whole place was in a state of decay.’
‘So—it wasn’t a question of marrying Maya for her money?’ suggested Helen carefully, and her father turned to give her a resigned look.
‘Is that what your mother said?’
Helen shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
‘Well, it isn’t true. When we got together, Maya didn’t have a penny, and this place was ankle-deep in debt.’
Helen nodded, and, as if needing to explain himself, Sam went on, ‘I don’t know what she’s told you, but Sheila and I were having problems long before Maya came on the scene. Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have walked out on my family, but God knows, Helen, I never intended for us to be estranged.’
Helen said nothing, but there was too much emotion in her father’s voice for her to disregard his sincerity. Divorce was an ugly word, and it often generated bitterness between the partners. She wanted to believe him. She wanted him to understand how betrayed she’d felt, too. Maybe in time they would come to a complete understanding. At least coming here had been a beginning.
As they were leaving the bottling plant they ran into Alex. Helen had met Maya’s son the night before, when he’d joined the family for the evening meal, and she’d been struck by the differences between him and his mother. Whereas Maya obviously resented them coming here, making little attempt to hide the fact that she didn’t approve of the deception her husband had perpetrated by pretending he was ill, Alex was easygoing and friendly. Helen had liked him at once.
‘I see you’re being given the grand tour,’ he remarked now, exchanging a humorous look with her father. ‘Is he trying to persuade you that growing grapes is a rewarding occupation?’
‘You and I both know it can be the most frustrating occupation there is,’ retorted Sam with some feeling. He turned to his daughter. ‘Alex is grumbling because I recruited him as soon as he left college. He’s become my right-hand man in recent years. I don’t know what I’d do without him.’
‘You’d manage,’ said Alex drily, but Helen sensed there was a genuine understanding between the two men. He was the son her father had never had, she thought, wondering if that had been one of the reasons for her parents’ breakup. There was no doubt that Sheila hadn’t wanted any more children. Helen had heard her say as much many times.
They continued on, paying a brief call at the mill where the grapes were crushed, before entering Sam’s office where the commercial arm of the business was conducted. A young computer operator brought them a bottle of wine and two glasses, and Helen was quite glad to sit down for a while. The heat really was quite intense.
They talked for a while about wine-growing and the different qualities of various grapes, and then Sam said with sudden fierceness, ‘You don’t know how glad I am to see you here, Helen. Can you ever forgive me for the methods I used to achieve it?’
Helen studied the wine in her glass for a moment. Then she looked up at him with rueful eyes. ‘We’ve both been at fault,’ she said. ‘Me, for not being prepared to listen to reason. And you for giving up on me far too soon.’
‘I sent Milos to see you,’ protested her father, and Helen thought how fatalistic that had been. That one action had changed her life for ever and systematically destroyed any hopes of their reconciliation.
‘Anyway, that’s all in the past now,’ she said, not wanting to remember the frightened child she had been. Finding herself pregnant at seventeen had been terrifying enough without her mother threatening to throw her out if she refused to marry the baby’s father…
‘But I want to know about your past,’ persisted her father. ‘I want to know about this man you married: Richard Shaw. Didn’t your mother think you were too young to make such a life-changing decision?’
Helen’s lips twisted. ‘Not really.’
‘So she was all for it?’
‘She didn’t object,’ said Helen obliquely. ‘And then, when Melissa came along…’
‘Of course. Melissa.’ Her father smiled. ‘I think I understand now. You were going to have a baby and the decision was taken for you. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that that was how she and I got together?’
‘No!’
Helen was stunned. But it explained so much. Not least, the struggle her mother and father had had to make their marriage work.
‘Were you happy?’
Sam’s question was well-meant, she knew, but he deserved to know at least a little of the truth. ‘Melissa—isn’t Richard’s child,’ she said. ‘He knew that, but he wanted to marry me anyway.’
‘And why not?’ Sam was endearingly defensive, and Helen thought how different her life might have been if he’d been there to support her. ‘You’re a beautiful woman, my dear. Any man would be proud to call you his wife.’
‘Do you think so?’
Helen wasn’t so sure about that, but Sam had other things on his mind. ‘You didn’t answer my earlier question,’ he reminded her. ‘Were you happy together?’
‘To begin with,’ replied Helen honestly. ‘Well, Richard seemed happy, anyway. When Melissa was a baby, it was good. It was only as she got older and more—uncontrollable—that she went from being our child to my child almost overnight.’
Her father looked distressed. ‘Oh, my dear. If only I’d known.’ He reached out to squeeze the hand that was lying in her lap. ‘Tell me about him. What did he do for a living?’
‘Oh, this and that.’ Helen didn’t want to have to tell her father that Richard hadn’t held down a steady job in all the time she’d known him. That was why she’d had to become the breadwinner, and he’d resented her for it. ‘He was working as a courier when he died.’
‘A courier?’ Sam frowned. ‘Not exactly the most suitable job for someone who spent most of his evenings in a pub, I’d have said.’
Helen stared at him. ‘How do you—I mean…?’
Sam looked slightly shamefaced now. ‘Melissa told me,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘Oh—believe me, I wasn’t questioning her. She just came right out with it.’
‘She would,’ muttered Helen unhappily. ‘I’m sorry if she embarrassed you.’
‘She didn’t embarrass me.’ Her father shook his head. ‘But I can easily see that she’s quite a handful for you.’
‘And the rest.’ Helen took another sip of her wine. ‘Mmm, this is nice.’
‘Don’t sound so surprised.’ Sam pretended to be offended, but then he frowned again. ‘So does Melissa know that Richard wasn’t her father?’
‘Heavens, no!’ Helen was emphatic. ‘That was the one thing Richard insisted on. That no one—including my mother—ever suspected that she wasn’t his child.’
‘I see.’ Sam was thoughtful. Then, getting to his feet, he moved to stand at his office window. ‘Did he know who her real father was?’
‘No.’ Helen’s answer was clipped. Then,