mention your father was a journalist and was killed in an accident. So it’s more than likely that your father was Graham Tully-Smith, famous investigative journalist—or notorious, if you happened to be on the receiving end of it.
And it just so happens, his thoughts ran on, you’re the only person I’ve ever told about finding the right lever to unseat Henry. Is there a connection between these rumours that have sprung up out of nowhere and you, Bridget?
Bridget was exhausted when she got home.
Although she’d been heartily congratulated on how she’d handled things, doing the news had been a huge drain. And on top of that the Beaumont piece had deeply perturbed her.
It had taken her back again to that night, to the events in the shed, back to Adam Beaumont again, and to what he’d revealed to her. But not only that. Adam Beaumont was where an awful lot of inner turmoil resided for her now…
She had come straight home, only to find she didn’t feel like going to bed.
Then she got a phone call from the TV station, from a receptionist named Sally whom she happened to know, with the news that Adam Beaumont would like to get in touch with her. Could they pass on her number?
She took an incredulous breath. ‘What for?’
Sally replied, ‘I don’t know, Bridge. He didn’t say.
It wasn’t actually him, anyway, it was his PA. Do you know him?’
‘I—I’ve met him.’
‘Well, maybe he wants to congratulate you on the news!’
‘Uh…’ Bridget thought swiftly. ‘I really doubt it. I mean, I’d rather not.’
‘That’s OK. Although personally I would never say no to Adam Beaumont,’ Sally remarked with a chuckle. ‘I’ll just say you’re unavailable for personal calls. I’ve got it down to a fine art. Night, Bridget!’
Bridget put the phone down slowly, her eyes wide and a little stunned.
Why did he want to get in touch now? she wondered.
It must have something to do with the item about the Beaumont board she’d read on the news tonight. It couldn’t be any other reason. But it had nothing to do with her. She hadn’t even proofed the copy, let alone originated the item.
And there were several reasons why she didn’t want to see him. Not yet, at least. Sheer panic was one of them. How was she to tell him she was pregnant? How would he react?
She wasn’t at all sure of her reaction, other than stunned disbelief, so…
She hardly slept at all that night, but it didn’t occur to her that Adam Beaumont wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The next morning was Saturday, so she was off work. It was the day after she’d read the news for Megan Winslow and refused to talk to Adam Beaumont.
So what she was doing was strolling down the beach at Surfers, breathing the fresh salty air, hoping it would help her to clear her mind.
The tide was in, tracing silvery patterns on the sand, and the gulls were in full working mode as they swooped over the shallows, fishing for little bait fish. It was a clear, sunny day. There were swimmers and an army of walkers.
There were also families on the beach, with children of all sizes and ages, and for the first time she stopped and sat on a dune to study them closely. The crawlers, the toddlers, the paddlers, as well as a couple of pregnant mothers nearby. It occurred to her that in the company of her friends’ children she thought loosely about having a family herself, but with one striking ingredient missing—a suitable father—it had never been more than that. She’d never imagined herself pregnant.
She was conscious again of that little echo she’d detected within herself but been unable to explain, and for the first time since disbelief and panic had gripped her it came to her that there was another life in her care and under her guardianship. In the normal course of events she would grow like the two pregnant women on the beach, and then that new life would be born and would carry her imprint.
But what about her life in the meantime? she
And it just so happens, his thoughts ran on, you’re the only person I’ve ever told about finding the right lever to unseat Henry. Is there a connection between these rumours that have sprung up out of nowhere and you, Bridget?
Bridget was exhausted when she got home.
Although she’d been heartily congratulated on how she’d handled things, doing the news had been a huge drain. And on top of that the Beaumont piece had deeply perturbed her.
It had taken her back again to that night, to the events in the shed, back to Adam Beaumont again, and to what he’d revealed to her. But not only that. Adam Beaumont was where an awful lot of inner turmoil resided for her now…
She had come straight home, only to find she didn’t feel like going to bed.
Then she got a phone call from the TV station, from a receptionist named Sally whom she happened to know, with the news that Adam Beaumont would like to get in touch with her. Could they pass on her number?
She took an incredulous breath. ‘What for?’
Sally replied, ‘I don’t know, Bridge. He didn’t say.
It wasn’t actually him, anyway, it was his PA. Do you know him?’
‘I—I’ve met him.’
‘Well, maybe he wants to congratulate you on the news!’
‘Uh…’ Bridget thought swiftly. ‘I really doubt it. I mean, I’d rather not.’
‘That’s OK. Although personally I would never say no to Adam Beaumont,’ Sally remarked with a chuckle. ‘I’ll just say you’re unavailable for personal calls. I’ve got it down to a fine art. Night, Bridget!’
Bridget put the phone down slowly, her eyes wide and a little stunned.
Why did he want to get in touch now? she wondered.
It must have something to do with the item about the Beaumont board she’d read on the news tonight. It couldn’t be any other reason. But it had nothing to do with her. She hadn’t even proofed the copy, let alone originated the item.
And there were several reasons why she didn’t want to see him. Not yet, at least. Sheer panic was one of them. How was she to tell him she was pregnant? How would he react?
She wasn’t at all sure of her reaction, other than stunned disbelief, so…
She hardly slept at all that night, but it didn’t occur to her that Adam Beaumont wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The next morning was Saturday, so she was off work. It was the day after she’d read the news for Megan Winslow and refused to talk to Adam Beaumont.
So what she was doing was strolling down the beach at Surfers, breathing the fresh salty air, hoping it would help her to clear her mind.
The tide was in, tracing silvery patterns on the sand, and the gulls were in full working mode as they swooped over the shallows, fishing for little bait fish. It was a clear, sunny day. There were swimmers and an army of walkers.
There were also families on the beach, with children of all sizes and ages, and for the first time she stopped and sat on a dune to study them closely. The crawlers, the toddlers, the paddlers, as well as a couple of pregnant mothers nearby. It occurred to her that in the company of her friends’ children she thought loosely about having a family herself, but with one striking ingredient missing—a suitable father—it had never been more than that. She’d never imagined herself pregnant.
She was conscious again of that little echo she’d detected within herself but been unable to explain, and for the first time since disbelief and panic had gripped her it came to her that there was another life in her care and under her guardianship. In the normal course of events she would grow like the two pregnant women on the beach, and then that new life would be born and would carry her imprint.
But what about her life in the meantime? she
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