He's My Husband! - Lindsay Armstrong [12]
Nicola had said slowly, and with no acrimony, ‘You look upon Brett as the son you never had, don’t you, Dad?’
Her father had ruffled her hair. ‘I’m very fond of him and very proud of him. When you think how he had to battle his way through school, let alone law school, despite the Rotary Scholarship—’
‘Which you were responsible for.’
‘Yes, well, I’d never encountered such a sharp mind before, such a determination to succeed. When his father was lost in a yachting accident at sea he was only twelve, and the oldest of five children, but the support he gave his mother and his younger brothers and sisters was amazing. He was picking mangoes and avocados in his spare time, sorting prawns and so on—but I have only one child dear to my heart, and that’s you.’
Two weeks later they’d gone to Brett and Marietta’s wedding. At the reception, at a smart restaurant, Nicola had found herself observing the bride and groom with her father’s misgivings in mind.
Marietta had been married in a lime-green figure-hugging Thai silk suit that had set off her glorious red hair admirably. She’d glowed, obviously radiantly happy, but, Nicola had noticed, she and Brett had almost steered clear of each other, and Nicola had wondered why.
Then, when they had come together to cut the cake, they’d looked into each other’s eyes, and to her teenage eyes it had been as if something white-hot existed between them in that brief glance, something almost dangerous that couldn’t be allowed to be exposed in public.
Not long after the wedding Nicola had been sent to boarding school in Brisbane, a thousand miles away, and her dealings with Brett and Marietta had been limited. But she had noticed, when Sasha was born, that Marietta seemed to be obsessive about motherhood in her unique way. Then Chris had arrived, only twelve months later, and after another twelve months had come the bombshell that Brett and Marietta were separating.
‘I knew it,’ her father had said exasperatedly.
‘But Chris is only a baby! How can she?’
‘They’ve come to an agreement. The children will spend the bulk of their time with Brett, allowing her the licence to get her career back on track,’ he’d said sardonically.
‘But I thought she liked having children.’
‘It was a novelty, that’s all.’
Nicola had thought deeply. By then seventeen, she’d had more of an understanding of that strange, searing little look she’d intercepted between Brett and Marietta on their wedding day, but she’d found herself understanding this turn of events even less. ‘So don’t they love each other any more?’
Her father had sighed. ‘They may do, but she’s determined to have it on her terms or not at all, and Brett...Well, he didn’t get where he is without his own kind of iron determination.’
By this time Brett had been made a partner in her father’s law firm. Indeed, he was the active partner, whose expertise had brought some big and prestigious clients to act for, and her father was coming to rely on him more and more as his health failed.
At eighteen Nicola had left boarding school, and, because of her father’s poor health, she insisted on spending the last six months of his life as his constant companion, instead of starting a Bachelor of Arts degree as she’d planned. This had brought her into close contact with Brett and his children—Brett had been marvellous, right up to the end and beyond.
And she often thought it was during those sad months that she’d fallen in love with Brett Harcourt. But it was on the understanding that what was between him and Marietta was not resolved, and that somehow things would be patched up.
She’d spent a lot of time with his children, though, during the restless months after her father’s death, often staying with them rather than rattling around home alone. She had done this not only on his account, but the children’s, and Marietta’s too. It had been like having two waning members of her own family around, both of whom she loved.
She couldn’t forget all the years she’d known Marietta. Could never forget how Marietta had flown home for her father’s funeral