a meal. You don’t mind, do you?’
Devlin’s heart sank. Just what she didn’t need, making social chit-chat But for her mother’s benefit she said brightly, ‘Of course not, Mum, I’ll just go and
freshen up.’
‘Good idea,’ Lydia said, a trifle drily. Devlin let it pass. She knew she looked a sight. Trust Lydia to rub it in. Her mother was always impeccably groomed except during a very bad
binge, and she expected nothing less of her daughter. Tiredly Devlin made her way upstairs to her bedroom with its cheerful Laura Ashley floral paper, matching curtains and bedspread. Usually the
sight of her immaculately tidy bedroom bathed in sunlight lifted her spirits, but not today. She was feeling a little strange. She’d just lie down for a while, she decided, flopping onto her
bed.
It was funny, she reflected; she felt as if she was getting her period. Her PERIOD!! Galvanized, she flew into the bathroom and inspected her briefs. Frustration welled in her at the sight of
their unblemished purity. She did not realize that many women in the very early stages of pregnancy often feel as if a period is imminent. Flinging herself on the bed she lay staring at the
ceiling, knowing she would have to start making a decision soon.
Reluctantly her hand moved down over her stomach. It felt no different. She couldn’t feel the presence of a life. Maybe it was true what some argued that life didn’t begin until much
later. After all she was only a little while gone. It couldn’t be bigger than the top of a pin.
‘Devlin! Devlin! I was wonder . . . ’ Her mother stood at the door staring at her. ‘Good gracious, Devlin, what’s the matter with you?’
Scarlet with guilt, Devlin shot off the bed, the colour draining from her face as dizziness overcame her. Hastily she sat down on the bed, trying to keep from fainting.
‘Heavens above, Devlin, what’s wrong with you?’ Her mother’s voice, sharp with concern, pierced the woolliness of her mind.
Devlin wanted desperately to blurt out the truth and get it over with, but caution restrained her and she murmured slowly, ‘Honestly it’s nothing Mum, I skipped lunch and I felt a
bit faint.’
‘It’s living in that . . . flat. You’re not feeding yourself,’ Lydia said sharply.
Don’t let her start, Devlin prayed.
‘I hope you’re not on one of those faddy diets?’
Diet! Devlin thought she was going to laugh hysterically. Not the best diet in the world was going to be able to save her figure unless she had an abortion. In a few months everybody who met her
would know exactly what she had been up to. There was no need to write the word ‘Adultery’ on her forehead in bright red paint . . . it would be there for all the world to see in the
bulge of her belly, which was now so flat and slender.
‘I’m not on a diet, Mum. I just skipped lunch. I was shopping, that’s all!’
‘Well, tidy up. Gerry and Mr . . . er . . . Reilly I think his name is, should be here soon.’
‘Is there a Mrs Reilly?’ Devlin enquired as she cautiously stood up, not wishing to have a repeat of the previous dizziness.
‘Gerry just said Mr Reilly had a very sharp business brain and was self made. He lives in London most of the time, I believe, as most of his business is over there, but he does have some
property in Dublin. I think his father lives here.’ She eyed her daughter thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what age he is?’
It was one of her mother’s aims in life to make a good match for Devlin and all the more so as the obnoxious Carol Jones down the road had just landed a most eligible bachelor and was
sporting a dazzling hunk of diamond on her left finger. The said bachelor, son of a prominent politician who had made millions in land speculation deals, had been very keen on Devlin who disliked
him intensely, hating his arrogant assumption that because his father was a rich powerful man he could do what he liked and have what he wanted. He had wanted Devlin
Devlin’s heart sank. Just what she didn’t need, making social chit-chat But for her mother’s benefit she said brightly, ‘Of course not, Mum, I’ll just go and
freshen up.’
‘Good idea,’ Lydia said, a trifle drily. Devlin let it pass. She knew she looked a sight. Trust Lydia to rub it in. Her mother was always impeccably groomed except during a very bad
binge, and she expected nothing less of her daughter. Tiredly Devlin made her way upstairs to her bedroom with its cheerful Laura Ashley floral paper, matching curtains and bedspread. Usually the
sight of her immaculately tidy bedroom bathed in sunlight lifted her spirits, but not today. She was feeling a little strange. She’d just lie down for a while, she decided, flopping onto her
bed.
It was funny, she reflected; she felt as if she was getting her period. Her PERIOD!! Galvanized, she flew into the bathroom and inspected her briefs. Frustration welled in her at the sight of
their unblemished purity. She did not realize that many women in the very early stages of pregnancy often feel as if a period is imminent. Flinging herself on the bed she lay staring at the
ceiling, knowing she would have to start making a decision soon.
Reluctantly her hand moved down over her stomach. It felt no different. She couldn’t feel the presence of a life. Maybe it was true what some argued that life didn’t begin until much
later. After all she was only a little while gone. It couldn’t be bigger than the top of a pin.
‘Devlin! Devlin! I was wonder . . . ’ Her mother stood at the door staring at her. ‘Good gracious, Devlin, what’s the matter with you?’
Scarlet with guilt, Devlin shot off the bed, the colour draining from her face as dizziness overcame her. Hastily she sat down on the bed, trying to keep from fainting.
‘Heavens above, Devlin, what’s wrong with you?’ Her mother’s voice, sharp with concern, pierced the woolliness of her mind.
Devlin wanted desperately to blurt out the truth and get it over with, but caution restrained her and she murmured slowly, ‘Honestly it’s nothing Mum, I skipped lunch and I felt a
bit faint.’
‘It’s living in that . . . flat. You’re not feeding yourself,’ Lydia said sharply.
Don’t let her start, Devlin prayed.
‘I hope you’re not on one of those faddy diets?’
Diet! Devlin thought she was going to laugh hysterically. Not the best diet in the world was going to be able to save her figure unless she had an abortion. In a few months everybody who met her
would know exactly what she had been up to. There was no need to write the word ‘Adultery’ on her forehead in bright red paint . . . it would be there for all the world to see in the
bulge of her belly, which was now so flat and slender.
‘I’m not on a diet, Mum. I just skipped lunch. I was shopping, that’s all!’
‘Well, tidy up. Gerry and Mr . . . er . . . Reilly I think his name is, should be here soon.’
‘Is there a Mrs Reilly?’ Devlin enquired as she cautiously stood up, not wishing to have a repeat of the previous dizziness.
‘Gerry just said Mr Reilly had a very sharp business brain and was self made. He lives in London most of the time, I believe, as most of his business is over there, but he does have some
property in Dublin. I think his father lives here.’ She eyed her daughter thoughtfully. ‘I wonder what age he is?’
It was one of her mother’s aims in life to make a good match for Devlin and all the more so as the obnoxious Carol Jones down the road had just landed a most eligible bachelor and was
sporting a dazzling hunk of diamond on her left finger. The said bachelor, son of a prominent politician who had made millions in land speculation deals, had been very keen on Devlin who disliked
him intensely, hating his arrogant assumption that because his father was a rich powerful man he could do what he liked and have what he wanted. He had wanted Devlin
Similar Books
