Page 146 of The Last Love Song
Sorcha took a deep breath. ‘There’s a good chance I am, yes.’
‘What will you do?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’
‘Well, we can worry about that when Monday comes. We’ve both had a stressful week. Let’s give ourselves a couple of days off, shall we?’
‘We can try. Oh, by the way, someone dropped in an envelope for you. It’s there on the table.’
‘Thanks.’
‘She’s a very pretty girl.’
‘Isn’t she? I was at business college with Mags when I first came to London. She turned up for an interview at Metropolitan a week ago. Her CV was a bit patchy, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt and she’s doing a great job. She’s only filling in for my usual secretary, who’s just gone on maternity leave. But if she continues like this, I might offer her the job permanently.’ Helen sighed. ‘All the men love her, of course. To be born beautiful like you and Mags...what an advantage it is.’
‘Oh, Helen, these days you put us all in the shade.’
‘I have to work very hard to look how I do. The right clothes and make-up help, but I watch what I eat every day of my life to keep the pounds off. It’s a continual struggle.’
‘But worth it, Helen. You always look great.’
‘Thanks. Now, talking of food, what’s for supper?’
A little later, the women went to their respective bedrooms.
They both lay sleepless, Sorcha praying that the result of the test would be negative, Helen hoping against hope it would be positive.
She knew the tiny thing inside Sorcha Daly’s womb might be the only thing that could save The Fishermen. And, she hoped, Sorcha too.
45
Sorcha watched the dawn rise on Monday morning, thankful that the weekend was finally over. At nine o’clock, she could ring the chemist.
‘Up early?’
Sorcha was forcing down a piece of plain toast when Helen arrived downstairs.
‘Yes. I didn’t sleep too well last night.’
‘I can imagine. Look, I have a meeting this morning but I should be back in the office by lunchtime. Give me a call and let me know the news.’
‘I will.’
Helen glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better go.’ She placed a hand on Sorcha’s shoulder. ‘Try not to worry. It’ll sort itself out. See you later.’
At seven minutes past nine, Sorcha put down the receiver. Her whole body was trembling. Even though the news was no surprise, there had still been a chance that she’d been wrong.
‘Miss McCarthy, come in.’
Helen followed Jeremy Swain into his large office overlooking Old Street.
‘Coffee?’ he asked as she settled herself in the leather chair in front of his desk.
‘Thank you.’
Jeremy sat down, rang through to his secretary and asked her to bring a pot of coffee and two cups. He opened the file lying in front of him.
‘Well, things are looking good for the share issue. There’s a buzz about it in the City.’
