But even so, she found herself picking at her meal when she went to a restaurant not far from Penhally with him on Sunday night.
And he noticed.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Just not that hungry,’ she prevaricated, pushing her plate away. ‘Sorry. I’m just a bit tired.’
‘I’ll pay the bill, then walk you back.’
It wasn’t exactly far. Just round the corner.
‘Do you want to come in for a coffee?’ she asked.
‘Better not.’ He moved his head very slightly in the direction of the photographer who was loitering in view of the door to her flat, reminding her that they were being watched.
It was a good thing, in a way, she thought. The smell of coffee really made her feel sick. But she missed the old days when Dragan would have carried her up the stairs to her bed. Or to his.
‘Dragan…’ She stopped. No, now wasn’t the time or the place.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just I’m sorry I’m not good company tonight.’
‘Still not heard from Serena?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes. But there’s nothing to tell. Papà seems OK with the idea of finding an alternative solution, but Mamma…’ Melinda shook her head in exasperation.
Dragan smiled. ‘Could this be where you get your stubbornness?’
‘Very funny. I’m nothing like her.’ But she smiled back. ‘So do I get a kiss goodnight?’
‘“Just good friends” don’t kiss each other goodnight,’ he reminded her softly. ‘And we’ve already talked long enough for that photographer to get very interested. He’s just moved a bit closer.’
An added pressure on their relationship she could well do without. She sighed. ‘Goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight.’
He waited while she unlocked the door, then smiled at her. ‘Get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.’
True. Once she had a date for her scan. And once she’d had the scan itself, it would be even better. ‘I have a day off tomorrow.’
‘Sleep in. It’ll do you good,’ he advised. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’
Melinda had just stepped out of the shower the following morning when the phone shrilled.
She wrapped a towel around herself and hurried to answer it. Dragan? Or was it Chloe, with the news of the appointment? ‘Hello?’
‘Melinda, just what is all this about?’ Viviana asked crisply.
Melinda grimaced when she heard her mother’s voice. She really wasn’t in the mood for another fight. ‘Serena’s already told you. We worked it out between us.’
‘I don’t mean that. The headlines, child,’ Viviana said impatiently.
‘What headlines?’
‘You know very well which ones.’
‘Mamma, I haven’t seen a newspaper this morning.’
‘How long have you known that you are pregnant?’ her mother snapped.
‘I…’ Melinda was suddenly, horribly awake, as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy-cold water over her. ‘Pregnant?’
‘Unless the headlines are untrue, in which case we will be suing for libel.’
‘But…’ Melinda dragged in a breath. ‘I don’t understand how they could possibly know. I only found out myself the day before yesterday.’
‘So you are pregnant? How could you be so stupid?’ Viviana demanded.
Melinda put a protective hand on her abdomen. So much for Viviana being a delighted grandmother.
‘Unmarried and pregnant by a Croatian refugee!’ Viviana made an exclamation of contempt. ‘Well, you have your wish. We cannot possibly crown you queen of Contarini now. Even if you get rid of the baby, the scandal will stick to you and damage the monarchy. I thought Raffi was the reckless one, but you—you have gone even further!’
No ‘How are you feeling?’, Melinda thought. No ‘When’s the baby due?’. No ‘How’s the morning sickness?’. No interest in anything except the wretched monarchy.
Exactly the same way it had been for her entire life.
‘As far as we are concerned,’ Viviana said, ‘you are no longer our daughter.’
Melinda blinked. Had she just heard that right? ‘You’re disowning me?’
‘Given how little loyalty you have shown to us, why do you sound so surprised?’ Viviana said scornfully. ‘You are no longer part of our family. And I wish you well with your Croatian refugee.’ She spat the word as if it were an insult. And then she hung up.
Melinda stared at the phone in disbelief.
Her family had just disowned her.
And then something really horrible occurred to her.
If her mother had seen the papers…She had to reach Dragan before he saw them. She had to tell him the news before the paparazzi scooped her.
She glanced at the clock. Half past eight. Would he still be at home? Please, please don’t let him have left for the surgery yet. She called his mobile.
‘The mobile phone you are calling is switched off. Please leave a message or send a text.’
She couldn’t tell him the news by voicemail! ‘Dragan? It’s Melinda. If you pick this up before I speak to you, please ring me urgently. I need to talk to you. It’s really, really important.’ She hung up and tried the surgery number.
Engaged.
As it always was at this time on a Monday—the rush time after the weekend, when people who’d been feeling rough over the weekend rang to get an appointment to see the doctor.
Well, she’d redial as many times as she had to until she got through.
And she’d have to hope that she caught him before his first appointment.
The waiting room was practically silent.
This definitely wasn’t normal, Dragan thought. People usually chatted to each other; Penhally was a warm, friendly place, and the surgery here wasn’t the inner city waiting rooms full of silent strangers avoiding each other’s eyes.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ Hazel mumbled, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
‘Have the press been harassing you again?’
She shook her head.
He glanced round at the waiting room; people shuffled in their seats and looked away. But the second he looked back at Hazel, he was aware of people staring at him. ‘Why is everyone staring at me?’ he asked softly.
She looked really embarrassed, and handed him the newspaper in silence.
The headline on the front page screamed at him: THE DOCTOR’S ROYAL LOVE-CHILD
And suddenly he couldn’t breathe.
It took a huge effort and every bit of concentration he possessed to walk into his consulting room. He stared at the page and read it over and over again, but he couldn’t take the words in.
Melinda