A Shameful Consequence - By Carol Marinelli Page 0,28

just about you!’

‘I don’t want you in my life.’ It came out all wrong, but so adamant were the words, so strong the effect that for a moment Nico was silent.

He could feel acid churn in his stomach. It was all very well for her to choose to live like this, but he would not allow it for … He stopped himself from voicing it, even in his head. For now he would try to sort this by removing dangerous emotion, by not even thinking that the baby might be his. He would treat her for now, Nico decided, as he would a client, be objective as he dealt with the issues she faced. ‘Let’s just concentrate on getting you out of here. Are you managing to save?’ Always practical, he tried to steer her to a solution. Perhaps if he could help her get a flat, arrange some child care, at least get on her feet, then, maybe then, they could talk, but his question went unanswered and a frown formed as he saw her swallow. ‘What are you paid?’ He did not care if the question was rude.

‘I have accommodation, and I have food,’ Connie said, not revealing that she ate the same as Henry did, that the disgusting porridge and mince and potato was all that was available. ‘In return I look after his home …’

‘He doesn’t pay you?’

‘A little.’ Constantine revealed the paltry sum that hardly covered the nappies, that gave her no option but to breastfeed, and her milk was already starting to dry up.

Nico closed his eyes and took a deep breath for a moment, and it was game over.

He could not treat her as a client.

‘It’s the twenty-first century …’ His voice rose and she begged him quiet, but he lowered it only slightly. ‘You cannot be treated like a slave. There are people who deal with single mothers, with wages …’

‘And I have qualifications and a wealthy family back home in Greece,’ Connie retorted, for she had looked into that. ‘I’m hardly a priority. There are people far worse off than me.’ It was hard at times to remember that. ‘I’m getting things sorted.’ She was, she meant it. She was doing everything in her power to ensure a better future for her child, to lift herself out of the hole she was in. ‘I went to the doctor today, he gave me vitamins and some tablets. Once they kick in …’

‘Tablets?’

‘He says I have postnatal depression.’ She watched his eyes narrow. ‘I didn’t want to take anything while I was feeding, but he said they were safe.’

‘I’d have postnatal depression if I lived here.’ He wasn’t being derisive, absolutely he wasn’t. ‘You are not depressed, Constantine, you are miserable because you are exhausted. Tablets won’t help that.’

‘Oh.’ She gave a tired laugh, absolutely devoid of humour. ‘I’ll take what I can get.’

A banging on the ceiling had Nico’s jaw clamp down, and it ground tighter as he saw the baby murmur a tired protest as she moved him from her breast.

‘He’s still feeding,’ Nico said as she stood. Breastfeeding did not embarrass him, it was that she might interrupt this time to tend to the demands of the greedy man upstairs that caused the gruffness to his voice.

‘He’s asleep,’ Connie said, but even though he was, she knew she had stolen some precious food from her son. Henry was still banging, so she sorted out her clothing and without a word headed upstairs.

‘What’s all the noise?’ Henry demanded. ‘Who’s down there?’

‘No one. I’m sorry,’ Connie attempted. ‘I had the television too loud. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Just my pillows.’

She hated sorting his pillows most, and it was the thing he most often asked. How she hated leaning him forward and arranging the pillows, knowing where his eyes were, where his cheeks were.

Had Nico been able to see the smile on Henry’s face at that moment, instead of Connie laying the old man back down, he’d have been laying him out, but for now he sat in the quiet kitchen, trying to work out how best to handle things.

He had not stopped to think since he’d heard the news—after finding where she was he had pretty much stepped on a plane and now he had to sort something out.

Thankfully the baby was sleeping. Nico did not go over and look. It was almost as if he did not want to see, to know, to have it confirmed.

Deal with the issue.

It was