Undertaking Love

Chapter Twenty-Three




‘Are you sure you’re alright?’

Gabe cast a doubtful look at the neck brace Melanie had worn on and off since the accident had happened several weeks ago.

‘It’s fine, Gabe, honestly. It looks worse than it is.’

It was a small miracle that she hadn’t been badly injured, or worse. A big dog and a small car was a bad combination. He’d been concerned enough to call at her home the day afterwards to check on her, and although he was sure that he’d seen the net curtains twitch, no one had answered the door. Odd really, but just as he’d been on the verge of starting to wonder if she was inside and too ill to make it to the door, a text had blipped in from the lady herself.



Hi Gabe,

Thxs 4 ur help yday. Am fine, just at A&E to get neck strain double checked.

C U on Monday

M x


How fortunate that she’d chosen to text him at that precise moment. A less trusting man may have found it too convenient, but Gabe was determined to think the best of her. Melanie was a good worker, and she was loyal to the hilt. Too loyal sometimes maybe, but could that really be considered a fault?

Anyway, her explanation for being at the funeral parlour at that late hour had turned out to be perfectly watertight. After all, it was the first time she’d ever locked up for him. It was only logical that she might have had a little panic and nipped back to double check she’d locked the door properly. She was conscientious, that was all.

The dog had come from nowhere, she’d said.

Impossible to stop in time, she’d said.

It was patently clear that she felt wretched about it, and as far as he knew Marla didn’t wish there to be any further investigations. Why stir the already muddy waters with the suggestion that she may have been going a smidge over the speed limit? Truth be told, he hadn’t been able to look Marla in the eye either, given that he was the one who had sent the damn fireworks.

His father would no doubt have muttered ‘least said, soonest mended, son’ and in this case, he would have been one hundred per cent right. The harsh reality was that no amount of recriminations and arguments would bring Bluey back.

The other inescapable truth was that the whole sorry incident had made the fractious situation between the chapel and the funeral parlour even worse. He’d sent the fireworks, and then Melanie, the receptionist he’d hired, had killed Bluey.

Not to mention the fact that he’d knocked back Marla’s advances on her doorstep. He’d suffered for it every night since – memories of how she’d felt in his hands had been the only thing on his mind. She’d robbed him of sleep, turned him into a teenage boy. The old dear in the village shop had glared at him with unconcealed disapproval when he’d been in for the second box of man-size tissues last week.

Something had to give, and unfortunately, it was probably going to be his wrist.



Melanie stuck her head around the mortuary doorway a couple of hours later.

‘Fancy a coffee?’

Gabe glanced up with a distracted smile that warmed Melanie’s skin, despite the coolness of the room and the presence of the village’s most recently deceased resident, Gladys Macintyre.

‘You’re an angel.’

Melanie melted and retired to the kitchen, where she unsnapped the neck brace and rubbed her sore skin. The bloody thing was a pain. She’d dug it out of her dad’s wardrobe where he’d stashed it after his dubious whiplash-injury claim a few years back. Once she’d lied to Gabe about going to A&E, she figured she better have some kind of treatment to show for it. She’d had to think of something to text Gabe to get him to leave. She was 24 years old and still living at home with her Dad – that’s bound to be a turn off.

In truth she’d been remarkably lucky to not be injured at all apart from shock, but she could hardly parade that around, could she?

Besides, she was enjoying the extra fuss from Gabe.

Much to her relief, he’d been wonderful about the whole episode. Her fears that he might sack her had proved totally unfounded. If anything, the accident had solidified her place at the funeral parlour, rather than threatened it. She felt genuinely awful about Bluey, but then Marla really ought to have been more careful. She should have been more careful with her boyfriend too, for that matter. Rupert had been simply lovely to Melanie. He’d insisted that she go back to his apartment for a brandy to steady her shredded nerves. He’d joined her in a large one, then another, and then she’d joined him in his large bed. It had felt like an inevitable chain of events, one of those serendipitous things that it’s pointless to fight or question.

Gabe wandered into the kitchen and rinsed his hands at the sink. He shot her a grateful smile as he picked up his mug.

‘Thanks, love.’ He smiled and his black hair flopped over his brow in a way that made Melanie’s fingers itch to stroke it.

Love. He called me Love.

She watched his backside retreat from the room as he left and cast a glance out of the window towards the chapel.

It seemed the mighty were falling, after all.

A few short weeks ago, Marla had had them all. Gabe, Rupert and Bluey.

Since then, Melanie had managed to take them all away, one by one. Not on purpose of course, it had just happened that way. Poor little Yank girl. Melanie pouted her lip. Life was hard sometimes, eh?

‘Any chance of a cuppa, darlin’?’

Dan appeared in the doorway and grinned. Melanie couldn’t make her mind up about him – he unsettled her. He was too cocky, and she wasn’t sure if he’d guessed how she felt about Gabe. But then two could play at that game, because she’d noticed him making doe eyes at Marla’s sidekick over the road.

The way his gaze lingered on Melanie’s breasts annoyed her as she splashed a minuscule drop of milk in his coffee.

‘Does working in such a gloomy place never get to you?’ she asked with an innocent smile as she handed it over.

‘Not really.’ He shrugged. ‘Gabe’s a mate. Anyway, I don’t spend as much time here as you do. Maybe you should be more worried about your own happiness levels rather than mine.’

He grinned, and then winced as the coffee burnt his tongue. Served him right for being smart.

‘Yeah. Maybe I should apply for the job vacancy over at the chapel.’ Melanie flashed her eyes at him in direct challenge.

Confusion clouded his handsome expression. He really was an easy target to reel in, like a little goldfish flapping on the end of a very large hook. Melanie licked her lips in anticipation. This going in for the big kill thing was addictive.

‘Job vacancy?’

‘Yeah, Marla’s assistant’s bound to be leaving soon. At least I’m guessing so, anyway.’ She paused, leaning back against the kitchen counter. ‘Seeing as how she’s having a baby, and all.’

Dan placed his almost untouched coffee onto the kitchen table.

‘Emily’s pregnant?’

‘Well, I don’t mean Dora, do I?’

Melanie laughed with the pleasure of the big reveal.

It was almost painful to watch. Dan’s expression went from self-satisfied to bewildered, and then to something else, something she didn’t quite understand. It wasn’t surprise, and it definitely wasn’t the face of a man casually lamenting the loss of his favourite piece of eye-candy. She leaned in a little, keen to know what was going on behind his baby blues.

‘You okay, Dan? You’ve gone a bit pale.’

‘What? No. I mean yes, course I am. ’Scuse me, love.’

Dan hightailed it out of the kitchen, leaving Melanie alone with just her coffee and her thoughts.

‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ she murmured, as her mind took the hop, skip and a jump towards the obvious conclusion.



As much as Emily knew that avoiding Dan wasn’t going to magic the problem away, she was still desperate not to have the conversation in the next few minutes. The park basked in the late afternoon sun, all dappled and lush. Glossy trees hid her from prying eyes. She’d suggested meeting here because it wasn’t her natural habitat and she hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone who knew them. Yet, give her a few months and no doubt it would become one of her regular stomping grounds.

She was just glad that she’d been alone when she’d answered the office telephone earlier. How the hell would she have explained her reaction to Marla or Jonny, or even worse, to Dora? She’d grown accustomed to carrying this secret around inside her, and every day it seemed to grow along with the baby. There was no denying her pregnancy now. She was, if the smug TV guru was to be listened to, ‘in her bloom’. Although, to be honest, she’d lost faith in the TV pregnancy guru some time back, right about the time that she’d started to bang on about the importance of involving ‘daddy’ in the pregnancy.

Oh God. What was she going to say? What was Dan going to think? He had every right to demand she at least talk to him. Should she lie? Maybe he’d secretly want her to say the baby was nothing to do with him so that he could wriggle off the hook. But then, any fool can add up, and though she didn’t know him well, he didn’t seem like a village idiot. Christ, it was hot. She stripped her flimsy cardigan off from over her sundress and closed her eyes as she leaned back and fanned herself with her hand.

It was only when she realized that her inefficient cooling system had dramatically improved that she opened her eyes to find Dan wafting her with a rolled up copy of the Sun.

‘Lookin’ swell, darlin’.’

He sat down next to her and looked at her little bump, his blue eyes far more serious than his words.

Emily scooted herself upright and automatically draped a protective arm over her middle. At least he didn’t seem angry – that had to be a start, right?

‘Why did you call, Dan?’

He shrugged and looked away for a few silent seconds, his eyes on an after school kick-about in the distance.

‘I don’t know. I heard about the baby today.’

Emily nodded with a heavy sigh. It had been inevitable that she’d find herself here, and she’d agonised over how she should play it. Now the moment had arrived she knew that the only option open to her was the absolute truth, but actually, saying the words was really, really hard.

‘Is it mine?’

Wow. He wasn’t pulling any punches. Straight in with the million-dollar question; the question that kept her awake into the small hours and haunted her restless dreams when she finally fell asleep. She’d answered it a hundred different ways in her head and none of them had felt right.

‘I don’t know. Probably.’ She knotted her shaky fingers in her lap. ‘Yes, I think it is.’

‘F*ck.’ Dan watched the footballers again and rubbed his stubble with one hand.

‘Look, Dan …’ she wasn’t sure how to say that there was no need for him to feel obliged to play any part in his child’s life.

‘Does your husband know?’

‘No. I’ve tried to tell him, but the words won’t come out.’

‘I see.’ Dan nodded, and turned to search her eyes with his own. ‘So … what am I supposed to say now, Emily?’

This was her one chance to make the best of this for all of them. She couldn’t blow it. ‘I think you’re supposed to say that it’s best Tom never knows.’

‘Right … right.’ He stared at the ground. ‘And what if I don’t say that?’

Terror held Emily’s breath captive in her chest.

‘What if I said that I need to know for certain if it’s my baby?’

‘I’d say that you were within your rights. It’ll probably destroy my marriage and make me a single mother, but you’re within your rights.’

‘And what about the baby’s rights, Emily? To know its real dad?’

And there it was. The other question that worried her daily.

‘I don’t have all the answers, Dan.’ Her shoulders slumped in desolation. ‘Do you want to be a father right now?’

He put his head in his hands and groaned.

‘Because Tom does. Desperately. And I know he’ll be brilliant at it.’

‘So you’re saying, what? I should just walk away?’

‘Can you?’

‘I don’t know, Emily. I honestly don’t know.’

‘Of course you don’t.’ She bit her lip. ‘Sorry.’

They stared in silence at the footballers playing 5-a-side across the park.

‘I don’t want to smash your marriage up.’

‘No. Thank you. Me neither.’

‘I need to get out of here.’ He pushed his hands through his hair and stood up. ‘I’ll call you sometime. Maybe we can talk again, when I’ve got my head around it.’

Emily nodded, and the sincerity in his blue eyes reminded her why he’d been the one she’d turned to when the chips were down. His gaze dropped to her bump.

‘It suits you.’ A tiny, sad smile glanced across his mouth. ‘This pregnancy thing. It really suits you.’

Emily watched him walk away. His usual swagger was nowhere to be seen. He looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.