‘Why are you looking at that? You’re a long way from that. We can go to Harrods and look at going-away suits if you like.’
Diana still didn’t move but the baby did. She could feel the flutters in her womb, like something soft stroking her from inside. It felt like the softest feather and she put her hand on her stomach.
‘Diana?’ Her mother was peering at her, and then she looked down at her daughter’s hand.
‘No,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘No,’ she said again; this time she was firm.
Diana looked at her mother. She had a choice and it scared her more than anything she had ever faced in her young life. She could either tell the truth and deal with the consequences from her parents or she could run away and try and cope on her own. But how would she cope? She didn’t have any skills or talents. She didn’t have her own money or any independence. She was reliant on her parents, just as the child growing inside her was reliant on her. She took a deep breath and let the truth come out. ‘Yes, I’m pregnant, Mother.’
Diana’s mother gasped. ‘You’re not keeping it; we can see someone about that.’
Diana stepped away from the woman who had given birth to her, who had tried for so long to have Diana – the heartbreak after heartbreak that was the legacy Diana grew up hearing about. Diana was always told she was special because she had survived. Why couldn’t her mother see that this baby was special too?
‘I am keeping it, Mother. This is your grandchild.’
‘No, no, no.’ Diana’s mother grabbed Diana by the arm. ‘We’re going back to the hotel and will return to Moongate tomorrow. Your father is going to be furious.’
But Diana didn’t feel any concern at the news of her father’s impending wrath. She realised this was what she was looking for the whole time. Something to love and to love her. Douglas was merely the conduit to that love.
Her parents would have to learn to live with her decision and, above all, they would have to learn to love her baby.
This realisation lifted the cloud from Diana’s soul and she knew that when she went back to Moongate and faced her father’s anger and shaming it wouldn’t matter. She was going to have a purpose now, and she would do everything in her power to make sure her child was safe, loved and encouraged.
Her father had other ideas.
‘Where is the father? He needs to return home to marry you.’
‘He’s riding a motorbike around Europe, last I heard,’ she had said calmly, her hands in her lap as she faced her father in his study.
‘Write to him, tell him to return.’
‘I can’t, I don’t know his address,’ she said.
‘Then I can get a private detective to look for him.’
Diana put her head to one side. ‘And then what, Father? Ask him to return to fulfil his responsibilities? Force him at gunpoint like in the films?’
Her father snorted. ‘I should.’
‘If he wanted to be here, he would be here, Father. He’s not.’
Her father knew he was outplayed on that one.
‘If it’s too late to have it seen to then you will have to go away and give it up for adoption.’
‘No, I’m not doing that,’ she answered.
‘Which?’ Her father was confused.
‘Going away or giving the baby up,’ she said.
‘And what am I supposed to tell people?’ He was standing now, pacing in front of the French windows to the outdoor patio.
Diana shrugged. ‘I don’t care what you tell them; I just know I’m having my baby, your grandchild, the next Moongate heir.’
She knew this would touch on her father’s lineage worries. He’d nearly lost all hope of the Graybrook-Moore blood continuing before they had Diana, and now Diana was ensuring another generation after her.
‘But a bastard heir,’ said her father.
