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‘Apart from the fact that I read all of Anne of Green Gables when I was a child?’ The teasing look suddenly changed to one of dauntingly shrewd analysis. ‘You’re more complex than first glance suggests. You have the innocent mask of youth, of course, but there’s a hint of mystery around the mouth and eyes—as if you’re constantly guarding secrets. A Mona Lisa air…serene but secretive. And all that lush hair…Hunter has always had a fetish about women’s hair. No wonder he was attracted…’
Anne was unnerved both by her perspicacity and her generosity. It made her own jealousy seem petty and mean. ‘Uh, Louise—’
‘Have you lived with him long?’
‘No—that is, we’re not—’
‘Oh, don’t worry.’ The smooth blonde hair bounced against her firm jaw as the other woman shook her head reassuringly. ‘I know you’re not married…Goodness, he wouldn’t have kept that a secret. I must admit I’m a bit miffed about this darling boy, but no doubt there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.’ She studied the baby with evident satisfaction. ‘Ivan. I like that. May I hold him?’ She was already reaching out with obvious eagerness.
‘Uh—of course.’ Anne handed him over, still trying to make sense of Louise’s previous comments. ‘Would you like to sit down? He’s quite heavy.’
‘No, we’re fine. How old is he?’
When Anne told her she nodded. ‘Big for his age, but then so was Hunter as a baby.’ The emerald-silk arms held the baby with an easy familiarity that belied the careless sophistication.
‘Hunter?’ For a confused and dreadful moment Anne thought that this woman and Hunter had had a child together—his namesake.
‘Of course Hunter insisted on being born early,’ Louise continued without waiting for a reply to her tart remark. ‘So typical of his impatience. He wanted to get o
n with real life, not hang around wasting valuable time in the womb. No thought of the considerable inconvenience to me, insisting on being born on the Waiheke car ferry! His father was sure they were going to try and charge us for an extra ticket when we disembarked. But that was Paul all over…always busy anticipating trouble before it occurred. A marvellous organiser but a disastrous husband for someone who abhors being organised…’
Anne blanched. Louise. L.L. The signature on the paintings!
‘Are you…? But surely—you can’t be Hunter’s mother!’ she wailed, repudiating the thought of such a terrible gaffe.
‘Oh, dear,’ Louise said drolly. ‘Can’t I? Someone had better tell Hunter he’s been sending Mother’s Day cards to the wrong person all these years.’
‘But you’re far too young!’ Anne protested.
Louise laughed, revealing wrinkles where there had been none before. ‘Thank you for that delightfully sincere piece of flattery, Anne. Now you know why I only make flying visits to Hunter. He ages me dreadfully. I was practically a child bride, you see, but I’m nearly fifty-five now. And you, young man, are going to age me even further,’ she fondly scolded Ivan, who seemed as fascinated by this colourful apparition in his life as Anne was dismayed.
‘You know, you look just as Hunter did at your age, except that Hunter was a brooding baby. He hardly ever cried,’ she added to Anne with a warmly reminiscent smile, ‘but he had this glare that practically shrieked. Of course, the lack of smiles made each one that much more precious. People used to run themselves ragged trying to coax a smile from him, so he never ran short of entertainment. So you see, your daddy was manipulating people with his temperament even then…’ Louise sat down and bounced Ivan gently from side to side on her knee as she teased him.
‘Oh, no—you don’t understand!’ Anne was horrified by the realisation that Louise thought that Ivan was her grandson! ‘Hunter and I aren’t really living together. I live in the flat next door—’
Louise cut her off happily. ‘An excellent arrangement… I know just how you feel—I need lots of personal space too. Unfortunately Hunter’s father couldn’t give it to me in the context of our relationship. He was such a conventional man. Thank goodness Hunter seems to be more flexible—’
‘No, really—Mrs Lewis—Louise.’ Anne’s voice rose frantically as she cut to the crux of the misunderstanding. ‘Hunter is not Ivan’s father.’
Louise seemed amused by her vehemence. ‘Are you sure? There’s a fairly unmistakable likeness.’
Her hopeful expression made Anne almost feel guilty for disappointing her. ‘It’s just coincidence.’ And as Louise opened her mouth again Anne said flatly, ‘Hunter and I have never even slept together.’
‘Not even once?’ his mother asked wistfully. ‘You didn’t both get a bit carried away one day and go further than you meant to…?’ She paused as Anne went tellingly pink and vocally applauded with glee. ‘Oh, you did! I’m so glad! So maybe there is a tiny element of doubt…’
Before Anne could firmly quash any such suggestion a dangerous drawl came from the door. ‘A tiny element of doubt about what, Mother?’
Hunter was home, and he was not in a good mood.
CHAPTER SIX
‘I REALLY am awfully sorry,’ said Anne earnestly, over the top of a large, artfully designed menu.
‘So you said.’ Hunter’s neutral calm seemed to project a high degree of scepticism as he studied the dessert restaurant’s printed offerings.
‘No, really, I am. I had no idea she was your mother.’ Traces of her earlier surprise still lingered in her voice.
‘Oh? So who did you think she was when you drifted out of my bedroom in your see-through nightie and boldly flaunted our love-child in her face?’
