by Pamela Fudge
‘Yes,’ the older woman’s smile widened, until her whole face was filled with bright pleasure, ‘You’ve come home to set the date. I really couldn’t be happier. You’re finally going to marry Sam - and not a day too soon.’
CHAPTER THREE
Roz couldn’t believe it. Aunt Ellen had somehow convinced herself that her great-niece had come home for the sole purpose of making the arrangements for her wedding to Sam.
She had no idea what she replied to her aunt’s preposterous, yet quite understandable assumption, no idea at all. Too late she realised she should have seen this coming a mile away – in her aunt’s eyes it would be extremely strange for a six year engagement to end any other way but in marriage.
Somehow Roz had managed to murmur something non-committal before she excused herself and dashed from the room, nearly knocking one of the guests flying in her haste.
‘This is Sam’s fault,’ she fumed aloud, when she had reached the comparative safety of her room, and recovered her powers of speech.
She found herself pacing from window to wall, from wall to door, and back again, and wished fervently that she hadn’t given up, long ago, the childhood habit of biting her nails. Roz didn’t smoke, never had, but accepted, quite readily, this situation could almost have justified her taking the habit up.
Reaching the window again and looking out, she was treated to the sight of Sam’s broad back bent over the flower bed below her room. Refusing to allow herself to get side-tracked by the tantalising glimpse of tanned flesh where his shirt had pulled out of his waist band she glared at him so fiercely she almost expected to see two burn holes appear in his clothes.
‘Your fault,’ she confirmed, and spinning on her heel, she went straight down to tackle him, while her anger and her dismay were still at fever pitch.
‘Aunt Ellen only thinks we’re on the verge of setting the date for our wedding,’ she said without preamble, stopping close behind him, with her legs apart and her hands firm on her slim hips.
He didn’t even turn round, she noticed wrathfully, just carried right on weeding as he said, in the most reasonable tone, ‘That’s hardly surprising since we are engaged and have been for some time.’
‘We are not,’ she denied hotly, and then hurried on, ‘Well - we are - but we aren’t really – as you very well know.’
It all sounded very feeble even to her own ears and Roz was becoming crosser and hotter by the minute. She shouldn’t have to explain to him, he knew better than anyone exactly what she meant and exactly how things stood.
She stamped her foot, which was a little pointless as it made no sound at all on the grass, and hissed, ‘Oh, will you stop doing what you’re doing and turn round when I’m talking to you?’
Sam stood up. He then straightened his back with all the speed of a man at least fifty years older, inch by maddening inch before - finally - he turned to face her.
‘You sound annoyed,’ he said, and she was pleased to see that at least he wasn’t smiling.
If he had been... well, her fingers were just itching to make contact with that smooth tanned cheek. With difficulty, she clenched her hands into tight fists, and held on to her temper.
‘This was all your idea,’ she told him, looking him straight in the eye. ‘You got us into this mess with your stupid idea, and you can damn well get us out of it. This engagement was never meant to end in marriage, as you very well know, and now Aunt Ellen is looking for us to start making arrangements. What are we going to do, Sam?’
The speech that had started so well, in a calmly reasonable tone, ended on a wobbly note that was almost a wail of sheer terror. Sam took a step forward, his hands already reaching out to comfort her.
‘Don’t touch me,’ her own hands were thrust out, palms facing him in clear repudiation.
‘All right,’ his arms went up in surrender. ‘So, let’s talk. We’ll start with you telling me what you think we should do, shall we? And go on from there.’
Roz took a deep breath. This was better, at last she was getting somewhere, and he was being sensible for once. All she had to do was to state the case, exactly as it was, and then they could deal with the situation they found themselves in, in a reasonable and adult manner.
‘This engagement,’ she began, ‘which, incidentally, and as I continually have to remind you, was all your idea. You do remember that, do you? It was meant to be simply a matter of convenience. It was arranged, on the one hand, to stop Aunt Ellen fretting over the lack of anyone resembling husband material hovering on my horizon and, on the other hand, it would supposedly stop over-zealous reporters inventing love interests for you. Or that’s what you told me at the time.’
‘Right,’ Sam agreed readily enough.
‘Right, ‘Roz repeated, ‘and we made a bargain at the time that, should either of us meet someone that we really wanted to marry, the engagement would simply be called off.’
‘We did.’
Roz sighed, he might sound ever so reasonable, but he wasn’t exactly helping. It looked as if she was going to have to spell it out for him, word by word.
‘I’ve now met someone that I do wish to marry, as I’ve already told you, Sam, therefore our engagement, or arrangement - call it what you will - must be terminated.
‘But it’s not that simple any more, is it?’
He looked serious enough now, she thought, that was for sure. In fact, the expression on his face frightened her. What did he mean? What was he saying? Surely he didn’t expect her to actually marry him? That would be carrying something that had started as little more than a joke a bit too far.
‘Of course it’s that simple,’ she told him tartly. ‘All we have to do is to tell anyone who’s interested that the engagement is off because I’ve met someone else. It happens all the time, Sam, it’s no big deal.’
‘It wasn’t then - it is now. Roz, I think you’re forgetting just how long this has been going on, and how much has changed.’ For a moment he looked as confused as she felt, and he reached up a hand to rake it distractedly through his dark hair. ‘It’s been six years,’ he reminded her gently. ‘Six years of everyone thinking of us as a couple...'
'So,’ she interrupted with a careless shrug, ‘it’s been six years – so what?’
‘I’m not the same person I was then, not as anonymous, and Ellen is six years older...’
‘You want to continue with a phoney engagement because you’re a bit of a name on the country and western circuit now, and because Aunt Ellen is in her eighties,’ she glared at him in disbelief, and huffing loudly went on. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this.’ she shook her head. ‘I really don’t.’
‘The press and social media will crucify you and speculation will be rife if we put it out that you broke it off. You know what the tabloids are like. They’ll have a field day, be all over this place like a measles rash, delving into our lives and background. They’ve only left us alone thus far because we lead such apparently boring lives. Something like this might cause the sort of scandal that could kill Ellen at her age – and I shouldn’t have to remind you that, in fact, she is actually in her nineties - if you breaking off the engagement didn’t do that first.’
He was deadly serious, and the words held a ring of truth that couldn’t be denied. Shock made Roz’ mouth drop open, and rooted her feet to the damp grass. All around, the birds went on singing, a watery sun went on shining, and flowers went on blooming just as they always did on any normal spring day in Brankstone.
Except this, Roz didn’t have to remind herself, was not any normal day in Brankstone or anywhere else. In fact, she was beginning to feel as if nothing in her life would ever be normal again. They’d carelessly let the stupid, childish arrangement go on for far too long and now it seemed that it was far too late to try and get out of it easily.
It was all to have been so simple, as easy as the breaking of a contract that had never even been official, or ever signed, and now with a few well chosen words, Sam had s
hown her that it wasn’t going to be simple at all. If he was to be believed, it was going to be nigh on impossible - or was it?
Roz decided that she was made of sterner stuff than to give up just like that. He must be made to spell out, word by word, exactly what he intended that they should do, because even he must realise that something had to be done. She would listen, give him a fair hearing, and then she would make up her own mind. He didn’t own her - he never had - and, she told herself firmly, he never would.
‘So,’ she was calm now, and quite in control of the emotions that his bald statement had momentarily scattered to the four winds, ‘what exactly are you saying, Sam?’
‘I’m suggesting,’ he emphasised the word, ‘that for the time being we will just have to stay engaged.’
She’d known it. Roz was even expecting it - and yet hearing it spoken like that was a much bigger shock than she had ever dreamed it would be. The very thought of doing as he suggested was more than she could take. Things had changed - she had changed - she wanted out and she wanted out now.
‘What?’ her voice was so shrill that she even glanced over her shoulder, fearful lest Aunt Ellen should hear her from the house, then lowering her tone, she hissed, ‘Stay engaged indefinitely? Are you quite mad? I will not do it. I want out of this engagement, Sam, right now, and you had just better find a way.’
Her piece said, Roz bent to snatch a trowel from the flower bed, before storming across the garden to begin weeding furiously at a point as far away from him as she could get.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘My word, you have got a lot done.’
It was Aunt Ellen’s soft voice that finally penetrated the chaotic jumble of thoughts and impressions that had been chasing round, in ever more muddled directions, inside of a head that had begun to throb painfully. The note of pleasure and admiration made Roz look along a surprising length of border that had been tackled with the trowel and was totally weed free. The bucket nearby was over-flowing.
‘So I have,’ she agreed with a wry grin and, pleased in spite of herself, she sat back on her heels and accepted the mug that her aunt held out to her.
‘But you’ve ruined your lovely hands, dear,’ the older woman shook her head in dismay, ‘and spoiled your pretty nails.’
‘Oh, they’ll scrub up,’ Roz dismissed the scratched and filthy fingers and chipped nail varnish easily, fully accepting that they were going to be the least of her worries. Her real problem was not going to be solved with soap and water and another coat of nail polish, and the hours of toiling in the garden had done nothing towards finding a solution.
Her aunt seemed to hesitate, before she spoke again, and then the words were said in a rush, ‘I thought I heard you and Sam quarrelling earlier. I do hope you haven’t had a serious falling out.’
It was said lightly, but Roz didn’t miss the anxiety in the faded blue of the older woman’s eyes, or the worried question in her tone.
She longed to say that, yes, they had fallen out, that the engagement was off, and that she didn’t care if she never saw Sam Lawrence again as long as she lived. She longed to say it, and let him do what he would about it. Her aunt, too, would get over it, she was sure, but she didn’t deserve to have it thrown at her in such a fashion. She didn’t deserve to be lied to in the way that they had all those years ago, either, and allowing it to continue for so long only made things a million times worse.
What had seemed funny, back then, and harmless, was shown up clearly now for what it was - the deceiving of someone who didn’t deserve to be deceived, someone who had always been painfully and totally honest - and someone who had tried to bring her up to be the same. Roz was suddenly bitterly ashamed, both of herself and Sam, and she wished with all of her heart that she could turn the clock back six years. She would welcome being given the chance, back then, to handle the situation with the total honesty it deserved.
Aunt Ellen was waiting quietly for her answer, a little concerned but obviously completely unaware of the turmoil going on in Roz’ head. A worried frown furrowed the older woman’s brow, and Roz knew suddenly that Sam was right. It wasn’t easy for her to face that, but face it she had to, and with better grace than she had shown so far. Behaving like a spoilt brat would solve nothing, she saw at last, and nor would putting all the blame on Sam’s shoulders help.
From somewhere, she dredged up a warm smile, rubbed her aching back with a dirty hand and said lightly, ‘Oh, you know Sam, Aunt Ellen, bossy as always. I’m not having him telling me where to work in my own garden.’
She must have sounded convincing, because her aunt threw back her head and laughed with every appearance of enjoyment, before collecting the empty mug and walking away chuckling, pausing only to say over her shoulder, ‘Lunch will be in an hour, dear.’
As soon as she had disappeared round the side of the house, Roz got slowly and a little stiffly to her feet. What she meant to do was not going to be easy, but she knew that it had to be done. Her display of temper earlier had been unnecessary, and unforgivable, and now she was going to have to pay for it - by eating humble pie in great unappetising chunks.
‘I’m sorry.’
She didn’t mean to sound ungracious, but her apology sounded abrupt even to her own ears. She almost flinched in readiness for the scathing comment she was sure was coming.
‘That’s all right.’
Sam looked up from the shrub he was pruning with a smile that took her breath away. It was a smile so warm and genuine that there was no doubting his forgiveness, or the fact that he had actually understood why she had behaved in such a way.
‘No, it’s not - not really,’ she said ruefully, looking up at him and trying to ignore the traitorous racing of a pulse that could be so easily influenced by a charming smile that she should have grown used to long ago, ‘No matter what the provocation, there’s never any excuse for behaving like a shrew.’
‘You were upset, and I know that’s a pathetic understatement, but it’s the best that I can do. You obviously hadn’t given too much thought to the consequences of breaking off such an increasingly well-known, and long-standing, engagement.’
‘No.’
‘To be honest, neither had I. What we should have decided, at the time, was just how long it would be sensible to let this, erm, arrangement go on for. We were careless, but who can blame us? After all, engagements are broken off every day, without anyone paying much heed.
‘We both knew it was only ever meant to be a temporary thing, just to give us time to get our lives organised. What we should have realised is, the longer ours went on for the more difficult it would become to break things off without upsetting Ellen and also attracting unwanted attention from the media as my name became known.’
Roz was surprised, and she looked at him with new respect. He understood - he really did - and that made her feel a whole lot better about the situation they had found themselves in. At least, she acknowledged, he wasn’t just being plain awkward, and she had, at first, really thought that he was. All they had to do was to give the matter some careful thought, and together they could surely find a solution.
‘Tell me about him,’ Sam went on quietly, ‘this guy who has stolen your heart. He must be quite a man, I’m sure, since you were always so dead set on remaining single - until now.’
Roz was unaware of the way her attractive face lit up or of the sudden stillness in Sam’s tawny eyes as he watched her.
‘Well, honestly, I never dreamed that I’d ever meet someone who was so exactly right for me.’ Her voice was full of enthusiasm as she went on eagerly, ‘His name is Andrew Reynolds and he has fair hair, blue eyes and is just a couple of years older than me. He’s very good-looking,’ she added.
‘So,’ Sam’s mouth twisted into a wry grin, ‘I know his name, and what he looks like, but what I don’t know, yet, is what makes you so sure that he’s the right man for you?’
Roz laughed good-naturedly, pleased that he was taking an interest. Su
ddenly sure that he would soon agree that Andrew was just the person that she needed in her life.
‘He works for the same company but in a different department, though, of course, he’s further up the promotion ladder than I am. He’s as dedicated to improving his prospects as I am to bettering mine.’
Sam was silent, his face expressionless, and he just nodded slightly to show that he was listening as he waited for Roz to go on.
‘That’s the wonderful thing,’ she laughed, ‘he’s so supportive and understanding of everything that I do and he is just as keen for me to get on as I am. Andrew takes me to all the right parties, making sure that we meet all the right people. He understands about ambition, about career moves, and the need to be totally dedicated and on call in case any opportunity is missed. He wouldn’t want a stay-at-home wife - any more than I’d want to be one – and he says that I’m a great asset to a career-minded man.’
She paused, breathless from delivering what was almost a speech, and looked expectantly up at Sam, waiting for the comment she was sure would be forthcoming. When it came, it was so unexpected that it almost shocked her.
‘Sounds great - but what about love?’ he asked briefly, his tone flat as, without moving so much as a muscle, he waited for her answer.
‘We - well, of course I love him,’ she wasn’t aware of the slight hesitation in her reply as she quickly warmed to her theme, ‘and he loves me, of course he does because we’re so very right for each other.’
‘It doesn’t sound much like love to me,’ Sam emphasised. ‘It sounds more like a business merger.’
Roz was taken aback, but only for a moment before anger raced to the rescue, and she said bitingly, ‘Oh, and you’d know all about love, would you, Sam? I didn’t realise that you were an expert.’
He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed, she noticed, as he said, ‘Well, I’ve had my moments, and believe me, balance sheets and career moves weren’t a part of them. I thought love was mutual attraction - shared interests, maybe - but also finding the same things funny, and not just pushing each other up the career ladder for a swift and lucrative promotion.’
