by Anne Styles
'Nick was in love with her,' Charles said bitterly. All the way through Oxford they were crazy about each other, but, unfortunately for Nick, Tasha changed her mind when I inherited my title and the estate at a time when Nick had very little money. And I married her before she changed her mind.' 'So she married you for your money? That doesn't seem very fair,' she commented.
'It wasn't,' he admitted. 'And we both suffered for it. Nick hated me for it for ages, and I had a wife I couldn't cope with. He married Diana a few months afterwards. I'm not sure he can cope with her either. She's so much brighter than he is.'
'That, if you don't mind me saying so, sounds quite bitchy, Charles.'
'No, it's quite true. Diana is a genius in her field, and her IQ is in the stratosphere somewhere,' Charles insisted. 'Nick has an Oxford degree, certainly, but he was lucky to scrape a second, he spent so much time there directing plays or with Tasha. But Diana's in a different category altogether. She has a superb brain and is very involved in her job, even if she is only part-time.'
'But she doesn't need to work, does she?' Sarah protested. 'Nick is enormously wealthy.'
'True - far more so than me - but she's far too bright to stay at home and pander to Nick. I don't particularly like Diana, but I do sympathize with her on that score. She'd go crazy. It was just a shame that Nick got himself tangled up with her, frankly. We all warned him against it, but he took no notice. He was simply on the rebound from Tasha.'
Suddenly Sarah felt quite sad for Nick, but she felt pleased at Charles's confidences. It gave her some reason for Nick's devotion to her - at least she was very different from Diana.
Charles hated the conversation turning to Nick, particularly when he'd ended up defending him, best friend or not. 'She has a lot to put up with, though, where Nick is concerned, Sarah, don't ever forget that. And she does still care for him.'
'I know, Charles, don't worry. Nick has made that perfectly clear,' Sarah snapped at him, swallowing the brandy that she didn't really want.
'I'm sorry. I don't want to pick on Nick. I know how you feel about him,' Charles said placatingly, surprised at Nick's honesty with her.
'I can't help it. I do love him, even if you don't approve.'
'No, I don't. I think Nick is behaving very badly over you. But then I'm old-fashioned enough to believe you should be able to offer a lady something before you approach her.'
'Nick offered me something I couldn't refuse at the end of the day,' Sarah said firmly. 'And I wanted it. I'm not a child, Charles, I'm sorry.' '
A child is the last thing I would accuse you of being.' Charles sighed, smiling at her. 'Look, what are you doing on your two weeks off?' Sarah shrugged, and sensed his discomfort. '
Not a lot. Some Story-Times for Paddy, a couple of game shows and an audition for Nick for a perfume commercial. Why?'
'How would you like to come to New York for a couple of days, week after next?' She thought for a few seconds, working out her timetable. 'It's OK,' he added, 'I have a suite at the Plaza, so you can have a room of your own. I'm not that keen on upsetting Nick. I just need an escort for a very grand party. And you can do some TV interviews I don't doubt.'
'It sounds nice,' she confessed. 'If Nick doesn't mind, and I can find a dress for this very grand party.'
'No problem. Just go and order one from your friend Catherine and send the bill to my office,' he said. 'I'd love to take you, Sarah.'
'I'll pay for my own dress, Charles Hastings,' she told him proudly.
'No. If I want to pay for it, it's my privilege, and you'll need one for the premiere anyway.' Charles was firm. 'Do I take it you'll come?' He knew she wanted to ask Nick first. 'Just remember, Sarah, you are free to do whatever you want to do. It's Nick who's trapped.'
'OK, Charles, I'll come. I may need to get away from London for a few days! But only as a friend?' Her thoughts had suddenly turned to Peter. If he turned difficult - and Sarah was aware that he might - his temper could be quite frightening sometimes. New York was about as far away from him as she could get.
'That's great!' He leant across the table and kissed her cheek. 'I'll enjoy showing you off, Sarah,' he said, with an air of triumph. 'Would you like another drink?'
She shook her head. 'I'm not used to drinking brandy. Perhaps we should go? I need to get ready for the party.'
Reluctantly he drove her back to the hotel. 'I'll see you later. Save a dance for me?'
'Oh, more than one,' she promised, and smiled as he kissed the palms of her hands. It seemed now, a totally sensuous gesture. Maybe New York would be fun, she thought, as she went upstairs. She could do some shopping if nothing else.
With a wicked grin, she chose a dress from her wardrobe that Nick hadn't seen. If he was as determined as he had said to stay away from her all evening for form's sake, she knew this dress would break his resolve.
Bathed, and fragrant with Chanel, she slid into the short, slim, white strapless dress just as Ronnie popped his head round the door to do her hair. 'Well, well! And who are we out to snare tonight, then?' he asked as he set to work.
'Wait and see,' Sarah teased. 'Just make it look good, please, Ronnie.' He did. She twirled in front of the mirror, knowing she looked sensational.
'You'll kill 'em,' Ronnie grinned. 'As you always do. Wait till the French get an eyeful of you!' 'I'm not interested in the French,' Sarah told him. 'Come on, Ronnie, escort me. Let your principles go hang!'
'Madame, I'd be proud to!'
'Shouldn't that be mademoiselle?'
'I thought that only applied to virgins!'
* * *
They were late down into the room at the hotel that Nick, Charles and Chris had hired for the end of shoot party.
Most of the cast and crew and their assorted wives and partners were already there. It was quite amusing for Ronnie and Sarah to match newly arrived wives with their husbands - Ronnie with incredibly bitchy remarks about them all, as usual.
James and Cress bore down on them, giggling with their pleasure in each other. It didn't stop James from kissing Sarah, though, skimming his fingers over her cleavage. 'I'm allowed,' he told her, grinning. 'I've been in there before - and that is some dress, lady!'
'I'm going to kill him!' Cress threatened, laughing.
'Oh, don't. Cress!' Sarah said, 'he's not grown up enough for me.'
'In that case, dance with me, Sarah.' Sir John took her arm and led her to the dance floor. 'My lady wife is allowing me some practice before our cabaret.' Arriving a few minutes later with Charles, Nick watched her dancing with John and cursed. He knew the sleek white dress was to wind him up. Resolutely turning his back on the dance floor, he concentrated on doing the rounds of his crew, greeting the wives, remembering names, ordering drinks, being the host. Until he saw Sarah dancing with Ben, laughing, writhing to the music in front of him, teasing and moving as only a trained dancer could.
Excusing himself, he crossed the floor to them as the music came to a pause and caught Sarah as she spun to a halt. 'Pardon me, Ben, I'd like to dance with Sarah.' He was almost curt as he took Sarah from Ben's grasp.
Sarah laughed, and settled easily into his arms as the band changed to a slower number. 'I knew you wouldn't last long!' she challenged, her eyes sparkling. She knew she had won this round. To the astonishment of everyone around them. Nick kissed her. They were oblivious of everyone else for a moment, and in that split second the whole unit knew the gossip was true. No one had been really sure until that moment, so careful had he been, and now he had blown it, with one incautious gesture.
'To hell with it!' he exclaimed when he realized what he'd done. 'I suppose it's safe enough amongst this lot.
They were bound to find out sooner or later.' 'I'll dance with Charlie in a minute,' she promised, 'that'll fix them. Charlie won't know what's hit him!'
'Don't overdo it,' he warned, frowning. 'Especially now he's taking you to New York.'
'Do you mind about that?' she asked sweetly. 'Because I won
't go if you don't want me to.'
'No, you go. Charlie knows I'd throttle him if he tried to lure you away from me,' Nick assured her, with more confidence than he felt. 'He has set up some interviews while you're there.'
'Don't you ever stop thinking about work?'
'Long enough to tire you out, you little baggage! Go on, then, go and flirt with Charles for a few minutes!' He left the unit in no doubt as to his feelings as the evening progressed. He was in such a relaxed mood that he laughed heartily at James's wicked take-off of his directorial style, and at the end of the song and dance act that Sarah and Sir John put on, he acquiesced when the crew shouted for her to do the cartwheels she was well known for on the TV programme. Amused that she looked to him for permission and relieved she was wearing trousers for her dance, he gave a nod of agreement before she sprang around the floor with a series of perfect cartwheels, finishing with the back-flip that she had always been good at.
'Christ!' said James quietly to Nick. 'If she does that every night I'm surprised you're still standing!'
'And you're very lucky to be!' Nick retorted. 'I think I must be mellowing with age or something.'
'More likely something wearing you out!' James told him, grinning. 'You look like a cat that has the cream every time she comes near you!' Sarah's hair had tumbled out of its swept up style, and it fell loose as he loved to see it. His face had indeed softened as she approached them, smiling at him.
'Well done, sweetheart.' With his arms full of Sarah, he turned back to James. 'I hear some sort of congratulations are in order?'
'Some sort,' James agreed.
'In that case, if you're not busy, come out with us tomorrow evening? I'll get some tickets for the National.'
'On a Saturday?' James was impressed.
'I have my sources, and anyway, I want Sarah to meet Barry Harper.'
'Goodness, if that's the result of sleeping with you, when is it my turn?' James ducked Nick's good-natured thump. 'We'd love to come. I'll go and tell her ladyship.' Sarah smiled at his departing back.
'Why do I need to meet Barry Harper?'
'Because he's doing Romeo and Juliet next season. I had a drink with him when I went up to town last week. I told you all you needed were contacts.'
'Oh, Nick! He really is the best at the National!'
'You have to impress him first!' he reminded her, and hugged her. 'Which I'm sure you will. Now, as I went to the expense of booking a room here tonight, shall we creep out soon?'
'What a waste of money,' she pointed out.
'I was protecting your reputation - until you tempted me into blowing it! Go and say your farewells, my darling, because I need you very badly.' Carefully Sarah went round to say goodbye to the actors who were finishing. Only she, James and Tony were going to France with the crew. The rest of the cast would be new, supplemented by French extras. She was sad to see the end of the shoot. After all her worries at the start, the crew and cast were like old friends now. France would be like starting again.
'No tears?' Nick asked, surprised, as they went upstairs.
'No, not tonight, I'll see them again at the premiere.' She was philosophical, and all she really wanted at that moment was Nick and his arms around her.
CHAPTER 12
In some ways it was a relief to be home. Out of breath from lugging two suitcases from the car, Sarah opened the door to the flat to find it immaculate and smelling of polish. George and Maggie had obviously been to the theatre lately. They often used her spare room to save driving back to Guildford late at night, and Maggie in return tidied up from time to time, and filled her freezer.
Sarah pushed a load of washing into the machine, and opened a mountain of mail. George had taken the bills to pay them, as he usually did.
When Nick rang to confirm their theatre booking, she decided everyone should have an early supper at the flat, since they were all tired and as Maggie had left a large lasagne in the fridge - though she had to dash out shopping for everything else.
It was after four when she got back to the flat, in a mad panic to make a salad and one of the few desserts she could produce without resorting to the phone for advice from Maggie. Table laid and food ready, she leapt into the bath. When the doorbell rang at six o'clock, she swore. They were early - too early. Her hair was very damp, and she was still fastening her denim dress as she went to answer it. She stepped back in horror.
It was Peter. Bronzed and cheerful, delighted to see her - and she had quite forgotten to call him. She was reluctant even to kiss him.
'What's the matter?' he asked, walking in. 'You look as if you've seen a ghost - aren't you pleased to see me?
It's been almost two months.' Then he took in the table, the chic dress and tumbling hair, which was a style new to him, and he looked at her enquiringly.
There was no easy way to do it. Sarah knew the others would be there any minute, so she took the plunge, blurting out that it was all over between them, surprising herself by realizing just how little he had meant to her, and hoping he would go.
For a moment Peter stared at her, uncomprehending, then in a blaze of anger he slapped her hard across her face, taking her totally unawares. 'You disgusting little whore!' he roared at her, and slapped her again. 'You spent half your time with me trying not to go to bed with me because you didn't like it, yet the minute my back is turned you ditch me for someone else and suddenly it's wonderful! How could you, Sarah? Did I mean so little to you?' Sarah threw herself into a ball on the sofa, warding off the blow's he was raining on her with her arms protecting her face.
'Who is he?' Peter demanded, shaking her in a blind fury. She had never seen him in such a state, and she was petrified. How on earth could he have read so much into so little? she thought in desperation.
'I'm not telling you,' she sobbed. 'Leave me alone, Peter, for God's sake!'
'Leave you alone! He hasn't, has he?' Peter ripped at her dress. 'Christ! You haven't even got a bra on! Perhaps now you won't be so prudish with me.' She fought him off with all her strength, until he grabbed her hair, forcing her head back, making her scream with pain. 'Come on, Sarah, show me how much you've learnt from this wonderful lover of yours.' His mouth was brutally hard on hers as his hands pulled at the fastening of her dress again, wrenching it off her as he pushed her to the floor. Struggling and twisting, she sobbed with panic as his assault grew more frightening. She was terrified now that he really would kill her, as his blows rained ceaselessly down on her.
Her screams were audible when Nick and James reached the door at the same moment. 'Oh, my God!' James threw himself at the door, which yielded not one iota.
'I've got a key,' Cress cried, and scrabbled in her bag to hand it to Nick. 'Oh, quickly, Nick!' Nick unlocked the door and hurled himself across the living room, his fist making contact with the side of Peter's head with a satisfying thud. He wrenched him away from Sarah's body, his language ripe as he then threw him across the room. It was only too apparent who the new man in Sarah's life was. 'Nick, oh, Nick!' was all she could manage, hysterical by that point.
'It's OK, darling, I'm here. You're safe, I promise.' He was cradling her in his arms as James dragged Peter away , from them, and the realization dawned on Peter as he watched Nick and Sarah.
'Call the police!' Cress demanded as Nick bent over Sarah.
'No!' James said. 'No, we can't. It'll create all kinds of problems!' Peter was by now white-faced and shaking with remorse, and James grabbed at him again and pushed him towards the door. 'Get out!' he ordered. 'While you still have the means to walk! And don't come near Sarah again, or we will call the police.' Peter stared at Nick for a moment as James hustled him to the door.
'I might have known it was him!' he said dully, and then in his panic at what he had done he shouted. 'You can't screw your way to the top, Sarah, and he's old enough to be your father!'
'Get out!' Nick's voice had an icy quality that said he was having great difficulty in controlling his temper. He knew
that if he didn't, Peter would not still be standing there. 'Now!'
'You're welcome to her,' Peter snapped. 'You obviously had more luck with the frigid little bitch than I had!' he added as James marched him out of the door.
'I'll make sure he leaves,' James said, and shut the door behind them. Frantic, Nick lifted the sobbing, almost naked girl up, horrified at the red marks and bruises Peter had left on her skin.
'Get some ice. Cress,' he ordered. 'Quickly, or she'll really bruise. It's all right, darling, it's going to be all right,' he soothed, and Cress wrapped the ice that Sarah had put out for drinks in a napkin and handed it to Nick, who touched carefully to her bruised face. He knelt on the floor, his hands gentle, his voice soft as he soothed her, checking all the time for damage to her body. 'You don't appear to have broken anything,' he said, relieved. 'It's just bruising as far as I can tell. Oh, darling, I wish I'd got here earlier.'
'It's not your fault,' Sarah whispered. 'And don't worry, he won't come back.'
'Nevertheless you can't stay here alone next week,' he said, worried, as he lifted her onto the sofa.
Sarah clung to him as Cress went to pour her a drink. 'I'll be fine. I'll get someone to come and stay with me if I get nervous. Or I'll go down and stay with George. But I'm glad you're here now. Nick.' Carefully Nick held the glass of whisky for her and made her drink some, oblivious of Cress for a moment as he kissed her very gently.
'I'll do anything to make sure you're safe,' he assured her, and Cress drew back, feeling as if she was intruding.
'I'll see to supper,' she said, and backed away into the kitchen, embarrassed but reassured, somehow, that Nick really did care for Sarah - enough to show his feelings publicly, in a way she had never seen him do before.
Practical as ever. Cress took over serving the meal as Nick helped Sarah to change clothes into a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, then redid her make-up to cover the worst of the marks. The ice pack seemed to have worked, and Sarah insisted they still went to the theatre. 'I'd rather be out,' she said firmly.
