For the Love of Sara

by Anne Mather

  Rachel wished she could feel more gratitude as she replaced the receiver. After all, many women would envy her the opportunity to become the wife of one of the wealthiest men in London. Why then did she continually feel like a mouse caught in the claws of a rather sophisticated cat? What he was asking of her was little enough if it meant the difference between life and death to Sara. James was a generous man. She would not want for anything. But there was more to marriage than a standard of living. And she still wasn't absolutely sure that Miss Clay hadn't told him about Joel taking Sara away with him.

  Mrs. Talbot departed soon after nine the following morning much to Rachel's relief. She had dreaded the possibility of having to find an excuse for Joel's appearance at the flat, and she determined that when James came home she would make a clean breast of everything that had happened. Everything ?

  Refusing to torture her mind with any more anxieties, she went to the hospital to collect Sara, and wished her smile was , as innocent as the child's.

  "What are we going to do today, Mummy?" Sara asked, as they walked back to the flat in hazy sunshine. "I think it's going to be a lovely day. Could we go sightseeing again?"

  Rachel sighed and looked down at her daughter. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Kingdom is coming to take us out for lunch," she said reluctantly, and felt a pang as Sara's mouth lifted at the corners.

  "Joel? Is he? Is he honestly? Ooh, where do you think he will take us? Do you think we might go to the seaside?"

  "I shouldn't think so," replied Rachel dampeningly. "It's too cold."

  "It's not cold at all!"

  "Well, it's too cold for the seaside," retorted Rachel, and then felt mean as Sara's mouth drooped again "Oh, let's wait and see, shall we? Tell me about the hospital. Was everyone kind to you?"

  Joel arrived soon after eleven, while Rachel was sharing a mid-morning glass of milk with Sara. She had not expected him to arrive so early, and she had just taken the pins out of her hair and was in the process of brushing it when the doorbell rang. Sara went excitedly to answer it, and Rachel hastily . sought to loop her hair into the chignon in which she normally wore it. But her hands were unsteady in her haste, and it was tumbling about her shoulders again in a silky curtain when he came into the room.

  This morning Joel was wearing a navy denim suit, with a short battle jacket over a lighter blue collarless sweat shirt, and she thought, albeit unwillingly, how well the casual clothes became his lean body. His eyes flickered coolly over her green pants and scarlet shirt and then narrowed as they came to rest

  on the unknowingly sensuous beauty of her hair.

  "Don't coil it up like that," he said harshly. "Leave it loose!"

  But Rachel turned away. "It's much too long to leave loose," she retorted, and continued looping it on to her nape.

  "Mummy said you're going to take us out for lunch," put in Sara in a small voice, and after a moment's hesitation Joel turned to the child. He bent and swung her up into his arms smiling into her eyes.

  "Yes, I am," he agreed, nodding. "Good heavens, you're a heavy bundle! What do you weigh? Half a ton?"

  Sara giggled. "No. I only weigh two stones. I know, because Doctor Lorrimer said so."

  "Doctor Lorrimer?" Joel frowned. "Who is Doctor Lorrimer?"

  "Joel!" Rachel turned an imploring face in his direction.

  "Did I say something wrong?"

  "You don't question a child!"

  "You do if you don't get answers elsewhere."

  "I'll answer your questions."

  "Will you?" Joel's lips twisted. "How about - why are you marrying my father, then?"

  Sara's mouth puckered. "Oh, why are you two arguing again? You're always arguing! You said you were friends!"

  Joel sighed, the tension leaving his features. "We are - friends;" he assured her gently. "Now, are you ready?"

  Sara had to go to the bathroom and while she was gone, Rachel finished fastening her hair and pulled on the short suede jacket she had brought to wear with her slacks. She was avoiding Joel's eyes, but his voice arrested her:

  "I mean to find out, you know. By fair means - or foul "

  Rachel looked up at him. "And that's something you know a lot about, don't you? Foul means!"

  Joel moved his head slowly from side to side in an attitude of perplexity. "You enjoy saying things like that, don't you? What does it do for you? Does it give you satisfaction to be able to taunt me knowing full well that while Sara's around, you're safe?"

  Rachel tried to shrug her shoulders indifferently. "I only say what I feel - what I feel is the truth."

  "And to hell with the consequences, is that it?"

  "Do you deny that you deserve the things I say to you?" she demanded fiercely.

  "Would it make any difference if I did?"

  "Not a lot."

  "That's what I thought."

  "You think you're very clever, don't you?"

  "Let's say I don't think you're very clever," he retorted smoothly.

  "I don't think you're in a position to judge."

  "Perhaps not. There are several points about this affair which don't add up. But they will, given time."

  "I shouldn't count on that."

  "But I do. I count on it very much." His smile was not pleasant. "And you're going to provide the answers for me, aren't you?"

  Rachel clenched her fists. "Why don't you ask your father why he's marrying me?"

  "Do you think I haven't?"

  "And what did he say?" she asked tremulously.

  "Why should I tell you? I want to hear your side of the story."

  "I don't think he told you anything!" declared Rachel, fumbling with the buttons of her coat. "If he had, you wouldn't be so interested in my motives."

  Joel inclined his head. "All right, I'll grant you that point. But it's pretty obvious, even to someone as amoral as me, that love doesn't enter into it."

  "You don't know that."

  "Don't I? Don't I? Then why didn't you tell me that in the beginning?" His lips curled contemptuously. "Oh, Rachel, you don't love my father. His money, perhaps - but not my father."

  Her fingers stung across his cheek almost before he had finished speaking, but he made no move to prevent her. He simply smiled, as though her action had merely verified what he had said, and then shifting his gaze to some point beyond her, said: "You're ready, Sara? Good. Let's go."

  How Rachel collected her bag and Sara's anorak and followed the others down the stairs to the waiting Mercedes, she could never afterwards remember. She felt too numb, and the day stretched ahead, cold and treacherous. She should never have agreed to come, she told herself despairingly, when Sara was installed in the back and she had to join Joel in the front of the car, but she hadn't been given much choice, had she?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RACHEL sat in the hotel lounge and waited impatiently for Joel and Sara to come back. It was over half an hour since they had set off for the amusement arcade, and she was growing tired of having to avoid the bold stares of the two young men seated across the room at the bar. But when Sara had first suggested playing the pinball machines, Rachel had been only too willing to remain where she was and thus gain a little time to compose herself, but now she was beginning to wonder whether she had been wise. Beyond the windows of the hotel, the promenade was practically deserted, and the mist which had driven everyone indoors curled in spirals around the ornamental trees and shrubs in the hotel garden.

  When Sara had asked if they might gd to the seaside, Joel had told her that that was where he intended taking them, and amid her squeals of delight he had asked Rachel if she had any objections.

  "One place is as good as another," she had retorted jerkily, and thereafter he had made no further attempt to draw her into their conversation. But her absence wasn't noticed. At least, not by Sara. Rachel was amazed at the way she chatted with Joel, laughing and joking with him, and asking him questions that Rachel herself wouldn't have dared to ask. It made Rachel wonder whether t
here was anything special about a blood relationship. Never having known one herself, except with Sara, she couldn't help but notice how easily Joel adapted his conversation to the child's. As for Sara, Rachel had never known her to be so animated with anyone else, although to be honest, Sara had known few people well outside of Andrew Hanson and Colonel Frenshaw.

  They had driven south on the A23, and Rachel had guessed that Joel was taking them to Brighton. It had been a beautiful spring morning in London, and at any other time she would have looked forward to a brisk walk along the promenade after having lunch in one of the hotels. But circumstances being what they were, the prospects were not encouraging, and to add to her depression, Brighton was swathed in a damp sea- fret that made walking on the promenade out of the question.

  They had arrived just before one o'clock, and to counter Sara's disappointment, Joel had promised to take her into an amusement arcade after lunch. He had forgone his pre-lunch drink so that they could go straight into the restaurant, and even Rachel had had to admit that the food was excellent. The pity of it was, she could hardly eat a thing.

  If Joel noticed her lack of appetite, he made no comment upon it, concentrating on Sara who ate a good meal, and who appreciated his attentions so much more.

  They had had coffee in the lounge afterwards, and that was when Sara began agitating about the amusement arcade. As Rachel had not finished her second cup of coffee, it was not too difficult for her to make an excuse not to go with them, and Sara had been quite happy to go off with Joel. Joel himself had perhaps been less keen to leave her on her own, but his polite offer to wait until she was ready had been summarily dismissed by both of his guests, and with an indifferent shrug of his shoulders he had turned away.

  But now Rachel was wishing she had not refused his offer. He had made no promise as to how long they might be, and she could not go on sitting in this lounge for ever. "Equally, she had no particular desire to go out in the chill damp air and possibly lose her way in the mist.

  With a sigh, she got to her feet, draping the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Perhaps if she walked a little way along 108

  the promenade she would find the arcade where Joel had taken Sara.

  Ignoring the several pairs of eyes which followed her progress across the lounge, she went through the reception area and down the steps of the hotel. Shivering a little in her suede jacket, she drew the collar close about her throat. If anything, the mist seemed thicker than before, and she hesitated doubtfully before setting off.

  "I shouldn't worry about him," commented an unexpected voice somewhere near her ear, and she swung round to confront one of the men who had been watching her from the bar.

  "I beg your pardon," she said stiffly.

  "Your husband! That chap who went off with your little girl. I shouldn't worry about him."

  "I think you're making a mistake - "

  The man grinned. "No, he made the mistake, love, leaving a dish like you on your own. What happened? Did you have a row?"

  "Please go away and leave me alone!" Rachel looked round for assistance, but short of going back into the hotel there was no one she could call on. "My - er - my husband and my daughter are coming back for me."

  "Are they? I shouldn't count on it. He looked pretty mad to me when he left here!"

  "Go away!"

  Rachel's breathing had quickened. Such a thing had never happened to her before, and even now she hardly believed that it could be.

  "Come on! Come back inside and have a drink with me and my mate," suggested the man, trying to take her arm. "You won't find anyone in this fog."

  "If you don't go away - "

  "Rachel!"

  Joel's angry exclamation had never been more welcome. He came striding through the garden with Sara at his heels, and she ran to meet him, hardly aware that she ran into his arms. For a moment she pressed herself against him, shuddering, and then he propelled her away from him and demanded: "What is it? What was that man saying to you?"

  Rachel gathered herself with difficulty. "Oh - oh, nothing much." She glanced back over her shoulder, but the man had disappeared, back into the hotel no doubt. "It - it was stupid really. I got tired of sitting in the hotel, and you were gone so long!"

  "I didn't think you'd miss me!" remarked Joel dryly, and then Sara tugged at her mother's hand and he let her go.

  "We met this man who was a friend of Joel's and he owned this boat and he said that if I came back on another day when it wasn't misty he would take me out in it. Can I, Mummy? Can I?"

  "Not now, Sara," said Joel, shaking his head. "Your mother's had a - slight shock." He switched his gaze to Rachel. "He went into the hotel. That man who was molesting you - do you want me to go after him ?"

  Rachel quickly shook her head. "Oh, no. No." She licked her lips. "He wasn't molesting me really. He - he was just - getting fresh, I suppose. Besides, there were two of them in the hotel."

  Joel's mouth was wry. "Is that meant to scare me? Or do you care that I might get hurt?"

  Rachel moved her shoulders defensively. "A - a little of both, I suppose," she murmured, avoiding his eyes.

  Joel hesitated a moment longer, and then he heaved a sigh. "Come on," he said, taking Sara's hand. "Let's find somewhere to have afternoon tea. Then I'll drive you back to town."

  The journey back to London was, for Rachel, a much more pleasant experience than the journey to Brighton had been.

  Deliberately keeping the conversation on an impersonal level, Joel could be an amusing companion, and Sara was delighted that Rachel was now joining in their chatter.

  But Sara was tired, and eventually she fell asleep on the rear seat of the car and then Joel said: "It hasn't been a very successful day, has it?"

  "In what way?" Rachel glanced sideways at him.

  "I took you both to Brighton because I imagined we would have some time to talk while Sara was climbing about the beach. It didn't work out that way, did it?"

  "It didn't begin very well either," murmured Rachel, half to herself, but he heard her.

  "For which I'm to blame, I assume," he remarked, without emotion.

  "I didn't say that."

  "And are you going to talk to me?"

  "We're talking now, aren't we?"

  "No." His fingers slid smoothly round the wheel as he negotiated a slow-moving wagon. "We're exchanging words, that's all."

  "Oh, Joel, why do you persist in making life difficult? Why can't you accept that I'm going to marry your father, and that's all there is to it?"

  "I can't accept that."

  "You must."

  "Rachel, Sara's my daughter. My flesh and blood. And I'm damned if I'm going to give her up without a fight!"

  Rachel's fingers curled into her palms. "Joel, you have your career. That's what you always wanted."

  "It's what I thought I always wanted!"

  She shook her head helplessly. "Are you sure it's not just selfishness that's motivating your concern?"

  His fingers tightened on the wheel until the bones showed through the brown skin. "I let you say a lot to me, Rachel. No one else would get away with half the things you do."

  Rachel turned her head and stared blindly out of the car window. "I'm not asking for your indulgence."

  "No, damn you, I know you're not." Joel swore softly, and then controlled himself again. "Look, I'm trying to be reasonable. Can't you at least meet me half-way?"

  "There is no halfway mark with us, Joel, and you know it."

  "I know you're not as indifferent to me as you'd have me believe!" he muttered harshly.

  Rachel flushed. "I don't think calling one another names will get us anywhere - "

  "I am not calling you names. I am merely stating facts. When I kissed you at the flat, you didn't exactly repulse me, did you?"

  "What good will bringing that up do?"

  "Why not?" He glanced at her. "I should have thought it was a perfectly relevant point to make."

  "Just because - just b
ecause I was taken aback when you grabbed me, it doesn't mean that I'm secretly harbouring a hopeless passion for you!" she snapped angrily. "Strange as it may seem, I do not find you irresistible!"

  There was a pregnant silence and when she ventured to look at him again she felt a ridiculous sense of contrition at the lines of strain that etched his mouth. She had no reason to feel sorry for him. Joel Kingdom was quite capable of taking care of himself. She was a fool to give him a second thought after the way he had treated her. How dared he imagine that because he was the father of the child she had borne that he was entitled to any consideration whatsoever?

  They were running through the suburbs now, and the noise of the traffic woke Sara so she sat up on the seat and began chattering again about her proposed boat trip. Although Rachel guessed that Joel was not feeling much like talking right now, he was very patient with the child, and she was grateful for that. Thankfully, Sara noticed nothing amiss in their attitudes to one another.

  Joel brought the car to a halt before the entrance to the flats, and Sara frowned when only her mother made to get out. "Aren't you coming in, Joel?" she invited innocently, and Rachel exchanged glances with him hastily.

  "I - yes. Yes, come in," she seconded awkwardly, still I half concerned about him in spite of herself. "I can give you J some tea and a sandwich, if you're interested."

  Joel hesitated, his fingers closing round the steering wheel. "And Mrs. Talbot?" he questioned flatly. "Won't she find it odd?"

  "Mrs. Talbot's not there," exclaimed Sara, at once. "She left this morning. She only stayed with Mummy last night while I was in hospital!"

  Rachel thrust her legs jerkily out of the car, but Joel was out before her, locking his door and closing hers as she ; fumbled in her bag for her key.

  "So you were in hospital last night, were you, poppet?" he asked, swinging Sara up on to his shoulders without effort. "Mummy didn't tell me about that." And there was a steely hardness to his tones now.

  They took the lift up to the flat, and Rachel kept her head ' bent, dreading the moment when she would have to tell Joel the truth. Because it would have to come out now. If she didn't tell him, he'd find some other way to learn what was wrong with Sara.