by Miranda Lee
The lights turned green and Scott drove on more slowly, his mind turning over as he tried to work out what Sarah wanted from him other than more abject apologies. If he thought flowers and diamonds would work, he’d try them, but he suspected such gestures would cement him as being one of those husbands who thought he could buy his wife’s forgiveness and affection. Which left what? Communication, he supposed. Women did like to talk. But how could he talk to her when she’d forbidden him to contact her?
Two weeks. Two long bloody awful weeks. He hadn’t been two weeks without Sarah since their wedding night. He hadn’t been a week. Even when away on business, he would ring her every night and tell her how much he loved her and missed her. Scott ached to call her right now but he knew without even trying her number that she would not answer.
Two weeks. He was going to go stark raving mad!
* * *
Sarah cried on and off all night, the next morning seeing her so drained and puffy-eyed that she rang in sick again. Of course, this time she would have to get a doctor’s certificate, the firm she worked for being very strict about such things. In a way she was glad that she wouldn’t be going into work. She didn’t want to face Phil just yet. To discover he was behind the problems in her marriage and to tell him exactly what she thought of him. On top of that, she could ask the doctor when she could reasonably take a pregnancy test.
Cory gave her the number of his local surgery but she wasn’t able to get an appointment till late that afternoon. By the time Sarah was ushered in to see the doctor shortly after five, she was feeling both anxious and stressed. Going to the doctor always made her feel that way. But the elderly lady doctor was very nice, taking her blood pressure then listening to Sarah carefully as she explained that her marriage was going through a difficult time, that she was now temporarily separated from her husband but was worried that she might have fallen pregnant.
The doctor frowned at her. ‘I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs McAllister, but is the reason for your separation anything to do with domestic or sexual abuse?’
‘Good God, no!’ Sarah blurted out.
‘Sorry. But I had to ask. Over the years I have seen lots of women in my surgery who are victims of such things, and I have to check this isn’t the case with you.’
‘No—no. The sex between us is fine. I just... We just... Well, it’s hard to explain.’
‘I understand. Would you like to see a marriage guidance counsellor, perhaps?’
Sarah knew instinctively that Scott wouldn’t agree to that.
‘Not just yet,’ she hedged. ‘Not until I find out if I’m pregnant or not. When do you think I will know for certain?’
‘Probably not for another week at least. It takes a while for the egg to be implanted in the lining of the womb, which then releases the hormone that the test is looking for. There is a blood test you could take but I see no reason for that. Best to just wait till your next period is due then use one of the home testing kits you can buy over the counter. They’re quite reliable. There’s no need to come back to see me. I understand you don’t actually live in this area. Meanwhile...’ She picked up a pad and jotted something down on it before giving it to Sarah. ‘I would suggest you take one of these vitamin tablets daily. They have folic acid in them. Also keep off the alcohol. Do you smoke?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Now, do you need a doctor’s certificate for today?’
‘Yes, I do. I didn’t sleep much last night and I simply couldn’t go to work this morning.’
‘You do look tired. And I can see you’re quite stressed. Your blood pressure is up too. I think, under the circumstances, that you should take the rest of the week off. I won’t give you any sleeping tablets but I want you to rest. Watch TV. Read a book or two.’
Sarah doubted she could read at the moment but she liked the idea of resting and watching TV.
‘Thank you so much,’ she said when the nice doctor wrote out the certificate.
‘My pleasure,’ the woman said, and smiled at her. ‘Look after yourself, dear. And come back, if you ever want to.’
* * *
‘Ah, you saw Dr Jenkins, did you?’ Cory said when Sarah relayed her visit in detail that evening. ‘She’s a love. Getting a bit long in the tooth but still very with it.’
‘I liked her a lot. Now what are we going to eat tonight?’
‘Search me. Pizza do? I don’t feel like cooking.’
‘Neither do I. But I’ll cook tomorrow night.’
A phone started to ring, Sarah recognising the tone immediately. She retrieved her phone from her bag and saw that it was Scott. Her breathing quickened, just seeing his name. Her heart wanted to answer him, but her head stepped in and said no. He had to learn to respect her wishes. But it was with some regret—and a smattering of guilt—that she switched off the phone.
‘Scott, I presume?’ Cory asked.
‘Yes.’
‘So when are you going to tell him about the baby?’
‘When there is a baby, Cory. Not before.’
‘I didn’t realise you could be this tough.’
‘Neither did I,’ she said with some surprise.
‘Poor Scott.’
‘There’s nothing poor about Scott,’ she said ruefully.
‘True. Still, I wouldn’t wait too long to tell him, if it turns out you are pregnant. Scott’s not a man who likes to be kept in the dark.’
Sarah blinked as Cory’s words sank in and she imagined telling Scott the news about a baby. For all his anger and arrogance, Scott would be a wonderful father. But would he welcome the news of a child conceived during the darkest moments of their marriage, or would it spell the end for good? For a moment, Sarah felt a faint chill run down her spine. Only time would tell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BY FRIDAY THAT week Scott was tearing his hair out. And so was Cleo.
‘You can’t go on like this,’ she told him as she walked into his office and deposited another mega-sized coffee on his desk. ‘All you do is drink coffee when you should be seeing about your cash-flow problems. If you don’t do something about it soon, your whole business might go down the tubes.’
‘I don’t give a hoot about the business,’ he growled, and meant it. Which shocked him. But not as much as the apparent disintegration of his marriage. ‘All I care about is Sarah.’
‘Then ring her, for pity’s sake!’
‘I’ve tried. She’s switched her phone off.’
‘Then go and see her. It’s not as though you don’t know where she is.’
‘If I thought a personal visit would work, I would. But you didn’t see her the other night. She’d just slam the door in my face.’
‘What on earth did you do to make her so mad at you?’ Cleo asked.
Scott sighed. ‘Aside from my myriad mistakes where the photos were concerned, I suspect it was my demanding she quit her job which put the tin hat on everything.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Cleo said, and shook her head. ‘Never a good idea to make your wife’s decisions for her, especially about her career. Sarah is an intelligent girl, Scott, who can make her own decisions. It sounds like you just come over as a controlling husband. Trust me when I tell you that’s not the way to a girl’s heart.’
Scott was taken aback by the note of irony in Cleo’s voice. ‘Sounds like you have some experience with controlling husbands.’
An unhappy flicker flashed through her eyes. A memory of something not at all pleasant. ‘My father-in-law was not a nice man to live with,’ she said. ‘He was very possessive. Very controlling. He made life...difficult...for his family.’
Scott frowned. ‘But I thought he died before you even met Martin.’
‘He did. But Doreen has told me a lot about him.’
‘I see.’ Scott knew that Cleo’s mother-in-law lived with her nowadays, having moved in after her son’s death from cancer three years earlier. From what he gathered they were very fond of one another. Very
close.
Thinking of fondness and closeness catapulted an image of Sarah back into his mind. Scott suppressed a groan at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to even talk to her for another ten days. How on earth would he cope? Already he was drinking too much every evening. And eating loads of junk food. He didn’t even feel like exercising any more. As for work...he hadn’t been lying when he told Cleo he wasn’t interested in work. He wasn’t.
The trouble was it wasn’t just him depending on McAllister Mines. Thousands of employees were relying on his keeping his company solvent, people he liked and valued. To continue to neglect the business was close to criminal. Some of his other varied investments would probably survive—he’d put quite a bit into real estate over the years—but a couple of the mines, plus the nickel refinery, needed money now, and plenty of it.
‘I suppose I can’t ignore the business for ever,’ Scott said with a sigh. Much as he would like to at the moment. ‘So! How are you going with finding me another silent partner? One with more money than sense.’
Cleo’s face lit up as it did when she became involved in a research project. ‘The best one I’ve been able to find is Byron Maddox, only son and heir to the Maddox Media Empire. During his twenties, he worked for his father as an executive but they parted company—business-wise—a few years back. Now he has his own company, called the BM Group. It’s not on the stock exchange but is reputably doing very well. Business Review Weekly listed him as number eleven on Australia’s rich list in June last year. Technically he’s not a billionaire yet but close to.’
Scott nodded. He’d actually met Byron Maddox at the races one day last year and had liked him. The man definitely had charisma, and loads of smarts. Maybe too many. Still, as the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers.
‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘Set up a meeting with him ASAP.’
‘Already onto it, boss. Unfortunately, the man himself is in America at the moment. Family business according to his PA. Anyway, he’ll be back in Sydney at his head office early next week. She’s going to get back to me with a suitable date and time for you two to meet.’
‘Excellent. Whatever would I do without you, Cleo?’
‘You’d be broke. And I’d be unemployed.’
‘Not for long,’ he muttered, picked up his coffee and took a deep swallow. He didn’t see Cleo’s exasperated eyes, or the determined set of her mouth. Neither could he read her mind. Which was just as well.
* * *
Sarah had just eaten an omelette—Cory was away in Melbourne on a weekend architectural conference—and was packing up the dishwasher when the doorbell rang.
The sound sent electric currents charging through her veins. It was Scott. She just knew it was Scott.
What to do? Ignore it? Pretend no one was home?
A bit difficult with the TV on downstairs as well as most of the lights.
Whilst she stood there, waffling, the doorbell rang again. This time she turned and made it to the top of the stairs before stopping, hotly aware of her galloping heart and churning stomach.
A voice suddenly shouted through the door. ‘It’s just me, Sarah. Cleo. Please let me in.’
‘Cleo...’ A whoosh of air puffed from Sarah’s lungs as she hurried down the steps and along to the front door. She didn’t even stop to think what her husband’s PA could possibly be doing here, she was so glad it wasn’t the man himself.
Sweeping the door open, she almost gave the woman a hug. But one look at Cleo’s somewhat grim face made her step back in alarm.
‘What is it?’ she asked straight away. ‘Is it Scott? Has he been hurt?’
The look Cleo gave her was not one Sarah was used to seeing on Scott’s PA. Whilst Cleo in general was not an overly smiley person, neither was she a grump. Right at that moment, however, she looked very grumpy indeed, her big brown eyes narrowed, her nicely shaped lips pursed with displeasure.
‘If you mean has he been hurt in some sort of accident,’ Cleo said sharply, ‘then no, he hasn’t. But he’s hurting all right. Hurting so much that he can hardly put two sensible thoughts together. I couldn’t stand the prospect of another week of watching the poor man suffer so I decided to come here tonight and try to talk some sense into you.’
The censorious tone of Cleo’s words pricked at Sarah’s pride, plus her temper. Who did Cleo think she was, coming here like this and criticising her actions? The jealousy that had been simmering away in Sarah for some weeks infuriated her further. But before she could fashion a suitably cutting reply, Cleo’s face softened, her next words full of self-reproach.
‘I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I know you love Scott. And I know he must have done or said something awful to make you leave him. But he hasn’t been himself since he got those photos. I just...well... I just had to try to do something to make things right between you two. He doesn’t have anyone else to speak up for him, you know. No parents or close friends. All he has is you.’
‘And you,’ Sarah said, her own attitude softening.
‘Not really. I’m just his PA.’
Sarah sighed. ‘I think you’re way more than that, Cleo. He often speaks of you. He admires you enormously.’ Which was true. It sometimes irked Sarah how much he complimented Cleo.
‘Scott’s a good man,’ Cleo said. ‘And a great boss. He actually cares about the people who work for him, which is a rare commodity in this day and age. Not this last week, though. He’s lost all interest in the business.’
This final piece of news amazed Sarah. She could never have imagined anything interfering with Scott’s work ethic. But it was some comfort to hear that the problems they were having had affected him to such an extent. Maybe he did love her after all. Love, however, wore many faces, Sarah knew from experience. The kind of love she wanted from Scott had to include trust, and respect, not just physical attraction.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Sarah said. ‘But he’s brought all this on himself. Look, I don’t know how much you know about what happened. Though clearly, Scott confides in you,’ she added a little waspishly. ‘Why else would you be here? I mean, you obviously knew where to come to find me.’
‘Scott does not confide in me,’ Cleo denied somewhat sternly. ‘But I can’t help gleaning things in my position. Look, do you think I could come in? Not only is it chilly out here, but there’s something I wish to say to you. In private,’ she said quietly, glancing around at the people who were walking by on the pavement, one of whom went into the house next door, throwing them a curious glance as he did so.
Sarah didn’t want to be lectured by her husband’s PA, but neither did she want to be rude to her. She liked Cleo, on the whole. But she did envy her position in Scott’s life, a position that contained more true intimacy than she had. He spent more time with his PA than his wife; took her away on business trips with him; asked her opinion on things. No doubt she’d seen those appalling photos and jumped to the same horrid conclusions. It was obvious that her sympathies were all with Scott.
With some reluctance Sarah led her into the downstairs lounge room, switching off the TV whilst Cleo seated herself on the sofa. It was warmer inside the double-brick building, but Sarah still switched on the electric heater that sat in the old fireplace and looked a bit like a real fire, with faux black coals surrounded by fake flames.
‘Would you like some coffee?’ Sarah asked with arms crossed. ‘Or a glass of wine perhaps?’ There was plenty in the fridge, Sarah no longer imbibing. This thought reminded her of the pregnancy testing kit that she’d bought today, despite knowing it was still too soon to get a reliable result, though the salesgirl in the chemist shop told her that this new test could detect a pregnancy earlier than the older ones.
How long, Sarah wondered, before temptation would get the better of her and she’d take the test?
‘No, I don’t want anything to drink,’ Cleo replied brusquely. ‘I won’t be staying long. I see that you’re not happy with my coming here. But I simply had to
come.’
The intensity in her voice—and in her eyes—had Sarah uncrossing her arms and sinking down on the sofa next to her. Without thinking, she reached out to touch the distressed woman on the hand.
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah said softly. ‘I’m not normally this rude. What do you want to say to me about Scott? I promise that I’ll listen.’
‘It’s not just about Scott. It’s about marriage.’
Sarah blinked. ‘What about marriage?’
Cleo shook her head, her dark eyes clouding over. ‘It’s hard, Sarah. Being married. Very hard, especially when your husband doesn’t treat you right...’ Her voice drifted off, as did her gaze.
Sarah frowned, wondering if she was talking about her own marriage. Yet according to Scott, Cleo had been a devoted wife. She’d certainly not become a merry widow, that was for sure. But was that because her marriage had been supremely happy, or simply horrid?
Cleo appeared to give herself a mental shake, as though forcing herself out of her bleak thoughts and back to the problem at hand.
‘Be thankful,’ she said firmly, ‘that you have a husband who is alive and well and who loves you more than anything else in the world. He might not be perfect but then are you? Scott knows he jumped to a wrong conclusion about those photos and is truly sorry. So please, give him a second chance, Sarah. He deserves it. Talk to him, at least.’
Sarah grimaced. ‘I really don’t know what to say to him right now.’
‘Well, nothing is being achieved with what you’re doing. By the time you’re ready to talk to Scott he might not be ready to talk to you. Look, communication is the answer to a good relationship. You must talk to Scott, tell him all your hopes and fears. Make him tell you his. Let down all your defences—and your pride—and tell each other everything. Make him see what you want in life, and in a husband. I’m sure he’s up to the challenge, Sarah, because he does truly love you. And I know you truly love him.’
