Sarah's Secret

by Catherine George

  ‘I’m green with envy,’ she said frankly.

  Jake looked pleased as he hooked a leather-topped kitchen stool over to the window. ‘Gaze at sunset on the river for a while—I shan’t be long.’

  ‘Can’t I help?’

  ‘No. Just sit there looking decorative while I work.’ Jake took the cork from a bottle of wine. ‘Shall I throw a salad together?’

  Sarah shook her head, smiling. ‘Not for me. I eat so much of it lately I’ll pass on that for once, Jake, thanks. But some bread would be good.’

  ‘My mother gave me a loaf baked with her own fair hand. So in a minute we’ll take all this into the other room and picnic. Because, as you may have noticed, I don’t possess a dining room.’

  ‘Would you use one much if you did?’ she asked.

  ‘Probably not. There was a dining room originally, but the Roman bath tenant did away with it to make one big living space. Right,’ he added, as the timer went off, ‘if you’ll take the wine and the glasses, I’ll bring the tray. Then I’ll come back for our cannelloni.’

  When Jake handed her a steaming, savoury plateful Sarah received it doubtfully. ‘Shouldn’t we eat this out on the balcony? I’d hate to mark this upholstery.’

  ‘It won’t matter if you do. The suede is man-made and guaranteed, I was assured, to repel stains. So far it’s keeping its word.’

  They sat together on the sofa, which Jake pulled nearer the window to watch the sunset. And though the cannelloni was delicious, and Sarah possessed more appetite for it than she’d expected, she knew perfectly well that, just like the evening at the Trout Inn, it was Jake’s company that made the meal special.

  ‘That was wonderful,’ she said at last, as she mopped up sauce with her bread. ‘Your mother’s a great cook.’

  ‘I thought of trying to impress you by pretending I’d made the cannelloni myself,’ Jake confessed, grinning. ‘But I stuck with the truth.’ He refilled her glass, then got up to take their plates. When he came back he settled beside her with a sigh of content. ‘So what do you usually do after you’ve taken Davy back on Sunday evenings?’

  ‘Mope a lot and go to bed early with a book.’ Sarah smiled at him. ‘This is a great improvement.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jake moved nearer and slid an arm round her shoulders. ‘It’s a big improvement on my Sunday evenings, too.’

  ‘What do you normally do?’ she asked, resisting an urge to lay her head on his shoulder.

  ‘Nothing much. After family lunch I talk shop with my father, then I come back here and get stuck into some paperwork.’

  Sarah turned her head to look up at him. ‘Every Sunday?’

  The thick lashes descended like shutters. ‘Lately, yes. Before that I spent my weekends in London for a while. Not that many, as it turned out.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘As I told you, she met someone else,’ he said shortly.

  Something in his tone made Sarah uneasy. ‘I really must be going,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Thank you for supper.’

  He leapt up, frowning in surprise. ‘Don’t go yet. I didn’t mean to snap.’ He put a hand on hers. ‘Look. I said I wasn’t bringing any baggage to our relationship, Sarah, and I meant it.’

  She gave him a look as straight as his. ‘We don’t have a relationship—’

  ‘Of course we do. Admit it.’

  ‘All right. But we won’t if you still hanker after the lady.’

  ‘There’s no question of that.’ Jake touched a hand to her cheek. ‘Come and sit down again so I can explain. Then, if you still want me to, I’ll drive you home.’

  Jake switched on a couple of lamps and resumed his place beside her. But this time he kept his distance.

  ‘I met the lady in question in London,’ he began, staring out into the darkening sky.

  Sarah gave him a hostile look. Couldn’t he even bring himself to mention her name?

  ‘We were both after the same taxi, so we shared it, and things went on from there pretty rapidly,’ Jake continued. ‘She works in advertising, earns a lot of money, and loathes the country. I could never persuade her to come down here. So I went up to her place at weekends instead. Then before you could even call the arrangement a habit she met someone else. End of story.’

  ‘But you still care?’ asked Sarah quietly.

  Jake’s head swivelled, his eyes bright with surprise. ‘Good God, no. I was bloody angry at the time, but if you mean was my heart broken, definitely not. It was never that kind of thing.’

  ‘Then what kind of thing was it?’

  His eyes remained steady. ‘A fling, pure and simple.’

  ‘So why do you mind so much?’

  ‘Because she lied to me. Kept me on a string even though she fancied someone else. It was the other man who insisted she tell me.’

  ‘So why hadn’t she told you before?’

  ‘She said,’ replied Jake sardonically, ‘that she couldn’t bring herself to hurt me, which was a bit dramatic when all we’d had together were a couple of weekends of wining and dining. And bed, of course. Not earth-shattering stuff, by any stretch of the imagination. Any of it. When I pointed this out she lost it and slapped my face, at which point I lost my temper, stormed out of her flat and drove home.’ He was silent for a moment, his eyes absent, then smiled at Sarah in apology. ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to bore you with my past.’ He slid closer and kissed her before she could dodge away. ‘I had a very different plan in mind for you for this evening,’ he whispered.

  She sprang up, eyeing him in suspicion. ‘Plan?’

  ‘Turn of phrase, nothing more,’ he said, taken aback. ‘I just wanted to spend time getting to know you better.’

  With a session in bed at the end of it? Sarah’s chin lifted. ‘I think I will go home now, please.’

  Jake rose to his feet, frowning. ‘Why so soon? If I swear not to lay a finger on you, Sarah, will you stay for a while?’

  She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘It’s getting late; we both have work tomorrow—’

  ‘And suddenly you just can’t wait to get away.’ He looked at her in silence for a moment, giving her time to change her mind. When it was obvious this wasn’t going to happen he shrugged negligently, his eyes suddenly cold. ‘Let’s go, then.’

  Sarah sat silent on the way home, cursing her ingrained tendency to take flight at the first hint of sexual danger. This time it had spoiled an evening which up to then had been idyllic. The walk, the meal had been perfect. Then the mere mention of bed had ruined everything.

  When they arrived in Campden Road Jake pointedly left the engine running. He got out of the car, and with punctilious courtesy helped her out, then saw her to her door, brushed aside her thanks for the meal, and drove off.

  Sarah spent a very restless night afterwards. Had she really expected Jake to beg her to stay? Fond hope! The easy charm was a very effective disguise for the steel underneath. Not that it mattered any more, because she’d blown any chance of getting to know him better. All because Jake Hogan had uttered the buzz words ‘plan’ and ‘bed’. And to cap it all they hadn’t exchanged telephone numbers after all.

  No more a lover of Mondays than anyone else, Sarah found her prevailing mood of deep depression made the next day so much harder to bear than usual that her colleagues even asked if she were coming down with something. To demonstrate that she wasn’t she drove herself so hard that in addition to her usual work she finished most of the day’s correspondence during office hours, then stayed on late to finish the rest.

  When Sarah emerged into rain pouring down from a sky as dark as her mood, she trudged along under an umbrella, wondering why on earth she’d polished off the mail in the office when there was a whole evening yawning ahead of her with nothing to do. She was sunk so deep in gloom she jumped yards at a touch on her arm, and whirled round to come face to face with Jake Hogan. He looked tall and unfamiliar in a belted raincoat, a dripping hat pulled down over eyes that held none of thei
r usual smiling warmth.

  ‘You worked late today,’ he said, without greeting.

  ‘Hello, Jake,’ Sarah retorted pointedly, to disguise how utterly delighted she was to see him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for you, and getting drenched for my pains. I’ll drive you home.’ Without waiting for consent he took her arm to hurry her to the car waiting at the kerb, but said nothing about his reason for waiting for her. They were halfway to Campden Road before Sarah could bring herself to break the silence between them.

  ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she said at last, staring at the rain sluicing down the windscreen.

  ‘So am I.’ He slanted a baffled look at her. ‘What the hell did I do?’

  ‘You said you like the truth,’ she said after a while.

  ‘Normally, yes,’ agreed Jake heavily. ‘This time, probably not.’

  Spit it out, Sarah told herself. Get it over with. ‘You said you wanted to be part of my life in whatever way I chose.’

  He nodded, his face sombre. ‘I did. And I meant it.’ He parked the car outside the house, took off the hat, tossed it into the back seat, then turned to look at her. ‘I still mean it.’

  Sarah returned the look steadily. ‘Jake, how long did your association with the advertising lady last?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Not very long at all. Three—no, four—weekends. Probably no more than ten days or so, all told.’

  ‘But right from the start you were sleeping together?’

  Jake’s eyes lit with sudden comprehension. ‘Yes. I went to stay in her flat, and she took it for granted I’d share her bed.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s common enough practice, Sarah.’

  ‘So common that bed was the plan you had for me last night, too?’

  Jake stared at her in brooding silence for so long Sarah was on the point of getting out of the car when he finally spoke.

  ‘You mean you can’t bear the thought of that, Sarah? With me?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, flushing. ‘I don’t mean that at all. But it’s not going to happen just the same, Jake. No bed. Just friendship.’

  He took her hand. ‘You might change your mind as you get to know me better.’

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it.’ Sarah looked away. ‘I enjoy your company, but that’s as far as it goes, Jake.’

  He put a finger under her chin and brought her round to look at him, the hard planes of his face softened a little. ‘Is it a case of once bitten, twice shy, Sarah?’

  She nodded mutely, taking refuge in an explanation he could accept.

  Jake took her hand in a firm, warm clasp. ‘I still want to spend time with you, Sarah.’

  ‘I want that, too,’ she assured him.

  He relaxed visibly. ‘So what are you doing tonight?’

  ‘Nothing much.’

  The brooding look disappeared, replaced by the sudden familiar smile which breached every defence she possessed. ‘There’s a Clint Eastwood film on at the Regal. If I promise—Scouts’ honour—just to hold your hand, will you come?’

  Sarah’s smile matched Jake’s, her dark mood suddenly vanished. ‘An offer I can’t resist. Will you throw in popcorn?’

  ‘Ice-cream, too, if you’re good.’

  ‘Done!’

  They went to the cinema together that night, and held hands, just as Jake had promised. And when he drove Sarah home he gave her a brief goodnight kiss in the car, then saw her to her door. He took her to dinner at the Chesterton the following evening, and to the theatre later in the week to see the local repertory company tackling Ibsen. But when Jake brought her home after the play the brooding look reappeared when they arrived in Campden Road.

  ‘I suppose that’s it until next week, then?’

  ‘Afraid so.’ Sarah chuckled. ‘If I live that long! Tomorrow Davy’s bringing Polly home with her for the weekend. After which we take Polly back and join the Rogers family for Sunday lunch.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’m really looking forward to that.’

  ‘Will you be up to seeing me on Sunday evening afterwards?’

  ‘Probably not,’ she said with regret. ‘I may just want to crawl into bed.’

  Jake frowned. ‘Which means Wednesday before I see you again. I’m away on Monday, and I’ll be tied up until late on Tuesday evening.’

  Sarah eyed him in dismay. ‘And Wednesday’s out for me. I forgot to tell you. I’m going away for a couple of days next week.’

  ‘You forgot?’ he repeated wrathfully. ‘Where are you going?’

  She hesitated. ‘Jake. It’s early. Want some coffee?’

  His eyes gleamed. ‘You’re asking me in?’

  ‘Yes. Are you coming?’

  ‘What do you think?’ Jake slid out of the car at top speed, sprinted round it to let her out, then hustled her across the pavement to her door.

  ‘Why the rush?’ demanded Sarah, laughing as she put her key in the lock.

  ‘In case you change your mind on the way!’

  Margaret Parker emerged from the kitchen as Jake hurried Sarah into the hall.

  ‘Hello, Grandma,’ said Sarah blithely. ‘This is Jake Hogan. Jake, meet my grandmother, Margaret Parker.’

  ‘Good evening, Mr Hogan,’ said Margaret formally.

  Jake smiled and held out his hand. ‘How do you do, Mrs Parker?’

  Margaret took the hand briefly, and even managed a smile. ‘How was A Doll’s House?’

  ‘The understudy had to go on as Nora, and she just wasn’t up to it,’ said Sarah, making a face. ‘Good thing you decided to give it a miss this week.’

  ‘I’m no Ibsen fan. By the way, I’m afraid you caught me raiding your kitchen, Sarah. I was out of coffee.’

  ‘Come and have some with us,’ offered Sarah, but Margaret declined politely, told Jake she’d been pleased to meet him, then took herself back up to her own quarters.

  ‘I see where you get the tortoiseshell eyes,’ commented Jake, watching Sarah as she put out cups.

  ‘My mother had them, too. The distaff genes dominate the looks in my family.’ Thank God, thought Sarah, as they went into the sitting room.

  ‘Not a night for sitting outside,’ she said with regret. ‘Last week it was too hot to breathe; this week it’s cold enough for autumn.’

  ‘Never mind our famous climate,’ said Jake, putting the tray down. ‘Tell me where you’re going next week.’

  ‘To a wedding.’

  ‘Whose?’

  ‘Old college friend.’ She shrugged. ‘I must make the effort to go, because Nick’s a good friend. And some of my old college crowd will be there—’

  ‘Do I hear a but?’ asked Jake.

  Sarah nodded. ‘The wedding’s midweek, which means no problem with Davy, and I had time owing to me at work—I even bought a suitable dress the other day.’

  Jake eyed her face as she poured coffee. ‘So what’s the snag?’

  ‘Pretty feeble, really.’ She pulled a face. ‘I’ll be the only one on my own. The others come in pairs.’

  ‘And you mind that?’

  ‘I do, rather. At this kind of wedding in the past I always had Nick for company. But this time he’s the bridegroom, so I’ll be a spare wheel.’

  ‘Does your invitation include a partner?’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Nick put a note with the invitation, telling me to bring my current man with me.’

  Jake gave her one of the direct looks she was coming to know. ‘Then why don’t you?’

  Sarah’s eyes widened. ‘Are you saying you would come with me?’

  ‘Remember I told you I’m strictly a one at a time kind of guy?’ said Jake elliptically.

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘I assume you function on the same principle?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Then as far as I’m concerned we’re a couple.’ He gave her a mocking little bow. ‘If you want a partner for the occasion, I’m yours. I even own a morning coat.’

  Sarah gazed at him, her min
d working overtime. The offer was tempting. Very tempting. ‘I’m staying overnight,’ she warned.

  ‘I’ll book a room at the same hotel, then.’

  ‘But can you just take off like that—from Pentiles, I mean?’

  ‘The firm won’t grind to a halt if I’m away for a day or two,’ he said, then gave her a smile tinged with arrogance. ‘I am Pentiles, remember. I take time off when I want.’

  Sarah frowned. ‘If you do come with me,’ she began, choosing her words with care, ‘my friends will probably read more into it than you’d like.’

  ‘Than you’d like,’ he corrected. ‘I don’t see a problem. Just introduce me as a friend.’

  ‘The female section of the group will take one look at you and flatly refuse to believe that!’

  Jake frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘You know perfectly well why,’ she retorted irritably. One look at those dark-rimmed blue eyes and gold-streaked hair, plus the physique that went with them, and she’d probably be beating girlfriends off with a stick.

  ‘But it’s true. I am your friend,’ he pointed out. ‘Not entirely by choice, on my part, I admit. I’d like a closer relationship. Much closer. But I know damn well I must toe the line or you’ll send me packing.’ His eyes glittered with sudden heat. ‘Sometimes I can’t believe I’ve been tamed so easily.’

  Sarah gave him a fulminating look. Jake Hogan might be lounging at ease on her sofa, but with that particular light in his eye he looked about as tame as the average free-range lion.

  ‘If you do come to the wedding—’ she began, but he held up a hand.

  ‘I am coming. I like weddings.’

  ‘You must be the only man I know who does!’

  ‘As I keep telling you, I’m not the average male,’ he reminded her affably. ‘And on the subject of weddings I speak from experience, having survived the nuptials of two sisters and several cousins, featured as best man at two of them, and still lived to tell the tale.’

  Against her will Sarah began to laugh. ‘Oh, all right. Then thank you, Jake. You win.’

  ‘I always do.’ He grinned at her. ‘So where’s the wedding?’

  Sarah wasn’t in the least surprised to learn that Jake knew the area she mentioned. She listened, amused, while he spoke at persuasive length, first to the receptionist at the Greenacres Hotel in Norfolk, then to the manager, turning on the charm to an outrageous degree before giving his credit card details to secure a room.