Sarah's Secret

by Catherine George

  Sarah was happy to be among the friends she rarely saw these days. And it was a double bonus to find that Jake not only blended effortlessly into the group, but had gained much approval for his forethought in ordering pots of coffee and an enormous platter of assorted sandwiches for the lunch everyone needed to eat quickly before going off to change for the wedding.

  ‘Good man,’ said Ben fervently, munching. ‘I’m famished after knocking on all those doors. Emotionally drained, too,’ he added with drama. ‘Good thing we’re having coffee. A beer would knock me flat.’

  ‘Not that you’re allowed one, anyway, with champagne to come later,’ said Grania, and smiled warmly at Jake. ‘This was such a good idea of yours. Thank you.’

  ‘How long have you known Sarah, Jake?’ asked Frances curiously.

  ‘Not long enough,’ he assured her.

  ‘How did you meet?’

  ‘He ran me over in his car,’ explained Sarah, and grinned at the startled faces turned in her direction. ‘You did ask!’

  ‘She gave me the worst fright of my entire life,’ said Jake, shuddering.

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Grania, awestruck. ‘Were you hurt, Sarah?’

  ‘Just a graze or two and a bruised thigh. It was my fault, really. Jake did his utmost to avoid me. I literally shot out into the road in front of him. In the middle of a thunderstorm,’ Sarah added, laughing at the instant comprehension on the assembled faces.

  ‘Ah! All is revealed,’ Frances told Jake. ‘Sarah goes bananas in a storm. In our student days the faintest rumble of thunder sent her diving into the broom cupboard.’

  Lunch over, it was decided to make a move and meet in the foyer at two-fifteen for the short drive to the church.

  ‘Tom and I can direct you, needless to say,’ said Ben, grinning. ‘After this morning we know every nook and cranny in the entire neighbourhood!’

  After Frances and Tom were waved off the others made for the lift.

  ‘Bit of a tight fit,’ commented Ben. ‘Push up, Sarah. What floor are you on?’

  ‘Right at the top,’ said Jake.

  ‘So are we,’ said Grania, pleased.

  ‘We’re a floor above that again,’ Sarah explained, glad they were crowded so closely together she couldn’t see Jake’s face.

  They left the others at their door, then went on up the stairs, Sarah amused by the look on Grania’s face as she watched them go.

  ‘She likes you, Jake.’

  ‘Good. I like her, too. And the others.’ He smiled at her. ‘One way and another I’m going to enjoy this wedding very much.’

  Sarah gave him a narrowed look as he closed the door behind him. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because your friends are good company and I’ll be spending the day with you.’ He waved a hand at the bed. ‘Or did you imagine I meant the pleasure of sharing that?’

  ‘No. Though you’ll have to,’ she said, unruffled. ‘There’s nowhere else to sleep.’

  ‘So I’ve noticed. Do you snore?’

  Sarah laughed. ‘I’ve no idea. Do you?’

  ‘I’ve never had complaints,’ he said blandly, then gave her the familiar laser-beam look. ‘Sarah, I know perfectly well you didn’t ask to share because you lust after my body. I’ll sleep on the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time. So don’t let worries about tonight spoil your day.’

  Sarah went over to Jake and touched a hand to his cheek. ‘You’re a lovely man, Jake Hogan.’

  To her surprise colour rose in his face as he captured the hand and kissed it. ‘Thank you kindly, Miss Tracy. No one’s ever said that to me before.’

  ‘You amaze me,’ she teased. ‘Right, while you hang your things up I’ll use the bathroom. Though do take a look inside first.’

  Jake crossed the room and stood still on the threshold. ‘Goodnight!’ He went inside to inspect it, then came out looking smug. ‘A bit over-dolphined, but the mirror tiles are Pentiles’ best, I’m happy to say. Now put a move on, room-mate, I need a shave.’

  Sarah had a very quick shower, then emerged in one of the dressing gowns provided by the management. ‘Right. Your turn.’

  While Jake was in the bathroom Sarah dressed rapidly, then sat down at the dressing table to do her face, and the hair she’d been up before dawn to wash. She brushed the long, in-curving bob into place, threaded her mother’s amethyst and pearl drops through her earlobes, checked the toenails painted the night before in the same clover-pink as her dress, then slid her feet into two strips of kid the colour of her suntanned skin. She got up and did a twirl as Jake came out of the bathroom swathed in the other dressing gown.

  ‘Will I do?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Sarah, you’ll do,’ he said in a tone which brought swift colour to her face.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled awkwardly. ‘I’ll read one of the magazines over there while you get dressed.’

  Sarah kept her eyes glued to the pages, well aware that it was idiotic to feel so—so what? Shy? Ridiculous. She’d shared a house for years with Nick and Paul, and with other male students staying from time to time. But none of them had ever been more than friends. Whereas Jake Hogan was something else entirely.

  ‘You can look up,’ he said in amusement. ‘I’m decent now.’

  Sarah cast her magazine aside with relief and watched while Jake fastened a waistcoat in charcoal-grey silk, then knotted a matching tie under his gleaming white collar.

  ‘Will I do?’ he asked, slotting gold cufflinks into place.

  She looked him over in approval, from thick, gold-tipped fair hair, to the gleaming toes of his shoes. Jake appealed to her strongly enough in ordinary clothes, but in formal wedding gear he was spectacular. ‘Perfect,’ she said. And meant it.

  Jake gave her a wry glance. ‘If only I were, Sarah.’ He checked his watch. ‘Time you were putting on your hat.’

  Sarah removed the lid from the box, and took out a saucer of white straw decorated with loops of stiff white ribbon and a spray of pink rosebuds in a nest of tulle. ‘They added the roses after I took my dress to the shop—good match, aren’t they?’

  ‘Perfect. It’s a very sexy little hat, but how the devil are you going to anchor it on?’ said Jake.

  ‘One of the rosebuds is a hatpin in disguise.’ Sarah removed it, planted the hat off centre to let a couple of rosebuds trail over one temple, then speared the confection into place. She turned from the mirror, smiling. ‘What do you think?’

  He looked at her in silence for a moment. ‘I’d better not tell you,’ he said at last, and trailed a finger down her cheek, leaving a ribbon of fire on her skin. ‘On your mark, get set, then.’

  Sarah gathered up a small clutch purse, gave Jake a mocking little curtsy, then made for the door. ‘Let’s go.’

  The wedding ceremony was an informal, riotous affair, with a troupe of small bridesmaids and pageboys who required quelling from time to time while Delphine Bartlett was joined in holy matrimony to Nicholas Morrell. But because the bride turned a beaming smile on the miscreants and obviously didn’t mind a bit, no one else did, either. Jake, well versed in the ways of small children, was even able to field a small pageboy making a run for it at one stage, and handed him over with a grin to the perspiring father in pursuit.

  ‘Well done,’ whispered Sarah, impressed.

  ‘I’m good with children,’ he murmured, and took her hand in his again, to Grania’s deep approval.

  After the general photo-session later, Tom and Ben took a few shots of their own little group, then Jake took the camera to record the group of friends with the bride and groom and the best man.

  ‘Though why the devil did you have to wear such a gigantic hat, Fran?’ grumbled Tom, as he tried to stand close on Jake’s instructions.

  ‘It’s my sister’s Ascot hat,’ she retorted. ‘It was very good of her to lend it to me.’

  ‘Pity she didn’t have a cheeky little number like Sarah’s!’

  By this time the smaller fry in the wedding party were gettin
g out of hand, and Nick and Delphine made a run for the lych gate, laughing and dodging showers of confetti as they dived into the car for the drive to the bride’s home for the wedding breakfast.

  ‘Though why it’s breakfast in the afternoon, I’ll never know,’ said Grania as Ben helped her into the car as if she had Fragile marked across her forehead. ‘Relax, darling. I’m pregnant, not incapable.’

  A marquee, which had served two of the bride’s sisters in the past, stood waiting in the sunlit garden of the old rectory, which, according to Nick, the Bartletts had been restoring and renovating ever since their marriage, thirty years before.

  ‘Shall I carry you?’ Jake asked as he helped Sarah out into the paddock serving as car park. ‘Those shoes aren’t made for walking, Miss Tracy.’

  ‘The grass is bone-dry, so I’ll manage, thanks.’ She smiled at him. ‘Come on. This is where you get to kiss the bride.’

  ‘It’s not the bride I want to kiss,’ he muttered, then grinned as the others joined them, demanding the reason for Sarah’s hectic colour.

  ‘It’s the heat,’ she said, avoiding the gleam in Jake’s eye.

  After a session of kisses and congratulations the bride and groom circulated amongst the guests, so obviously happy and comfortable together Sarah watched them wistfully until she found Jake’s hostile eyes trained on her face.

  ‘Wishing you were the bride?’ he asked in an undertone.

  ‘Of course I’m not!’ she returned tartly. ‘Weddings make women sentimental, that’s all.’

  He leaned so close his breath was hot on her cheek. ‘To me it looked as though you were indulging in a little of the hankering you objected to on my part.’

  ‘What are you two murmuring about?’ demanded Frances. ‘Can’t have you canoodling at this hour. Have some more champagne.’

  ‘Jake thinks I’m feeling miserable because Nick’s married at last,’ said Sarah, amused to see she’d startled Jake by her bluntness.

  ‘Why on earth should you be miserable?’ asked Grania, surprised.

  Ben patted her hand indulgently. ‘She means Jake’s a bit jealous of Sarah’s relationship with Nick, darling.’

  ‘Are you, Jake?’ demanded Frances, eyes sparkling.

  ‘Yes,’ he said candidly.

  ‘No need,’ Grania assured him. ‘They were always thick as thieves, of course, but both of them went out with other people all the time. Nick used to moan to Sarah about his love life—though I don’t think it was a two-way thing. She was never very communicative about herself.’ She smiled. ‘She’s certainly kept you a dark secret.’

  ‘Would you kindly stop talking about me as though I wasn’t here?’ complained Sarah, and eyed Jake militantly. ‘Happy now?’

  ‘If he’s not,’ said Tom with a suggestive wink, ‘you can always make it up to him later.’

  To Sarah’s relief the bride and groom chose that moment to join them.

  ‘You look pretty gorgeous, Sal,’ said Nick. ‘Doesn’t she, Jake?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Jake, deadpan, then turned to the bride. ‘So do you, Mrs Morrell. I wish you every happiness.’

  ‘Thank you so much.’ Delphine exchanged a luminous look with Nick. ‘Every time someone calls me Mrs Morrell I get this funny feeling here.’ She touched the pearl-embroidered silk at his midriff.

  ‘Me too,’ her new husband assured her dotingly.

  ‘You’re a very lucky man, Nick,’ said Sarah, and gave Delphine a kiss. ‘You won’t mind if I say I think you’re lucky too?’

  Later, in the marquee, Tom and Ben switched the place cards so that Sarah sat between them at their table, leaving Jake opposite between their wives.

  ‘Don’t be cross; they don’t see her very often these days,’ said Grania, correctly interpreting the look on Jake’s face.

  ‘How could I object with you and Frances for company?’ he said, smiling.

  When the speeches were over and the cake cut, the top table was cleared away to make room for dancing to records played by a local disc jockey. The bride and groom took to the floor to much affectionate applause, and waltzed slowly and inexpertly round the floor. This time Sarah made sure she displayed no sign of the wistfulness Jake had misunderstood earlier.

  When the bridal pair came to a halt the waltz gave way to an old Fred Astaire number, and some of the older guests promptly took to the floor to dance to something familiar while they had the chance.

  Jake got up and came round the table to Sarah. ‘Dance with me?’

  Because her hat had been taken for safe-keeping to the car before the meal, they could have danced cheek to cheek, in tune with the song. But constraint still lingered between them, until at last Sarah raised her head to meet the brooding blue eyes.

  ‘I’m not, you know,’ she said, very distinctly.

  ‘Hankering?’ He almost tripped her up as he missed a step.

  ‘Yes. At least, not after Nick.’ She met his eyes very deliberately and felt her pulse leap as his lashes dropped to hide his blaze of reaction.

  ‘You mean that?’ he muttered into her hair.

  Sarah nodded mutely, and moved closer into arms which tightened in response.

  From then on the evening was pure bliss for Sarah. She danced once each with Tom and Ben, and even boogied wildly with Nick at one stage, when the music hotted up later in the evening. But for the rest of the time Jake kept her close, either on the dance floor, or sitting with an openly possessive arm round her at the table, to the great satisfaction of Frances and Grania. At last a fanfare blared over the amplifiers and Nick and Delphine reappeared, dressed in travelling clothes.

  ‘Tell us where you’re going?’ yelled someone.

  ‘Unspecified destination,’ said Nick, laughing, then took his bride by the hand and hurried her out to the car, where two sets of parents were waiting to make sure that nothing objectionable was added to the usual assortment of balloons and old boots.

  Grania heaved a sentimental sigh as they waved the happy pair off. ‘I know the honeymoon’s in Mauritius, but I wonder where they’re going tonight?’

  ‘Nick said he’d booked the most romantic hotel he could find,’ said Sarah.

  ‘He’s always told Sarah everything,’ said Frances, and patted Jake’s hand. ‘But don’t worry. That’s bound to change from now on.’

  Jake smiled at her appreciatively, and took Sarah’s hand. ‘Want to dance some more?’

  She glanced at the others—at Grania, drooping against Ben, and Frances, yawning widely. ‘Whatever happened to the gang who could party all night?’ she teased.

  ‘It’s late, it’s hellish hot, and we got married!’ said Ben. ‘Come on, mother of my child. Past your bedtime.’

  ‘Mine too,’ yawned Tom.

  They said their farewells to the bride’s parents, then, due to Grania’s current dislike of breakfast, the group arranged to meet in the Greenacres bar at eleven the following morning for coffee before going their separate ways.

  ‘That all went very well,’ said Sarah, as she got in the car. ‘I can’t thank you enough for coming with me, Jake. It made all the difference.’

  ‘No thanks necessary,’ he assured her. ‘It was a great wedding. Even the speeches were short.’

  ‘Though Nick’s was surprisingly sentimental. He’s more the flip one-liner type normally.’

  ‘Ah, but he’s never been a bridegroom before.’

  Back at the hotel they went up in the lift with Ben and Grania, who by this time was speechless with fatigue and heat. When the doors opened on the top floor Ben scooped his wife up in his arms and, with a grinning goodnight to Sarah and Jake, bore his tired, waving little burden off to their room.

  ‘Are you as tired as Grania?’ asked Jake, following Sarah up the stairs.

  ‘No. Just terribly hot. But then, I’m not pregnant. At her stage expectant mothers need all the sleep they can get. Even more after the baby arrives,’ she added ruefully.

  ‘As you know from experien
ce,’ he said, unlocking the door.

  In their room lamps were lit and the covers turned down on the bed. Averting her eyes from it, Sarah packed her hat away in its box, then sank down on the settle and with a sigh of relief kicked off the new sandals. ‘I may not be as exhausted as Grania, but I’m so hot I couldn’t have danced any more tonight.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ he said, eyeing the tall slender heels. ‘How can you even walk in those beats me, let alone dance.’

  ‘It’s a girl thing,’ she said, laughing.

  Jake smiled as she waggled pink-tipped toes. ‘You have very pretty feet, Sarah.’

  ‘Really? I’d never thought of feet as pretty, mine or anyone else’s.’ She looked at them in surprise, then up at Jake. ‘It’s hot in here. The new bridal suite obviously doesn’t run to air-conditioning. Don’t you want to get out of that coat?’

  ‘Urgently. But it seemed over-familiar, somehow, to start stripping the moment we came through the door.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, curling up as he began to hang his finery away. ‘Jake?’ she added, once he was down to shirtsleeves.

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He smiled at her encouragingly.

  ‘We need to talk finances.’

  ‘Why?’

  She waved a hand at the room. ‘This must be hugely expensive.’

  His eyes glittered menacingly. ‘Don’t even think of offering to share costs.’

  ‘Why not? I would have paid for the other room.’

  ‘But you’re not paying for this one.’

  Sarah glowered at him. ‘Then you can forget about going halves with the wedding present.’

  Jake closed the wardrobe door and leaned against it, arms folded, belligerence in every line of him. ‘I fail to see why.’

  ‘It’s only fair.’

  He stared at her in frustration for a moment, then shrugged. ‘All right. But I win over the room.’

  ‘OK.’ Sarah smiled at him cajolingly. ‘Though it makes the next bit awkward, Jake.’

  ‘Go on,’ he said, eyes narrowed.

  ‘I’m desperately thirsty. So if I ask to have something sent up will you at least let me pay for drinks?’