Fate Is Remarkable Page 18

  He kissed her with an almost businesslike brevity, straightened up, and kissed her again, hard and fierce on her mouth, then went through the door before she could so much as say goodbye.

  She was sitting over her solitary breakfast when the telephone rang. She had been up for some time, and had taken the dogs for a walk because she hadn’t slept too well, thinking about his kiss. She got up now and walked across the hall, calling to Alice not to bother to answer it, as she went. It was probably Kate.

  She lifted the receiver and Hugo’s voice, very close to her ear, said, ‘Hullo, Sarah.’ She was silent for so long that he said again, ‘Sarah?’ This time she managed to say ‘Hullo, Hugo. I’m a—a bit surprised. I didn’t expect you—did you have a good trip?’

  ‘Yes—dull, though. I slept most of the time. What are you doing?’

  ‘Having breakfast—I took the dogs out.’ She stopped because her voice was wobbling so stupidly and he asked, ‘Why are you crying, Sarah?’

  She sniffed, and said at once like an unhappy child:

  ‘Oh, Hugo, I do miss you, and you’re so far away!’

  Even as she said it, the sensible part of her brain told her that she was going to regret those words … but she was beyond caring. She heard him sigh—was it with relief or triumph? She didn’t know until he said, ‘I hoped you might. Do you know why I came, Sarah? Why I left you behind? Well, you will when I come home.’

  Her heart beat faster. ‘Can’t you tell me now, Hugo?’

  ‘No—I want to see your face. I have to go now, dear girl. ‘Bye.’

  He telephoned her every day, and the fourth or fifth time she ventured to say, ‘Look, Hugo, if you’re busy … I’m all right now. It’s lovely to talk to you each day, but it’s costing you a fearful lot of money.’ The words weren’t very satisfactory, but apparently he understood, for he said mildly, ‘I’m lonely too, Sarah, and I can think of no better way of spending my money,’ and then more briskly, ‘How is Rose Road?’

  After that, she got into the habit of saving up all the scraps of news to tell him each day—Alice’s awful cold, the Christmas puddings they had made, the beautiful boots she had bought herself, and the utterly ravishing housecoat she intended to buy Miss Trevor for Christmas … It seemed he didn’t want to talk about himself, although sometimes he made some small reference to his tour, and once he told her that he was a little tired and she had said quickly, ‘Hugo, do take care!’ and he had replied on a laugh, ‘What of, Sarah? Too many parties or demos or beautiful girls?’

  ‘All of them,’ she said promptly, and then ‘Are there a lot of beautiful girls?’

  ‘I daresay—I haven’t noticed. Did you think I would?’

  She said carefully, ‘Well, if I were you, I suppose I would because you’re the sort of man women look at …’

  ‘Dear Sarah, your delightful mind is as muddled as your grammar!’

  His phone call became the high point of each day. She rushed back from her parents, terrified that she would be too late, although mostly he telephoned fairly early each morning, and it was on one such morning when he said, ‘I’ll be home tomorrow, Sarah. About eight in the evening.’

  A day had never been so short, nor had there ever been so much to crowd into it. Sarah was happily busy—there was extra shopping to do, naturally, and a visit to the hairdresser and flowers to arrange, and of course, the careful planning of a meal which wouldn’t spoil if Hugo arrived later than he had said. She went to bed that night tired and very happy.

  She changed her mind at least three times during the following day as to what she should wear for his return. She wanted to look beautiful for Hugo—all the doubts and fears which she had experienced before he went away seemed to have disappeared; she felt almost sure that he was beginning to love her. Janet had become a wraith in a slowly forgotten past. She finally decided on a red wool crêpe dress, the colour of claret, with a whirly skirt of unpressed pleats and a soft scarf collar. It went very well with the red and bronze chrysanthemums she had massed in the downstairs rooms, and its colour gave a flattering warmth to the pallor of her excitement.

  She was dressed far too soon. She toured the house once more to make sure that everything was perfect and then went into the drawing room, where the animals were drawn up in a tidy row before the fire. She sat down beside them and opened a novel—there was at least an hour to kill—and read the same page steadily for five minutes before throwing the book down and picking up her knitting, but after two rows of this, hopelessly botched, it went the way of the book … and barely fifteen minutes had passed. Her restless eye lighted upon the piano, and presently the room echoed to a hotchpotch of music, played rather inaccurately and far too loud.

  When the animals rose suddenly from their sleep and looked towards the door, she stopped playing and told them to settle down again, because there was at least half an hour to wait. But they took no notice of her, but raced to the door, jostling each other to get there first. She got to her feet, her heart pounding, to stop and pound again even harder as the door opened and Hugo stood there. He caressed the animals with a kindly hand, and said quietly, ‘Hullo, Sarah.’

  Sarah started across the room, her face alight with happiness and not caring in the least that it might show. She had taken perhaps three steps when he spoke again. ‘I’ve brought someone with me—you’ll never guess who.’

  She halted, suddenly and miserably certain that she was perfectly able to guess who her guest was. The happiness on her face was replaced by a look of polite welcome as he stood aside to allow a tall, dark woman to enter the room.

  Sarah said in her charming voice, which, she proudly noted, held not one single tremor, ‘But I think I do know. You’re Janet, are you not?’

  She looked at Hugo then, smiling a little, her brows raised in a faint enquiry. She derived some sort of satisfaction from his disconcerted look as he answered her, ‘Yes, this is Janet—how did you know, Sarah?’

  She gave a gay little laugh; listening to it, she wondered fleetingly why she had never taken up a stage career—obviously she was a born actress. Before he could say any more, she gave her hand to Janet and said smilingly, ‘How very nice to meet you, Janet—you’re exactly as I had pictured you, you know. I’m so glad Hugo brought you back with him.’

  Janet smiled—a nice smile in a nice face—not pretty, but arresting and lively. Her eyes were brown and smiled too. Sarah was confused to find that she rather liked her.

  ‘I didn’t want to come like this, but Hugo persuaded me.’ She looked at Hugo who was staring at Sarah. ‘I met Janet on the plane,’ he explained, ‘and insisted on her coming back for a drink.’

  Sarah said instantly, ‘Of course—and dinner too. Alice and I have concocted a rather special meal, and you simply must stay.’ She led the way to the fire and sat down beside Janet on the great chesterfield before it. ‘You must see Alice, because she told me that she knew you when you were last in England. Have you returned to live here?’

  She accepted sherry from Hugo with a smile that was quite empty, and held it in both hands, because they were shaking.

  ‘I’ve a job here,’ said Janet. ‘Medical Registrar at St Kit’s—it’s a six-month appointment—that’ll give me time to settle my future.’

  Sarah took a long drink of sherry. Probably whisky or brandy would have done her more good, but the sherry would have to do. She was very cold inside; it prevented her from thinking, which was perhaps a good thing. Was her own future to be settled along with Janet’s?

  She put her glass down carefully and looked at Hugo, leaning against the side of the fireplace. ‘And was the trip successful, and did you enjoy it, Hugo?’ She tried to put some warmth into her voice, without much success—he hadn’t even pretended to greet her or to ask how she was. He said now coolly, ‘I hope it was successful. I can’t say I enjoyed it. You’ve been all right, I hope?’

  Sarah answered that yes, she had been fine, and would they excuse her while she just told
Alice. She hurried to the kitchen, fighting a strong urge to go back to the drawing room and see what they were doing.

  It was almost eleven o’clock when Janet got reluctantly to her feet saying that she really would have to go. Sarah, egged on by some perverse desire to hurt herself even more than she was already, begged her to stay the night, but it seemed she had already booked a room at a hotel and left her luggage there. Hugo had got to his feet too. ‘I’ll run you back,’ he offered pleasantly, and when Janet demurred, said, ‘Nonsense, it will take no time at all, there’s not much traffic about—besides, if it hadn’t been for my insistence, you might have been tucked up in bed by now …’

  Sarah accompanied them to the front door and wished a friendly goodnight to Janet, murmured meaninglessly to Hugo, and went back to the drawing room to wait for his return. She waited an hour, then went upstairs to bed, to lie awake until at last she heard his quiet footfall on the stairs. When he had shut his bedroom door, she turned on the bedside lamp and looked at the time. It was well past three o’clock.

  She heard him go downstairs early, before seven o’clock, and go out with the dogs. Probably he intended to go through his post before breakfast. When she went down he was just coming from his study, a handful of letters in his hand. They exchanged civil good mornings, and talked during breakfast like polite strangers who find themselves at the same table. They had almost finished when Sarah mentioned Anne Binns’ wedding in a week’s time, followed the following week by Kate’s. Anne’s was to be rather a grand affair at a Knightsbridge church, and Hugo, frowning, said. ‘Oh, lord, I’d forgotten. Top hats, I suppose. What did we send them?’

  ‘Fish knives and forks in a magnificent case,’ Sarah replied, and when he laughed briefly and asked why, she went on, ‘Well, I should have loathed them myself.’

  He looked at her in surprise tinged with amusement. ‘My dear girl, you sound quite malicious! I have always thought of you as being the epitome of kindness.’

  She shook her head. ‘Then you will have to change your opinion of me. I can be as mean and nasty as they come.’ She stared at him, and he stared back, his eyes searching and hard. He said suddenly:

  ‘There was absolutely no need to have asked Janet for dinner last night, you know.’ His voice was mild, at variance with his eyes.

  She gave him an innocent look. ‘But, Hugo, Janet’s an old friend—more than a friend. To have sent her away after a drink would have been unthinkable. Besides, you enjoyed talking to her. You’ve a—a lot of time to catch up on. I thought we could have her to dinner again—or a weekend perhaps …’

  He was angry, a quick peep sufficed to tell her that, but nothing of it showed when he spoke. ‘You don’t mind her coming here?’

  She allowed a look of bewildered amazement to take possession of her face. ‘You yourself,’ she said gently, ‘said we were level-headed and mature.’ She took a slice of toast and crumbled it absently into fragments on her plate. ‘It’s marvellous that you should have met again, isn’t it? Fate is remarkable!’

  He said savagely as he got up, ‘I’m glad you feel like that about it; I don’t need to feel guilty when I see her,’ and went out of the room without bothering to say goodbye, leaving her sitting there with a white face.

  He didn’t refer to their conversation when he returned home that evening, and there was nothing in his manner to indicate that it had ever taken place. On the surface they seemed to be back on their old footing, and during the next day or so this appeared to be the case. Janet was never mentioned, but neither were their daily telephone calls. Sarah found herself wondering if Janet had been with Hugo when he made them, although she was aware, deep in her mind, that he would never do such a thing. It would be easier to bear if only she could think of him as a deep-dyed villain!

  They went to Rose Road together, as they always had done. It had been far too busy for them to talk, and afterwards, in Dr Bright’s flat, she had made a pretence of being busy in the kitchen, so that she had no need to join in the conversation. Only when they were on the point of leaving, John Bright gave her a penetrating stare and said:

  ‘You’re not your usual self, Sarah—does this work make you tired?’ and she had said hastily, ‘Goodness, no! I feel fine—perhaps I’m cooking up a cold.’ She had smiled at him. ‘And I hope I’m not, because you know how I like coming here.’

  It was the Binns wedding the following day; it gave them something to talk about in the car on the way back to Richmond, but she couldn’t help but know that Hugo’s thoughts were far away.

  The wedding was something of an ordeal, despite the pleasure of wearing the mink coat and a simply gorgeous hat, and being accompanied by Hugo. The bride looked almost pretty in her white satin and lace, and the bridegroom … Sarah studied him as he led his bride down the aisle. He was smiling, but the smile covered indifference and there were lines of ill-temper marring his good looks. She looked away from him and instinctively up to Hugo, to find his grey eyes fixed on her so searchingly that she coloured and looked away.

  They were quickly separated at the reception. Sarah could see him towering above his companions, immersed in talk, and looking as though he was enjoying himself. She wandered from group to group, and when she could escape retired to a corner with Kate, who was quite obviously longing to talk. They settled themselves comfortably, sipping Mr Binns’ excellent champagne, and Sarah said, ‘You’re bursting to tell me something, Kate, and do be quick, my dear, because we’ll never be left to ourselves for more than a few minutes.’

  Her friend eyed her doubtfully. ‘I don’t know whether to tell you or not, but I think I’d better, though I can’t see that it matters now you’re married to your nice Hugo. His old girlfriend—Janet, I think her name is—is back in London.’

  Sarah said calmly, ‘Yes, I know. She’s been to dinner—and she’s a perfect poppet. Not pretty, but attractive. She wears the most lovely clothes.’

  Kate was not one to be put off by even so interesting a red herring as clothes. ‘He’s been seen several times at St Kit’s, talking to her. She’s Medical Registrar there.’

  Sarah said airily, ‘Oh, the grapevine!’ and came to a stop as Kate went on, ‘Sarah dear, this wasn’t the grapevine—it was Jimmy. Sarah … oh, hell, why did the woman have to come back?’

  ‘I’ve been wondering that myself,’ commented Sarah, in such a forlorn voice that Kate said, ‘You mind dreadfully, don’t you? Can I help? Surely she can’t make all that difference now you’re married to Hugo. Perhaps it’s just a flash in the pan.’

  ‘After fifteen years?’ Sarah asked bitterly.

  Kate gave her a look in which doubt, suspicion and pity were almost equally blended. ‘Sarah,’ she began, when Hugo said from behind her, ‘You two look as though you’re conspiring to kill someone.’

  Kate stood up. ‘I don’t know about Sarah,’ she said sweetly, ‘but that was exactly what I had in mind,’ and went away without another word.

  Hugo took her seat, removed the glass from Sarah’s hand and remarked mildly, ‘A charming girl, but I fancy she rushes her fences sometimes. Do you suppose we’ve done all that’s necessary here? The—er—happy pair are about to leave. I thought that we might slip away as soon as they’ve gone.’

  It was still only a little after half past three; the November dusk was just beginning to cloud the river as they reached home. Indoors, Sarah said, ‘Alice is out until six or thereabouts. I’ll get some tea.’

  Hugo looked at his watch. ‘Don’t bother for me, Sarah—I’ll change at once. I’ve an appointment for five-thirty and I’ll only just make it.’ He started up the stairs, and she asked from the hall, looking up at his broad back, ‘At Harley Street?’ knowing what the answer would be before he answered shortly, ‘No … if I’m not back by seven-thirty, don’t wait dinner for me,’ and disappeared into his room.

  Sarah shrugged off the mink as though it were her old gardening coat, tossed her hat after it, and went into the kitchen. She hadn�
��t eaten much at the reception; in fact, thinking about it, she couldn’t remember eating anything except a morsel of wedding cake. She wasn’t hungry anyway. She put on the kettle to boil, and walked up and down the kitchen with the teapot in her hand. A woman of courage and self-respect would doubtless go upstairs and ask a few straightforward questions, but even if she did, would she get straightforward answers?

  The kettle boiled and she ignored it while she went to the back door to let Timmy in. He glared at her because she hadn’t been quick enough and she picked him up, still in the open doorway, and asked, ‘Timmy, what shall I do?’

  ‘Do what?’ Hugo had come into the kitchen. He turned off the steaming kettle without comment and crossed the room and took the teapot from her and made the tea, then said, ‘Well?’ He shot her a keen glance, and went on casually, ‘If you stay there, you’ll catch your death of cold, as they say.’

  She came inside then and shut the door. ‘I was only asking Timmy if he wanted his tea now or later,’ she said. She didn’t look at him because she wasn’t a very good liar and she wasn’t sure how long he had been in the kitchen. She put Timmy down, and he stalked off to join the dogs in front of the sitting room fire. She picked up the tea-tray and followed him; it held only one cup and saucer, for she wasn’t going to ask Hugo a second time. He followed her into the room, and asked, looking at the tray, ‘Aren’t you going to eat anything?’ He was putting on his coat as he spoke.

  ‘After all that lovely food at the Binns’?’ she answered brightly.

  ‘All you ate was a miserable slice of cake.’ It seemed he had the eyes of a hawk behind those lazy lids. She said woodenly, ‘I wasn’t hungry.’ Which remark he must have found unworthy of an answer, for he made none but walked to the door and when he got to it said: