For the Love of Sara Page 9

Rachel gathered her daughter into her arms and hugged her closely. If only it was that simple, she thought despairingly. If only the jealousy of a child was all she had to contend with...

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE following evening, Sara was to go into hospital for her treatment. She would be staying in overnight as usual, but Rachel had decided not to contact Mrs. Talbot, in spite of what James' Kingdom had said. Apart from anything else, she hardly knew the woman, and just at the moment she felt ill prepared to deal with strangers.

  During the morning, a messenger arrived from the Salon, loaded down with the boxes of clothes and footwear and lingerie, which Erica Grey had considered necessary to equip the woman who was to be James Kingdom's wife. At least Sara had a delightful time opening all the packages and pulling out the dresses, parading around Rachel's bedroom with one or another of them draped in front of her. Rachel supposed she should have stopped her, but quite honestly the idea of a man, any man, buying her clothes was anathema to her.

  Eventually she pulled herself together sufficiently to hang all the dresses and suits in the fitted wardrobes, and Sara carefully arranged the shoes and sandals on a rack. There were blouses and cashmere sweaters which Rachel was sure she had never seen before, and she could only assume that Erica had sent these to demonstrate that she took her instructions from James Kingdom only.

  Nevertheless, Rachel would not have been human if she had not found some of the things very attractive, and deciding that ignoring the inevitable would get her precisely nowhere she changed from her own slacks and sweater into a pair of close- fitting corded velvet jeans in a rather unusual shade of green, and a vivid purple blouse made of some soft synthetic fibre.

  The transformation was satisfying. The well-fitting pants accentuated the slender length of her legs and the rich colour of the blouse made a perfect foil for the silvery lightness of her hair. It was amazing, she thought cynically, what clothes could do. Already she looked years younger and less obviously thin.

  In the afternoon, she and Sara decided to go sightseeing. Sara had never seen the Houses of Parliament or Buckingham Palace, and with the spring sunshine glinting through the trees it was pleasant to walk in St. James's Park and feed the ducks on the lake. Rachel talked to Sara about her life in London when she had been a student, and Sara said she would like to be a student one day. And she would be, Rachel told herself fiercely. If she could go through with this...

  When they arrived back at the flat, however, there was a rather unpleasant surprise waiting for them. Mrs. Talbot, James Kingdom's housekeeper, was there, and from the polished state of the furniture and the lunch dishes which Rachel had left in the sink draining on the board, she had not been idle while they had been out. Rachel felt an angry sense of frustration that James should have given this woman a key to her flat. It made a mockery of his ringing the doorbell and waiting to be admitted.

  Mrs. Talbot smiled half apologetically as they came in. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Gilmour," she greeted her politely. "Hello, Sara." She smoothed her hands down over the blue checked overall she was wearing. "I hope you don't mind, Mrs. Gilmour, but I've just been tidying round a bit for you."

  Rachel hesitated, biting her tongue. Then, controlling a sharper retort, she said: "How did you get in here, Mrs. Talbot?"

  The housekeeper shrugged her shoulders. "Mr. Kingdom left me a key, Mrs. Gilmour. He thought you might be going out quite a lot, and he asked me to keep an eye on the housework."

  "Did he? Did he really?"

  Rachel unfastened the soft camel coat she was wearing, another of James's purchases, and taking it off flung it over the back of a chair. She realised that Mrs. Talbot wasn't to blame for the situation, but that didn't make it any easier to take.

  Turning to Sara, she began to help her off with her anorak, and Mrs. Talbot spoke again. "I - er - I've got the kettle on, Mrs. Gilmour. Would you like a cup of tea?"

  Rachel straightened, folding the anorak between her hands. Then she sighed resignedly. "Why not?"

  Sara looked curiously at her mother as Mrs. Talbot went to make the tea. "Why is she here?" she asked.

  Rachel forced a smile. "Oh, Mrs. Talbot has just come to help Mummy with the housework, that's all. Run along and wash your hands. I expect you'd like a biscuit and some milk, wouldn't you?"

  Sara nodded and trotted off to the bathroom while Rachel summoned her reserves of composure and went to find Mrs. Talbot. The older woman was in the process of pouring hot water into the teapot, and a faint colour in her cheeks indicated that she liked this situation no more than Rachel.

  "Look," said Rachel quietly, "I'm sorry if I was offhand just now. But I didn't know if James had a key to the flat. I should have known better."

  Mrs. Talbot finished pouring the water and put the kettle down. "That's all right, Mrs. Gilmour," she said, putting the teapot lid into place. "I guessed you weren't aware of Mr. Kingdom's arrangements. But he said he had told you that I i was to sleep here while Sara was in hospital overnight."

  Rachel breathed deeply. "I see." Now she was beginning to understand. "But how did you know that Sara Was going into hospital this evening?"

  "Mr. Kingdom checked with St. Matthew's before he left, Mrs. Gilmour."

  I "Of course, he would" Rachel nodded. "Oh - well." She shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to make the best of it." I Mrs. Talbot looked slightly relieved. "If you'll show me where I'm to sleep, Mrs. Gilmour, I'll go to my room and leave you in peace."

  "Oh, don't be silly." Rachel shook her head now. "I should feel grateful for - for James's concern." Her lips twisted. "Naturally you'll eat with us, and I'm sure you'd rather watch television than sit in your bedroom all night."

  Mrs. Talbot smiled then. "That I would. But you don't have to entertain me. If you'd like to go out - visit friends ..."

  Rachel turned away so that the older woman should not see her face. "I - er - I have no friends in London, Mrs. Talbot," she said.

  The telephone rang as Rachel was helping Sara to put a few of her belongings into the canvas holdall she always took with her when she went into hospital. Mrs. Talbot was in the living room, so she answered it, and she came to the door of Sara's bedroom looking rather surprised.

  "It's Mr. Joel Kingdom, Mrs. Gilmour," she informed her politely. "Will you go and speak to him?"

  Rachel's face flamed, but she couldn't help it. When the phone had rung, she had assumed it would be either James or his secretary, and she had been prepared to tell him that she didn't care for his methods. But what on earth could Joel want? Had he found out that Sara was spending the night in hospital? Had he discovered the real reason behind her marriage to James?

  Ah these thoughts flashed through her mind and it was difficult to get to her feet and behave as though there was nothing peculiar about her future husband's son telephoning her. But Mrs. Talbot was almost bound to mention the call lo her employer, and while the housekeeper was unaware of

  Rachel's previous association with Joel, she could not help but speculate upon his reasons for contacting her in his father's absence. As for James himself. . .

  Leaving Mrs. Talbot with Sara, Rachel walked quickly into the living room and picked up the waiting receiver. "Yes?"

  Her voice betrayed her anxiety, and Joel said: "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a watchdog."

  Rachel ignored his mockery. "What do you want, Joel?"

  "I want to talk to you, Rachel. I was going to suggest coming round there after Sara was in bed, but obviously that's out of the question now." He paused. "However, as you do appear to have a built-in baby-sitter, perhaps we could have dinner together."

  "No, thank you, Joel."

  He uttered an expletive. "You can't dismiss me like that, Rachel. One way or another, we're going to talk. If you want me to come round there ..."

  "You know you can't!" Rachel was desperate.

  "All right, I accept that. So what do you suggest?"

  "I - I can't suggest anything." Rachel cast a worried glance
over her shoulder. If Mrs. Talbot should overhear any of this . .. "Joel, couldn't you phone me tomorrow?"

  "Why? Will the watchdog have gone by then?"

  "Mrs. Talbot will be leaving in the morning."

  "It seems a wasted opportunity."

  "I - I can't see you tonight!"

  "If you insist." He was silent for a moment. Then: "I'll take you both out for lunch tomorrow. I know somewhere we can go where Sara won't prove too much of a distraction."

  "I don't know, Joel - "

  "Eleven-thirty, Rachel," he stated uncompromisingly. "I'll call for you." And he rang off.

  Rachel replaced her receiver carefully and stood staring, down at the cream instrument for several seconds. And then with a sigh, she went back to Sara's bedroom.

  Leaving Sara at the hospital was always a wrench, and particularly so this time when all the nurses were strangers to her. She looked so small and helpless in the high hospital bed, the machine that had kept her alive for the past six months feeding on her like some monstrous vampire. And yet that was an unfair analogy. It was Sara who took her life blood from the machine.

  Afterwards Rachel walked back to the flat slowly. She was reluctant to join Mrs. Talbot, reluctant to have to discuss Sara's condition with anyone at this time. She felt she needed an escape for a while from the tortuous probings of her own thoughts, and wished she had a car that she might drive out of town and away from the flat which reminded her so acutely of her involvement with James Kingdom.

  Ever since the previous afternoon she had felt restless and uneasy, and Joel's call this evening had not helped matters. What did he hope to achieve by harassing her like this? What were his intentions? And what could he have to say to her that had not already been said? If he imagined his unprovoked attack on her senses had aroused anything but disgust inside her, he was mistaken, yet every time she remembered those moments in his arms a frisson of something akin to fear swept over her. Perhaps it was this that troubled her most. Joel was - he always had been - a man of strong sexual attraction, and the possibility that he might be using that attraction to gain his own ends filled her with alarm. She half wished James had not had to go to Frankfurt. Right now she felt very much alone.

  She was approaching the cul-de-sac where her flat was situated when a low dark green sports saloon came by her and then unexpectedly stopped just ahead. Rachel slowed her pace, alarmed as to the driver's intentions, and then surprised as the nearside window was rolled down and she found herself looking into Erica Grey's unsmiling features. But Erica was not alone, nor was she the driver of the expensive vehicle, and when the driver's door was thrust open and man climbed out, Rachel was not surprised to find it was Joel Kingdom. He came round the car towards her, and his face was grim and uncompromising.

  "What the hell are you doing wandering about the streets at this time of night?" he demanded curtly, dark and attractive in a maroon velvet dinner suit, and for a moment Rachel was taken aback.

  "It's not late," she said defensively, and then, as her composure returned, "It's none of your business."

  Aware that Erica could hear every word they said, Joel's only reaction to this was a distinct thinning of his mouth, but his eyes promised retribution later. "Get in the car," he said. "We'll take you home."

  "Thank you, but I only have a few yards to go," replied Rachel tautly, and realising that Erica must be feeling furious at this intrusion, continued: "It was a - fine evening, and I felt like a walk. I'm used to doing a lot of walking. Good night." Her eyes flickered over Erica. "Goodnight, Miss Grey."

  "Wait." Joel's fingers curved round her upper arm, preventing her from moving. He was closer now, and Rachel could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Her fingers brushed the soft material of his jacket as she endeavoured to free herself, and his eyes, unblinking and compelling, bored into hers. "Have you eaten?"

  Rachel managed to nod her head. "Yes. Yes, of course." She dragged her eyes away from his face. "Can I go now?"

  Joel's fingers tightened deliberately round her arm, biting into the flesh, sending waves of pain to her fingertips. Then with a grimace of self-derision, he let her go and walked back to the car. "We'll wait until you turn into the apartment building," he remarked, and with a feeling of humiliation Rachel hurried round the corner into the cul-de-sac and into the block where her flat was situated.

  She was stupidly near to tears and she told herself it was because of his deliberate cruelty, but the inner agony she felt was more than a physical pain. She wondered what Erica Grey must have thought of his behaviour, but knew well enough that such anxieties would not trouble Joel. He believed he could get away with practically anything, she told herself bitterly, and he probably could. Even so, she had been shocked by his conduct, and she wondered if there was anything significant about his being around at this time of night. Casual encounters were not always the result of chance.

  Drawing a steadying breath, she began to climb the stairs to the flat. There was a lift, but she was glad of the exercise. It would provide an excuse for her flushed cheeks and quickened breathing.

  It was as well that she had returned to the apartment as she had. Only a few minutes after she got in, the telephone rang, and this time it was James Kingdom.

  "I guessed you wouldn't long be in," he said, his voice sounding as if he were in another room, not another country. "Did Sara settle down at the hospital?"

  "Yes. Very well." All the resentment Rachel had been feeling before Joel's call and her subsequent encounter with him seeming petty and unimportant now. "How are you?"

  "Oh, I'm fine. Very busy, of course, but very well. Did Mrs. Talbot turn up as I asked her to do?"

  Rachel's eyes flickered over the back of Mrs. Talbot's head as she watched the programme on the television at the other end of the room. This was her opportunity, but she couldn't take it. "I - yes. Yes, she's here."

  "That's good. I don't like to think of you staying in the flat alone."

  "Sara's hardly a bodyguard," remarked Rachel dryly. But perhaps she was - in James's book. It depended what one wanted to guard.

  "I know," James was saying now. "But I thought you might worry about her more if you were alone."

  That was reasonable! So why couldn't she accept his explanation?

  "When will you be back?" she asked, changing the subject.

  James paused. "Next Thursday, I should think. Why? Do you miss me?"

  Rachel glanced once more at Mrs. Talbot, but she was obviously engrossed in the film that was in progress. Nevertheless, her voice was stiff as she answered: "Of course."

  "Don't sound so enthusiastic about it," he teased. "I gather Mrs. Talbot is with you?"

  "Yes." Rachel forced herself to relax. "We're watching television."

  "I see." He hesitated. "Have you seen Joel?"

  Rachel's relaxation fled, and her fingers tightened round the receiver. Of course! she thought furiously. He was bound to have spoken to his secretary during the last couple of days.

  "Yes. Yes, I've seen him," she replied carefully.

  "When?"

  Don't you know? Rachel wanted to shout the words at him, but instead she went on quietly: "He came to the Salon to see Miss Grey while we were there."

  "Did he?" James sounded annoyed and Rachel wondered whether she had done Miss Clay an injustice. "What did he want?"

  Rachel chewed painfully at her lower lip. "I've told you. He came to see Miss Grey."

  There was silence for several seconds and then James said: "I hope you're not thinking of telling Joel about Sara's illness."

  "Why should I do that?"

  "Why indeed? You know of his relationship with Erica Grey now, don't you?"

  Rachel licked her lips. "I don't think that's anything to do with me."

  "No," he conceded slowly. "Perhaps it's not. I imagine you know well enough the kind of man my son is. What he requires of a woman."

  Rachel's nails dug into her palms. "You don't have to illustrate the point, Jam
es. I'm not a complete fool!"

  "No, my dear, I don't believe you are. Nevertheless, I feel it's my duty to protect you." He paused. "But now, for more important matters. I have decided it would be a good idea if we formally announce our engagement before - before Sara's operation."

  "Before?" Rachel was shocked.

  "Yes." James sounded thoughtful. "After all, as James Kingdom's fiancée, you will be offered certain privileges, and it seems to me a more suitable arrangement in every way. "We don't want this to be a hole-and-corner affair, Rachel, do we? Certain formalities are expected of me, and I feel that to wait until afterwards would necessitate undue haste and perhaps lack of dignity. I thought a small gathering at somewhere like the Savoy perhaps, a formal announcement after dinner . . . What do you think?"

  "I - don't know what to think." That at least was the truth.

  "The sooner Joel and Francis accept that I'm going through with this marriage, the better I shall like it. Then, when Sara is well enough to travel, we can have a quiet wedding before leaving for Lyarchos."

  Rachel was silent for so long that at last he said: "Rachel?" and she had to find something to say quickly. "If - if that's what you want," she managed slowly.

  "Isn't it what you want, too?" he asked sharply, and she hastened to reassure him.

  "Of course it is, James. It's just - meeting all your friends and acquaintances! What will they think of me?"

  The brief irritation in his tones disappeared. "My dear, they'll all be sick with envy. I can't wait to see the sensation you'll cause. And that reminds me, did you get some clothes from Erica's salon?"

  "Clothes!" Rachel steadied her voice. "I had no idea that one woman could own so many clothes!"

  He sounded pleased. "And I'm longing to see you wearing them," he exclaimed. "Will you meet me at the airport on my return?"

  "If you'd like me to."

  "I would." He sighed regretfully. "And now I must go. I'm telephoning from the house of Herr Hartz, one of the delegates to the conference I'm attending, and I'm not sure he'll appreciate this extended addition to his telephone bill." He chuckled. "Give my love to Sara, when you see her tomorrow, and tell her I'm bringing her a very special present from Frankfurt."