Alone Beneath The Heaven (38 page)

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Authors: Rita Bradshaw

BOOK: Alone Beneath The Heaven
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‘Hardly just Richard’s and mine, in the circumstances.’ When this little loaded statement got no reaction from Sarah, Vanessa continued, her voice sharper, ‘We need to talk, Sarah. Would it be convenient for me to call on you this morning?’
 
‘No, I’m sorry, it wouldn’t.’ There was no way she was allowing the other woman to engineer what Sarah was sure would be an unpleasant meeting in Lady Harris’s house. If they had to meet, and she had observed enough of Vanessa to know the other woman would manage it by hook or by crook once she had set her mind to it, then it would be on neutral territory. ‘I can see you this afternoon after three if you like.’
 
Sarah suggested a tearoom just a few minutes’ walk from Emery Place, and after agreeing the time, Vanessa put the telephone down with an abrupt little click that didn’t bode well.
 
 
Sarah made sure she was already seated and waiting in the superior little tearoom, with a pot of fresh tea and a plate of scones with cream and jam for two, by the time Vanessa arrived. She knew the meeting was going to be an ordeal, and she wanted to set the pace from the word go.
 
‘How lovely, darling, scones and tea.’ Vanessa managed to make it sound as quaint as some rustic country tradition that hadn’t hit London’s modern shores.
 
‘Do sit down.’ Sarah smiled politely as she indicated the seat at the side of her, and Vanessa, accepting the initial round was one-nil to Sarah, complied with languid grace.
 
It took Richard’s wife no time at all to get round to the purpose of their meeting. She had left Richard for good, she told Sarah crisply, and had seen her solicitor that morning to file for divorce. She was at present staying with a very dear friend, and had no intention of returning to the marital home.
 
Sarah hid her thudding heart under a calm exterior that gave nothing away and irritated Vanessa Mallard not a little.
 
‘So . . .’ Vanessa forced her tones into less abrasive mode, and even managed a quick smile, before she finished with, ‘You can see it’s all very delicate, but I’m sure Rodney and I can count on your support? I know he’s always looked on you as someone akin to a daughter.’
 
‘Rodney?’ It was the first time his name had been mentioned, and now Sarah strove to keep her voice from showing any discernible emotion as she said, ‘Have I missed something here?’
 
‘You mean he hasn’t told you how things have been between us?’ Vanessa couldn’t quite manage a blush - even her acting prowess had its limits - and so she fluttered her hands instead as she said, ‘Oh, how embarrassing, what must you have thought of me when I asked to see you? I was quite sure he would have confided in you how things are, and I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think ill of him. Please, don’t let him know that I’ve spoken to you, I’m sure he will speak to you about everything when he feels the time is right.’ Richard had played right into her hands when he had agreed to let her divorce him - honourable fool that he was. It made all this so much easier.
 
‘What are you insinuating, Vanessa?’ Sarah’s heart was thumping so hard she could feel it in her throat.
 
‘Well, darling, perhaps I shouldn’t say if Rodney hasn’t told you, but he and I have always been . . . close, you know? And really, that isn’t so bad as it might sound when you consider that I
was
engaged to Rodney before Richard whisked me away from him, and Rodney and I had always enjoyed a very . . . intimate relationship.’
 
She made Richard sound like some sort of Arabian sheik who had stolen into the bedroom in the middle of the night and stolen her from Rodney’s bed, Sarah thought bitterly, her disgust evident on her face as she stared back into Vanessa’s watching eyes.
 
‘I think poor Richard always felt he had been a little unfair to Rodney, but that’s old history now. Suffice to say love triumphed in the end, and Rodney holds no grudge. He’s such a
dear
man, but then, of course, I freely admit I’m prejudiced. Oh Sarah, perhaps it is as well after all that we’ve had this little talk, I’m sure you’ll try and understand that even those we respect and look up to as father figures can still be human? Now,’ Vanessa straightened her shoulders and smiled bravely, ‘I hope you will give us your blessing?’
 
Sarah felt sick, and she was thankful she was sitting down and that the trembling which had begun in her legs wasn’t visible to those pearly cold eyes. She stared at the other woman without speaking, and after a long moment of looking at her face Vanessa rose, trying to keep her satisfaction from showing. ‘Goodbye for now, Sarah, and please, don’t hold any of this against us, will you? I know Rodney would want you to visit us when everything is sorted, he
so
admires you for the effort you have made to better yourself.’
 
Vanessa left without saying anything more, and as Sarah stared after her through the window of the tearoom, the resolution she had made only the night before came back to haunt her. How could he? How
could
he? Oh, she hated him. She did, she hated him. Well, at least she knew exactly where she stood now. He had been carrying on with his brother’s wife for years, and now they were going to be together. She didn’t know which emotion was foremost, pain or anger. She had known there was something between them, she had sensed it from the first moment she had seen them together, but she hadn’t imagined he would actually—
 
A shaft of weak sunlight came glancing through the glass, and she lifted her face to it as she watched Vanessa get into her car further down the street. She wouldn’t make him happy. She doubted if Vanessa Mallard was capable of making any man happy for long, but right as this moment she felt Rodney deserved her. One thing was for certain - she straightened her shoulders against the unbearable ache in her heart - he didn’t deserve
her
. She took a sip of hot tea quickly, knowing her lips were quivering but determined not to cry. ‘He admires the effort you have made to better yourself.’ Vanessa’s words, spoken so patronizingly, burnt in her mind. Oh, she really, really hated him . . .
 
 
Vanessa was smiling to herself as she started the car engine, settling back in the seat with a gratified little sigh. Her hurt pride had been wonderfully soothed by turning the knife so satisfactorily in her rival’s heart. She would teach Rodney; she’d teach them both. His name hurt her, before she thrust the emotion aside and gritted her teeth as she swung out into the traffic.
 
It had been amusing to see the chit’s face when she had realized her knight in shining armour had fallen from grace, and however much Rodney tried to explain, some little grain from her words would remain with the girl. She had seen Sarah looking at them on Christmas Day and wondering. Yes, she would teach Rodney Mallard a lesson he would never forget. How dare he think he could put her to one side like a pair of old gloves?
 
But she’d show him, and his precious brother, that she didn’t need them, that she had far bigger fish to fry than those two non-starters. She glanced down at her jacket, fingering the beautiful little ruby and diamond brooch that nestled on one lapel, as her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. Lord Simmons was a very generous lover, she really couldn’t fault him in that direction, and he did have a title after all. Since they had started their little amour a few months ago he had positively showered her with gifts, half of which she had had to keep hidden but could now wear with impunity, and he adored her, he’d do anything for her. It was a pity he wasn’t much fun in bed - Rodney, young and virile and passionate flashed into her mind for a second - but he
was
ridiculously rich with all the right connections. Lord Simmons. Lady Simmons. Her pale eyes narrowed reflectively. Could she put up with being married to him? He was a widower, she’d soon be free, and she knew he would propose with very little prompting. And it would show Rodney Mallard she didn’t care a fig about him if she made it happen fast, very fast.
 
The sudden awareness that if she took this course she would probably never see Rodney again caused her to sag briefly in the seat, before her back straightened almost immediately. She wouldn’t allow it to be known that it was Richard who had finished the marriage, she wouldn’t, and this way any rumours that might arise would be scotched immediately. Lady Simmons . . . It was growing on her.
 
She made an instant decision, turning the car round with a disdain for other road users that made horns honk and vehicles swerve, and set the car on course for Lord Simmons’s grand town house in Richmond.
 
Chapter Eighteen
 
The morning after Sarah’s talk with Vanessa, she awoke early after a night of tossing and turning and tears, but a busy day in the house, and an evening spent working until gone ten o’clock at the hospital, restored her equilibrium somewhat.
 
She couldn’t alter anything, she told herself as she lay soaking in a hot bath at gone midnight; and to be fair to Rodney he had never indicated, by word or deed, that his intentions were anything other than friendship. She didn’t hate him - it was a relief to admit it after the anger and pain of the day before - she loved him, she would always love him, and that wouldn’t alter whatever he did. She didn’t like the thought of him with Vanessa. The pain hit hard and she squirmed in the bath before reaching for the big towel on the floor. But then she wouldn’t like the thought of him with anyone.
 
She fell asleep immediately, worn out by the sleepless night the night before and the hard work of the day, and when she awoke the next morning the positive mood continued as she determined to count her blessings.
 
Nineteen Emery Place had become a happy household since Sir Geoffrey’s departure, the only fly in the ointment - and it was a very small fly, Sarah conceded - being Eileen, who continued to drive poor Hilda mad, with her lack of diligence and brazenness. The young maid seemed to think it was her mission in life to flirt and carry on with every man who came near the house, be it the milkman or the young lad who delivered their meat ration from the butchers, or Bill Mason from Fenwick who brought the vegetables and dairy produce from the farm once a week, and was married with six children.
 
But Rebecca was progressing very well according to her letters, which arrived nearly every other day. She had little to do in the hospital other than read and write, and her letters to Sarah were almost in diary form. ‘Perhaps you were right about it being better I can’t go back to Willie’s mam’s house,’ she had written in her last missive, ‘with all that’s happened. At least this way I’ve got to make a new start when I leave here, and there’ll be less of the past to remind me about the bad times.’ She had gone on in the same vein, and Sarah had been relieved to see Rebecca was thinking so confidently, and also that her unhappy experience of married life had not coloured her attitude regarding her unborn child, whom she wanted very much.
 
Maggie and Florrie were clucking about like two mother hens with the same poorly chick, but the daily visits Maggie made to the hospital were good for the old woman, who had got lonely at times with Florrie being out at work all day.
 
And as for herself - Sarah gritted her teeth and refused to let images of Vanessa in Rodney’s arms into her mind any more - she had her work here in the house to keep her busy, added to which the time spent at the hospital was becoming more and more challenging and rewarding. There were big decisions looming in the future, not the least of which being how and when she was going to set about the job of finding out about her roots; but all in all, life was good. It was, she told the pain in her heart that protested at her thoughts, it was good.
 
The statement was put to the test that same evening when, Sarah having heard nothing from him for a full week, Rodney phoned the house.
 
‘Sarah? It’s Rodney.’ He sounded unforgivably
normal
, and she had the unreasonable urge to put the phone down before she restrained herself just in time. ‘How are you?’
 
‘Very well, thank you.’
 
‘Good, good.’ There was a pause and then, ‘I was wondering when you next had some free time? We seem to have been like two ships passing in the night lately, and I hear there’s a very good film on at the Plaza this week.’
 
‘Is there?’ She didn’t enquire what it was, and her voice was very steady when she said, ‘I’ve got Friday afternoon and evening off, but I’ve arranged to work at the hospital. I’m sorry.’
 
‘What time do you finish?’
 
‘What?’ He had thrown her. She had expected him to offer a few polite words of regret and put the telephone down, satisfied his duty had been done to this little waif he looked on as a daughter (Vanessa’s words had rankled more than she had known until she’d heard his voice), and feeling free to get back to Vanessa.
 
‘I asked you what time you finish?’ he repeated patiently.
 
‘Oh.’ She thought for a moment. ‘About nine o’clock, I think.’ That was too late for the cinema.

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