Sins of Sarah (27 page)

Laughing, they watched the inevitable clips of James and Sarah making love, before the interview Nick and Sarah had recorded with the presenter in Nick's office the week before came on.

'Were you drunk?' Cress demanded, in hysterics as she listened to Nick's evasive answers in reply to the interviewer's questions on the reported problems between him and Sarah.

'We had our moments,' Nick had said finally. 'There were times I wanted to strangle her, I admit, but we are the best of friends now.' That had all of them in hysterics, not just Cress.

The important thing, however, was the programme's opinion of the film.

'Sarah Campbell,' the reviewer pronounced at last, 'is sensational. Totally believable as Abigail. Unusually for screen lovers, she and wonderful co-star James Willoughby have a compatibility you can believe in. From their first meeting to the incredibly realistic love scenes. Definitely one to see, folks.'

'Wowee!' cried Cress. 'That is some credit - especially from him! I'm not so sure about the realistic bit, though! James . . . Sarah . . .!' Sarah avoided James's eyes quickly.

'Only acting of the highest calibre!' James shielded the lower half of his body from Cress's assault as they rolled around on their sofa.

'I told you!' Nick hugged Sarah. 'We're on a roll! BAFTA, here we come!' Sarah only shivered, still not wanting to believe stardom could come from displaying her body so freely.

She hated the lovemaking shots. They were all the TV shows and newspapers were using. Maggie was giving her hell about it, and George, as she'd told Nick, had laughed. 'You've certainly grown since I had to bath you!' he had teased, though he was taking some stick about it in the City and threatening to raffle her off in his office. She still had not seen the film in its entirety, managing to avoid, so far, any showing of it. Nick had given her a copy, but she hadn't even managed to watch it in the privacy of her own living room.

CHAPTER 15

Charles was taking her to the royal premiere of Home Leave. Once she accepted that Diana was going with Nick, it was inevitable.

On the night, with Charles's hand on her arm, Sarah sat in the car staring with fascination at the sight of her name above the film title on the poster emblazoned across the cinema. The central motif of the film was a drawing of James kissing her in the chiffon slip, with her hair flowing across the poster. Seeing the crowds, she braced herself. She was wearing the blue-green dress from her New York trip, with a close-fitting jacket added by Catherine to combat the November chill. With her hair loose, she swept through the onlookers at the cinema, aware of Nick and Diana's eyes on her as she played the star. Hugging James in the doorway, she knew the flashbulbs were popping. Her whole being was concentrated, then, on showing Diana how special she was.

But watching the film, knowing the Duchess was watching too, knowing the entire audience was watching her on screen made her feel sick again. Clutching Charles's hand so tightly that her nails were biting into his flesh, she crawled with embarrassment. The love scenes dominated the film, whether she liked it or not. They were beautiful to look at and afterwards when she was presented to the Duchess this view was confirmed, but Sarah wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. To add to her misery. Nick hardly came near her - at the cinema or at the party afterwards. Diana seemed to demand his whole attention.

Briefly he danced with her, seemingly afraid to be seen touching her in front of Diana, and Sarah, already paranoid, freaked. 'Take me home, Charles,' she demanded, after half an hour at the party. She knew she was behaving like a spoilt child, and for once she didn't care, but Charles was furious with her.

'Don't be silly, Sarah,' he remonstrated. 'The party is for you as much as anyone. You have people to meet, for heaven's sake! Behave yourself!'

'I want to go, Charles, Now!' She was on the edge of hysteria, and Charles took a careful look at her face and gave in, albeit reluctantly.

'OK. Get your jacket. I'll get the car. Don't you want to say goodbye?'

'No, let's just go.' In the blue-green froth of dress she was so beautiful and looked so unhappy that his heart went out to her as he drove her home.

'Come in with me, Charlie,' she begged as he pulled up at her apartment block. 'Please?' Worried, he parked the car and took her up to the flat. She was frenzied - making coffee, pouring it, talking about the film - completely disjointed as if she was drunk, yet he knew she hadn't had a chance to drink much.

Puzzled, he took her by the shoulders, shaking her. 'Sarah, stop this! What the hell's the matter?' Sarah fell into his arms, and Charles felt her warmth and her softness against him. It would be so easy. He could take her now and Nick would be beaten. He kissed her slowly, gently, wanting her so badly.

Yet he pushed her away. It took every scrap of determination he had, but he said no to her. 'I want you, Sarah,' he said softly, 'but on my terms, not yours. I'm not going to be your revenge on Nick for tonight.' She was crying. Long, hard sobs that tore at his very soul.

'Stay with me, Charlie. Please don't leave me,' she begged him finally.

'I'll stay until you're asleep,' he promised. 'I'm not sure my will-power will last much longer. Go and get ready for bed.' While she did so, he picked up the tray and took it into the kitchen, and turned off the lights, being practical for once, before he went to Sarah. She had simply dropped her dress on the floor and done the sketchiest clean off of her make-up before she had climbed naked into bed.

Charles sat on the edge of the bed and unfastened the bracelet from her wrist, aware of how much she was provoking him. He held her hand against his cheek, stroking her hair, and she fell asleep finally, with tears still staining her face. Only then did he leave her, regret-fully, but knowing he was right. Sarah would come to him soon enough, he told himself. He only had to wait.

* * *

Sarah had not been the only person in the audience who was unhappy that evening. All the way through the film Diana Grey had fumed silently, seeing the beautiful girl dominate the screen whenever she appeared, hearing the murmurs of the audience around her, watching the glorious golden body writhing around James in their first love scene and feeling Nick tense in the seat beside her. Instinctively, then, she had known this girl was doing the same thing with her husband.

He had given no sign of it during the inevitable con-gratulatory chat afterwards, or at the party. She had watched jealously every time his eyes slid to Sarah, even resentfully as he had danced briefly with her before returning to her side, and then suddenly Charles and Sarah had gone, within half an hour of arriving.

Nick had obviously been furious at Sarah's disappearing act, having to explain it to various press people and make placating noises to them. He hated apologizing to anyone.

Because Bill was driving them, there was no way they could talk in the car, and the atmosphere only crackled into fury as Nick unlocked the front door of the flat. Diana threw her wrap and purse onto the living room sofa and turned on him furiously. 'You're sleeping with Sarah Campbell, aren't you?' she accused bitterly, unable to hold it in any longer.

'And why, suddenly, does it matter to you if I am?' he demanded angrily. 'Since you've made it quite clear on many occasions that sleeping with me is something you'd rather not do?'

'As you are rarely in the same country, let alone the same bed as me, it is rather difficult, Nick.' 'So tonight, if I asked you, you'd come willingly to bed with me, just because you think I'm seeing someone else? That's what you normally do, isn't it?'

'Not just because of that, no! How could you think that, Nick? I'm your wife!'

'Only when it suits you!' Nick strode across the room and reached for the decanter of malt whisky. 'Take tonight, for example. It's the first time I've seen you in weeks. And it's only because you want to be in the limelight - the director's wife!'

'So you would rather have paraded that little slut on your arm, would you? She's a mere child. Nick, only ten years older than your own daughter! You're disgusting!'

'Stop it, Diana! Just stop right there! I've spent the last six months working with Sarah, of course I see her.' He slammed down the glass in his hand so hard that it broke, and whisky splattered unheeded down his trousers. 'What I do in my business life has nothing to do with you; you've made that quite clear too.'

'Maybe, but this isn't all business, is it? Screw around if you must, husband dear, but never, ever humiliate me like you did tonight, or one of these days you'll go too far! You couldn't keep your eyes off her, and everyone could see what you were doing.'

'So you'll divorce me for it, I suppose?' he asked sarcastically.

'Oh, no. Nick, I'll never do that. You can be quite certain on that score! You married me and you're going to stay married to me! And since you asked so charmingly, yes, tonight I will go to bed with you! Maybe I should find out what Miss bloody Campbell sees in you! Because I sure as hell can't remember!'

'Well, unfortunately, wife dear, there could be a problem with your very generous offer,' Nick said. 'I'm afraid it takes two to tango, and I certainly don't feel the urge to make love to you right now. I think I'd be more inclined to throttle you, frankly.'

'Sure! Violence is your thing, isn't it? Just like the last time we made love? So what does your whore think of that kind of behaviour, then?'

'How dare you talk about her like that? Leave Sarah out of this!' Nick had finally been pushed too far, and he reached out to grab Diana by her shoulders in a fury, hurling her to the sofa. 'Don't ever refer to her like that again!' he roared at her. 'Sarah is a sweet, decent girl and I will not listen to that about her! It isn't true, and you know it!'

Frightened now, Diana began to cry. 'Nick! Please, I'm sorry! I know I've no right to be jealous, but I am! Please, I'd rather you admitted to sleeping with anyone but her! 'I'm admitting to nothing. We've led separate lives for getting on for five years now.'

'At your request, remember? I don't consider that what I do, or who I see, has anything to do with you any more.' Nick turned on his heel, unmoved by tears that would normally have melted him in a moment, knowing that this time they were a deliberate ploy. 'I'm going to shower and then I'm going to bed! Where you sleep is a matter of complete indifference to me, but I prefer that it's not in my bed!'

He went to bed, but sleep was impossible. He realized he had been unnecessarily cruel to Diana, and he felt wretched about it once he had calmed down. They rarely quarrelled as they just had, and he hated himself for it, but knowing that Charles had taken Sarah home did nothing for his peace of mind either. He desperately wanted to phone her and check if Charles was still there with her, but eventually he managed to put the temptation out of his mind. Sarah would accuse him of behaving like an idiot, and she would be right, he told himself ruefully. He was behaving like a complete fool and he cursed himself for his stupidity.

At four in the morning, when it was still dark, he finally gave up on the futile exercise, and let himself out of the flat to run several miles around the deserted park in a final attempt to push his body into exhaustion. He crept back indoors and simply threw himself into his bed to pull the duvet tightly over his head and shut out all the bitter doubts and accusations. Only then did he manage to sleep.

CHAPTER 16

Being plunged into the unremitting round of a family Christmas, after months of pleasing himself, was. Nick decided a few weeks later, the nearest thing to hell that earth could provide.

Diana, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on the chaos of having three demanding parents, two dogs and Charlotte constantly underfoot. She was determined to be efficient and incredibly well-organized, but with no domestic help over the holidays she was heavily occupied most of the time. Nick was expected to entertain his despised in-laws and his own mother, much to his chagrin, since Diana had invited them all without his knowledge.

Intending to get most of a new script written and typed, he retreated more and more frequently to the office he had created in the old staff flat above the garage, and often Charlotte crept out to join him. Consequently the two of them played endless games on the computer instead of Nick working, and he got more and more behind on the script.

'If Granny Grey tells one more story about when you were a naughty boy to your Ayah, I think I'll scream!' Charlotte complained bitterly on Christmas Eve, erupting into the office to find Nick sighing with frustration after yet another battle with his computer. 'Oh, Daddy! Come on! Let me do that!'

'I wish Jane was here. I hate using this damn thing!' Nick thumped the desk in annoyance, and glared at the machine on it. 'It never does what I want it to do! The picture's gone really small, and I can't get it back.'

'That's only because you've hit the wrong key some- how,' Charlotte said sensibly. 'With computers, there's always a reason for them going wrong.' Infuriatingly, within seconds she had sorted out the problem and Nick was back on course again. 'If you hate it so much, why don't you ask Madeleine Miller to help you out?' Charlotte added. 'Uncle Paul says she's bored stiff at home with nothing to do, and she is a secretary, remember?'