Sins of Sarah (34 page)

'Then you should've stayed in bed today!' He was horrified. 'Why on earth did you say you'd come out?'

'Because I knew it was hopeless trying to sleep. The flat's too noisy during the day, and my doctor won't give me any more pills.'

'Have you been taking sleeping pills?' he demanded, regretting not keeping a better eye on her - at least via George if nothing else. He was sure that George knew nothing of pills, and he immediately blamed Bruce, whom he knew and distrusted.

'I need them, Charlie,' she said sadly. 'I don't sleep well, and I need to if I'm going to keep working. There's nothing else to do.' Charles looked at her hard. She had lost a lot of weight, he realized, and her eyes, usually so sparklingly hazel, looked as if someone had drawn a veil over them. He signalled to the waiter to take their plates and bring Sarah some coffee. 'I'm going to make a phone call,' he said firmly. 'Just stay there.' With a sinking heart Sarah watched him go to the phone, fearing the worst. All she wanted to do was lie down and shut her sore eyes, not have the confrontation with George that she feared Charles was arranging.

'Right,' he said when he returned. 'Come with me. It's time I took you in hand. I should've done this weeks ago. You're going to see my doctor now. Luckily he has time to see you.'

'Charles! This is ridiculous,' she protested. 'I have a perfectly good doctor, if I need one, and I don't!'

'You're going to do as you're told,' he replied. 'Even Oscar is worried about you at the moment.' He was well aware of her angry eyes glaring at him but he ignored them, marching her firmly into the Harley Street surgery of his London GP.

Sarah was furious, but too tired to argue. Stripping off for a doctor was not her idea of a peaceful afternoon but Dr Archibald was very pleasant, middle-aged, and incredibly thorough. By the time he had finished with her she felt as if there was nothing he didn't know about her, or an inch of her he hadn't examined. Finally, smiling, he patted her arm and told her she could get dressed.

'Nothing much wrong. Miss Campbell. I think you'll live!'

'I could've told you that,' Sarah grumbled. 'And saved Charles all this money!'

'A check-up is never wasted money, my dear.' While she was dressing, he called Charles into his office. 'You were right, Charles,' he said quietly. 'Sleeping pills and too many cigarettes. And I don't like the amount she admits to drinking. It usually means double. However, basically she is healthy enough, though a bit underweight for her height, and her blood pressure is a bit high, but nothing a good rest wouldn't put right. Take her away for a week or too, make her eat and sleep, and get her off the cigarettes if you can. They'll affect her voice sooner or later.'

'Thanks, Richard, I'll see what I can do.' Charles rose to go.

'I should be thanking you.' Richard Archibald smiled. 'Most of my patients are very dull compared to Miss Campbell. I'll give you one piece of advice, though . . .' Charles looked back enquiringly. 'If you have marriage in mind, Charles, she has good child-bearing hips! Time you thought of getting married again, she could be just what you need!'

'I've been working on that for months!' Charles grinned. 'But I'll have to talk her into a holiday first!'

'That was three times worse than any film medical,' Sarah grumbled as they got back into the car.

'Rubbish!' Charles said crisply. 'You needed it!'

'I beg your pardon, Charles, I did not. Have you ever seen a speculum?'

He laughed. 'So you had a smear test; it's not the end of the world. And no more of these.' He reached over and took her cigarette from her fingers. 'No cigarettes and no more pills. I'm going to sort you out.'

'I think the doctor did that!'

'That's what I intended. Now give me your diary. I've let you cut loose for far too long and now you're going to do as I say.' Carefully he went over her next few weeks' workload as Bernard drove to Chelsea. She had several more days on her current film, and then it appeared, went straight into a fortnight of press interviews and TV game shows before starting an episode of Paddy's new series in Crete. At least, he thought, horrified, she had finished at the National.

'You can cancel all those interviews next week,' he told her. 'None of them are important.'

'I can't do that! Oscar would be furious.'

'Oscar can cancel them. You are going to plead illness and come away with me, and I shall tell him why.' Back at her flat, he got on the phone to Oscar, and then his own office. 'I was going to the Caribbean next week anyway,' he said, 'to visit a hotel I've been working on. I'll extend the trip and take you with me. Oscar agrees with me, and so will George when I tell him!'

'It's my permission you need, not George and Oscar's.'

'We all care about you,' he told her. 'Sarah, since you and Nick split up you have been working yourself into the ground. How long is it? Four, five months of lousy publicity and questionable dates. You can't go on like this!'

'If you mean Bruce Webster, Charlie, you can forget it -he's a friend. I have not been sleeping with him, if that's what's worrying you! I haven't slept with anyone since Nick. I don't even take the pill any more.'

'I don't want to know, quite honestly,' he assured her. 'That's your business.' But he was quite obviously relieved.

Sarah smiled suddenly, that slow, bright smile he hadn't seen for months. 'I will come with you, Charles. You're right, as usual. I need a holiday.' She needed a break from the press coverage, from the snide articles about infidelity that seemed to be in every paper suddenly, the hints and insinuations about younger women coming between happily married couples, "How does a wife cope when her husband is sleeping around?" being a common Unicorn theme, sometimes naming her, always blaming her. And photographers dogged her foot-steps on every date these days. What on earth had happened to the innocent young girl of a year ago? she wondered bitterly and frequently whenever she read the more lurid of the articles. Was she completely lost now?

Going away with Charles wouldn't silence them, but at least he was single and totally above reproach. Despite herself, Charles had become the one she'd relied on as she'd struggled to come to terms with what she increasingly saw as Nick's betrayal of her, even if she had been the one to finally break things off.

Losing him didn't get any easier to bear. She still hugged the white lamb at night, and she still cried if she heard Dire Straits on the radio, which was a CD Nick had played incessantly in the car and they had always argued over.

The lamb even came to Antigua, much to Charles amusement, but he was wise enough not to question her about it when he saw it on her bed. He had a special suite at the hotel, kept exclusively for him - a long, low bungalow almost on the beach. Private enough for Sarah to sunbathe naked, if she wanted to, by the pool. But it was hot, almost too hot to sunbathe for long, and in her exhausted state she soon found herself sleeping during the afternoon when Charles was working.

With the freedom of his beautiful hotel - built up from a wreck he had bought eighteen months before - Sarah began to feel human again. She quickly made friends with the water sports facility, and spent most mornings water-skiing, or updating her scuba diving techniques ready for Paddy's filming. Often she lunched with the assorted instructors. Because they didn't smoke or drink, she found she wasn't doing so either, and on going back to the bungalow in the early afternoon she found she could sleep more soundly than she had done in ages.

Usually Charles came back in time for dinner, some- times taking her into St John's to a restaurant or another hotel, sometimes ordering dinner in which they ate alone on the veranda of the bungalow. But always he cosseted her, persuading her to eat the right things, being careful over what she drank and forbidding her to smoke. This was hardest of all, going from the many cigarettes a day she had built up to during the last few months back down to nothing was like purgatory, but to please him she tried.

It was still the nights that were the hardest. The warm, tropical nights when her body craved Nick's brand of satisfaction and she lay alone. Then she cried, as he had done months before, silently into the pillow till it was wet with tears and she had to turn it over, only to soak it all over again.

Listening to her for the third night he'd been aware of it, Charles agonized over what to do, and then finally got up and went in to her. Sarah was lying on the bed clutching the lamb, sobbing quietly into its fur - still wearing her dressing gown, he was surprised to see. He sat beside her without a word and took her very carefully into his arms until she was crying into his shoulder. Patiently he stroked her hair until the sobs gave way to shuddering sighs, then he lifted her back into bed.

'Don't go, Charles,' she said softly as he moved to leave her. 'Just stay and hold me, if you can bear to. It will help. It did before.' Once before he had rejected her, but this time he slipped into the bed beside her, and she crept into his arms, seemingly content to be held, challenging his will power every inch of the way, but in minutes she was asleep.

When she woke in the morning he had gone for the day, but he came back early that afternoon when Sarah was sitting, half in, half out of the pool to cool off. Her bikini top was on the chair behind her and she immediately reached over for it, he noticed, amused.

'I'm going to swim myself.' He smiled. 'Shall we go down to the beach?' He was a surprisingly strong swimmer, and they kept pace with each other easily as they swam out into the bay and around the little promontory before heading back to the beach. Laughing, they ran back to the bungalow, Sarah winding her hair into a twist to rid it of some of the sea water as she ran. Flopping out on one the loungers on the veranda, Charles reached out and took her hand. She let it lie there, content with the physical contact but wondering how long it would be before he worked up the courage to approach her.

Strangely, he left her to sleep alone for several nights. It was only on the night before they were due to leave that he made any sign of wanting to continue where they had left off. They had dined with the hotel manager and his wife and lingered over coffee afterwards, so it was later than usual when Charles and Sarah walked back to their bungalow.

After ten days in the sun, Sarah had never felt better. She had put on a little weight, her skin had a golden tan and she glowed with health. Only her hair had suffered slightly, from the salt water and sun, but she confidently expected Molton Brown to sort that out when she got back to London. Charles's pride in her was easy to see and she went easily into his arms that evening. After two weeks of very little alcohol, the wine at dinner had gone to her head more than a little.

Slowly, shyly, he kissed her, feeling her response for the first time, and when he led her to his bedroom she went willingly. As far as Sarah was concerned, sleeping with Charles was another step on her road to recovery from Nick. She lifted her dress over her head and, kicking off her sandals, she stretched out on his bed, holding out her arms to him.

Whether it was her willingness that had frightened him or something else he wasn't sure, but even after long minutes of kissing her he realized with horror that he was totally incapable of doing anything 'I think I'm very out of practice,' he apologize at last somewhat, ruefully.

'It doesn't matter Charlie,' she lied, to comfort him. 'Actually, it's nice just lying together like this.' He was rather like a cuddly bear holding her, and very comfortable somehow, his body so much softer than Nick's hard, muscular one. But she fell asleep realizing that she had almost made a big mistake, and she knew then that she could never feel the same depth of sensual pleasure with anyone that she had always felt with Nick.

* * *

'I saw the pics of you and Charlie coming back from Antigua,' Cress teased as she supervised the last fitting for Sarah's bridesmaid dress. 'Has he popped the question yet?'

'Will you stop matchmaking, Cressida!' Sarah ordered, turning in front of the mirror. Her dress was white and set off her tan beautifully as Catherine set a wreath of flowers in her hair to see the effect.

'They'll be real on the day,' Cress explained.

'It's lovely. Cress,' Sarah smiled.

'Wasted on a bridesmaid,' Cress sighed. 'You'd make a lovely bride, Sarah.'

'I'm afraid I have to find the bridegroom first,' Sarah teased. 'And at the moment he's not free.' 'Are you still carrying a torch for Nick?' Cress demanded. 'I thought you'd be over him by now. It's been almost six months!'

'Would you be?' Sarah taunted, and sank miserably down into a chair. 'No I'm not, and I'm not getting involved with Charlie until I am - although I admit I like him very much, and I know he would marry me, tomorrow if I encouraged him. Have you seen Nick?' It was the first time she had asked Cress.

'Yes,' Cress said slowly. 'We had lunch when he was in London a few weeks ago. He's still rushing round the world on that spy film.'

'Is he all right?' Cress looked uncomfortable. Nick had tried very hard to look confident and cheerful, but Cress had known him long enough to see straight through the facade. 'He's fine,' she lied to Sarah. 'I think he and Diana are trying very hard to get things together. She's out in LA with him at the moment. Forget him, Sarah, he's not worth the hassle. Stick to Charles or Bruce Webster - at least they're single.' The thought of Diana being with Nick made Sarah feel even more bitter, but Diana had every right to be there, she had to remind herself, wondering if Nick had ever really loved her. Somehow she doubted it.