Sarah's Secret (5 page)

‘Thank you,’ she said, taking her keys. ‘The car stays there now until I fetch Davy next Friday.’

‘So what happens if you get caught in a thunderstorm on the way home from work again?’ he demanded.

‘I shall study weather forecasts with more attention in future.’

‘Do you have a cellphone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. If you’re in any doubt ring me and I’ll drive you home.’

Sarah’s eyes danced. ‘What happens if your secretary tells me Mr Hogan’s too busy to talk to me?’

‘I’ll give strict instructions to the contrary. And before I bring you back tonight we’ll exchange numbers.’ He gave her the familiar look. ‘Ring mine any time you want, night or day, Sarah. Now, let’s go for that walk.’

Jake drove her to the outskirts of town to park outside a restaurant which had once been a railway station. ‘We’ll leave the car here while we stroll along the walkway they’ve made along the track. It used to be a local branch line once. They do rather good home-made food during the day. Have you never been here before?’

Sarah shook her head. ‘Not since the makeover. But I will in future. Davy could even ride her bike along here.’

‘I bring the kids here sometimes, with theirs,’ he told her, and laughed at the look on her face. ‘I own to a couple of sisters, too, both of them married with a brace of children each.’

‘Ah! So that’s why you were so relaxed with Davy.’

‘It wasn’t hard. She’s a cute little girl.’

‘Don’t say little in front of her, please! Davy thinks she’s pretty grown up.’ Sarah pulled a face. ‘We had quite an argument over clothes yesterday. She tried to con me into buying her some utterly gruesome shoes, as worn by her favourite pop star.’

‘Did you give in?’

‘No. I compromised. An art I’m learning with Davy now she’s growing up so fast. I let her have the embroidered jeans she wanted, but not the shoes. She must respect the line I draw.’ Sarah smiled up at him. ‘Which she does, most of the time.’

‘Maddy’s girls go running to their father if she says no—’ Jake halted, his eyes dark with remorse. ‘Hell, Sarah—I’m
sorry
.’

‘Don’t be. I’m not the least sensitive on the subject,’ she assured him, with a smile designed to convince him she meant it. ‘So, tell me how your sister’s husband copes with feminine wiles.’

‘Sam learned early on to turn a deaf ear to his daugh
ters in preference to getting a black eye from his wife. My sister inherited my mother’s temper. Paula’s boys are older, and more interested in electronic gear than clothes.’

‘It must be fun, being part of a big family,’ she said enviously.

Jake shrugged. ‘Fun sometimes, mayhem at others. Those of us who live locally are expected to turn up regularly for Sunday lunch with my parents. Liam, too, now and then. My mother doesn’t regard living in London as an impediment to visiting the family.’

‘Is your brother married?’

‘No. But attached. Temporarily.’

Sarah raised an eyebrow at his tone. ‘You don’t like the lady?’

‘Liam does, which is more to the point.’ Jake glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, let’s go back to my place and have some supper.’

‘I had a big lunch,’ she warned him. ‘My grandmother cooks for us on Sunday, and demands clean plates.’

‘I’m sure you can find room for some of my mother’s cannelloni. She sends me home with something from her freezer every time I visit, convinced I don’t eat properly.’

‘And do you?’

‘I did the other night,’ he said quietly. He cast a glance along the leafy, deserted walkway, then took her hands and brought her round to face him. ‘I keep thinking of the way we shared the meal, Sarah Tracy.’

She looked up at him steadily. ‘So do I.’

He looked at her mouth, shook his head with regret, and began to walk with her again. ‘This was a very good idea of yours. I spend far too much time cooped up in
places with recycled air. Next time,’ he went on, ‘we could bring Davy.’

Sarah shook her head firmly. ‘I’d rather not involve Davy in my social life.’

Jake frowned. ‘Why? Because your recent friend jilted you?’

‘Not at all. Davy was delighted about that.’ Sarah gave a sudden chuckle. ‘Apparently she’d been horribly afraid I’d marry Boring Brian and she’d have to call him Daddy.’

Jake gave a shout of laughter that attracted amused glances from a couple passing by with a dog. ‘And is he boring?’

‘I suppose so, a little. Which is why I was about to let him down gently and call it a day. But before I could he took the wind out of my sails by dumping me instead.’ Sarah laughed ruefully. ‘Which cut me down to size pretty effectively!’

‘The man’s an idiot,’ said Jake dismissively, then shot her a glance. ‘Is Davy opposed to marriage altogether, then, where you’re concerned?’

‘Not at all. She informed me on Saturday that she fancies a daddy like Polly’s, for preference.’

‘How does Polly’s daddy feel about that?’

Sarah chuckled. ‘It’s her mummy who would raise objections, I imagine, so because I like Alison Rogers very much I’ll pass on that one.’

Jake halted. ‘You don’t mean Don Rogers’s wife?’

‘Yes. Do you know her?’

‘I certainly do. Her husband’s firm deals with my legal affairs. Good man, Don.’

‘Small world!’

‘In this town it’s unavoidable. In fact,’ added Jake as
they resumed their stroll, ‘it’s strange I haven’t run into you before.’

Sarah laughed. ‘Unfortunate turn of phrase! But it’s not surprising we haven’t met. I didn’t go out much socially until last autumn.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Davy started at Roedale. Before that all the time left over from my job was spent in chauffeuring her to various after-school things, like ballet and swimming lessons, overseeing homework, and just being there for her.’

When they got to the car Jake handed her in, looking thoughtful. ‘And was that enough for you, Sarah?’

‘I’ve had a pretty normal social life during the last few months,’ she told him as he slid in beside her. ‘There was someone else before Brian.’

‘If you tell me that guy broke up with you as well I just won’t believe it.’

‘No. I managed to get in first with Oliver.’

‘It wasn’t working with him, either?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘He was a widower, for a start—’

‘And Davy didn’t like him?’

‘She never met him.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Oliver has a small son. And because I refused to involve Davy in outings as a foursome it died a natural death. Besides, the poor man still hankered after his dead wife.’

Jake drove in silence for a moment, then gave her a swift, sidelong look. ‘Just for the record, Sarah, I don’t hanker after anyone.’

She was very glad to hear it. ‘Not even the lady you mentioned?’

‘No. I own to siblings and parents who sometimes
interfere in my life, but generally speaking I’m not bringing much excess baggage to our relationship, Sarah.’

Relationship?

‘I’ve obviously stricken you dumb,’ he said after a while. ‘Is the idea so unattractive to you, then? The moment I saw you—’

‘I was soaking wet and screaming at you in fury,’ she reminded him.

He shrugged. ‘I knew, just the same.’

‘Knew what?’

‘That I wanted you in my life. So I sent flowers and came hammering on your door. And when you finally opened it, I stood transfixed.’

‘Because I looked so much better dry?’

‘You clean up well,’ he agreed with a grin, then turned a wry blue look in her direction. ‘But then I saw Davy’s photograph and assumed you were married. Surely you noted my relief when you said you were
Miss
Tracy?’

She gave him a thoughtful glance. ‘How old are you, Jake?’

‘Thirty. Why?’

‘You’re successful, and no turn-off in the looks department. So why aren’t
you
married? Or at least spoken for.’

‘I’ve never even come near to it. No sinister reason, I swear,’ he added. ‘I’m straight, by the way, in case you had doubts.’

‘None at all,’ she assured him, smiling.

Jake parked the car outside his apartment block and took her hands, his eyes very serious as they held hers. ‘Right. So when it comes to a relationship I meant you could choose any kind you want, Sarah, as long as it includes me.’

J
AKE’S
home was a large modern apartment with a balcony overlooking the River Penn. Big windows and gleaming wood floors, walls painted uniformly cream and almost bare of ornament, were all a far cry from the gloomy, crowded old house Sarah shared with her grandmother.

‘Have you been here long?’ asked Sarah, entranced by the light and space.

‘You mean it looks bare?’

She shook her head. ‘I like it a lot.’

He looked pleased. ‘When I first got a place of my own I lived in a furnished flat in a house very much like yours. A move which mystified my mother, who couldn’t see why I had to leave the comforts of home. Eventually I heard along the grapevine that this was coming on the market, and I was lucky enough to snap it up straight away. But I’m proceeding gradually with furniture, buying things when I find them. And at the same time trying not to offend my mother, who desperately wants to help.’

‘Why not let her?’

Jake smiled ruefully. ‘Her taste runs to pictures and mirrors and cushions, and every inch of floor space covered by carpet. Which is fine in my parents’ house. But definitely not here.’

Sarah nodded, deeply envious as she looked at the fringed Art Nouveau rug in subtle shades of chestnut and rose, chairs and sofa upholstered in suede the colour of
honey to echo the leather metal-studded screen in a corner. Niches had been fitted with downlighters and glass shelves, but the latter were empty except for a solitary bronze nude.

‘Liam gave me that as a moving-in present,’ Jake told her. He leaned against a wall, arms folded, watching Sarah’s face as she took time to look at everything before moving across the room to admire the view.

‘No curtains,’ she commented, noting the blind furled away at windows that slid open on to a balcony.

‘That came with the flat. It looked good to me, so I left it.’

‘You were right.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘It’s a shame to hide the view.’

‘There’s a good one in here, too, only smaller,’ he informed her, showing her into a kitchen fitted out with beechwood and stainless steel, and a window with a different angle on the river.

‘This room doesn’t look used much!’ she commented.

Jake smiled. ‘I did some hectic tidying up this morning to impress you.’

Sarah
was
impressed. By everything in Jake’s home. ‘Don’t you have someone in to clean?’

‘Never on Sundays.’ He gave her the straight look which usually presaged some equally straight talking. ‘You don’t have to inspect the bedroom, by the way. It’s not an obligatory part of the tour.’

‘Of course I do,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about this place, but I’ve never been in one of the apartments. I want to see everything—especially the bathroom. I assume it’s done out in the very best Pentiles can provide?’

Jake took her to inspect it. ‘I had it altered before I moved in. The former tenant put in a sort of Roman
sunken bath with a mosaic backdrop up to the ceiling. To me it looked like the communal bath we all jumped in after rugby matches at school. I couldn’t live with it.’ He smiled. ‘I was pleased the man used Pentiles for the purpose when he had it done originally, of course, but I swapped it all for conventional fittings, and a minimum of Pentiles’ finest round the bath.’

‘No power shower?’ said Sarah in mock disapproval.

‘That’s in my own bathroom. Come through the bedroom and take a look.’

Sarah was unsurprised to find walls and even the linen on the wide bed all in the same uniform cream. A fitted carpet in tawny wool added a note of warmth, but, not counting the built-in cupboards which housed Jake’s clothes, the only piece of furniture was a solitary bedside table with a bronze lamp. The effect should have been spartan in such a large room. But when she thought of her own room at Campden Road, with her desk and computer crammed in with the bedroom furniture brought from her family home, she envied Jake the space and tranquillity. Envied him the entire flat, she thought with a sigh, as he opened a door on the far side of the room so she could take a quick look at the shower housed in bronze glass.

‘So. What’s the verdict?’ he asked as they went back to the kitchen.

‘I’m green with envy,’ she said frankly.

Jake looked pleased as he hooked a leather-topped kitchen stool over to the window. ‘Gaze at sunset on the river for a while—I shan’t be long.’

‘Can’t I help?’

‘No. Just sit there looking decorative while I work.’ Jake took the cork from a bottle of wine. ‘Shall I throw a salad together?’

Sarah shook her head, smiling. ‘Not for me. I eat so much of it lately I’ll pass on that for once, Jake, thanks. But some bread would be good.’

‘My mother gave me a loaf baked with her own fair hand. So in a minute we’ll take all this into the other room and picnic. Because, as you may have noticed, I don’t possess a dining room.’

‘Would you use one much if you did?’ she asked.

‘Probably not. There was a dining room originally, but the Roman bath tenant did away with it to make one big living space. Right,’ he added, as the timer went off, ‘if you’ll take the wine and the glasses, I’ll bring the tray. Then I’ll come back for our cannelloni.’

When Jake handed her a steaming, savoury plateful Sarah received it doubtfully. ‘Shouldn’t we eat this out on the balcony? I’d hate to mark this upholstery.’

‘It won’t matter if you do. The suede is man-made and guaranteed, I was assured, to repel stains. So far it’s keeping its word.’

They sat together on the sofa, which Jake pulled nearer the window to watch the sunset. And though the cannelloni was delicious, and Sarah possessed more appetite for it than she’d expected, she knew perfectly well that, just like the evening at the Trout Inn, it was Jake’s company that made the meal special.

‘That was wonderful,’ she said at last, as she mopped up sauce with her bread. ‘Your mother’s a great cook.’

‘I thought of trying to impress you by pretending I’d made the cannelloni myself,’ Jake confessed, grinning. ‘But I stuck with the truth.’ He refilled her glass, then got up to take their plates. When he came back he settled beside her with a sigh of content. ‘So what do you usually do after you’ve taken Davy back on Sunday evenings?’

‘Mope a lot and go to bed early with a book.’ Sarah smiled at him. ‘This is a
great
improvement.’

‘Thank you.’ Jake moved nearer and slid an arm round her shoulders. ‘It’s a big improvement on my Sunday evenings, too.’

‘What do you normally do?’ she asked, resisting an urge to lay her head on his shoulder.

‘Nothing much. After family lunch I talk shop with my father, then I come back here and get stuck into some paperwork.’

Sarah turned her head to look up at him. ‘Every Sunday?’

The thick lashes descended like shutters. ‘Lately, yes. Before that I spent my weekends in London for a while. Not that many, as it turned out.’

‘Why not?’

‘As I told you, she met someone else,’ he said shortly.

Something in his tone made Sarah uneasy. ‘I really must be going,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Thank you for supper.’

He leapt up, frowning in surprise. ‘Don’t go yet. I didn’t mean to snap.’ He put a hand on hers. ‘Look. I said I wasn’t bringing any baggage to our relationship, Sarah, and I meant it.’

She gave him a look as straight as his. ‘We don’t have a relationship—’

‘Of course we do. Admit it.’

‘All right. But we won’t if you still hanker after the lady.’

‘There’s no question of that.’ Jake touched a hand to her cheek. ‘Come and sit down again so I can explain. Then, if you still want me to, I’ll drive you home.’

Jake switched on a couple of lamps and resumed his place beside her. But this time he kept his distance.

‘I met the lady in question in London,’ he began, staring out into the darkening sky.

Sarah gave him a hostile look. Couldn’t he even bring himself to mention her name?

‘We were both after the same taxi, so we shared it, and things went on from there pretty rapidly,’ Jake continued. ‘She works in advertising, earns a lot of money, and loathes the country. I could never persuade her to come down here. So I went up to her place at weekends instead. Then before you could even call the arrangement a habit she met someone else. End of story.’

‘But you still care?’ asked Sarah quietly.

Jake’s head swivelled, his eyes bright with surprise. ‘Good God, no. I was bloody angry at the time, but if you mean was my heart broken, definitely not. It was never that kind of thing.’

‘Then what kind of thing was it?’

His eyes remained steady. ‘A fling, pure and simple.’

‘So why do you mind so much?’

‘Because she lied to me. Kept me on a string even though she fancied someone else. It was the other man who insisted she tell me.’

‘So why hadn’t she told you before?’

‘She said,’ replied Jake sardonically, ‘that she couldn’t bring herself to hurt me, which was a bit dramatic when all we’d had together were a couple of weekends of wining and dining. And bed, of course. Not earth-shattering stuff, by any stretch of the imagination. Any of it. When I pointed this out she lost it and slapped my face, at which point I lost
my
temper, stormed out of her flat and drove home.’ He was silent for a moment, his eyes absent, then smiled at Sarah in apology. ‘Sorry! I didn’t mean to bore you with my past.’ He slid closer and kissed her before she could dodge away. ‘I had a
very different plan in mind for you for this evening,’ he whispered.

She sprang up, eyeing him in suspicion. ‘Plan?’

‘Turn of phrase, nothing more,’ he said, taken aback. ‘I just wanted to spend time getting to know you better.’

With a session in bed at the end of it? Sarah’s chin lifted. ‘I think I will go home now, please.’

Jake rose to his feet, frowning. ‘Why so soon? If I swear not to lay a finger on you, Sarah, will you stay for a while?’

She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. ‘It’s getting late; we both have work tomorrow—’

‘And suddenly you just can’t wait to get away.’ He looked at her in silence for a moment, giving her time to change her mind. When it was obvious this wasn’t going to happen he shrugged negligently, his eyes suddenly cold. ‘Let’s go, then.’

Sarah sat silent on the way home, cursing her ingrained tendency to take flight at the first hint of sexual danger. This time it had spoiled an evening which up to then had been idyllic. The walk, the meal had been perfect. Then the mere mention of bed had ruined everything.

When they arrived in Campden Road Jake pointedly left the engine running. He got out of the car, and with punctilious courtesy helped her out, then saw her to her door, brushed aside her thanks for the meal, and drove off.

Sarah spent a very restless night afterwards. Had she really expected Jake to beg her to stay? Fond hope! The easy charm was a very effective disguise for the steel underneath. Not that it mattered any more, because she’d blown any chance of getting to know him better. All because Jake Hogan had uttered the buzz words ‘plan’
and ‘bed’. And to cap it all they hadn’t exchanged telephone numbers after all.

No more a lover of Mondays than anyone else, Sarah found her prevailing mood of deep depression made the next day so much harder to bear than usual that her colleagues even asked if she were coming down with something. To demonstrate that she wasn’t she drove herself so hard that in addition to her usual work she finished most of the day’s correspondence during office hours, then stayed on late to finish the rest.

When Sarah emerged into rain pouring down from a sky as dark as her mood, she trudged along under an umbrella, wondering why on earth she’d polished off the mail in the office when there was a whole evening yawning ahead of her with nothing to do. She was sunk so deep in gloom she jumped yards at a touch on her arm, and whirled round to come face to face with Jake Hogan. He looked tall and unfamiliar in a belted raincoat, a dripping hat pulled down over eyes that held none of their usual smiling warmth.

‘You worked late today,’ he said, without greeting.

‘Hello, Jake,’ Sarah retorted pointedly, to disguise how utterly delighted she was to see him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Waiting for you, and getting drenched for my pains. I’ll drive you home.’ Without waiting for consent he took her arm to hurry her to the car waiting at the kerb, but said nothing about his reason for waiting for her. They were halfway to Campden Road before Sarah could bring herself to break the silence between them.

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ she said at last, staring at the rain sluicing down the windscreen.

‘So am I.’ He slanted a baffled look at her. ‘What the hell did I
do
?’

‘You said you like the truth,’ she said after a while.

‘Normally, yes,’ agreed Jake heavily. ‘This time, probably not.’

Spit it out, Sarah told herself. Get it over with. ‘You said you wanted to be part of my life in whatever way I chose.’

He nodded, his face sombre. ‘I did. And I meant it.’ He parked the car outside the house, took off the hat, tossed it into the back seat, then turned to look at her. ‘I still mean it.’

Sarah returned the look steadily. ‘Jake, how long did your association with the advertising lady last?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Not very long at all. Three—no, four—weekends. Probably no more than ten days or so, all told.’

‘But right from the start you were sleeping together?’

Jake’s eyes lit with sudden comprehension. ‘Yes. I went to stay in her flat, and she took it for granted I’d share her bed.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s common enough practice, Sarah.’

‘So common that bed was the plan you had for me last night, too?’

Jake stared at her in brooding silence for so long Sarah was on the point of getting out of the car when he finally spoke.

‘You mean you can’t bear the thought of that, Sarah? With me?’

‘No,’ she admitted, flushing. ‘I don’t mean that at all. But it’s not going to happen just the same, Jake. No bed. Just friendship.’

He took her hand. ‘You might change your mind as you get to know me better.’