by Anne Weale
It was years since Neal had confided his troubles to either of his parents, largely because none had arisen that he couldn’t handle. He had no doubt he could deal with the present imbroglio, but his mother’s slant on it might be worth hearing. He outlined the situation.
Liz Kennedy listened in silence. After some thought, she said, ‘I took to Sarah from the moment we met and this confirms my opinion. She’s right to face up to the special problems that exist. It sounds to me as if she loves you enough to want what’s best for you and to put that ahead of what’s best for her. If you marry her, it’s unlikely you’ll have children. Not impossible...but not likely.’
‘That’s not an issue.’
‘Not for you perhaps...but it may be for her. The least maternal of women tend to want to have a child by a man they love.’
‘Sarah has a child by her first love. I’m happy to be her last love...with or without any offspring.’
‘Then the only possible obstacle to your happiness is her existing offspring. The bond between them is bound to be very strong, perhaps stronger than it should be, given the circumstances. For single parents like Sarah, it must be difficult not to become too close. Parents like Dad and me have each other to turn to when our children fly the nest. When a marriage is strong, it’s good to have time and space to concentrate on the person you started out with.’
Neal smiled at her. ‘Dad’s a lucky guy.’
‘We’re both lucky,’ said Mrs Kennedy. ‘I want the same luck for you. Chris’s marriage seemed to have all the ingredients for success, but it was a disaster. On the face of it, some people might think Sarah wasn’t the right woman for you, but I have the feeling she is.’
After a pause, she added, ‘And however difficult and antagonistic her son may be, I’m sure you can handle him.’
‘He may not be difficult at all,’ said Neal.
‘I think that would be too much to hope for,’ said his mother.
When, three weeks after the visit to London, there was still no word from Matthew, Sarah began to feel annoyed with both the men in her life.
Everyone else’s mind was focused on Christmas, but she found it impossible to think about anything but when she would see Neal again and when her son would turn up.
Neal rang her almost every evening, but said nothing about their next meeting. Matthew didn’t call or send an e-mail. Anything might have happened to him.
‘He’s a wretch to worry you and your mother like this,’ Naomi said crossly. ‘Travel may broaden the mind but it doesn’t appear to have made him more considerate. As for Neal, why can’t you tell him you’re dying to see him?’
‘For the same reason you won’t tell Royce you’d like to be Mrs Baring unless he suggests it,’ said Sarah. ‘We may be post-feminist women, but there are still some areas where we want men to take the lead. Neither Neal nor Royce is the bashful type. If they don’t take the initiative, it’s reasonable to assume that they don’t want the same thing we want.’
‘I don’t know about Royce, but if Neal is still keeping in touch on an almost daily basis, he’s not cooling off,’ said Naomi.
That evening, about the time when Neal usually called her, Sarah’s door bell rang. It was Friday. Her heart leapt in hope that it might be Neal, coming to spend the weekend with her.
She flew downstairs to open the door. For a moment her heart plummeted for it wasn’t Neal on the doorstep, but a man she wouldn’t have known if she’d passed him in a crowded street, without the large rucksack he had dumped on the step.
A mane of dark curly hair tied back at his nape and a neatly trimmed naval beard framed a face with a mariner’s tan that was almost unrecognisably thinner than the face last seen in January.
‘Hi, Mum. How’s it going?’
Matthew stepped over the threshold and enveloped her in a bear hug.
Sarah burst into tears of joy and relief.
The telephone started ringing.
‘Hadn’t you better answer it?’ Matthew suggested, releasing her.
Blinking, fumbling for a handkerchief, Sarah went to the kitchen where there was a wall-hung receiver. ‘Hello?’ she said huskily.
‘It’s Neal. Is something the matter?’
She was surprised he had picked up the vibes so quickly. ‘No, everything’s fine. I just opened the door and found Matthew outside. Can I call you back later?’
‘Of course. Tomorrow will do... when you come down from cloud nine. Bye.’ He rang off.
‘Was that Naomi? How is she?’ Matthew asked. He had heaved his pack over the threshold and dumped it against the panelling at the side of the stairs.
‘She’s fine. It was someone else. Come and say hello to Gran. She’ll be so relieved to see you. We’ve been worried about you.’
‘Women! They’re always worrying!’ Cheerfully dismissing their anxiety, Matthew opened the door of the lounge. ‘Still addicted to soaps, then, Gran?’ he said, with a grin. ‘Shall I keep out till it’s over?’
His grandmother gave a shriek, zapped the domestic drama taking place on the screen and opened her arms to him.
The following evening, while Matthew was out seeing friends, Sarah called Neal.
After some conversation, he asked, ‘Have you told him about us?’
‘Not yet. There hasn’t been time. There’s been so much we wanted to hear about his adventures.’
‘I’ll drive up early next Saturday and take you all out to lunch: That should give you plenty of time to tell him your news,’ said Neal.
Taking her agreement for granted, he said he was busy writing an urgently-needed commentary on the sudden illness of a showbiz star, and brought the call to an end.
Sarah was cooking things for the freezer when Matthew came in. Having him at home meant a lot more food was needed. There had been a time when, although she was busy, he would have expected her to break off and make coffee for him. Now he made some for both of them.
‘You look tired, Mum... you work too hard. This will give you a buzz: I’ve got myself a job... starting Monday.’
While he told her about it, Sarah sipped her coffee and braced herself for telling him her news. She was pleased by the change in his attitude. He did seem a lot more mature, but would his new outlook stretch to encompassing her marriage to a thirtysomething?
Matthew had already heard about her trip to Nepal but not about Neal. When the moment came, she said, ‘I hope you’re free on Saturday because someone I met in Nepal wants the three of us to have lunch with him. Gran has already met him. They get on very well.’
‘Don’t tell me you’ve found her a boyfriend? I thought she seemed a lot more lively. What’s he like?’
‘His name is Neal Kennedy. He’s a qualified doctor but he works as a medical journalist.’
‘If he’s making enough to go on expensive trips, maybe he can afford to take Gran off your hands,’ he said jokingly. ‘That would be brilliant. She’s a dear old stick, but a bit of a weight round your neck.’
‘Actually it’s me he’s interested in. He...he wants to marry me, Matthew.’
Predictably, he looked flabbergasted. After a long pause, he said, ‘That’s quick work, isn’t it?’
‘Nothing is signed and sealed yet. I wanted to wait until you got back.’
‘Well...if it’s what you want, I guess it’s OK by me...but a retired doctor seems kind of old for you.’
‘He’s not retired,’ she explained. ‘Actually he’s younger than I am.’
‘Oh, right. That’s better than a near-geriatric stepfather.’ Matthew, whose body clock was still on South American time, opened the fridge and foraged for something to eat. ‘So is he second time around? Are you going to have to be stepmum to his children?’
By the time Sarah went to bed, she had answered a lot of questions and Matthew seemed to have accepted the presence of a man in her life. But she knew that the moment of truth would be when he met Neal face to face.
On Saturday morning, she wa
ited for Neal’s arrival in a fever of mingled longing and apprehension. It seemed an age since she had felt his arms round her, but how would Matthew react if she spent the night at Neal’s hotel? But it might never come to that. They might dislike each other on sight. Then what?
When she went downstairs after changing into a silk shirt and fine black wool trousers, she found that Matthew had also changed. Since coming home he had had his hair cut and shaved off his beard. Now he was wearing his grey interview suit with a conservative shirt and tie.
Which could only mean he was anxious to make a good impression on Neal, she realised, with a thrust of hope that the meeting would pass off smoothly.
‘Sounds like a car,’ said Matthew, going to the window. ‘Yep, looks like your boyfriend.’
As Sarah went into the hall, her mother glided downstairs on the chair-lift. Sarah opened the front door, oblivious to the cold air as she saw Neal opening the gate, turning her weak at the knees.
He was carrying a large pot plant in a protective shield of transparent paper.
‘It’s seemed a long time,’ he said, pausing to kiss her cheek before entering the hall and placing the plant on the table before embracing Mrs Anderson.
‘Come along in and meet Matthew.’ It was she who performed the introduction while Sarah stood in the background, wondering if one day her son would have the air of authority and the easy charm of the man she was in love with.
She had thought that Matthew would be visibly disconcerted by the fact that Neal was a lot younger than herself. But, if he was, it didn’t show. Perhaps, being still in his twenties, her son saw Neal as a much older man.
Remembering the plant he had brought, she fetched it and placed it on the coffee table.
‘I hope you like azaleas, Mrs Anderson?’ he said, as Sarah unwrapped it.
‘It’s for me? It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen such a big one. That lovely deep pink is my favourite colour. That is kind of you, Neal.’
‘My pleasure. If everyone’s ready, we may as well head for the hotel.’
In the car, the two men sat in front. They both had brown necks and dark hair. Although Matthew’s was naturally curly like his father’s, while Neal’s was almost straight, they could easily have been taken for brothers.
While they were talking about cars, Mrs Anderson touched Sarah’s arm and made faces indicating that they seemed to be hitting it off. Sarah responded by crossing her second fingers over her forefingers.
A few minutes later she saw Neal looking at her in the rear-view mirror. It was only a momentary meeting of eyes but it seemed to send her a message that he couldn’t wait to be alone with her. She longed to reach out and lay her hand on his shoulder.
At the hotel, they had drinks in the bar before moving to the restaurant where the head waiter ushered them to what was obviously one of the best tables.
They were being presented with menus when the wine waiter arrived with one of his juniors wheeling a small trolley on which was an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne. The wine waiter showed Neal the label. Sarah recognised the famous name. Could it be his intention to force her hand by announcing their impending marriage? Surely not? As they hadn’t had any private conversation, he couldn’t even be sure she had told Matthew how things stood.
‘Are we celebrating something?’ her mother asked archly, as a crystal flute filled with the pale golden wine was placed in front of her.
Inwardly Sarah groaned.
‘Your grandson’s safe return from his travels,’ said Neal. He raised his own glass to Matthew. ‘In my view, everyone should go off and see the world before settling down. I notice a big difference between people who’ve done it and those who haven’t. They’re more self-reliant, more capable, more open-minded. To Matthew and his well-spent year.’
Infinitely relieved, Sarah beamed at her son, proudly repeating the toast before putting her glass to her lips.
‘Thanks very much,’ Matthew said, looking slightly abashed at being toasted.
‘I was talking to a TV presenter the other day,’ Neal continued. ‘When he was eighteen, Voluntary Service Overseas sent him to Africa to teach in a secondary school. He said it transformed him. But his most telling comment was, “I’d rather be stuck on a raft with someone who’s done VSO than someone who hasn’t.”’
‘Which presenter was it?’ asked Mrs Anderson. When he told her, she said, ‘Oh, he’s one of my heart-throbs.’
‘I enquired about VSO before I took off,’ said Matthew. ‘Now they only take people with special qualifications, so I went off my own bat.’
Encouraged by Neal to talk about his adventures, he produced several anecdotes the two women hadn’t heard before.
‘You ought to write about your trip. There’s always a market for really good travellers’ tales. It helps to have some contacts. Perhaps I could steer you in one or two useful directions.’
‘Would you?’ Matthew asked eagerly. ‘I’d like to have a crack at journalism. It’s the only career that really appeals to me, but everyone says it’s next to impossible to break into it.’
‘Nothing’s impossible if it’s what you really want,’ said Neal. He switched his gaze to Sarah and gave her a smile of such clear meaning that she felt the others must read it.
Towards the end of the meal, before the coffee was served, Mrs Anderson asked Sarah to help her to walk to the Ladies.
‘I’m so pleased they’re getting on nicely,’ she said, on the way there.
‘It’s early days yet, Mum.’
‘You worry too much, love. I knew it would all work nicely.’
Perhaps she was right, Sarah thought hopefully as, on their way back to the table, she saw the two men deep in conversation.
As the women approached, they both rose, Matthew to push in his grandmother’s chair for her. Neal didn’t move to do the same for Sarah. In fact he blocked her way to it.
Taking her hand in a firm clasp, he looked down at her mother. ‘We’ll see you later, Mrs A. Matthew will explain the arrangements.’
Transferring Sarah’s hand to his right hand and putting his left hand at her waist, he led her away from the table.
‘Where are we going?’ she demanded.
‘I’m kidnapping you,’ he said, smiling down at her. ‘Instead of staying here for the weekend, I’ve booked a room at a place in the country. It’s only an hour’s drive. Matthew will take your mother home. He’s more than capable of looking after her for a couple of nights.’
By now they were near the tall double doors where a waiter was holding the coat Sarah had handed over when they arrived.
‘I hope you enjoyed your lunch, madam?’ he said, as he held it for her to put on.
‘Very much, thank you.’ She gave him an abstracted smile.
To Neal, as he recaptured her hand, she said, ‘But I haven’t any clothes.’
‘You won’t need any. We’re going to spend the entire weekend in bed...making up for lost time. Then we’re going to get married. I’ve asked your son for his approval and he’s given it.’
‘What did you say? What did he say?’
‘I said I loved you and wanted to share lives with you. He said it was a great idea. It would get you off his back. He qualified that by saying that he loved you too, but you and his grandmother were a pair of world-class fusspots and a guy of his age doesn’t need that He also said it would be good to have another man in the family to redress the present imbalance.’
Sarah’s mind was in such confusion that her thoughts had no logical sequence. She said, ‘Couldn’t we stop off at the house to pick up some country shoes? We can’t spend all day in bed. We might want to go for a walk.’
‘If you’re in it, I can easily spend all day in bed. But if you insist, we’ll stop off.’
By now they were outside the building, heading for his car.
‘What about the bill for lunch?’ she exclaimed. ‘Matthew may not have enough money to pay it.’
‘
He won’t need to. I paid it with plastic when you left the table. Everything is taken care of. You can empty your head of all worries and think of nothing but this.’
Instead of unlocking the car, he sandwiched her between the side of it and his tall powerful body. Taking her face in his hands, he said, ‘I need you, Sarah. I’ve never felt, or expected to feel, this way about a woman before. We belong together. You know we do.’
The depth of feeling in his voice made her tremble with longing to believe him. To throw away the fear in the corner of her mind that, always, however happy they were, she would worry about the day when she would no longer be desirable.
And then, looking into his eyes, she had a moment of almost blinding enlightenment, seeing how foolish it was to hold back from happiness because of a distant eventuality that might never come.
Life was so fragile, so fleeting. She, more than most people, had reason to know that tomorrow might never come.
Neal loved and needed her now. The future was unimportant compared with the present.
‘I know we do,’ she said softly. ‘Oh, Neal, what a fool I was not to see that before. I was trying to be wise and sensible. I’m sorry I hurt you, my dear love.’
Regardless of who might be watching, she gripped the lapels of his jacket and reached up to kiss him, closing her eyes as she felt his eager response.
Presently, reluctantly, they drew apart. Neal unlocked the car and put her into it. As he slid into the driver’s seat, he leaned over and gave her another quick kiss before fastening his seat belt and switching on the engine.
‘Where is this place you’re taking me?’ she asked, as he backed the car.
‘Wait and see,’ he said, his attention on what he was doing, but a smile lurking round his mouth. ‘I. promise you it will be a lot more comfortable than Nagarkot.’
‘I loved Nagarkot I was very happy there... even though, at the time, I thought it was just a naughty weekend as far as you were concerned.’
‘I wasn’t sure that you didn’t see it that way. We were both wrong.’