Sins of Sarah

by Anne Styles

'That was a complete one-off. And they don't happen twice - at least not to me,' he complained. 'Come on, let's forget about it for the day. We'll concentrate on us for a change.' He drove the Jaguar as fast as he dared, bearing the speed limit in mind all the time. He had been picked up too many times to ignore it, especially now he had an American licence that proclaimed his residency. But it gave Sarah time to view the spectacular scenery as they drew closer to Palm Springs, and to exclaim over the thousands of windmills that lined the desert road on the outskirts.

  'A power experiment, I believe,' Nick said, casually as she questioned him. 'Amazing, aren't they?' She cried out with pleasure at the sight of the immaculate state of the desert town too when they finally reached it. It was the perfect oasis, green-lawned and flower-filled along every street, each car they passed seemingly more luxurious than the one before.

  'The grass is watered every evening,' Nick told her. 'Not the time to walk around town - you get soaked! We'll book into the hotel and then go over to Joe's place. The caretaker is expecting us.' Even the hotel made her gasp, with most of its huge foyer taken up by a real lake. A luxurious motor launch ferried guests out through open windows to disembark at the restaurants on the edge of the outdoor part of it.

  'Anything is possible in this town,' Nick laughed. 'It has some of the wealthiest citizens in the world. Bob Hope had a house up on the mountain that cost millions of dollars, and he only used it for parties! The medical facilities are pretty fantastic too, and you can even get dried out.'

  'Of course - the Betty Ford Clinic!' 'Not somewhere you'll need, I hope, darling!' Nick opened their room door and swung her into his arms. 'This is a cure for most ills!' 'Lovemaking?' Sarah giggled as he rolled her onto the bed. Nick was in holiday mood and she was loving it.

  'Most of the time, but maybe not quite now,' he said regretfully. 'I really should learn to curb my baser instincts!'

  'I'll tell you when that's necessary,' Sarah told him. 'But for now . . .' Somehow she manoeuvred him over her, and she found herself being very thoroughly kissed before he regretfully let her go.

  'It's that or we'll never get to Joe's place,' he told her. 'I have only a certain amount of control, and I come very close to losing it every time you come near me! Now let's go!'

  His friend Joe was a producer in commercials, and very successful, Sarah thought, if his house was anything to go by. She managed not to cry out with shocked delight as Nick drove in through the gates of the exotic, lush-looking development. How Maggie would love this, she decided with a wicked smile.

  The house he aimed for was huge. A white-painted Spanish-style hacienda, with the soft terracotta curved tiles now so familiar to her, it seemed to ramble for ever with endless cool arched walkways and fountain-strewn courtyards.

  'Nick! You can't be serious about this?' She stared at him in astonishment. 'It'll cost an absolute fortune!'

  'If you like it, I'll buy it,' he said simply, 'I've always liked it and if I'm really honest, I've coveted it for years. Now thanks to Seth and his rotten Brazilian film I can afford it, and at last I have someone to share it with.'

  They were left to themselves to look around, and Sarah ran from room to room shrieking with delight like a small child on a treat. The whole house thrilled her almost senseless. There was nothing in it that she even remotely wanted to change, from the vast, immaculate kitchen to the wildly opulent master suite. Situated at the top of its own staircase it had curved walls, with huge French windows opening onto a balcony. The view of tall palm trees and mountains from it quite took her breath away - what was left of it.

  'I'd want the house for this view alone!' she gasped. 'Oh, Nick, yes! I want it - desperately!' She leant perilously over the balcony rail to catch a glimpse of the obligatory California pool carved into the immaculate lawns, and thought of her child growing up in such beautiful surroundings, learning to swim in the pool, running and playing under the walkways, at home here. She turned to tell him about the baby - this time she would tell him, she decided - but, ironically. Nick was already halfway down the spiral staircase.

  Slowly, Sarah walked away from the balcony and went back downstairs as the thought hit her. It was impossible to tell him about the baby. The time would never be right. And if she couldn't tell him that, where did it leave their relationship?

  Ten seconds later, the reality of that horrible truth hit her. Nick paused in the doorway of what was obviously a nursery and laughed. 'Well, we won't need this room,' he said. 'But it might make a nice gym for you, darling.'

  'Nick,' Sarah said, nervously. 'I know what you said about Charlotte, but don't you ever want more children?'

  'No - no I don't!' Nick paused then at the look of pain that crossed her expressive eyes. 'Surely, darling, you must know that by now? Anyway, there won't be time - certainly not for a year or two. I want you to succeed in the business first. Does it bother you? Not having children? I've never made a secret of not wanting any more, I thought you'd accepted it?'

  'I have - well, more or less,' she admitted, trying to sound casual. 'But I'm sure it wouldn't affect my career that much. Nick. After all, Angelina has children, and look where she is!'

  'Perhaps later,' Nick acquiesced. 'When you're really established and we're properly married. Then I might be persuaded - though I think I'd have to be blind drunk for nine months to cope with it! I certainly couldn't envisage having a child out of wedlock. It wouldn't feel right at all. Sorry, does that make me sound old-fashioned?'

  She knew then, miserably, that she would be taking her secret back to England with her. There was no other way but to keep it from him until he was back from Brazil and they were finally together. It would be almost time for the baby to be born by then and Nick would have no choice but to go along with it. At least, she reasoned, he wouldn't have months to worry about her if he didn't know.

  That thought was the only thing that comforted her on the interminable flight back. Knowing they were parting for at least three months made them both desperately unhappy, and at that point Sarah almost gave in to his pleas that she abandon everything and stay in LA with Miriam and Seth. Only her own strict sense of loyalty kept her from doing as he asked. It would be totally unfair to the cast and crew of the Bentley drama she told him gently, and of course he knew she was right. Nick, like Sarah, had a very strict code of behaviour when it came to work ethics. Nevertheless, she was close to tears almost the entire journey, and she was thankful for the luxury of being able to hide in the first class lounge at LAX before she boarded the plane.

  Cress was livid with her when she met her at Heathrow. 'You can't do this, Sarah!' she stormed at her. 'It's not fair to Nick. He may have some funny ideas, but he has a right to know. It's his child, after all. You should have told him!'

  'I'll do exactly as I please!' Sarah declared. 'Really, Cress, it's the only way.'

  'And if Nick's film overruns, you'll simply present him with a bundle in a shawl, will you?' Cress said sarcastically. 'You're going the right way about losing him, Sarah. And it's not as if James and I will be around to pick up the pieces - for a while anyway.'

  'Why? Oh, God, Cress, where are you going?'

  'Australia! In two weeks' time,' Cress admitted. 'James has a fantastic new part and we'll be there for four or five months. I'm going with him, obviously. I couldn't bear to be apart from him for all that time.' As she couldn't bear to be apart from Nick, and yet she had to be. Without Cress around she would be really alone. She could hardly bear the thought of it, she relied so much on Cress. And it was Cress who, despite Sarah's misgivings about her own plight, went happily with her for the routine scan. She was as excited as Sarah as the radiologist explained all the lines and dots that made up the baby on the screen, and they went back to Hurlingham together both just as eager to show James the picture they had been given of the scan. She roundly cursed her sense of honour on the journey out to Spain to start filming, and met up with the crew with a heavy heart. Yet it turned out to be her salva
tion. To be working hard again was exactly what she needed, and she didn't spare herself. Only the director and the costume designer knew she was pregnant, and, having worked with them both before, she trusted them with her secret. Anna, the designer, came up trumps with loose surcoats over her sumptuous medieval gowns that hid any trace of her thickening waistline, and the director carefully rearranged the schedule so that her more strenuous riding stints were at the beginning of the shoot.

  She wrote long, anguished letters to Nick, as he did to her. At least his written words were some comfort in her unhappy state. She found herself carrying his letters around with her, reading and re-reading his beautiful prose.

  She realized then how limited her own education had been as she read the poetry he quoted, and eventually turned back to the classics she had long neglected to read the originals his letters gave hints of.

  Daunted slightly by his knowledge compared to her own, her doubts began to plague her again. Anna laughed, and told her it was just her hormones playing up. As a young mother herself, she was the ideal person to have around - better in some ways than Cress. Anna was sensible and down to earth, and a fund of newly riveting information about babies!

  Cheerfully, the two girls took a trip to Seville on a rare free day, and with Anna's help Sarah excitedly bought the first clothes for her baby - delicately embroidered outfits that she couldn't help looking at over and over again once they got back to their hotel. Anna taught her to smock in the long hours of hanging around that they had to do, and Sarah, always an enthusiastic needlewoman, took to it easily and was soon producing her own pretty garments. Even with the endlessly boring gathering she found it relaxed her tremendously.

  By the time she returned to London she had quite a pile of clothes in the pale blue silk-covered box that Anna had given her, and she felt totally confident in her baby's reality. During the last few days on location it had begun to move inside her, a delicate fluttering that had terrified her for a few moments until the patient Anna had explained what it was. Then she had been thrilled, and had even more wanted to share it with Nick, and she had cried endlessly when she realized she couldn't.

  He was in Brazil by then, and even if she had wanted to speak to him she knew it was almost impossible. He had already warned her of the problems. The unit was a good two days' travelling time from LA, way up the Amazon river in the depths of the thickest jungle the location manager could find, and living in remote native villages half the time.

  The thrust back into her own world was sharp and painful, as George met her at the airport with the news that her flat was not only sold, but that the buyer, an American friend of his, wanted to move in very quickly. 'What the hell shall I do now, though?' Sarah wailed at him. 'I won't be going to the States for months, George!'

  George frowned. 'Nick said you were to move into his flat, didn't he? What's the problem?'

  'I can't do that!' Sarah gritted her teeth. 'George, don't you realize, I'm having a baby - Nick's baby. I can't move into his flat, it would attract too much attention. He isn't divorced yet, and if Diana found out he'd never get one.'

  'Well, you've really done it now! You bloody idiot, Sarah! Have you no sense?' George sighed with frustration.

  'Not where Nick is concerned - not much,' she ad-mitted.

  'So what has he to say on the subject?' George asked. 'He's not much of a prospective father, I must say, swanning off to Brazil for months and leaving you to cope.'

  Sarah had to admit then that Nick knew nothing about the baby, and suffered a furious tirade from her irate brother as he drove down the M4 towards Chelsea.

  'Maggie will go mad,' he moaned. 'You know what she's like!' For all his high-powered business life, Maggie ruled her husband with a fierce power and her strait-laced upbringing coloured both their lives.

  'Don't worry, George, I'm not moving in with you and Maggie,' Sarah reassured him. 'I couldn't take Maggie's fire and brimstone recriminations! I'll rent somewhere if I have to - perhaps in the country, away from the Press.'

  'I can't believe they haven't found out yet,' he groaned. 'It will be hell when they do. Perhaps it's a good thing Nick is so far away. Maybe they won't cotton on to his being the father!'

  'Don't worry, George, I'll keep well away from the Press,' Sarah said loftily. 'They won't be interested in me - especially if I disappear for a while.'

  'Don't be so sure, little one.' George looked worried. 'I think perhaps you should ask Charles for help, he is very fond of you - and Nick. I'm sure he'd do anything he could for you. You can't live completely alone in your condition.'

  Charles! She has completely forgotten about him. Maybe, she wondered, he would have somewhere on the estate she could rent - but was it really fair to ask him? He loved her, she knew and he would be devastated to find she was going to marry Nick. Since he and Nick had quarrelled over her they had almost ceased to communicate unless it concerned the business.

  But once she had phoned the estate agents handling the sale if her flat she began to realize the urgency of the position she was in. The buyer wanted possession, and in less than three weeks she would be homeless. George had simply assumed she would move into Regent's Park - the one thing she knew she couldn't do.

  With a heavy heart she drove down to Hastings Court, knowing by then that there was no other option. Panicked even more by yet another phone call from a newspaper columnist fishing about Nick that morning, she knew she had to get out of their way, somehow, before they really became suspicious.

  Typically, Charles welcomed her with open affection, hugging her enthusiastically before he led her indoors. 'I was beginning to think you'd left me for good,' he told her, laughing. 'The whole day has changed for the better!'

  'It may not have when you know why I'm here,' Sarah replied drily. 'You won't like it, Charles.' She was as gentle as she could be in telling him and then almost wished she hadn't. He was indeed devastated, and for long minutes he said nothing as he struggled to get to grips with the news. He had always thought Nick was solidly trapped into his marriage to Diana, the fact that he was finally seeking a divorce hit him like the proverbial heat-seeking missile.

  'He won't be able to divorce soon - probably not for years,' he said at last. 'You know that, Sarah?'

  'Yes, I know.' Sarah picked nervously at the ruched edge of a cushion. 'It doesn't matter, Charles, really it doesn't. We can live with it. But Nick thinks all Diana really wants is money. She's just using access to Charlotte as a means to get it.'

  'And she'll go on doing it, believe me!' Charles said. 'You'll never have a minute's peace. Do you really want to live like that? Nick is hardly the super-faithful type, either. You'll have a dog's life with him.'

  'He's faithful to me! Oh, I'm sorry, Charles, I shouldn't have come to you! It's really not fair! I should have known better.' Sarah got up, but immediately Charles reached out to her.

  'No, don't go, Sarah, I can help and I will.' Charles could finally see a way to beat Nick. 'You can live here with me. I'll look after you, I promise.'

  'Charles, I can't!' she protested. 'Nick would hate it, for one thing!'

  'Nick's in Brazil,' Charles pointed out. 'And he's doing nothing for you. You could move into the pavilion for now. It's furnished and you'd be safe from the Press here. No one could get to you. The security here is very tight -- as you know.' The idea was tempting. Sarah thought rapidly.

  'As long as you know how things are, Charlie,' she said, slowly.

  'I'm asking you as Nick's friend - nothing more. Nick's friend, but more yours,' Charles said. 'I would never let anything happen to you, Sarah, be assured of that. Leave everything to George and I to arrange. You needn't even go back to London if you don't want to. Let's go down and look at the pavilion, shall we?'

  She had always liked the pretty little house in the grounds, and the thought of making it her home, albeit a temporary one, rather excited her. Charles seized on her enthusiasm and it seemed that within hours she had agreed to move in a
nd he was making arrangements for it.

  She went back to Chelsea feeling far more relaxed, and then freaked to find a couple of reporters on her doorstep. Luckily, she was wearing a loose sweatshirt and leggings, so her condition was easily disguised, but real panic set in then. She immediately phoned Charles. 'You were right!' she wailed at him. 'I'm going to pack tonight and come down tomorrow.'

  'Bernard is at Dolphin Square tonight,' Charles said. 'I'll send him round first thing in the morning. He'll do it all for you, Sarah. Don't worry, you have me to care for you now.' He was careful not to use any endearment - that would come later, he decided - though it had never worried him before. This time - this time he was going to win the battle with Nick. Sooner or later Nick would play right into his hands.

  * * *

  It happened far sooner than even the optimistic Charles could have foreseen.

  Sarah settled happily into the pavilion, and into the pampered lifestyle at Hastings Court. Within days she felt as if she had lived there all her life as almost every care and responsibility was lifted from her. She ate most meals with Charles, and consequently spent much of the day with him when he was at home, walking or even riding round the estate. She assured him she was quite capable of riding, but although he insisted on choosing the quietest mount she knew he was uneasy, and finally gave in to allow him to drive her instead.

  Hastings quickly became her home, and Charles seemed only too happy to indulge her in any way he could. She itched slightly to have a telephone line installed in the pavilion, but when Charles suggested that it seemed a waste for so short a time she realized he was right, and settled for having calls put through from the house after finding her mobile had no signal there.

  'It does at least screen out any unwanted calls,' he said sensibly. 'No one need know you're here at all, and the staff have been told not to say a word in the village.' It puzzled Sarah that Nick hadn't written since she had come to Hastings, but then she realized that her note about her move would not have reached him yet and she shrugged it off, writing letters to him almost daily for the faithful Bernard to post in the village when he went out.