Sins of Sarah

by Anne Styles

'I certainly do!' He smiled at the recollection. 'I think I finally fell in love with you there. I remember watching you sleep one night, and it was all I could do not to wake you up and tell you exactly how I felt. Which reminds me . . .reach over and get my jacket. In the inside pocket. . .' Sarah reached for the navy jacket from the back shelf with difficulty, and then gave a shriek of pure pain.

  Seconds later, as Nick turned in concern, she gave another cry of alarm. 'Nick! I'm bleeding!' The skirt of her denim dress was indeed soaked from the waist down. Hurriedly he aimed for the side of the road and stopped the car.

  'It's not blood!' He touched her skirt tentatively. 'Look.' His fingers were clean, but definitely wet.

  'Then what the hell is it?' Sarah was frantic.

  'I rather think, my darling, that your waters have broken,' Nick said, struggling to contain his own rising panic. 'I guess we're going to become parents a little earlier than we expected. Don't worry, we'll cope.' He unstrapped his belt and got out of the car to go to the boot, pulling a towelling robe out of his bag and then reaching for the map tucked onto a side pocket.

  'Nick, it's a month early!' Sarah blotted at her wet clothes. 'Oh, God, your car is soaked!'

  'Never mind the damn car, it'll clean. Look, we should get you to a hospital, at least to get things checked out and make sure we can safely drive to Cap Ferrat.' He studied the map carefully. 'It's about five miles to Canville; that's a reasonable size - I'm sure we can get some help there. Hold on, darling.' His driving was noticeably faster, his worried glances more frequent as he negotiated the winding uphill route.

  Frantic herself, nevertheless Sarah did her best to hide the sudden strength of the contractions she now knew were the real thing. They weren't, she knew, going to make it to Cap Ferrat.

  The streets of the tiny town were deserted as the inhabitants took their normal long lunch break, and Nick swore violently as he realized their predicament. He was unable even to locate a hospital sign. Instead he aimed for the centre of town and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

  'There's a police station.' 'Police? We need a hospital, not the police,' Sarah protested.

  'Just stay in the car!' Nick pulled up, disregarding the parking restrictions, and raced into the police station.

  Sarah instinctively obeyed him, too frightened to move from her seat as she clutched Nick's robe around her, breathing the familiar scent of his cologne that clung to it. Within minutes he came racing back to her, with two very voluble policemen in tow.

  'Nick!' she almost shrieked at him. 'What on earth - ?' 'Don't worry, they're only going to show me the way!' The two policemen swung onto motorbikes parked out- side the station and gestured to Nick to follow them. They set a brisk pace, whisking through the narrow cobbled streets, and Sarah winced several times as Nick hit bumps in the road. The relief when they turned into the wrought-iron gateway of an impressive-looking building was immense to both of them. It looked more like a hotel than a clinic, and it reassured them more than a little.

  One policeman bustled inside and seconds later a pretty young nurse came out to them. Remembering, then, Nick reached for the inside pocket of his jacket. 'Put this on,' he told her firmly, and promptly slipped her gold ring onto her wedding finger. 'I told them you were my wife.' Somehow she felt much better with the familiar diamonds twinkling at her. 'I never thought I'd see this again.' She smiled at him as he lifted her out of the car. Despite her protests, he carried her up the short flight of steps into the cool white interior of the marble foyer before the nurse produced a wheelchair for her.

  'I can still walk,' she argued vehemently.

  'Do as you're told, Sarah!' Nick commanded as the nurse spoke in rapid French to him. His response was equally rapid and Sarah frowned.

  'Nick, I don't understand,' she pleaded.

  'Don't worry, I'll translate for you. I'm not leaving you for any longer than I have to,' he said. 'They're getting an English-speaking nurse for you.'

  'I need my medical notes - they're in my case,' Sarah realized. Nick cursed and went back to the car when the nurse was joined by another, who did indeed speak reasonably fluent English, and Sarah relaxed. However, it seemed an age before Nick was finally allowed to join her in the surprisingly unclinical room. Prettily decorated in pale blues and lemon, it had light curtains that drifted in the breeze from the open windows that led to a small balcony. Thanks to the policeman they had been directed to the best maternity clinic in the area, and Nick felt a great deal more confident as the doctor who had examined Sarah spoke to them.

  'You will not be able to drive to Cap Ferrat today,' he told them. 'Your wife, monsieur, is most certainly in labour, and it would not be wise to leave here.'

  'Is - is everything all right?' Nick reached for Sarah's hand.

  'Everything is fine, monsieur.' The doctor smiled. 'All progressing normally. Help your wife to relax and don't worry. We won't be far away.'

  'Relax! I'm a bundle of nerves!' Nick confessed, shame-facedly. 'Do you remember your exercises?'

  'I didn't get to the end of the classes!' Sarah admitted with a grin. 'Cheer up, darling. Just think positive. If I have the baby today we can go to California that much quicker.'

  'There is that, I suppose.' But at that moment it wasn't much consolation. Sarah went to the open French window and stood looking at the beautiful grounds, surprising him.

  'Shouldn't you be in bed?' he asked, astonished.

  'Don't be silly. Nick! It's much more comfortable to move around.' She was still wearing his towelling robe, thrown loosely over a Palm Springs T-shirt he remembered buying for her, and in the process she managed to look about sixteen, with her hair still falling loose down her back.

  'Well. if you're sure?'

  'Of course I am. I got that far with my teacher!' Wincing, she reached out to him. 'Just hold me. Nick.' She soon found the most comfortable position in which to ride out the contractions, and Nick automatically curved his arms around her, holding her head against his chest as he stroked her hair. Concerned only for Sarah over the course of the long afternoon, he began to forget the long-abiding memories of Diana's frenzied reactions to the pain of childbirth. Eventually he could only admire what he perceived as Sarah's courage as she rode the increasing waves of pain that grew stronger as time went on.

  Aware of his concern, Sarah calmly asked for pain relief from the midwife assigned to her, knowing exactly what she needed after her teacher's careful instructions. The sheer relief of having Nick with her, when she had been so certain she would be facing their child's birth alone, was in itself enough to give her the strength to cope.

  Even with the help of Pethidine the pain was more than she had been led to expect. It hurt - she freely acknowledged and she clung to Nick unashamedly, but still practised the breathing techniques she had been taught.

  Eventually it was a challenge that fully occupied them both. Though constantly encouraged by the sympathetic staff, and assured that everything was progressing quite normally, Sarah finally gave in to the pressure being put on her and yelled when she needed to. Even with Nick's translation of their instructions she knew things were rapidly getting out of her control. The contractions were coming one on top of the other. Barely had one faded when another started. It was too late for more Pethidine, and even the gas and air that Nick held out to her did little to help.

  'Never again!' she told Nick through gritted teeth. 'I hate you, and your bloody baby!' 'I'm not translating that!' he told her with a grin. 'Behave yourself!' 'It's all right for you - you sadistic bastard!' she yelled right back at him.

  The midwife laughed then. 'That needs no translation either. I've heard it many times before!' she commented wryly. 'Now, try sitting yourself up a bit; you'll be more comfortable.' At her instructions Nick lifted her up against him to support her as she leant back, trusting him to take her weight as they urged her to push - then stop - then push again. She needed no translation; the words were imprinted on her brain now. Her French was cert
ainly improving! But she was tiring; they could all see that.

  'I can't stand it!' she gasped in sheer exhaustion. 'I can't do any more. Nick!' Nick exchanged glances with the doctor and midwife.

  'You can, darling! It's so nearly here, I promise.' His own face was white with strain, the toll taken by his illness obvious as he leant over her. 'Try, please - just once more - please.'

  'It hurts, Nick.' He heard the pain in her voice and his heart went out to her as he felt her grasp on his hand tighten. Sarah felt as if her whole body was being ripped apart as the next contraction tore through her.

  'Push, darling!' he urged her in desperation. 'Push hard!' She was beyond everything, sobbing and gasping with pain and the effort of responding to him.

  'I'm going to burst!' 'Don't be so silly!' Nick laughed, and the atmosphere lightened immediately. 'Come on, Sarah, you can do it!' Afterwards, she had no idea how she managed it, but with one last mammoth effort, as Nick urged her on, the baby slid out of her - and at once the pain stopped.

  'It's a boy! Oh, Sarah, it's a little boy! Oh, well done, my darling. We've got a son!' Nick was crying as hard as Sarah was when the midwife wrapped the tiny wailing baby in a towel and put him into Nick's arms so that he could give him to Sarah. 'Oh, look at him,' he breathed. 'He's beautiful!' They clung to each other and their baby as the staff bustled around them, voluble in their congratulations. It felt more like a party than a delivery room once the initial worry over the baby was over. He was almost six pounds, they discovered, and possessed the healthiest pair of lungs possible. The clinic believed in natural bonding after their deliveries, and once the baby had been checked thoroughly, and Sarah had taken the shower she'd demanded - to Nick's complete amazement - they were left alone with the baby.

  Being France, champagne had appeared magically once Nick had asked for it, and, having shared it with the nursing staff, he held a glass out to Sarah. Leaning back in her nest of pillows, she was full of new energy. 'This will mix really well with all those painkillers!' she giggled after swallowing gratefully. 'Oh, Nick I'm so happy!'

  'Happy it's over? Or about the baby?' He cradled his son in his arms as if he never wanted to let go.

  'Both!' She hesitated. 'Nick, was I so awful?' Nick compared the fear and drama of Charlotte's birth with the miracle he had just witnessed and reached for her hand.

  'Of course not! And it was . . . well. . . something I'm just so glad I was here for.'

  'I can't believe you were!' She sighed and stroked the baby's soft hair, drying now into a dark fluff.' At least you know it's your baby, with that hair!'

  'I would never have thought otherwise!' Nick tensed as the baby suddenly started to wail. 'Oh, God! What's the matter with him? Is he all right?'

  'I guess he's hungry.' Sarah took him from Nick and tentatively lifted him to her breast. 'Oh, Nick, I don't know what to do now!' Laughing together, they coaxed the tiny mouth onto her swollen nipple, and within minutes there was silence as the baby suckled hungrily. 'Just like his father!' Sarah giggled as Nick gently ran his fingers over his son's downy head.

  'Not for a few weeks,' he joked. 'Darling, he's four weeks early! So much for getting ourselves together first!'

  'We can get to know him instead,' Sarah pointed out. 'He's tiny, I know, but six pounds is a safe enough weight - we don't need to worry, Nick.'

  'I just can't believe I'm a father again,' Nick admitted. 'It was all so sudden. Most fathers have nine months to get used to it.'

  'And you had a few hours!'

  'Traumatic ones. Darling, I was so frightened for you.'

  'Nick, I'm only twenty-six, and very healthy,' Sarah assured him. 'Both Charles and I took a great deal of care over my health, whatever else you may think of him.'

  'Diana was only twenty-five when Charlotte was born; they took her away from me to have the baby and she almost died.'

  'Nick, I'm not Diana and I never will be! I don't quite know what you envisage for us, but let's get that quite clear. If we are going to stay together I will never be content with the kind of life you and Diana had.'

  'I would never ask it of you.' Nick was horrified. 'I want to be married to you, Sarah. Live with you, go everywhere with you.

  'Live with the chaos that goes with a baby? Life will change for you – drastically!'

  'Well, maybe we'll consolidate it and have another baby to go with this one! I think I'm getting the idea now!'

  'Ouch! Not yet!'

  'No, not yet. Let's get used to this one first.' Gently, he took the now peaceful baby from her arms. 'Get some sleep, sweetheart. I'll be back in the morning.'

  'Nick, you look exhausted,' Sarah said, worried. 'Promise me you'll rest too? You've already had one night without sleep.' It was typical of her to worry about him at a time like this, he thought as he drove to a nearby hotel. His body ached with fatigue, and he cursed the weakness that overtook him. He had to summon all his strength just to book himself in and make it to a room. Not even bothering to undress, he collapsed onto the bed and, clutching the pillow to his chest, was asleep as he hit the mattress.

  He woke to bright sunshine and the cheerful clatter of a French town outside his window. Even as he surfaced his thoughts went to Sarah and his son, and he reached automatically for the phone. Refreshed by a few hours' sleep, she was incredibly chirpy as she filled him in on his son's progress.

  'They say we can go to Cap Ferrat later today, if we are very careful and have medical care at the other end,' she told him, and Nick heaved a sigh of relief. The sooner he got her and the baby to somewhere safe, the better. Knowing the British Press as he did, he knew it would be only a matter of time before they discovered their whereabouts, and then all hell would be let loose.

  'That's not a problem,' he said. 'Miriam will sort that out, I'll call her.'

  'And George,' Sarah reminded him. 'Please? And in the meantime. Papa, you are going to have to do some shopping! Your son has only two babygros to his name at the moment, and he's soaked both of them!' In a complete daze of euphoria, he phoned George and then sat with the phone in his hand as a dreadful thought struck him. How, he wondered, would he manage to tell his mother that her old-enough-to-know-better son had fathered an as yet illegitimate child?

  Her reaction was all he expected it to be and worse. He wasn't, he discovered, too old to be thoroughly chastised by his mother! This was definitely his time for being brought down a peg or two. Having to go shopping for a tiny baby did very little for his ego either, when he realized he didn't know the first thing about a baby's needs. Luckily the assistant took pity on him, but seemingly sold him half the shop he'd been directed to by a sympathetic hotel manager.

  He recalled all too clearly how closed off he had been after Charlotte's birth. Diana's mother had simply taken over, and for weeks he had barely been allowed near her. Charlotte had been three months old before life had resumed anything like normality. He couldn't help but compare that nightmare time with the present when, loaded with parcels, he strode into Sarah's room to find her standing at the window with the baby in her arms.

  She glowed. It was the only word he could think of as he took in the picture she presented, with her hair loose on the shoulders of an unfamiliar flounced broderie anglaise dressing gown and just a touch of lipstick for make-up.

  Her eyes sparkled with life and her smile was the old familiar one, tilting her mouth up at the comers as she greeted him.

  'My God! Shouldn't you be resting?' he demanded in surprise, dumping the bags on the floor.

  'Don't be so old-fashioned, Nicholas!' Sarah chided. 'I've been up for hours. I had a bath at six o'clock this morning. I'm not ill, you know! I've had a baby, not a major operation.' Carefully, Nick took his sleeping son and laid him in the crib.

  'The first lesson you have to learn in this life, baby of mine, is that when I want to kiss your mother, you have to wait for her to cuddle you! And I do want to kiss her, so very badly.' He lifted her to him and kissed her deeply, feeling h
er trembling in his arms as she pressed tightly into them, and for a few minutes they were lost in their own sweet, sensual world.

  A polite cough interrupted them finally, and they drew apart, both slightly embarrassed, to face a smiling young policeman armed with a huge bouquet of roses. 'Andre Longueville,' he introduced himself with a little bow. 'I just came to wish you well.' It was one of the motorcycle policemen who had guided them the day before, and Nick shook his hand with pleasure after he had presented the bouquet with a flourish. 'A son is good news? Yes?' He beamed at Nick with an all-men-together smile. 'And such a beautiful mother too! You are a very fortunate man, monsieur?'

  Sarah smiled enigmatically at his compliments, until he suddenly seemed to recognize her face, confident then that he knew her from somewhere. Things had been too frantic the day before for him to catch more than a quick glimpse of her. 'He recognized me, Nick,' she said, worried, when Nick came back from seeing him out. 'I'm sure he did!'

  'I don't care!' Nick shrugged. 'I think I want the whole world to know how great things are! Except my mama!' Sarah roared with laughter when he shamefacedly confessed to his conversation with his mother. 'She told me to get my divorce sorted and make an honest woman of you forthwith,' he reported to her. 'And then had the nerve to say that if I had to behave so disgracefully, well, at least I'd managed to father a boy!'

  'A very noisy one too!' Sarah walked across the room and lifted the crying baby from his crib. 'He's just feeling out of things, he can't be hungry.' Nick reached for him immediately, and to her surprise the baby settled in minutes as he soothed him before putting him back down.

  'We can't go on calling him baby,' he said. 'Had you actually thought of any names?'

  'Well, I wondered . . .perhaps . . . Sam? I've always liked it . . .' Sarah hesitated.

  'Then Sam it is,' he decided. 'And Edward? It was my father's name, and it's my second name.' 'Samuel Edward! Do you hear that, Sam? You have a real name at last!' Sarah smiled. They both found it incredibly difficult to tear themselves away from the crib. Nick slid his finger into the tiny clenched palm and could have wept at the pleasure he gained from the way his son's little starfish hands clasped it.