Forgotten Fiancee

by Lucy Gordon

  He held one of Nicky’s hands, wondering how he could have missed the significance of the long fingers so clearly derived from his own. The truth had been staring him in the face all the time, but until now he hadn’t been ready to see it.

  His heart almost failed him when she set the enormous plate before him, but luck was on his side. Sarah had to go downstairs for a moment, and her uncle hadn’t yet arrived. There was only Nicky to see him seize a plastic bag from the drawer, dump most of the breakfast inside it and hide it away. “Let’s keep this our secret,” he told his son. The next moment the sound of Uncle Nick’s step made him sit down hastily at the table.

  During breakfast it stopped raining, and a weak sun appeared. People began to arrive on the green with stalls and tents. Sarah got to work on a batch of biscuits she was making for the cake stall, while Justin and Nick went over to inspect Great Gavin in his new home, where children were busy garlanding him with flowers.

  Although the fete hadn’t yet begun there was no lack of entertainment. For the past week there’d been a coolness between Mrs. Drew and Miss Timmins. Mrs. Drew’s prize Siamese, Princess Delphine, had given birth to a litter of four, one of which was a most un-Siamese looking black. Allegations had been made in icy, dignified tones. Crosspatch had discreetly vanished, prompting Miss Timmins to frenzied accusations of abduction and assassination.

  Fortunately for the peace of Haven, Crosspatch returned, having spent a happy few days on a farm, fighting every tom in sight and increasing the black kitten population. An apology was demanded and refused. Words were said. The vicar reflected sorrowfully that the fracas was unsuited to the character and dignity of both ladies, but everyone else enjoyed it enormously.

  Miss Timmins took early possession of her stall and began unpacking her store of knitted garments. A bus drew up by the green and disgorged a crowd from Eltonbridge. Some were the tug-of-war team. The rest were the band, lugging tubas, French horns and drums. They began to tune up, noisily and inexpertly. More buses arrived, bringing the Eltonbridge supporters to cheer their team on.

  It was still chilly, but luckily there was no more rain, and the sun became a little stronger. Visitors began to converge on the green, determined to enjoy themselves. Joker, relishing his newfound gift for organizing, arranged helpers to transport Sarah’s supplies to the stall. When the things were all gone she fitted Nicky into his stroller and locked the shop. “Come along, my little man. Let’s go and see Daddy cover himself with glory.”

  “Excuse me!”

  The vision that stood there almost took Sarah’s breath away. She was a tall, very blond woman, exquisitely groomed and wearing too much jewelry. It was clear that she came from a world far removed from Haven, and without knowing why Sarah felt a frisson of fear. “Can I help you?” she asked politely.

  “I’m looking for Justin Hallwood. Have I come to the right place?”

  “Yes, Justin’s staying here.”

  The woman glanced at the shop and the rooms above it. “Actually here?” she asked.

  “Yes, actually here.”

  “Then you must be Sarah.” The words were accompanied by a smile that might have been gracious but for a chilly watchfulness that never left the woman’s eyes.

  “I’m Sarah Conroy.”

  “I’ve so longed to meet you. You’ve looked after Justin, haven’t you? I hear you’ve done a wonderful job. You must let me thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Dislike made it hard for Sarah to speak calmly. “I don’t know why you should thank me, Miss…”

  “My name is Marguerite.” The woman spoke as though her name should mean something.

  “I’m afraid Justin’s never mentioned you to me,” Sarah said.

  Marguerite gave a tinkling laugh. “Didn’t he? That was very naughty of him. But of course, he’s not quite himself since we had that terrible accident together. I’ve always felt so guilty about that. You see, I was driving the car. Of course, I shouldn’t have done, but that’s Justin for you! When he gives you a present he wants to see you enjoy it at once.”

  “Justin gave you the car?” Sarah asked, trying not to let her disturbance show.

  “Oh, yes. It was to mark—well, let’s just say it was a very special occasion. Do tell me where I can find him. I’m just longing to see his face when I surprise him.”

  “He’s over there, on the green,” Sarah said, indicating.

  Marguerite immediately hurried away. Justin was talking to the vicar. He turned as Marguerite ran to-ward him and threw her arms about his neck in an ecstasy of greeting, kissing him again and again. Sarah couldn’t make out Justin’s face, but it was clear that he knew this woman.

  She went to her stall, trying not to let herself get upset. Justin loved her. He’d asked her to marry him, and he wasn’t the man to fool around with two women. But while his mind had that huge gap he was two men. This woman came from his unremembered life, the part that happened after Sarah had fled. There was no knowing what she meant to him, what promises he’d made.

  Justin was wishing the tug-of-war would come soon. His fever was mounting, and the world had begun to swim around him. Marguerite’s arrival, followed by Greg, had the unreal quality of a dream. He introduced them to the vicar as “my brother and Miss Marguerite Vanner.” Marguerite’s smile took on a fixed quality at his formal description, and she hastened to say, “I’m dear Justin’s closest friend. I’ve been so worried about him.”

  George responded politely, but not like a man overwhelmed by charm, so Marguerite changed tack, admiring everything in sight, especially the church, and making a generous gift to the restoration fund. She then made the round of the stalls, buying knickknacks and generally behaving like visiting royalty. Courtesy obliged Justin to escort her.

  “Darling, whatever have you gotten yourself into?” she asked under her breath.

  Justin wished she would go away. His brain was buzzing, and he felt he needed a lot of mental energy to cope with this designing woman. “Why did you come here?” he asked.

  “Because I was worried about you, of course. You know how bad I’ve always felt about our accident, and when you wandered off like that, looking so ill—well, I was just devastated. We could have gone away somewhere together, and I could have looked after you.”

  “I’ve been looked after extremely well.”

  “By the shop assistant?” Marguerite asked with a little trill of laughter. “My darling, you really were scraping the bottom of the barrel, weren’t you? ‘Oh, yes, please, I’d love to buy one of those cute little— er, I’d love one.’”

  “Don’t speak of Sarah like that,” Justin said.

  “How sweet of you to be loyal to her. I won’t say another word, I promise.”

  “Look, we’ve got to have a long talk. There are a lot of things we need to get straight.”

  “Of course, darling.” She squeezed his arm. “Why don’t we go somewhere now? The beer tent, perhaps? Or that ducky little place where they’re selling teas and stale buns.”

  Her tone had a sarcastic edge that brought words of reproof to his lips, but they died unspoken. She wasn’t worth the effort. After today he need never see her again. There would be only Sarah, and the plans he’d made for his new life here.

  He turned, seeking the reassurance that the sight of Sarah would give him. She was only a few feet away at the cake stall, concentrating on arranging her wares. Justin went to stand in front of her. “It’s going well, isn’t it?” he asked, trying to sound hearty.

  “I’ve never known it to go better,” she said brightly. “Are you all ready for the fray?”

  “Lead me to it.”

  “We’re all rooting for you.”

  Marguerite’s tinkly laughter reached them. She was throwing hoops at a stall and giggling at her mistakes. “I see she found you all right,” Sarah observed.

  “Have you met Marguerite?” Justin sounded displeased.

  “Yes. She told me it was her fault you had
an accident.”

  “She was driving the car.”

  Sarah longed to ask if the car had really been his gift, and why, but pride held her silent.

  Marguerite was hopping about on one foot, having lost a dainty sandal in the wet ground. “I’d better go and see nothing happens to her,” he said.

  Marguerite hopped toward him and clutched his arm, full of fluttery charm. “Look what I’ve done now, darling,” she said, and swayed, obliging him to put his arm about her. He said something Sarah couldn’t hear, but she heard Marguerite’s answer well enough.

  “I think they’re all too quaint and charming. Just like a picture postcard come to life, only not quite real, if you know what I mean. Honestly, some of them ought to be wearing peasant smocks—”

  “Cut it out, Marguerite,” Justin said wearily. His head was thumping, and it was an effort to speak. “These are good people, and that sort of remark only gets their backs up.” Inwardly he prayed for the day to be over soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep upright.

  “Well, what do you care?” she snapped. “You know as well as I do that you don’t really…” The rest was lost as Justin led her away.

  For the first time Sarah noticed how cold the wind was. There’d been something wrong with Justin’s manner. He’d reproved Marguerite for her insensitive comment, but only halfheartedly. There’d been none of the passionate affection she’d come to believe he felt for Haven. Others had noticed, too. Haven villagers were looking at each other in bewilderment.

  Sarah served customers calmly for the next hour, then it was time for the tug-of-war. Justin appeared with Marguerite in tow. “Wish me luck,” he said to Sarah.

  “Go in and win for us all,” she said.

  “I’m going to win that medal. You’ll see.”

  “Will the teams line up, please?” The words came over the loudspeaker.

  “Right, this is it.”

  “Let us both give you a kiss for luck,” Sarah said. She needed the reassurance that he would be prepared to kiss her in front of this other woman.

  He was about to kiss them, but then Nicky reached toward him and something shouted a warning in Justin’s head. The child, so small and precious, and himself, a mass of flu germs. It would be unpardonable to give his illness to either of the two he loved, but the baby especially. He jerked back as fast as he could.

  “They’re calling me,” he said hurriedly, and departed, giving her hand a squeeze to let her know that no rebuff had been intended.

  Sarah never felt it. She stayed rooted to the spot, trying to come to terms with the fact that Justin had snubbed her rather than let Marguerite see them kiss.

  Justin took his place at the head of the team, trying to remember everything he’d learned, but things were becoming a blur. Three things stood out in his mind— Sarah, Nicky and the vital importance of the little tin medal. Marguerite blew him a kiss. He didn’t even see her. But Sarah did.

  “Take your places.”

  Haven faced Eltonbridge. Eltonbridge faced Haven. Hands on the rope. Feet in position. Haul.

  At first Justin could hardly believe he’d done this before. It was like the first time, only worse. His body was a mass of feverish aches. Then he got a grip on himself. His legs seemed to find their strength as he dug into the earth and strained backward.

  The crowd had gathered around them, cheering and shouting encouragement. Haven’s cheers turned to wails of dismay as Eltonbridge managed to get back a few feet, nearly dragging Haven over the line. But at the last moment Justin dug his heels in and stopped the rout. The sudden halt jarred painfully through his body, but he managed to keep going. He was aching all over, on fire, blind, deaf, but something drove him on to the greatest effort of his life.

  Bit by bit Haven drew back. Their rivals fought them for every inch, but once they’d started going forward they couldn’t stop. The Eltonbridge leader’s feet slipped closer to the line. His teeth were bared, his body straining, but he was struggling against a man fighting for his life, and he didn’t have a chance.

  Justin felt the victory creeping nearer. One more effort, just one more…

  A deafening roar went up as Eltonbridge crossed the line and collapsed in a heap. Justin was drained, gasping, too weary to fully appreciate what had happened. But people were dancing about him, slapping him on the back, yelling, “We’ve won! We’ve won!” And at last he understood.

  He searched frantically for Sarah in the crowd. Surely she and little Nicky had seen his moment of triumph? But the mass of faces seemed to swim before his eyes. He was wet and there was a chill wind, but his body was on fire. He tried to clear his head, wishing it didn’t ache so, and looked again for Sarah.

  “Justin, dear—”

  There was a light hand on his arm, a beautifully modulated voice—but it wasn’t her voice. He turned and tried to speak, but the raging fever seemed to be consuming him, and the next moment he collapsed into Marguerite’s arms.

  She screamed but seized him instinctively. It was the grip of a woman who’d almost let her property slip through her fingers, but wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Greg helped her lower his brother to the ground.

  “He’s ill,” she cried. “Get an ambulance.”

  Greg hastily got out his mobile phone and began to dial. People were crowding around, voicing their concern.

  “We should get him inside,” George said, shouldering his way forward. “Take him into the vicarage quickly.”

  Sarah dropped to her knees beside Justin, calling his name frantically. He half opened his eyes, and his lips shaped her name.

  “We won,” he murmured.

  “Yes, yes, never mind that now. Darling, what’s happened to you?”

  “Just—a little chill—wanted to explain—”

  “Explain what?”

  “Everything—you were right—not to tell me—best this way.” His eyes closed.

  Marguerite had been favoring the vicar with her most gracious smile. She turned in time to see Sarah with Justin, looking at him with an expression that told her love as clearly as words. Marguerite saw his lips shape her name. The next moment the tug-of-war team lifted him and bore him to the vicarage. They laid him down on the huge sofa. Sarah tried to reach him, to kneel beside him and hold his hand, but she found the place already taken by Marguerite, as of right.

  “The ambulance is here,” Greg said, from the window.

  “Thank goodness!” Marguerite cried theatrically.

  George pulled open the door, and in an instant the ambulance crew were inside the vicarage. Justin was fast slipping out of consciousness. Sarah watched frantically as he was lifted onto the stretcher and carried out. She followed, but Marguerite was ahead of her, climbing into the ambulance.

  “I’m coming with him,” she told the crew. “He’s my fiance.”

  The doors slammed, hiding Justin from sight. The next moment the ambulance was moving, taking him away from Sarah, standing there, staring in stunned disbelief.

  “What are you doing?” Uncle Nick demanded. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

  “That woman—she said he was her fiancé.”

  “And you believe her?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think he could have been lying to me all this time—treating me as a diversion?”

  “Is that what you really think?” Nick demanded, more fiercely than he’d ever spoken to her before.

  “No,” she cried. “No.”

  “Nor do I. I was pretty much agin him when he first arrived, but I’ve changed my mind. I won’t believe the worst of Justin until I hear it from his own lips. Come on.” He started to walk purposefully.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to follow that ambulance. They must have gone to the county hospital, so we’ll catch up there.”

  The Graingers took charge of Nicky, and in a few minutes they were in the car and on their way to the county hospital. “Uncle Nick, what do you think
is the matter with him?” Sarah asked wretchedly. “I didn’t even know he was ill. How could I be so careless?”

  “Don’t blame yourself. He was doing his darnedest to hide it from you. He didn’t eat much breakfast this morning. He threw it away when he thought neither of us was looking. That was some act he was putting on.”

  To her relief the county hospital was soon in sight. The minute Nick stopped the car Sarah jumped out and ran up the steps.

  “Can you tell me where Mr. Hallwood is, please? It won’t be there,” she added quickly, as the receptionist consulted a register. “He can’t have arrived more than a few minutes ago.”

  “Ah, yes, I know who you mean. No, he’s not here.”

  “But he must be—I saw the ambulance take him away.”

  “But when he got here there was another ambulance waiting, a private one. He’s been taken away to some private hospital.”

  “Which one? Where?” Sarah asked frantically.

  “Somewhere in London, I think they said.”

  “London,” Sarah said faintly.

  “She’s done it!” Nick exploded, arriving at the desk. “That woman’s kidnapped him, that’s what she’s done.”

  Sarah clutched the desk as her world collapsed about her. Justin had been spirited away, and she didn’t know where to start looking for him.

  “And really I don’t know what her parents were thinking of to send her to me.” Miss Timmins sighed. “As though I’d know what to do with a surly fifteen year-old. She doesn’t want to be here. She wants to be in town with her boyfriend, though how she got a boyfriend when she never seems to wash and wears her hair in rats’ tails, I don’t know.”

  Sarah came out of her unhappy reverie. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I was telling you about my great-niece, Elsie Smith, who’s landed on me like a very unwelcome visitation. She’s my sister’s granddaughter, and the family packed her off here to get her away from a most undesirable young man. She’s rude, sulky, never helps in the house, and the sooner she goes, the better.”