by Lucy Gordon
Sarah forced a smile and tried to sound interested, but it was hard to keep a cheerful face when she was full of fear and misery. A week had passed since Justin had been whisked away from her, and in that time she’d had no word from him.
Nick had driven to the main library in Market Dorsey and looked up private hospitals in the London yellow pages. He’d returned armed with a long list, and they started to telephone them one by one. But some places denied that Justin was a patient, while others refused to disclose whether he was or not. He might have vanished into thin air.
She’d considered all the possible reasons for his silence, none of them comforting. If he was well enough to contact her he must have decided not to. Perhaps the return to his old world had diminished his image of Sarah, turning her into a vacation romance. Her mind bravely faced the possibility, but her heart re fused to believe it. Or maybe his memory had returned, and he was angry with her for concealing the truth.
But the worst thought of all was that he was too ill to contact her, too ill even to ask someone to do it. Somewhere the man she loved might be dying, and she couldn’t find him.
When Miss Timmins had left there was only the vicar waiting to be served. “Still no news?” he asked sympathetically. Sarah shook her head.
“I’m sure you’ll hear from Justin any day. And when you next see him, perhaps you’d like to give him this.” The vicar held out a small metal disk. “It’s his winner’s medal,” he explained. “Naturally the ceremony was a little muted after what happened, but the medals were distributed, and it’s only right that he should have his.”
When George had gone Sarah studied the cheap medal, thinking how much it had meant to Justin, what it had symbolized about his relationship with Haven. Now he’d gone, and perhaps he would never know that he’d achieved what he’d wanted so badly.
“Sarah!”
She looked up sharply as Uncle Nick came hurrying into the shop, waving a newspaper. “Read that,” he said, indicating a headline. It read, Tycoon in Mercy Dash—Fiancée’s Bedside Vigil.
“’Socialite Marguerite Vanner spoke tearfully of her love for tycoon Justin Hallwood, stricken with pneumonia and lying critically ill in St. Luke’s Hospital, London. “He was so happy about our forthcoming wedding,” she said. “And then he became ill. But hopefully he’s on the road to recovery.”’ Forthcoming wedding, my foot!” Nick said trenchantly. “He was no more planning to marry her than fly to the moon. You don’t believe that taradiddle, do you?” he demanded of Sarah.
“No,” she said slowly. “No, I don’t If it is true— he can look me in the eye and say it. But I don’t think it’s true. I think he loves me as I love him. I know where to find him now. St. Luke’s Hospital.”
“Are you going there?” he asked, looking at her curiously.
“Yes, I’m going.” Sarah’s head went up, and her eyes focused on something only she could see. “I ran away once before,” she said quietly, “but I’m not going to run away this time.”
Chapter Twelve
The journey to London seemed to take an age. Nick had insisted on coming, too, like a guardian angel, which had meant a last-minute flurry to find someone for the shop. Miss Timmins, who’d helped out before, agreed to take charge, but only if Elsie could be there, too.
“I daren’t let her out of my sight,” she confided.
Elsie had turned out to be a surly, unappealing girl, wearing clothes too short and tight for her wellrounded figure. She loathed her present banishment, and had clearly decided to be as unhelpful as possible. Nick sighed and let it go. He was far more worried about Sarah.
He drove the hundred miles to London with one stop for coffee. Sarah sat beside him, with Nicky in his car seat in the back.
Neither of them knew that section of London well— and it took three hours to find the hospital, tucked away down a side street and not looking like a hospital at all. “I’ve got to park the car,” Uncle Nick said. “You get on in there.”
Sarah took a deep breath and hurried in, holding Nicky in her arms.
The inside wasn’t like her idea of a hospital, either. With its thick carpets and decorated walls, the reception area might have been the foyer of a luxurious hotel. The receptionist, a glossy young woman, looked up. “Can I help you?”
“I’ve come to see Mr. Hallwood.”
“Your name?”
Sarah gave it, and saw the faintest trace of disturbance on the woman’s face. She knew then that Marguerite had warned them of her coming.
“Will you take a seat, please, while I call someone?”
Sarah stepped back, but she stayed on her feet, and the moment the receptionist glanced away she moved quickly through the nearest door. She had no idea where it led, but instinct warned her to get as deep into the hospital as possible.
She was lost. All the elegant corridors looked like each other, with their beautiful pictures, their discreet wall lights. Then a pair of glass doors ahead of her opened, and Marguerite stood there, barring her way, her face bearing a smile of implacable graciousness.
“Miss Conroy, how lovely of you to come all this way to ask about Justin. Unnecessary, but charming.”
Over Marguerite’s shoulder Sarah could see two white-uniformed men, standing firm.
“I haven’t come to ask about Justin, Miss Vanner,” she said. “I’ve come to see him. I know he wants to see me.”
“Oh, my dear, if only it was possible for you to see him. He’s been far too ill to receive visitors. In fact he’s been unconscious.”
“So that’s why he hasn’t—”
Marguerite realized her slip and recovered quickly. “Of course, I don’t mean he’s been unconscious all the time, just most of it. Recently he’s been awake and talking quite clearly. And he’s never once mentioned you.” Her eyes met Sarah’s, as bland as a baby’s. “I’m sure you’ll understand that I have to be very protective of him, and that’s why you must leave.”
Sarah said nothing. She even backed a few steps as though getting ready to depart. Then, without warning, she moved to one of the chairs by the wall and sat down firmly. Her chin was set.
Marguerite came and sat beside Sarah, her face a mask of compassion. “I really think it would be better for your own sake if you went away,” she said gently. “It can’t do your poor baby much good to be hauled about from pillar to post.” Behind her sweet smile her eyes flashed malice. “I wonder who his father could possibly be,” she murmured.
Sarah met her eyes. “I think you know very well who his father is,” she said. “And that’s why I’m not leaving. I’m staying here until I’ve seen Justin.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
“Miss Vanner, you’d better know something. Justin asked me to marry him.”
Marguerite’s smile became more unbearably gracious. “My dear, I’m sure he did. Justin is an impulsive man.”
Once Sarah would have flinched before these tactics, but not now. In her hands she held not only her own happiness, but also that of her son and the man she loved. And for their sake she could be strong.
“I’m not going,” she repeated.
“It’s so sad to see you taking this attitude,” Marguerite said softly. “It’s not doing you any good. Justin and I have been engaged for ages.”
“I’ll believe that when he tells me himself.”
“But you’re not going to see him,” Marguerite said in a voice that had a slight edge.
Sarah gave a small, mysterious smile. It was incredible, even to herself, that she could smile under these circumstances, but a sense of power was coming to her. Marguerite might seem to hold all the cards, but it was she who possessed Justin’s love. And the proof of it was in her arms right now, reaching out sticky hands to Marguerite’s elegantly coiffed hair.
“You must be very afraid of Justin seeing me,” Sarah said. “That means you know the truth.”
Marguerite’s lips tightened, and she dodged to avoid Nicky’s fingers
. “I have nothing to be afraid of,” she snapped. “Justin is engaged to me. The car in which we had the accident was his engagement gift.”
Sarah looked her in the eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Yes,” Sarah said simply. “I am.”
“In that case, you force me to do something I would rather have avoided.”
“Do your worst. This is Justin’s son, and I’m the woman he loves. And nothing you say will ever change that.”
Marguerite signaled to the two men. “You’re trespassing on private property,” she said. “I’m giving you a last chance to leave quietly. If you don’t take it, I shall have you thrown out.”
“I’m staying here,” Sarah said. She looked at the two men, both of whom seemed uneasy, and smiled. “I think you’re both nice people,” she said. “You’re not going to start manhandling a woman with a baby, are you?”
“Well, if you’d just leave, miss—”
“But I’m not going to leave. And you’re not going to touch me.” She never raised her voice, but the resolve that radiated from her seemed to weaken their wills.
“Get her out of here,” Marguerite snapped.
“That could be a problem,” the older man said.
“There’s no problem, just throw her out.”
“But she’s not causing any disturbance,” the younger one objected. “Why not just let her stay?” He grinned at Nicky, who was pulling at his buttons. He had a six-month-old daughter of his own.
“I want her out,” Marguerite said through gritted teeth.
At that moment a white-uniformed nurse appeared. “Miss Vanner, Mr. Hallwood is awake and is asking for you urgently.”
Marguerite’s face was triumphant as she rose and followed the nurse. Sarah stared after her, sick at heart.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you just slipped away, miss?” the younger guard pleaded.
“Not for me, or for Justin, or for Justin’s son.”
“This is his son?” The young man paused delicately. “Does he, er…”
Into Sarah’s mind came the memory of Justin murmuring weakly a few seconds before he passed out.
You were right not to tell me—best this way.
Did those words really mean he’d remembered everything? Was she reading too much into them?
“Yes,” she said. “He knows.”
Justin had regained consciousness several times, enough to recognize Greg and Marguerite hovering by his bed. But he felt too ill to do more than exchange a few words with them before drifting off again. He understood that he was in the hospital, with pneumonia, but he couldn’t understand why Sarah wasn’t there. She said she loved him. She’d borne him a son. Why wasn’t she here?
At last he awoke with a clear head. A young nurse, tidying things near the window, looked up and smiled at him.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
“You’ve been delirious for several days. Don’t you remember anything?”
“Only vaguely. I’ve lost all sense of time. What day is it? Have you got a newspaper or something?”
“Here’s one your brother was reading last night.” She handed it to him.
It was hard even to lift it in his weakened state, but at last he managed it, and his eyes focused on the words, Tycoon In Mercy Dash—Fiancée’s Bedside Vigil. He had to read them three times before their full import reached him. Then anger gave him strength to crumple the newspaper into a ball.
“Is Miss Vanner in the hospital?” he demanded in a hard voice.
“She’s been with you all the time,” the nurse said sentimentally.
“Fetch her here, please, urgently.”
Marguerite appeared a few moments later, smiling. But the smile faded when she saw the rage on Justin’s face.
“How dare you put such a thing in the paper!” he snapped. “Did you really think you could bounce me into an engagement? You were never more mistaken.”
A moment ago she’d been radiant in victory, but she faltered before his cold anger. “It—was a mistake,” she said. “The reporter just assumed we were engaged, and I was too distraught to put him right.”
“’He was so happy about our forthcoming wedding,’” Justin quoted ironically. “If you were saying things like that I don’t wonder he ‘just assumed’ we were engaged.”
“But, darling, what does it matter?” she asked, recovering a little. “Everyone knew we were planning to marry, even though we hadn’t made an announcement. Why, we’d be husband and wife now if we hadn’t had the accident—”
“If you hadn’t half killed me with your stupid recklessness,” he corrected grimly. “It’s no use, Marguerite. I’m sorry if I led you to expect a proposal. Somehow I could never get the words out, and now I know why. I was in love with someone else all the time.”
“Well, you kept mighty quiet about that,” she snapped. “All the time you were courting me—”
“I didn’t deceive you on purpose. I didn’t know I was in love with Sarah—I tried not to love her, but I couldn’t manage it. Part of me always knew I belonged to her and that one day I’d want to reclaim what I’d thrown away—her and our child. I went to Haven because she was there, although I didn’t know it at the time.”
“I think you must be wandering in your mind,” Marguerite said coldly.
“No. I was once. But I’m at the end of my wandering now. I’m going to marry Sarah. I just hope she hasn’t seen this announcement. What must she be thinking of me? Has she called?”
“There hasn’t been a word from her,” Marguerite said deliberately. “Are you sure this touching little romance isn’t all in your mind, Justin?”
“She may not know where to find me. I don’t suppose you told her, did you?”
“This newspaper will have told her. It’s yesterday’s. She’s had more than twenty-four hours to make contact—but she hasn’t bothered,” Marguerite said, looking at him calmly.
“She may not have seen it,” he said, but even as he spoke he knew he was clutching at straws. In Haven everyone knew everyone else’s business. It only needed one person to see that announcement, and Sarah would know in minutes.
“Just go, please,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry for our misunderstanding, but it’s better if we don’t see each other again.”
She met his eyes and found them implacable. All her most devious weapons had proved useless. Now she could only hope that her last spiteful effort would do some real damage. Tightlipped, she turned and left the room.
By the lift she met Greg. “I was coming to find you,” she said. “That woman from Haven has turned up—Sarah Conroy or whatever she calls herself, and she’s got a child she claims is Justin’s. It isn’t his, of course. He says he never met her until a couple of months ago, but she’s been pestering him. He wants you to get rid of her.”
“Right!” he said grimly, and stepped into the lift.
Marguerite waited until the lift had gone down. When she was sure there was nobody to see her ignominious defeat, she slipped quietly down the back stairs and out by a side entrance.
As soon as he was alone Justin seized the telephone and tried to recall the number of Mottson’s store. But he’d never needed to call it before. He dialed an operator and a young woman asked, “Which town do you require?”
“Heaven,” he said, seeing Sarah’s face. Then, hearing her gasp, he laughed shakily and amended it. “Haven. Mottson’s General Store.”
At last he had the number and dialed it. The phone was answered by an unfamiliar voice. It was young, female and surly.
“Yeah?”
“Who’s that?” he asked, startled.
“Elsie Smith,” Miss Timmins’s great-niece said. “Who wants to know?”
“I want to speak to Sarah Conroy.”
“Ain’t here.”
“Mr. Mottson then.”
“Ain’t here.”
Justin drew a breath. “Can you tell m
e when they’ll be back?”
“I dunno. Gone, ain’t they?”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I dunno. Just gone.”
“What about the baby? Did they leave him with the Graingers?”
“Dunno who the Graingers are, but they took the baby.”
“But you must have some idea—”
“Look, it’s no good asking me. They’re all gone. That’s all I know.” She hung up.
A terrible fear had taken hold of Justin. It was happening a second time. Sarah had disappeared, just like before, because she thought he’d let her down. He should have told her everything he’d remembered at once. Now it might be too late. He’d been given his second chance, and he’d blown it. This time she could be lost to him for good.
“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m damned if I’ll let it happen again.”
“Miss Conroy, I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”
Sarah looked at Justin’s brother but made no move.
“I’ll go when Justin tells me to,” she said.
“He doesn’t want to see you, and he certainly isn’t going to fall for any idiotic claim that this is his child. You’d never met him before he went to Haven—”
“I met him two years ago, at the Carter Vernon reception.”
Her words gave Greg an uneasy jolt. He’d spent hours going over that reception, wondering why Justin’s memory had shut off just a few hours before it. Suddenly he felt the ground shifting under his feet. He sat down beside Sarah and spoke in a gentler voice. “How did you come to be there?”
“My boyfriend took me. He worked for you. But he abandoned me there, and Justin took me home.”
Greg remembered someone saying Justin had left with a woman. He’d thought it must be Marguerite, but Justin had said no.
“I know his memory stopped the day before,” Sarah went on, “so when we met again in Haven he didn’t know me. But something he said recently made me think he might have remembered.”
“What did he say?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell that to anyone.”
“Look, I don’t want to be hard, but I’ve only your word that this is true. Marguerite says he told her he didn’t want to see you.”