Roberta Leigh - Too Young To Love

by Roberta Leigh

  "It's the woosome twosome," he commented. "Have you seen anything of Lydia since the day we met her?"

  "No," Sara hesitated, wondering what he would say if she told him that all her free time had been spent with Gavin, and that neither of them had wanted any other company.

  Unable to stop herself, she watched as Gavin followed

  Lydia Stacey to a table by the window. If he sat and faced the girl he would inevitably have to see herself, and she waited for that moment to come. When it did, nothing in his expression gave him away, and across a distance of several yards, intense blue eyes held grey ones. Then Gavin half-lifted his hand in a sketchy salute and skilfully shifted his chair so that Sara was no longer in his direct line of vision.

  Despite this, Sara found his presence stifling, and sought around for an excuse to leave. Yet to do so would be giving herself away to Gavin, and pride forced her to remain where she was.

  Surreptitiously she glanced at him. He was bending towards Lydia and a shaft of sunlight fell across the top of his head, giving a shiny glow to his hair. His hands, clasped on the table in front of him, looked bronze against the white cloth, and as she watched, he picked up a roll and broke it in half. His gesture was firm and precise and showed no awareness of her presence. How aloof and controlled he was! If she had needed any proof that he did not care for her, she had it now. If he loved her he would never be able to sit there looking so detached. Indeed he would not be there at all, lunching with a girl who made it plain that she adored him.

  "I've ordered a special soufflé," Andy broke into her thoughts. "It means waiting twenty minutes, but when you've tasted it, I hope you'll think it was worth it."

  "I never mind waiting for a soufflé!" she said, and gave Andy her full attention.

  But nothing could obliterate Gavin from her mind. Had he seen Helen again, or had she left the island once she realised her journey here had been a wasted one? Perhaps she was still here. She might even have decided that if she stood no chance in resuming her marriage, she might as well try to resume her relationship with one of her lovers. Sara clenched her hands on her lap. One of her lovers. How awful that sounded when applied to Gavin! No woman who had been held in his arms, who had been made aware of his ardour and skilful touch, would ever be able to think of him as one among many. In his way he was unique. And not just to me, she thought bitterly, as Lydia pouted her lips and smiled at him provocatively - a gesture so blatant in its invitation that Sara longed to hit her.

  At last the soufflé came, and though it was every bit as excellent as Andy had prophesied, to Sara it could just as easily have been a piece of rubber sponge. Coffee was brought to them and she was grateful for its stimulus and hoped it would make her feel less faint. Her heart was beating so heavily she could hear it hammering in her throat, and her skin was so damp that the bodice of her dress clung to her. Yet outwardly she knew she looked cool and elegant in beige silk and gold jewellery, a baroque band of which gleamed round her throat and on one slender arm.

  She was on her second cup of coffee when Gavin and Lydia stood up to leave. The girl turned to make a comment to him and, noticing Andy, moved in their direction.

  "Hi, you two," Lydia beamed. "Are you inseparable, or is it coincidence that I always see you together?"

  "As I haven't seen you for several weeks - " Andy began.

  "I had to return to the States," Lydia explained. "My mother-in-law had a heart attack."

  "How is she?"

  "Almost as good as new, thank goodness, so at least I don't own all the oil wells in Texas yet!"

  "Such a problem that would be," Andy laughed, and Lydia joined in, slipping her hand through Gavin's arm as she did so.

  Sara saw the gesture but tried to pretend she had not. The blood was pounding in her ears and she could barely hear the conversation. All she was conscious of was Gavin standing behind her, impeccable in a pale grey suit, his stance as easy as his expression.

  "I hope you're enjoying your stay on the island?" Lydia asked Sara. "I haven't forgotten you promised to come along to one of my parties." She glanced at Gavin. "Will you be free tomorrow night, honey?"

  "Not tomorrow," he said, "but the evening after."

  "I'm afraid I won't be here then." Sara spoke without thinking, but once she did, she wondered why she had not made her decision before. "I'm returning home," she explained. "I've already been here longer than I intended."

  "Is Miss Rickards going back with you?" Gavin spoke to Sara for the first time, and she gathered her courage around her like a shield and looked at him.

  "She'll be following me later." She moistened her lips. "Has Helen left?"

  "Yes." The reply was monosyllabic and Sara could not read anything into it.

  "Then it doesn't look as if we'll be meeting again," she murmured.

  "Not unless you come back to Balinda."

  "I shouldn't think that's likely."

  "Then I'll wish you all the best in your new job," Gavin said. "Remember me to your father, Sara," he concluded, as his hand came up and cupped Lydia's elbow.

  "Of course." Deliberately she gave him the full battery of her eyes, but his own remained blank, the way they had been when she had last seen them.

  "Goodbye," he said again, and with a polite smile led Lydia away.

  "Do you really have to go back to England?" Andy asked as he drove Sara back to the bungalow.

  "Yes," she said firmly, "I do."

  "I wish you were saying that to me in front of an altar!" He squeezed her hand. "I'll be joining you in New York as soon as I can. We have a hotel there that needs my attention."

  "Don't make the journey just because of me," she warned. "You'll be wasting your time if you do."

  "You're not putting me off, angel face. As long as you're single, I'm going to be chasing you!"

  Entering the bungalow, Sara was glad to find that Aunt Grace had returned, and she rang the airport to find out how soon she could return to England. There were only two direct flights a week, but there was one leaving the following day with an overnight stop in Kenya. She booked it immediately. It would at least serve to get her off the island fast, and that was all she wanted: to leave Balinda and its Governor far behind her.

  "Just don't think Gavin will come running after you," Grace Rickards warned her when she came back to find Sara packing.

  "I certainly don't think that," Sara said grimly. "If he hasn't contacted me while I'm here, he won't do so when I'm on the other side of the world."

  "Well, as long as you know what you're doing."

  "I have no choice. I can't marry a man I don't trust."

  "It isn't Gavin you don't trust," Grace said caustically. "It's your own judgment. Perhaps you aren't woman enough for him!"

  "Please," Sara said in a cracked voice. "I can't bear to talk about it any more." There was a short silence and when Grace spoke again it was to refer to her own departure in a few weeks' time.

  "Even though it doesn't look as if I'll be able to marry your father for another year, it's pointless to live so far away from him. At least if I'm in Paris we'll be able to see each other."

  "Perhaps you'll end up having a quiet affair with him," Sara said slyly, glad to give her attention to someone else's future happiness instead of her own misery.

  "You know very well I'd live with him openly if he weren't an Ambassador!"

  The following morning brought a cable from Sir William which gave them both much food for thought, for he stated that Helen had agreed to a divorce and that he hoped to be free within a couple of months.

  "I wonder what made her change her mind?" Grace exclaimed.

  "She's a realist," Sara said. "She has no chance of marrying again if she's still tied to my father, and once she knew I wasn't going to help her…" Sara forced herself to go on. "Maybe seeing Gavin again helped to change her mind."

  "Maybe," Grace agreed brightly. "He might even marry her if Lydia Stacey doesn't snap him up fast."

  Sara
looked stricken. "How can you?"

  "My dear, I'm only saying what you're thinking!"

  There was no answer to this, and biting back a choked exclamation, Sara ran from the room.

  At eight o'clock that evening she was packed to leave and wondered how she was going to get through the next few hours. But this question paled into insignificance in the face of the countless hours that lay ahead of her. If only she had never come to Balinda; never seen Gavin again and re-awakened her love for him. No matter what Aunt Grace had said, she knew she would never get over him. For the rest of her life no man would ever be able to obliterate him from her thoughts.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was a perfect cloudless day when Sara left the island. The tarmac glistened like snow in the brilliant sunshine and a tropical haze misted the blue sky. But the foliage was as brilliant a green as ever and the poinsettias as scarlet. The plane slowly taxied along the runway. Then with a rush of power it moved swiftly forward.

  Sara found she was gripping the arms of her chair and she relaxed her fingers and leaned back. Gavin was behind her, both literally and figuratively. From now, she must stop thinking of him. Turning her head from the window, she closed her eyes.

  One hour melted into two and two into four. The plane droned on through the blue sky; luncheon was served and then tea, and the passengers steadily ate their way through the menu as the plane ate the miles.

  They were an hour out of Nairobi when Sara was conscious of something wrong. The stewards and stewardesses kept going backwards and forwards to the cockpit and the plane began to lose height. The warning light to fasten seat belts and stop smoking came on and Sara braced herself for the storm that she felt sure was to come. But there was no turbulence to disturb their steady flight, only an erratic noise which grew louder, went faint again and then finally ceased. It was only then that the captain himself announced an engine failure, and assured everyone that they could fly quite adequately on the three remaining ones and there was nothing to worry about.

  Yet worry, everyone did, and the stewardesses moved from passenger to passenger, assuring each one personally that the captain had spoken the truth.

  "This is the second time I've been on a plane when the engine has failed," a stewardess told Sara.

  "Have you ever been involved in an accident?"

  "No."

  The plane dropped sharply and the stewardess clutched the back of Sara's seat. "I'd better sit myself down," she remarked. "It looks as if we're hitting some air pockets."

  "Is that because of the engine failure?"

  "Yes. We have to fly lower, but there's no danger. It's just unpleasant."

  Sara repeated this to herself as the aircraft bucketed across the sky like a high-spirited bronco. Several of the passengers were ill and though she herself did not feel nauseous, she was trembling with fear. How vast the skies were, how small the plane and what a long way down they had to fall! Yet falling was the least of her worries, for as the plane continued to career up and down like an elevator gone mad, she wondered if the metal would stand the strain or whether they would explode into smithereens long before they could touch down to safety.

  Clasping her hands, she began to pray. But it was not only the Deity that came to mind but Gavin as she had last seen him, looking at her without expression or feeling. Her fingers laced tightly together. Gavin was a man of deep feeling and for him to have looked at her with such blankness showed what a determined effort he had made not to let her know what he was thinking. As she had tried not to let him know what she was thinking! What a fool she had been to pretend. How stupid to hide her love from him, as if it was something for which she was ashamed.

  What am I doing on this plane? she thought, and looked round wildly. I should be with Gavin, where I belong. Oh God - now she was praying in earnest - please give me the chance of going back to him. Let me have the opportunity of telling him I was completely wrong. The plane lurched violently and she opened her eyes and stared through the window. The earth was rushing up to her alarmingly as the aircraft banked steeply. Then the horizon resumed its rightful position and over the intercom came the voice of a steward telling them they would be landing at Nairobi within five minutes.

  So reassuring was the voice that it took some of the tension out of the atmosphere, and though Sara was still trembling, her fear started to ebb. The turbulence ceased and though there was one moment when they seemed to rise for an infinite space of time and then descend again sharply, they were soon flying on a steady course with the scenery clearly set out below them.

  The plane touched down like a wounded bird and taxied towards the airport buildings that gleamed pale in the dusk. The passengers were talking loudly and there was much laughter as a release from the fear that had gripped everyone. Only Sara remained silent, too preoccupied with thoughts of Gavin to pay attention to anyone around her. She must arrange to have her luggage taken off the flight and find out how quickly she could return to Balinda. She hurried down the aircraft steps and went purposefully towards the airport and Reservations.

  With a sickening sense of disappointment she discovered there was no possibility of obtaining a flight to Balinda for several days. All the aircraft were completely booked.

  "We'll wait-list you," the clerk informed her, "but I wouldn't count on getting out of here for three days at least. Passengers who book through to Balinda usually complete the flight. It's still the holiday season there, you know."

  Sara blinked back the tears that were pricking her eyes. The anxiety and stress of the past hour was taking its toll of her and she was dreadfully afraid she would suddenly burst into sobs.

  It was dismaying to have to remain in Nairobi for days when all she wanted to do was to rush back and abject herself in front of Gavin. Fearlessly she would confess that she should never have questioned him about Helen; would admit that though her love for him four years ago had not been strong enough to tell her he was incapable of deceit, the love she felt for him today was. How right he had been to refuse to explain himself. How wrong she had been to demand it! Grace had put it succinctly when she had said it was not Gavin whom Sara had doubted but her own inability to make him happy.

  "Do you have a hotel to stay at?" the reservation clerk asked, eyeing her fragile beauty with pleasure. At the shake of her head, he pointed out the information desk. "They will be able to help you."

  She was halfway towards it when she heard her name spoken and she stopped and stared at the freckle-faced man bearing down on her.

  "It is Sara Claremont, isn't it?" he said.

  "Of course." She held out her hands to him. "How are you, Mike?"

  He grinned. "Well, at least that's a sign that the years haven't changed me too much! But they've certainly changed you. You look fantastic."

  "Was I such a freak before?" she smiled.

  "You know you weren't." He squeezed her hand. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've been holidaying in Nairobi and I haven't known about it?"

  "I'm only passing through," she said quickly. "I couldn't get a direct flight and had to stop over for one night."

  "Then you must come home and stay with us. Jane wouldn't forgive me if I let you stay in a hotel."

  She shook her head. "It's very kind of you, but I couldn't. You see, I - I may have to stop over for several days."

  "So what? We have stacks of room. Do you have an overnight bag?"

  "I've had all my cases taken off the flight," she explained. "I've cancelled the rest of my journey." She saw Mike's look of surprise. "I'm going back to Balinda."

  "So that's where you have been!" His words reminded her that Gavin had said he would not write to tell his sister of their reunion, preferring to tell her personally when they stopped at Nairobi on their return to England.

  Thankful that Gavin had decided on this, for it made explanations unnecessary, she made one more half-hearted attempt to stay at a hotel. But the fact that she was Sir William Claremont's daughter - apart
from being someone whom he liked for her own sake - made Mike insist she stay with him and, some twenty minutes later, she was warmly welcomed into his home by a surprisingly young and happy-looking Jane, and two adorable boys of four.

  "I think I once told you that twins run in the family," Jane chuckled, "but having two in one go made up for the time we lost."

  "We needed to make up for lost time," Mike said, and dropped a kiss on his wife's head.

  Jane gave him a look of devotion and then smiled at Sara. "I'll show you to your room. I'm sure you'll want to shower and change. Come through to the lounge when you're ready."

  Inevitably, as Sara knew it would, the conversation turned to Gavin.

  "I hope you saw him when you were on Balinda?" Jane said. "I had a letter from him last week and he never mentioned it."

  "I saw quite a lot of him," Sara replied, and then, because subterfuge seemed wrong, blurted out: "I left the island because we quarrelled. I was very foolish and - " she drew a deep breath - "anyway, I'm going back to tell him I'm sorry."

  "That's what I like to hear," said Mike. "It's a rare woman who can admit she's in the wrong!"

  "What a thing to say!" his wife expostulated.

  "Present company excluded, of course," he said. "We now have proof that Sara can apologise, and you, my sweet, have never had reason." Slightly more serious, he looked at Sara. "I'm glad you and Gavin have finally got together. When we were in Paris Jane and I both thought you were fond of each other."

  Sara could only nod, for she was still too emotionally overwrought to talk about Gavin with ease. But later that night as she sat in at the dressing-table brushing her hair, which fell like a honey cloud around her, Jane came in to see she had everything she needed and, perching on the edge of the bed, referred to what Mike had said earlier.

  "I can't answer for what your feelings were in Paris," she said, "but I know Gavin was in love with you. He talked of it on one occasion. I remember being terribly surprised, for he'd never talked about a girl before. I think he only did so because he was worried."