As the evening drew on, one by one Pierre and the others retired to bed. By eleven, Scott and Sarah were alone again.
Scott settled himself back into his chair.
“Do you fancy a nightcap? Share some port with me?”
“Oh no!” The words blurted out like bullets and Sarah was out of her seat as she fired them.
She swallowed hard and concentrated on regulating her voice before she continued. “What I mean is, it’s a lovely idea but I really can’t, I’ve had too much to drink already – it was such an early start today, I’m very tired, I really must…” Her words petered out as she became aware that she was rambling and that Scott would not be in the slightest bit interested in her travel itinerary.
“I really have to go to bed,” she concluded, flatly.
Scott’s forehead creased with concern as he regarded her. “Of course. You must be exhausted. I hope you sleep well.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled something out and handed it to Sarah. It was his business card. For a brief moment as he passed it over, their fingers grazed against each other and heat radiated through Sarah’s veins.
“So – tomorrow.” Scott’s words were a statement rather than a question. “Tomorrow will you let me take you out to dinner, just you and I? And it’ll be your turn to talk.”
“OK. I mean – fabulous. I’d love that.”
“What time will you be finished?” There was an urgency in Scott’s voice, underneath his lightness of tone.
Sarah mentally considered her schedule before answering. “I’m visiting a cork processing factory not too far away, so, ummm, I guess I’ll be back in Lisbon by three-ish.”
“Great.” He indicated towards the card clasped in Sarah’s hand with a flick of his head. “Call me as soon as you’re back. I’m already making plans for what we can do.”
In her room, Sarah checked her phone. There was a text, an answerphone message and a missed call, all from Hugo. Anxiety made her stomach clench tight. She opened the text first.
Call me when you can.
Her instinctive reaction was to ignore it, but she just as quickly realised that avoiding him might look suspicious. And maybe talking to him, hearing his voice, would be comforting, would help to clear the fog that was clouding her mind, to dispel the nonsensical thoughts that were taking shape there.
First, she listened to her answerphone.
“Hi, I’m trying to get hold of you. I can’t find the car key and I’ve got that meeting first thing, in Coventry of all places.”
Her stomach muscles released and relief flooded over her. So that was all it was; no awkward questions. She knew about Hugo’s meeting, which for some reason had to happen on a Saturday, and had made sure her mother was happy to take care of the girls all day.
“Can you call me ASAP and let me know where it is?” the message continued.
The relief of a second ago gave way to annoyance and hurt. That the missing car key was somehow her responsibility, even though she hardly ever used the car. That he could leave a message without asking if she was all right, if the hotel was good, if the article was going well. And, most of all, bewilderment at his total lack of acknowledgement of her meeting with Scott. She had been worried about his reaction, but now found that no reaction at all was worse. He didn’t even seem to have registered that she had told him about it, let alone to think it worthy of comment.
What would it take for him to notice, really notice, her?
Before giving her frustration a chance to dissipate, she picked up the hotel phone and punched the numbers angrily into the keypad.
“I don’t know where it is,” she said, as soon as he answered.
There was a pause, then a sluggish “What?”
She must have woken him up. He’d probably fallen asleep in front of the TV. Her anger softened; he worked so hard.
“Sorry to startle you – you left a message asking me to call. About the car key.”
“Oh. Oh, yes. Sorry, then I remembered that I’d put it in my laptop bag.”
“So you’ve got it?”
Hugo coughed to clear his throat. “Yes, got it, thanks.”
Sarah felt suddenly overcome with exhaustion, her head aching and her eyes heavy with the desire for sleep. “Oh, good,” was all she could manage to come out with. She ran her hand through her hair that she’d moussed and blow-dried in preparation for meeting Scott in an attempt to give it the body it lacked naturally. It felt flat already. She wanted to end the conversation now, crawl under the covers and shut her eyes.
“The girls are all right? In bed?” She pictured them curled up under their duvets, Honor’s adorned with pink princesses, Ruby the tomboy’s with cars.
“They’re fine. Sound asleep.” She could hear Hugo shuffling around as he talked, the sound of the fridge door thumping shut, followed by the hiss of a bottle of fizzy water opening. “I hope so, anyway.”
Sarah yawned, unable to stifle it. “Thanks for looking after them. I’m glad they’re OK. But – I better get off the phone now – I’m shattered.” The words that came next were unplanned. “I meant to be in bed by nine, but what with meeting Scott and everything – it didn’t quite work out.”
“Scott?” Hugo sounded puzzled for a moment. Then the penny dropped. “Oh yes, the friend you bumped into. Small world, eh?”
“Remarkably small.” Once more, the old cliché.
“Great stuff.” A swallow of water and a long exhalation followed.
Sarah folded her left arm across her body and rested her elbow on it as she held the phone tightly to her ear. “He was more than a friend, really. He was my first boyfriend. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. And yes, it was great to see him, catch up, reminisce.”
Now she had caught Hugo’s interest. “Oh, that Scott. Boyfriend Scott.”
“That’s the one.” How many Scotts did he think she knew? “He’s asked me to dinner tomorrow night, so that’ll be nice.” She paused, then added hastily, “Along with a few other people.”
The lie was pointless and unnecessary but spilled forth regardless.
“Well, just don’t get too friendly!” Hugo laughed, as if the idea were preposterous.
Is it that unbelievable for you to think that another man might find me attractive? Sarah wanted to say, but didn’t. And then a sad voice of her own answered, Maybe I can’t believe it either.
The time of youth and beauty, the whole world at her feet and anything possible, seemed to belong to someone else, someone utterly different. It was all so far away from the Sarah of today, with the husband and children, the mortgage and the bills. Now she felt like an orange that has sat too long in the bowl, the colour dulling, the skin hardening and cracking whilst the moisture dried up inside.
Hugo yawned, his tiredness echoing through the ether.
“Your mum’s been great – she even ironed the girls’ socks and underwear today!”
“Gosh.” Sarah couldn’t think of anything to say about such a demonstration of domestic devotion. She was frankly amazed that her mother had found the iron; she herself had no idea where it was.
“And she cooked