As they edged out of London, heading towards Devon along the scenic route rather than the motorway, Oliver became increasingly excited at the sight of fields and cows and sheep, and then at his favourite game of counting cars according to their colour, in which her participation was demanded.
After an hour and a half his energy was spent, and he fell asleep with the abruptness of a child, still clutching the glossy cardboard book which she had bought earlier in the week to occupy him on the journey down.
‘I expect you’re a bit nervous about meeting my parents …’ Sarah reluctantly embarked on conversation rather than deal with the silence, even though Raoul seemed perfectly content.
Raoul gritted his teeth at the ever-bland tone of voice which she had taken to using when the two of them conversed.
‘Should I be?’
‘I would be if I were in your shoes.’ Sarah’s eyes slid over to absorb the hard, perfect lines of his profile, and then she found it was a task to drag them away.
‘And that would be because …?’
‘I’m not sure what they’ll be expecting,’ she told him honestly. ‘I haven’t exactly blown your trumpet in the past. In fact when I found out that I was pregnant … Well, put it this way: wherever in world you might have been, you ears would have been burning.’
‘I’m sure that will be history now that I’m around and taking responsibility for the situation.’
‘But they’ll still remember all the things I said about you, Raoul. I could have held everything back, but finding out that I was pregnant was the last straw. I was hormonal, emotional, and a complete mess. I got a lot off my chest, and I doubt my mother, particularly, will have forgotten all of it.’
‘Then I’ll have to take my chances. But thank you for being concerned on my behalf. I’m touched.’ His mouth curved into a sardonic smile. ‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’
‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ Sarah said uncomfortably.
‘No? Well, I hadn’t intended on having this conversation, but seeing that you’re up for a bit of honesty … I go to bed with a hot-blooded, giving, generous lover, and wake up every morning with a stranger. You’ll have to excuse me for my assumption that you wouldn’t be unduly bothered one way or another what your parents’ reaction to me is.’
Hot-blooded, giving, generous … If only he knew that those words applied to her in bed and out of it, by night and by day.
‘I hardly think that you can call me a stranger,’ Sarah protested on a high, shaky laugh. ‘Strangers don’t … don’t …’
‘Make love for hours? Touch each other everywhere? Experiment in ways that would make most people blush? No need to worry, Sarah. We’re not exactly shouting, and Oliver’s fast asleep. I can see him in my rearview mirror.’
Sarah could feel her cheeks burning from his deliberately evocative language.
What do you want? she wanted to yell at him. Did he want her to be the adoring, subservient wife-in-waiting, so that he could lap up her adulation safe in the knowledge that she had been well and truly trapped? When he certainly didn’t adore her?
‘Well, aren’t you pleased that you were right?’ she said gruffly. ‘I can’t deny that I find you very attractive. I always have.’
‘Call me crazy, but I can smell a but advancing on the horizon …’
‘There is no but,’ Sarah told him, thinking on her feet. ‘And I really don’t know what you mean when you accuse me of being a stranger. Don’t we share all our dinners together now that we’re living under the same roof?’
‘Yes, and your increasing confidence in the kitchen continues to astound me. What I’m less enthusiastic about is the Stepford Wife-to-be routine. You say the right things, you smile when you’re supposed to, and you dutifully ask me interested questions about my working day … What’s happened to the outspoken, dramatic woman who existed two weeks ago?’
‘Look, as you said yourself, what we’re doing is the right thing and the sensible thing. I’ve agreed to marry you and I don’t see the point in my carrying on arguing with you …’
‘I’m a firm believer that sometimes it’s healthy to argue.’
‘I’m tired of arguing, and it doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Besides, there’s nothing to argue about. You haven’t let us down once. I’m surprised no one’s sent men in white coats to take you away because they think you’ve lost the plot—leaving work so early every evening and getting in so late every morning.’
‘I’d call it adjusting my body clock to match the rest of the working population.’
‘And how long is that going to last?’ She heard herself snipe with dismay, but there was no reaction from him.
After a while, he said quietly, ‘If I had a crystal ball, I would be able to tell you that.’
Sarah bit down on the tears she could feel welling up. There was a lot to be said for honesty, but since when was honesty always the best policy?
‘Maybe I’m leaving work earlier than I ever have because I have something to leave for …’
Oliver. Paternal responsibility had finally succeeded in doing what no woman ever had or ever would. Sarah diplomatically shied away from dragging that thorny issue out into the open, because she knew that it would lead to one of those arguments which she was so intent on avoiding. Instead she remained tactfully silent for a couple of minutes.
‘That’s true,’ she said noncommittally. ‘I should tell you, though, before we meet my mum and dad, that they’ll probably guess the reasons behind our sudden decision to get married …’
‘What have you told them?’ Raoul asked sharply.
‘Nothing … really.’
‘And what does nothing … really mean, Sarah?’
‘I may have mentioned that you and I are dealing with the situation like adults, and that we’ve both reached the conclusion that for Oliver’s sake the best thing we can do is get married. I explained how important it was for you to have full rights to your son, and that you didn’t care for the thought of someone else coming along and putting your nose out of joint …’
‘That should fill them with undiluted joy,’ Raoul said with biting sarcasm. ‘Their one and only daughter, walking down the aisle to satisfy my selfish desire to have complete access to my son. If your mother hadn’t lost that heirloom bracelet she’d been hoping to pass on to you she probably would have gone out into the garden, dug a hole and buried it just to save herself the hypocrisy of a gesture for a meaningless marriage.’
‘It’s not a meaningless marriage.’
Sarah knew she had overstepped the self-assertive line. It was one thing being friendly but distant. It was another to admit to him that she was spreading the word that their marriage was a sham. Not that she had. She hadn’t had the heart to mention a word of it to her parents. As far as she knew they thought that her one true love had returned and the ring soon to be on her finger was proof enough of happy endings. They had conveniently forgotten the whole dumping saga.
Raoul didn’t trust himself to speak.
An awkward silence thickened between them until Sarah blurted out nervously,