At His Convenience Bundle (39 page)

 

It had rained at the funeral and not for the first time that day Javier heard someone make a pithy comment about it ‘only raining on the just.' Whatever that meant. If it meant that Michael Calder had been a good man then they were right. He'd been a doting father and a skilful surgeon and his sister had adored him from the moment she'd set eyes on him. Initially reluctant to let their beloved only daughter settle in a foreign country far away, Javier's parents had eventually come round to the fact that Dorothea was head over heels in love with her new husband so what could they do? There was still a strong thread of chauvinism in the culture, and they believed emphatically that, when all was said and done, a woman's place was with her husband.

 

A week after the funeral, Javier was never far from Angelina's side, Michael's mother Angela and the distraught Rosie doing their level best to run the house around them. At night, when Angelina at last fell into an exhausted but troubled sleep, Javier continued to monitor his business from the UK, using Michael's office and computer. Although exhausted by grief and worry himself, he welcomed the distraction of work to help him get past the ever-present problem of gaining a British passport and starting adoption proceedings. In spite of the fact that she was obviously unwilling, Javier found he couldn't regret the proposition he'd made to Sabrina. Maybe one day she would understand what had driven him to make such a desperate request. Perhaps he should send her some flowers with a brief note of apology? He truly hoped he hadn't offended her. She was a nice woman. A
good
woman. The kind of woman he was sure could help Angelina smile again, given time. Sighing, he switched off the computer and sat drumming his fingers on the desk. Staring down at the cup of coffee that Rosie had made him an hour ago and was now congealed and cold, he picked up the phone without further thought and dug around in his wallet for her telephone number at home.

On the third ring, Sabrina forced herself out of bed on leaden legs, clicked on the light in the darkened living-room and pushed her dishevelled hair out of her eyes. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she blinked in disbelief at the time. Ten to midnight. What the—?

‘Hello?'

‘Sabrina.'

‘Javier?' She blinked again as her heart started to race.

‘I know it is late.'

‘What's wrong? What's happened?' She knew it had to be his brother-in-law. Something heavy settled in her stomach.

‘I owe you an apology.'

‘No, you don't.' She was surprised at the strength in her own voice, taking it as a sure sign that she was well on her way to recovery despite the woolly feeling in her limbs.

‘I would have been in touch sooner but Michael died over a week ago and things have not—well, I'm sure you can imagine they are not good.'

‘I'm so sorry. I really am. How is Angelina?'

‘Devastated. Lost. Frightened. I keep telling myself that there must be a reason for everything that has happened but it is hard to see what it could be. Anyway, I am forgetting my manners. How are you?'

The man could ask after her welfare when he was going through personal hell? Her fingers went white where they were clutching the receiver. ‘I'm fine. Just getting over a cold as a matter of fact, but Javier, I—'

‘You are keeping warm and eating well?'

She frowned. ‘Honestly, I'm fine. I just want to—'

‘I would like to see you again before I go back to Buenos Aires. Perhaps I can take you to lunch?'

‘You're going back?' Sabrina caught her breath, glanced round helplessly for a tissue to press against her itching nose and wished her mouth didn't feel as if something had died inside it.

‘I have to,' he replied heavily. ‘I cannot stay indefinitely. Angela—Michael's mother—is going to look after Angelina until I return again, which I hope will be soon. It will have to be this way until I can think of some better arrangement.'

In her mind, Sabrina saw those riveting dark eyes of his deep with pain and she foolishly wished she were with him so that she could offer him solace. Perhaps put her arms around him and ease some of his hurt in the way that only a woman could. Who was she kidding? He didn't want that kind of comfort from her. The only kind of comfort he needed was her agreement to marry him so that he could settle in the UK and get a British passport. At least she could offer him that. Her breath tight in her lungs, she swallowed hard before speaking.

‘No, Javier. You don't have to go back. Not if I agree to marry you.'

The sharp intake of breath at the other end was audible. ‘What exactly are you saying, Sabrina?'

‘I'm saying I agree to your proposition. The one you made the other day in the park. I'll be your wife, Javier, if that will help.'

‘You do not know what this means to me, Sabrina. From the bottom of my heart I thank you.'

‘You're welcome.' With a sad little smile flitting across her face, Sabrina knew with certainty that she was doing the right thing. The
decent
thing. As her parents had always drummed into her from an early age. If nothing else, she could surely take comfort in that?

‘You do realise I'm almost thirty-eight years old, Javier?' she blurted out suddenly, for God only knew what reason. Maybe to put him off?

To her consternation he chuckled, the warm sound rippling over the telephone lines like a physical caress and sending her temperature even higher than it already was.

‘And I am thirty; so what of it? Age is—how do you say?—nothing but a number. It makes no consequence.'

Of course not. Why should it? It wasn't as if they were contemplating a whole future together, was it?

As she gripped the receiver even tighter, Sabrina's voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. ‘I just thought you ought to know,' she told him.

 

The little bunch of freesias looked slightly wilted where she clutched them in her lap in the back of the taxi but their soft, elusive scent was intoxicating and somehow added to the sense of unreality about what she'd done. As Sabrina glanced out of the window past reams of shoppers and office workers on their lunch breaks, she reflected that normally she'd be one of them if she hadn't taken the day off to get married.

Married.
She studied the slim gold band encircling her second finger, left hand, and sighed. It seemed so final. Somehow incontrovertible. Which was ridiculous when it wasn't really a marriage at all. Not really. Just a paper contract so that Javier could stay in the UK with his beloved Angelina. What her parents and Ellie were going to say about it all when they found out, she hardly dared imagine. Whatever it was, ‘congratulations' probably wasn't going to feature.

‘You are cold?' Sensing her shiver, Javier turned to his new wife with a concerned gaze, searching her vivid blue eyes for confirmation. He owed this woman so much—he didn't intend to let her down in any way. He started to remove his coat to give it to her but Sabrina shook her head quickly and smiled.

‘I'm fine, really.'

In spite of the unusual circumstances of their marriage Javier had felt a spurt of pride pulse through him as he'd stood by her side in the register office listening to her strong, clear voice repeat her vows. In her cream suit and white silk camisole, her make-up understated but becoming and her honey-brown hair lifted off her nape into a stylish chignon, she looked pretty and sophisticated. His heart beat a little faster when he thought about introducing her to Angelina, knowing he would have to play it very carefully so as not to cause his niece even a moment's anxiety that this unknown English woman might replace her in her uncle's affections. Distracted by thoughts of the child, he silently acknowledged that he was getting used to walking very warily around her. Every day since the funeral had been like a time bomb ticking away, potential disaster looming at every corner. Both her doctor and the children's grief counsellor had told him to give her time, plenty of time to express her emotions or simply keep them to herself. He shouldn't expect too much. It was early days yet and the loss of her father had hit her hard.

With everything he had in him, Javier prayed that one day he might bring a smile to her face again. Maybe Sabrina could help? Glancing back at his new wife, he allowed himself a brief moment of ease. He didn't know her well—how could he on such short acquaintance? But already he had the feeling that those slender shoulders of hers would prove a more than worthy ally if the situation called for it. In return, he would make certain that she got everything she wanted.

‘Is this the house?' Sabrina was craning to see out of the window as the taxi pulled up in front of an impressive Edwardian terrace in a very exclusive part of Kensington. Her teeth worried her slightly fuller lower lip as she absorbed what it meant. This was to be her new home for the time being—until Javier found them another, more neutral residence, where he, Angelina and Sabrina might make a fresh start away from the ghosts of yesterday and the tragedy of all that had happened.
At least until he and Sabrina got divorced.
Her stomach lurched a little at the thought. Already she was becoming dangerously attached to the idea of becoming more than just a ‘temporary' wife—a thought she'd better quickly divest herself of if she knew what was good for her.

‘Come and meet Angelina,' Javier instructed quietly, sliding his hand over hers.

Electricity shooting through her at his touch, Sabrina managed a husky ‘OK' before preceding him nervously out onto the pavement.

A
NGELA
C
ALDER
had offered her a cup of tea and been cautiously welcome. Now Sabrina sat with Javier in the bright modern kitchen—some original features from such a dignified old house not with-standing—and sipped at the brew in the delicate porcelain cup feeling as if her equilibrium might be as easily shattered any moment now. The tension between them all was tangible, enforced politeness making Sabrina emit a silent scream of protest somewhere inside her head. She knew they'd suffered the worst tragedy but shouting and crying was surely better than this frozen veneer of coping?

Beside her, Javier had loosened his blue silk tie, removed his coat and jacket and commandeered the sturdy ladder-back chair with his tall, hard-muscled frame as if silently taking stock of all that had happened. Just what was going on behind those brooding, faintly weary dark eyes of his? Once again Sabrina had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and offer him comfort—but here, in front of his niece's grandmother? It was easy to sense such a display would go down like a lead balloon.
They
were family and she the interloper, in Angela Calder's eyes an unknown quantity—a loose cannon that could potentially blow them all apart.

‘This is a wonderful cup of tea,' she said out loud, breaking the silence that had fallen round the table. ‘Just what I needed.'

‘Thank you, dear.' Angela's eyes flicked across to Javier. ‘When you're both finished, perhaps you might like to show Sabrina her room, Javier? She might like to put her feet up for five minutes.'

‘I'd like her to meet Angelina first. I let her take the day off school so that she would be here when we came back. Why didn't you tell me that Rosie was taking her out to the park?'

It was the first time she'd heard his disapproval and Sabrina studied the handsome, almost sculpted profile of her husband and felt a small shiver run down her spine.

‘The child hadn't said two words all morning, just sat in front of the TV watching one of those daft pop-music programmes. Both Rosie and I thought that some fresh air might do her good.'

‘No doubt you are right.' Dragging his fingers through his sleek black hair, Javier pushed away from the table and stood up to his full height. He looked deliberately at Sabrina. ‘Let me show you your room. Angela is right; you must be tired. You have only just got over a cold.'

I'm not an invalid!
Sabrina wanted to reply but bit back her unexpectedly angry retort out of deference to the situation. If anyone was showing the strain of the morning it was Javier—not her. Those broad shoulders of his were presently carrying the weight of the whole planet if his expression was anything to go by.

In the large, bright, decidedly feminine bedroom with its huge canopied bed, flowing voile curtains and walnut furniture, Sabrina perched on the edge of an antique Edwardian chair and glanced up at the man currently pacing the floor. Restless energy was pouring off him in waves, like a trapped tiger prowling its cage.

‘Javier?' she ventured quietly. ‘Are you having second thoughts about all this?'

Immediately he stopped pacing. A muscle flinched in the side of his smooth, recently shaven cheek.

‘No. Are you? This is a big thing for you to have done, Sabrina. I understand you must have many doubts but I will try and ease them one at a time. Will you ring your parents today and tell them what has happened?' In truth, it worried him that she had ventured into this arrangement without apparently telling a soul. He knew it was in reality a temporary arrangement, a marriage of convenience, but it still bothered him that she wouldn't share the news of their union with the people closest to her. What would they think when they found out? Would they believe he had some kind of hold over her? Would they distrust his promise of help with her business? He sighed and rubbed a hand round the back of his neck.

‘Of course I'll tell them…my sister too. I can hardly keep it a secret when I won't be at the flat any more. I know this is how it has to be to satisfy the courts that our marriage is bona fide but is this arrangement going to work, Javier? I mean, living here in Michael's house—his daughter's home? What did you tell Angelina about me?'

‘I told you. I said that you were a very nice woman who had agreed to a marriage with me so that I could get a British passport and stay in this country. I explained that you would be living with us for a while so that the courts would believe our marriage was real; that it was important for us to be able to convince them.'

Sabrina dropped her gaze to the floor, to the rich powder-blue carpet that she knew her feet would disappear into if she kicked off her shoes. Everything about the house spoke of luxury and wealth. Michael Calder had been a highly skilled surgeon with a practice in Harley Street. It followed that the family had money. She knew that her husband was wealthy too because she had done as he had suggested and found his company on the internet. There had been newspaper and magazine articles posted on the site—‘Javier D'Alessandro, young internet entrepreneur—multimillionaire by the age of twenty-eight.' What had he thought of her small, cramped little flat when he'd come to collect her suitcases, with its faded wallpaper and mish-mash of colourful rugs that covered up a carpet that was threadbare and old? She would have liked to perhaps decorate more but because of her devotion to work, barely ever had the time. Oh, well, too late now for recriminations. As she glanced up, her anxious blue eyes careened helplessly into his. ‘At least you told her the truth. She won't expect me to…to—'

‘Act like a real wife?' A flash of pain stole into his suddenly hard gaze. ‘Let me reassure you on that score, Sabrina. I have no intention of holding you to anything other than a purely business arrangement. I have neither the aim nor the desire to infringe that in any way whatsoever, so you can relax. Now I have to go and make some phone calls. Rest or unpack, I don't mind which. I'll bring up your suitcases then leave you in peace until Angelina returns.'

He walked out of the room with a purposeful, almost angry stride, leaving Sabrina bewildered and hurt at the unexpected coldness in his voice.

 

‘Hello there. I'm Sabrina. You must be Angelina.'

The child was drinking a glass of milk, a plate with a sandwich on it next to her elbow. She glanced up at Sabrina's voice, marking her entrance with huge, doe-like brown eyes, watching her for one or two anxiously assessing moments before concentrating once again on her drink.

Wiping her hands down the front of her trousers, Sabrina cautiously approached the table. She hadn't wanted to stay confined to her bedroom any longer and, when Javier hadn't come back for her, decided to show her face without him. At the sink a petite blonde in jeans and blue sweatshirt was rinsing some fruit beneath the tap. ‘Hi. I'm Rosie; pleased to meet you. Sit down—I'll get you a cup of tea in a minute, or would you prefer coffee?'

‘Coffee would be nice…thanks.'

She pulled out a chair two spaces down from Angelina. ‘Did you enjoy your walk in the park?'

‘It was OK.' The girl didn't look up from her sandwich. Sabrina's stomach lurched. Oh, God, this was going to be so much harder than she'd even imagined. All she really wanted to do was gather the child into her arms and hold her close. Just as she did with her nephews Henry and William and baby Tallulah when they were scared or hurt.

‘Near where I work there's a wonderful park where I sometimes go to eat my lunch. It has a bandstand and squirrels and a small playground with swings. At this time of the year you can barely see the grass for all the leaves covering it. When I was little I used to love to run through the leaves in the park. I thought it was the greatest fun. Do you ever do that?'

Angelina seemed to consider the question. ‘You're not like my uncle's last girlfriend—Christina. She was much skinnier than you.'

And what exactly was she meant to glean from that? Did the child resent Sabrina for marrying her uncle when she would maybe have preferred the skinnier Christina?

‘I won't ever be skinny,' she admitted with a smile.

‘I like my food too much.'

‘But you have a nice figure. Like my dance teacher, Holly. She teaches me ballet and tap.'

The unexpected compliment completely threw Sabrina. ‘Really? I'd like to be able to dance but my dad always said I was about as graceful as an elephant!' She grinned at the memory and tried to ignore the little stab of hurt that always accompanied the thought. It was Ellie who had been the graceful one. The one who all the boys had whistled at on the way home from school.

Angelina nodded. ‘My daddy loved to watch me dance.' At the drainer, Rosie paused in arranging the newly washed fruit into a thick glass bowl. Sabrina's heart beat a little faster.

‘I'm sure he did. He must have been very proud of you. Very proud.'

‘You married my uncle today.'

‘Yes.' Her face flooded with heat. ‘Do you mind?'

Considering the question for what seemed like a lifetime, Angelina eventually shook her head. ‘No.'

‘No what?'

Newly showered, his black hair glistening sleekly, Javier strolled into the kitchen, his gaze immediately alighting on his niece.

‘I said no, I didn't mind you and Sabrina getting married. Can I be excused now, Uncle? I want to go and listen to some music.'

‘Sure. Do you like pop music, Sabrina?' He asked the question as if he was genuinely interested in her answer. Perhaps he thought she was too old to enjoy that sort of thing? Willing herself to stop being so damn sensitive about her age around him, she summoned up a grin instead. ‘Yeah, I like pop music. I confess I have a real soft spot for some of the boy bands.'

‘Me too!' Angelina's eyes lit up at the news and, catching his expression above her head, Sabrina felt Javier's gaze melt thankfully into hers. It gave her heart a real jolt—as if she'd been plugged into a new, mysterious source of power.

‘How many CDs have you got, Angelina? I've got a small collection of my own I could let you look through if you'd like?'

‘Sure.' She glanced up at her uncle as if to search for his approval. ‘If that's all right?'

‘If Sabrina says it is, then it is.' Javier walked across the tiled floor to a worktop. He examined the kettle for water then plugged it in. ‘Maybe you'd like to show Sabrina your room later. I think she'd be impressed by your own music collection, don't you?'

‘OK.' The girl took a bite of sandwich, seemingly satisfied by her uncle's response.

Had she unknowingly jumped a hurdle where Angelina was concerned or was it far too early to tell? Arms folded on the table top, Sabrina sought out Javier as though drawn by some invisible connective cord. What was it about the man that made a room light up when he entered it? No wonder his niece adored him. Had the skinny Christina adored him too? It was none of her business, she decided unhappily. Not when her own presence in his life was destined to be merely the most temporary of arrangements.

 

‘Run that by me again.' Jill was regarding Sabrina as if she'd just told her she'd won the jackpot on the lottery. ‘I thought you said you'd got married. Was I hearing things?'

Clicking some papers into place in a large ring-binder, Sabrina paused, flustered, and instinctively knew that her colleague's reaction to her announcement was going to be a mere bagatelle compared to her parents and Ellie. Yesterday she'd been so on edge anyway, what with the ceremony, settling into the house and meeting Angelina, that she had deliberately avoided ringing them, and now the prospect of their disapproval loomed like a collection of stormy grey clouds on the horizon.

‘No, you weren't hearing things. I got married. Please don't make it into a big deal, Jill. It's not a love match or anything like that.'

Jill's eyes grew even wider. ‘It's not?'

‘I've done it to help someone out.' So why was she having palpitations at the mere thought of the man?

‘Someone?'

‘Javier. He needed a British passport.'

To her consternation, Jill cracked a wide, knowing smile. ‘You're talking about that gorgeous hunk who came in here looking for you a couple of weeks ago? Oh, Sabrina! You dark horse!'

‘Before you leave tonight, I'll give you my new home telephone number, just in case you ever need to reach me there.' Heaving another large ring-binder onto her lap, Sabrina pushed her hair out of her eyes and mentally made a note to take more time with her appearance tomorrow. This morning she'd woken in a strange house with unfamiliar voices and unfamiliar sounds and had lain in bed feeling dazed at what she'd done. In a bid to give the family space and not get in the way, she'd hurriedly washed and dressed and raced out of the house without so much as a cup of coffee. Then she'd spent half an hour in one of those popular coffee chains, nursing a frothy cappuccino and feeling as if she'd burst into tears if someone so much as glanced at her the wrong way. Had Javier been surprised that she'd left for work so early? Or was he too concerned about his own activities once he'd delivered Angelina safely to school? He'd explained to Sabrina that he took the child in the morning and Rosie picked her up at three-thirty. And what did they do about dinner? Should Sabrina get something for herself on the way home, just in case she worked late?