Playing for Keeps: Harford Scarlet Series (12 page)

On stiff legs, she walked around the flat, showered and got ready. Clare watched her robotic behaviour with concern and astonishment until Sarah was waiting by the door for her to join her. ‘You can’t be serious about us going on the away trip?’

Sarah shrugged and, for a moment, Clare glimpsed the anguish behind her calm exterior. ‘Why not? I’m not the first person to ever get cheated on and dumped, and it’ll take my mind off it. Besides, Tom won’t be there. I can’t sit here and feel sorry for myself – I’ll go mad.’

Clare grabbed her bag and they walked down the road to where the coach was waiting. Before boarding, Sarah took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and plastered a blinding smile on her face. They were greeted with a cheery welcome by the regulars as they took their normal seats at the back.

‘Your Tom playing today, then?’ asked Mike. ‘I’ve not had a chance to print the team sheet out.’

‘Who? Oh, you mean Tom Murray? No, I don’t think he is. Anyway, he’s not mine,’ Sarah answered offhandedly.

Mike’s wrinkled face reflected his surprise and embarrassment. ‘Oh, I am sorry.’

‘Well, it was bound to happen. You know what these players are like.’

‘But I thought …’ Mike’s further queries were silenced when he saw Clare shake her head in warning.

The news of their break-up spread up the coach in concerned whispers. Sarah concentrated on reading every line of the sports section of her newspaper, then brought out her laptop, avoiding conversation. At the sight of the notes she’d made in Lisbon her poise nearly cracked, but again she strengthened her resolve.

It was a relief to arrive at their destination, a friendly Midlands club. An incident on the motorway had severely delayed them and the coach rolled into the car park barely 20 minutes before kick-off. It was a rush to grab a bite to eat and a drink before occupying a decent bit of territory with a good view of the pitch.

The game passed in a blur. Sarah concentrated on relieving some of her pent-up hurt by shouting vociferously for Harford, easily outdoing Clare for a change. It was a narrow win for Harford and the home crowd were subdued in the clubhouse.

When the players appeared, some came over to speak with Sarah, but her blinding smile confused them and they soon drifted off again. Alex wandered over, flinching when he saw Clare but still braving a few words.

‘I’m so sorry this has happened.’ He looked at Sarah searchingly. ‘I’ve known him since school but I can’t have known him that well. I also knew Natasha from our time at school – they were childhood sweethearts – but I thought that you and he were a solid couple. I didn’t know he had this level of … deceit in him.’

‘Cowardice too,’ affirmed Clare. ‘Plus, to disappear without a word in a foreign country, leaving someone else wondering if they’re still alive, is appallingly loathsome.’

‘You haven’t heard anything from him? That’s not right at all.’ Alex’s bewilderment showed quite clearly. He rummaged in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an open ivory envelope. ‘I was astounded when I received this today: the invitation for their wedding. I thought they’d made a mistake, somehow confused your names, but I called up …’

Alex’s voice trailed off when he saw the shocked looks on their faces. Clare mutely held out her hand, pulled the invitation out, and briefly scanned the ornate writing on the thick, expensive card. Finally, she handed it back to him and spoke icily. ‘That’s interesting. You’ll have to excuse us, though, we are leaving soon. Tense game – hope the result next week doesn’t hang in the balance for quite so long.’

Clare gathered their belongings and guided her fast-falling-apart friend to the coach. Luckily, they didn’t have long to wait until the other travellers joined them. During the return journey, Sarah’s phone began trilling and beeping ceaselessly. Each time she looked down, she saw Tom’s name flash up. Each time, it chipped away more of her self-control. Shaking, she finally handed the phone to Clare who listened to the messages and switched it off.

‘He knows you’re on the coach: Alex told him. He’s waiting at the club for it to get back. He says he’ll see you there.’

Sarah lifted anguished eyes to Clare. ‘I can’t see him. I just want to be home and safe.’

‘OK, let me think … I know, I’ll get the driver to drop us off just before the club, on the corner of your street. We can walk to yours in a couple of minutes.’ Clare bustled down the aisle and spoke to the driver, who nodded in agreement. Then she returned to the back seat and shielded Sarah’s face from the others.

‘There – I’ve told him you’re not feeling well so he’ll take us as close as he can manage.’ Clare rubbed Sarah’s arm. ‘We’ll be home in half an hour.’

Chapter Eleven

As promised, the coach pulled over by the corner of Sarah’s street and the women hustled off, Clare supportively guiding her friend back towards her flat. Within minutes of entering, they heard a squeal of rubber and a roaring engine cut out. The doorbell rang, followed by knocking.

‘Sarah! I need to speak to you. Sarah, open the door. Look, I know you’re in there; you were dropped off early. Please let me in and we’ll talk,’ Tom beseeched her through the wooden panels.

Clare whispered, ‘Do you want me to get rid of him?’

‘I doubt he’ll listen to you. But if you could please try? I c – can’t t – talk to him.’ Sarah began gasping.

‘I’ll think of something to tell him,’ Clare reassured her.

He banged on the door furiously. ‘Sarah, open up this minute! I know you’re in there, the lights are on. Stop hiding from me.’

Clare put the security chain on and slowly opened the door, her face a stony mask.

‘Sarah, thank God – Clare! I need to speak to Sarah, to explain about the engagement and Natasha.’ He ran his fingers restlessly through his disordered hair, rubbed his stubbled chin, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his crumpled jeans.

‘She’s not here. She went straight to the airport. You just missed her. I’m here just to collect a few things.’ Clare stood stiffly, blocking Tom from seeing into the flat.

‘Which airport? Where’s she going?’ He tried to push the door open but the chain held.

‘Er … New York, I think. It’s a last-minute consultation. She’ll be away for … a while.’ Clare sounded less and less convincing.

The ruthless, composed businessman had disappeared, leaving a frantic man in his place. ‘Who’s she flying with and where from? Where’s she staying? Does she have an American number I can contact her on? She’s not answering her mobile.’

‘I really don’t know.’ Clare stiffened to attack. ‘And what do you care anyway?’

‘I love her. I really love her! Is she really not here?’

Out of sight of Tom, Sarah’s composure finally broke. She stifled the sobs wracking her body at his declaration with a handful of tissues. She crumpled, staying behind the sofa, rocking back and forth, her knees up to her chest.

‘A funny way to show you love someone, getting engaged to another woman,’ Clare commented sceptically, keeping her cool.

‘It was a mistake. I tried to tell her but she wouldn’t listen and there never was a right time.’

‘You can’t blame Sarah for this.’

‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ Tom pulled his hair in frustration. ‘I’ve been travelling for hours, I’m so knackered I can hardly think, and I don’t know what’s happened! The
engagement
was a mistake and the invitations weren’t meant to be sent out. I need to speak with Sarah – she’ll understand. She must. How can I contact her?’

‘Hang on; I’ll try to find you some details.’ Clare pushed the door closed and rushed over to the sofa. ‘What shall I give him?’ she whispered.

Quelling her sobs, Sarah fumbled in a drawer. ‘Here, it’s my agency’s details. Ayesha owes me a favour, and she can deal with anyone.’

Clare took the business card and returned to the door, opening it cautiously and giving the card to an impatiently waiting Tom. ‘This is all I have for her. Goodbye.’ She shut and locked the door firmly.

They heard Tom knocking again, asking Clare to reopen the door.

Another door banged and an elderly voice scolded, ‘If you don’t leave, I’ll be calling the police. I’m watching you and your posh car!’

Sarah’s neighbour, Annie, was implacable; her threats continued, and the knocking stopped soon after. Clare returned to her friend.

Sarah wiped her eyes. ‘Thank you. I know I’ll have to speak with him sometime, but not now – not yet.’

They sat in silence on the sofa until they heard his car roar and pull away.

‘I love him.’ She turned desolate eyes to Clare. Her heart felt like it was tearing itself out of her chest. ‘I really love him. Despite my trying to protect my heart, he’s taken it from me. I can’t stop thinking about him; I feel there’s a part of me missing when he’s not around. I’ve kidded myself that it’s only physical all this time. It’s never been that – it’s always been more.’

The words, once started, flooded out. ‘Ever since university days, I’ve felt this way. It’s too late for me now, whatever happens. I just have to try to pull back and protect myself. Seeing her with him, I know even though he has my heart, I can’t give him my trust, and that will eventually tear me apart.’

She jumped up and paced aimlessly. ‘I don’t know what to do. I really don’t know what to do. How can I let him go? Not that I really had him – I just thought that, when he said he loved me, he would love only me. I never thought he would cheat on me.’

‘Me neither: he seemed besotted with you,’ added Clare faintly.

Sarah paled even further. ‘Or was he cheating on her with me? Was I his convenient “other woman” down south? A part of me wanted to forgive him anything, just to be with him. I’m afraid that I’ll just give in if I go anywhere near him – I feel so fragile,’ she finished, slumping back down on the sofa and tearing the tissues in her hands to bits.

Clare joined her, wrapping a caring arm around her shoulders. ‘Why don’t you do what you did for me?’ she suggested. ‘Escape for a while, get some distance between you both. You’ve been spending so much time together, you’ve been in each other’s pockets. Perhaps with a little distance, you can recover. Or –’ she smiled tremulously ‘– he can realise what he’s thrown away. Just because it didn’t work for me doesn’t mean it won’t work for you.’

‘That’s my only option, isn’t it?’ Sarah wilted further and rubbed her eyes. ‘I’ll call Ayesha first thing on Monday, get some work overseas. Escape. Escape sounds good. In fact, I’ll text her now on her mobile, to warn her about Tom contacting the agency.’

Finding something productive to do obviously helped. Sarah dug out her mobile and switched it on, wincing as it told her she had voicemail, texts, and missed calls. Clare went to take it from her but she shook her head, gritted her teeth, and worked through them. They were all from Tom, pleading for her to get in touch, wherever she was. Finally, she sent a text to Ayesha, who called straight away, delighted to hear from her even though it was a Saturday night.

She snapped the phone shut decisively. ‘Ayesha says there’s an urgent job in the Caribbean; it’ll need a few weeks, maybe a month. I’ll sort out the flights and leave ASAP. She can email the briefing over. What shall I do about the flat? Would you mind staying here to look after it for a few nights?’

‘No problem,’ said Clare. ‘I’ll be glad to get away from my place; the new flatmates are driving me crazy. I think I’ll be looking for another flatshare while you’re away.’

‘He may come back – will you be able to deal with him again?’

‘Not a problem, and Annie won’t let him make a fuss.’

‘I’m so relieved I never gave him a key,’ admitted Sarah dully. ‘I had one cut but I never gave it to him. I don’t even know why I didn’t; there was something holding me back.’

Sarah spent the next hour on the internet, booking arrangements to travel the next morning, then packed a case. After she had zipped it up, tasks completed, she subsided like a pricked balloon, all energy gone.

Clare put her to bed, tucking the covers around her gently and switching the light off. ‘Keep in touch by email and phone. Let me know how you’re doing. I’ll keep an eye on your post and the flat. Just don’t work too hard, and give yourself a bit of space. Night, night – I’ll let myself out.’

Clare departed, turning the lights off one by one, leaving the flat in darkness and securing the door with her own key before briskly striding down the street towards the railway station.

She didn’t see the figure waiting in the shadows, whose shoulders slumped when he realised it was Clare locking up – that it appeared Sarah really wasn’t there, as her friend had stated.

Sarah was left to toss and turn in her big, empty-feeling bed. She was exhausted but still couldn’t rest; the image of Tom and that woman, Natasha, was burned into her retinas. A sleepless night left her even paler and more washed-out when she departed from the flat the next morning, well before it was light. She finally had some rest on the flight, when pure exhaustion kicked in. Her dreams were filled with familiar faces taunting her for losing her heart, a cackling Natasha and Tom holding her down and cutting it out of her chest with a blunt knife, holding it up dripping in front of her, and callously throwing it away.

The Caribbean was warm and balmy, although dramatic storms would have suited her mood better. Sarah spent hours every evening walking up and down the beach near the cottage she’d been allocated.

The tearing pain in her chest froze slowly into a block of ice as she transformed from wraith to robot, to functioning human being. Her colour returned plus an attractive sun-blush, although anyone who approached her was struck by the hollowness of her gaze. In the daytime, she would dress and go to work in the hotels. Every evening, after her walk, she would change into loose cotton pyjamas and sit in front of the TV, trying to lose herself in the inane programmes.

She heard from Clare every day by email, a cheerful update of goings-on at the Park or at work. Clare rarely mentioned Tom: just that he’d tried to speak with her but she had refused to listen, slammed the door in his face, or hung up on him. Sarah herself received calls and emails from Tom and from unknown numbers and addresses, but refused to answer them and ruthlessly deleted them without reading.

On the eighth night, battering on the door and shouting of her name woke her. Sarah accepted the inevitable and went to open up. Tom stood on the doorstep, unshaven, drawn, and tired-looking, in travel-creased jeans and T-shirt.

‘Sarah! Thank God I’ve found you.’ He looked shaken by her lack of reaction, the usual liveliness absent from her eyes. He lifted a hand to touch her face, to cup it gently, and she just remained there, unflinching. ‘Sarah?’

‘Come in.’ Her voice was completely level, the ice around her heart untouched. ‘I’ve been expecting you. How did you find out where I was?’

‘A private investigator. I’ve been going crazy. Your friends and colleagues were too loyal to tell me anything.’

‘That’s thoughtful of them. Drink? Or do you just want to give me your explanation and go?’ She turned and walked into the cottage. He followed her.

‘I want … I want you. I want us to be together. I told you I love you.’

‘Is that all? The door is behind you. Have a good flight back.’

‘No, it’s not all. I … Why didn’t you trust me? I said I’d been called away because of an emergency.’

‘Did you? I’m afraid that message never got to me. When did you leave it and who with?’

Tom didn’t answer. Sarah could just see him getting more and more angry. She gestured towards the rattan sofa. ‘Take a seat, Tom, and I’ll tell you what happened to me.’

Calmly, Sarah sat down on an adjoining chair, clasping her hands loosely in her lap. ‘I fell asleep with you wrapped around me on Wednesday night. I woke alone. Over the next 48 hours, I left several messages on your mobile and with your office. I heard nothing. The only reason I didn’t ring the Portuguese police is that you’d cleared our room out and your office wasn’t panicking. They refused to give me any details of where you were. I returned to the UK to find you were engaged and due to be married in a couple of months.’

Throughout all this, Sarah’s voice and face remained impassive. Tom’s, however, were a different matter. Fury swirled in his blue eyes. He got up and started pacing, rage evident in every inch of his body.

‘So, let me get this right: your man disappears off the face of the earth. No one contacts you to let you know he’s lost his mobile but he loves you. You don’t receive a single message that he’s had to return to the UK due to a family emergency. No flowers with a card saying
I love you
. No voicemail asking you to call him as he’s worried that he hasn’t heard anything from you and you seem to have dropped off the face of the fucking earth – and saying that he loves you.’

‘Nothing.’

‘And then you see his picture in a tabloid with another woman, who’s said to be his fiancée, and you still hear nothing. No call to tell you that it’s all a huge mistake, to ignore that shit. And you find out that wedding invitations have been sent out so you think that he’s been lying to you the whole time you’ve been together. And when he finally finds out he’s been calling the wrong number and calls the right one, you don’t speak to him as all evidence points to you being dumped in the most callous way possible.’

‘That would be it.’

Tom whirled and buried his fist into a nearby wall, withdrew it, and sank it into the plaster again, ignoring the white dust cascading onto his clothes. He swore and lunged across the room, ignoring Sarah’s instinctive cry, knelt down, and wrapped his arms tightly around her, rocking back and forth.

‘No wonder you look like someone’s scooped your heart out – but everything’s going to be OK. Everything will be all right. I love you, and it’s all been due to malice and misunderstandings, but everything will be all right.’

He became aware that Sarah wasn’t hugging him back; she was stiff as a board in his arms, unresponsive. He pulled back, catching her eyes and noticing she was gazing at him blankly. ‘Sarah, sweetheart, it’s OK. Sarah?’ He snagged her hands between his.

She looked at him, her stare still blank. ‘Thank you for letting me know. I hope you find the person or persons responsible and are able to discipline them. You’d better be going now as there’s a flight back to the UK you could catch if you leave in the next ten minutes.’

‘No,’ he whispered in anguish. ‘You love me. I love you. It’s all wrong but I’ll put it right. Where have you gone, Sarah? Where’s my Sarah gone?’ He raised a shaking hand to cup her face.

‘Don’t you remember it was just a fling, just an attraction which was going to burn out? That was our agreement. Tom, it’s burnt out.’ She recited the words perfectly calmly, the chill in her voice originating from that frozen lump within her chest. ‘It’s time to move on. Get on with our lives. It’s been a nice diversion, but it’s time to return to reality.’