‘A teacher?’ Leo couldn’t help feeling amused. Poor Sarah.
She swallowed a mouthful of whisky and shook her head. ‘And that’s why I don’t think I can do it. I can’t face that life, Leo. I can’t live in a terraced house in … in wherever, and work nine to five, struggling to pay school fees, worried about money all the time. I can’t become that kind of person. It’s all down to money. So what kind of a wretched individual am I?’
‘You simply don’t love him enough. If you did, you wouldn’t care how much he earned, or what he did for a living. At least you’ve found out before it’s too late.’
‘You still don’t get it,’ said Sarah impatiently. ‘I know exactly what I feel about him. I don’t think I know how to love that way. Unconditionally, passionately, regardless of everything. I’m not made that way. But what I feel for Toby would have been enough. I would still have married him, been prepared to spend my life with him, if—’
‘—if he’d been able to keep you in the style to which you’ve become accustomed?’
‘God, you make it sound so trite.’
‘Life often is trite. It’s a matter-of-fact business. I think you should congratulate yourself on your pragmatism.’
‘Leo, don’t laugh at me! I can’t stand it! I’m trying to tell you something—’
‘I’m not laughing at you.’ He set his glass down on the carpet and crossed the room to where she sat hunched against the sofa. ‘You think you know yourself so well, but I know you better. Stand up.’
‘You’re saying you already knew what a selfish cow I am?’ She set her glass down and stood up.
‘Oh, yes.’ He drew her towards him, holding her close.
‘But Toby doesn’t know.’
‘Then he’s going to have to find out. You can’t pretend to be a better person than you are. Or to love him in the way he expects you to.’
‘I know he deserves better. But I don’t think I can bear the moment when he finds out. He’s going to hate me. Despise me.’
‘That’s the price you have to pay.’ His lips brushed her neck, and he felt her shiver.
She drew away. ‘I should go home.’
‘That’s hardly going to make things any better in the long run.’ He drew her close again, and kissed her for a long, intense moment. ‘Please stay. I want you. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you more.’ His fingers slipped the thin satin straps from her shoulders and gently tugged down the bodice of her dress. Leo kissed and caressed each of her breasts in turn. Sarah shivered as his hand strayed from her breasts down across her stomach. He slipped his hand between her legs and she gave a little whimper, her mouth seeking his.
‘I suppose,’ she murmured after a moment, ‘that I might as well start as I mean to go on.’
‘That’s my girl,’ said Leo softly. ‘That’s my lovely Sarah.’ He kissed her again, easing her dress down to her hips, till it slipped with a rustle to the floor.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning Leo woke to find Sarah’s side of the bed empty. He sat up, wondering if perhaps she had slipped out of the house early and taken a taxi home, filled with guilt. Unlikely. Then he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. He lay back on the pillow, surprised by his own sense of relief.
Moments later he got up, put on a dressing gown, and went downstairs, picking up the morning paper from the doormat. Sarah was in the kitchen making breakfast, barefoot and wearing Leo’s dress shirt from the night before. Coffee was brewing, and on the table stood a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice, a basket of warm rolls, and dishes of butter and cherry jam. The radio was tuned to some music station.
‘Morning,’ said Leo, dropping the copy of The Times on the table. He picked up one of the rolls. ‘Where did these come from?’
‘Found them in your freezer and warmed them up in the oven. You haven’t got any oranges left, I’m afraid. I juiced them all.’
‘Good of you to bother.’ He poured out two glasses of juice.
She came to the table and set down plates and knives. ‘Napkins?’
‘Over there. Third drawer down.’
She returned to the table with the napkins and the coffee pot.
‘Which bit of the paper do you want?’ asked Leo.
‘Magazine, please.’
They breakfasted in companionable silence, the radio murmuring in the background. Sarah, though she appeared to be immersed in The Times supplement, was still busy with the thoughts which had occupied her as she prepared breakfast. She didn’t feel remotely guilty about the night before. It had been bound to happen – though not, she liked to think, if Toby hadn’t lost his job and made his disastrous career-change decision. Marrying him, however, was now out of the question. She had known that for a while. But she also knew that extricating herself from the relationship was going to be tricky. Apart from Toby’s feelings, there would be the reaction of her father and the Kitterings to contend with. Damage limitation was going to be of the essence. She couldn’t emerge from this without reproach – that was impossible. But she might be able to shift a little of the blame.