Shifting Sands (19 page)

Swearing fluently under his breath, Angus hesitated. He glanced back at Imogen and the mess on the floor. He'd promised to help her clear up, but first, as she said, he must straighten things with Sophie.

‘I'll be right back,' he said, and hurried from the room, looking quickly round the hall before glancing into both the sitting and dining rooms. ‘Anyone seen Sophie?'

‘She went outside,' Sarah, who was sitting on the stairs, informed him. ‘Said she wanted something from the car.'

Angus strode to the front door, opening it to the furious revving of an engine, followed by the sound of a car scorching away. His car.

He ran to the gate, in time to see its tail lights disappearing round the corner. Hell and damnation, she'd left him stranded! How the devil was he going to get home? God, she couldn't really have thought . . . But what would
he
have thought, had their positions been reversed? If he'd come across her in Roger's arms?

A cold wind moved over him, making him shiver. He groaned, wiping his hand across his face. She might at least have let him explain. But explain what? He could hardly deny they'd been kissing. God help him, he'd even enjoyed it.

He glanced back at the house. Since he'd pulled the door shut behind him, he now had the indignity of having to ring the bell to be readmitted. And what was he supposed to tell everyone? Oh,
why
had he happened to go into the kitchen at that crucial moment?

Shivering, worried and miserable, Angus walked back up the path.

For the first time in months, Anna felt entirely happy. The evening had been perfect, especially as, at least for the moment, she'd succeeded in burying her guilt. Lewis had arrived with roses and a bottle of Margaux, and he'd been most appreciative of the meal, which, admittedly, had been delicious. Now they were relaxing on the sofa, his arm round her shoulders, listening to a CD of the Three Tenors. And tonight still lay ahead. Anna hoped superstitiously that she wouldn't have to pay for such happiness.

A hope that was not to be granted. At one moment they were alone in the lamplight; the next, the sitting room door had burst open and Sophie erupted into the room.

She stopped short on seeing them, and they in turn froze, gazing back at her.

‘Who the
hell's
that?' she demanded, her voice rising.

‘Sophie!' Disengaging herself, Anna quickly stood up. ‘That's hardly the way to greet my guest! This is Lewis Masters, a friend I met on holiday. My daughter, Sophie,' she added to Lewis.

He had also risen, and now went towards Sophie, smiling, his hand outstretched. She ignored him, her eyes fixed on her mother.

‘My
God
!' She put both hands to her head, gripping her scalp. ‘What's
happened
to everyone?'

Anna hurried to her, gently lowered her hands, and held them. ‘What's the matter, darling? Has something happened?'

‘I was hoping for a bed for the night,' Sophie said shakily, ‘but—'

‘Of
course
you can have a bed. You don't have to ask. But – where's Angus?'

Sophie's mouth tightened. ‘That's . . . immaterial.'

Anna threw Lewis an anguished glance, and he smoothly took up his cue.

‘Look, I can see I'm not needed here, so I'll be on my way. Thanks for the meal, Anna; I'll phone you in the morning. Nice to have met you, Sophie.'

He moved past them into the hall, took his coat from the stand and his briefcase from the foot of the stairs, and let himself out of the house.

Anna wrenched her thoughts from him and led her daughter to the sofa where, minutes earlier, she'd been so close to Lewis. ‘Tell me what happened,' she said.

‘Oh, I'll tell you what happened!' Sophie's voice was brittle. ‘First, I walk into a room and find my husband kissing my best friend. Then I walk into another and find my mother kissing a strange man.' She gave a choked laugh. ‘It's almost funny: twice in an hour, two sets of guilty faces, with almost identical expressions.'

‘We weren't kissing,' Anna said weakly.

‘You would have been, any minute.'

‘And he's not a strange man. As I explained, we met in South Africa.'

Sophie stared at her with sudden, horrified, understanding. ‘You're having an affair!'

‘
No
! Well . . .'

Sophie sprang up. ‘My God!' she cried again. ‘Jon and I send you on holiday to get over Dad's death—'

Anna was also on her feet. ‘Stop it!' she demanded. ‘Stop it right there!'

They stood staring at each other, both breathing heavily. Then Sophie's anger seemed to evaporate, and she said tonelessly, ‘I'm sorry. I just . . . don't know what to think. One minute, everything was fine; the next, the ground seemed to give way beneath me, and nothing was certain any more.'

Anna understood only too well; a similar analogy had struck her in South Africa. Aching with sympathy, she went to pour them both a brandy. ‘Tell me about Angus,' she invited.

Biting her lip, Sophie slowly sat down again. ‘We were at Roger's birthday party. I went into the kitchen, to see if I could help, and found Angus and Imo in a passionate embrace.'

‘Oh, darling. Surely—'

‘So I walked out of the house and drove straight here. I . . . didn't know where else to go.'

Anna pulled her into her arms and held her close, feeling her trembling. ‘There has to be an explanation. Both of them adore you.'

‘And perhaps each other.'

‘That's nonsense. Had you and Angus had a row?'

Sophie shook her head. ‘He did ask very solicitously after Imo the other day – whether she'd got over Aunt Em's death.'

‘Nothing suspicious in that, surely?'

Sophie pulled gently away and reached for her brandy glass. ‘My first drink of the evening. I was on the wagon, because I was going to drive home – Angus handed me the car keys when we arrived.' She gave a half-smile. ‘I bet he regrets that now.'

Anna hadn't taken in the implications. ‘You just abandoned him?'

‘I did.'

‘Well – what will he do? How will he get home?'

‘There are trains,' Sophie said.

Anna sipped her own drink. ‘And what do you propose to do in the morning?'

‘Go home, as soon as he's left for work.'

‘Then what?'

‘Nothing dramatic. Apart from anything else, Tamsin will be home tomorrow, with her friend Florence. But I'll expect an explanation, and it had better be a good one.'

‘Has he tried to contact you?'

‘Probably. I switched off my mobile. Anyway –' Sophie met her mother's eye – ‘it's your turn now. Tell me about lover boy.'

It was not an evening Angus wanted to remember. Back inside the house, he'd found Sarah and Vicky cleaning the floor, and the Pavlova and bowl of fruit on the dining table. Imogen, seemingly composed, sent him one swift, questioning glance, and he shook his head. Thereafter she kept out of his way.

He announced, as casually as he could manage, that Sophie was suffering from one of her migraines and had asked to be excused.

‘Was she fit to drive home?' Vicky asked worriedly. ‘Shouldn't—?'

‘She insisted I stay. She'd always rather be alone when they strike. So if you and Jon could drop me off at the station . . .?'

‘Oh – of course: no car. Or would you rather stay the night?'

‘Thanks, but no. I must get back to Sophie, satisfy myself she's OK.'

Given the choice, he'd have left at once, anxious to speak to her before she'd exaggerated the scene out of all proportion; but he couldn't expect Jon and Vicky to leave early to suit him, and it was almost eleven when they pulled up at the station.

‘I'll phone in the morning to see how she is,' Vicky said, and Angus could only hope Sophie would pick up her cue.

The train to London was half empty. A few solitary passengers were dotted about, some sleeping, some reading, some simply staring out of the window into the darkness. He'd been trying Sophie's mobile on and off for the last hour, but it was permanently on voicemail. Obviously, she had no intention of speaking to him. He spent the journey rehearsing the best way to explain what had happened.

At Charing Cross he had to queue for a taxi, and when, half an hour later, it stopped at his gate, he was alarmed to see the house in darkness. Even if she'd gone to bed, she might at least have left the hall light on.

Fresh panic hit him when he reached their bedroom. The bed hadn't been touched since it was made that morning. Sophie was not at home. Frantically, he again tried her mobile, again she was unreachable. Where the hell was she?

At Anna's? Now that he thought of it, that seemed the obvious solution; her house was only a twenty-minute drive from Roger and Imogen's. However, it was now well past midnight and far too late to phone. And if by any chance Sophie
wasn't
there, there was no sense in alarming Anna.

He spent a restless night, continually reliving those crucial minutes in the kitchen with Imogen. The fact that, after his botched platonic kiss, it had been she who'd prolonged it, was no excuse. She was on edge, unhappy, not knowing what she was doing. It had been up to him to put her gently aside and defuse the situation, and he was unable to explain why he had not.

Thank God Sophie's car was in the garage; at least he'd be able to get to work in the morning. On that single positive note, Angus finally fell asleep.

TEN

I
ncredibly, Roger was totally unaware of the traumas of the evening. He'd taken Sophie's abrupt departure at face value and, instead of the reprimand she'd expected, had even sympathized with Imogen over the crystal bowl, a wedding present.

‘These things happen,' he said philosophically.

Furthermore, they made love, Imogen clinging to him with a passionate mix of love and guilt that both surprised and delighted him.

‘I must have more birthdays!' he joked, stroking her bare shoulder and unaware of held-back tears.

‘I'm sorry about the sweater,' she murmured unsteadily. ‘You can't take it back now you've worn it, but I'll buy another and you can choose it yourself.' She'd have given him a factory-f, to appease her guilt.

He laughed. ‘Nonsense, I was an ungrateful brute, and I'm sorry. The sweater's fine, but I must say, this is the best present yet!'

And he started to kiss her again.

When he eventually fell asleep, she prepared to endure the long hours of darkness, her mind a whirlpool. What would Angus think of her, behaving like that, let alone compromising him with Sophie? And what of Sophie herself? She'd certainly never speak to her again! Sophie, who was her best friend, who had stood by her so often when she was in trouble: what a way to repay her! But, oh God, please don't let either of them tell Roger! Don't let them tell
anybody
!

Why
had she clung to Angus like that? Yes, she'd always liked him – even fancied him a little – but that wasn't the reason. It was just that he was kind and understanding, and
there
, just when she needed reassurance. And anyway, she remembered with a little shiver, he
had
kissed her back; did that make it better or worse?

What should she do? Apologize to them both, or pretend it had never happened?

And having reached that unresolved point, Imogen unexpectedly fell asleep.

Neither Anna nor Sophie had slept well, and both were heavy-eyed at breakfast.

‘Can we pretend last night never happened?' Anna asked with a wry smile, pouring coffee.

‘I wish we could.'

‘I'm sure things will work out. Perhaps Imogen was upset – you know how emotional she can be – and he was just . . . comforting her?'

Sophie frowned, remembering. ‘I think there was something on the floor,' she said. ‘A mess of some sort, and a broken bowl.'

‘There you are, then!'

‘Ma, what I saw went way beyond comforting.'

Anna sighed. ‘And about Lewis . . .'

Sophie tensed, and Anna leaned forward, reaching for her hand. ‘Darling, it sounds trite, but
no one
will
ever
replace Daddy. I
know
this happened too soon – I'm ashamed that it has – but it might be the only chance I have of not spending the rest of my life alone.'

‘You're
not
alone!' Sophie said fiercely.

‘You know what I mean. Believe me, I'd have given anything to delay this for a year or so.'

‘When were you going to tell us?'

‘Certainly not before Daddy's anniversary. But another reason for not saying anything is that I didn't know
what
to say. There's no guarantee anything will come of it; it might all have fizzled out by Christmas, in which case it would have been pointless to upset you.'

‘But you want it to go on?'

Anna shook her head. ‘I honestly don't know, Sophie. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.'

‘Is he serious?'

‘Again, I don't know.'

‘Has he mentioned marriage?'

Anna smiled. ‘Talk about role reversal! No, he hasn't, but I've rather cut him off any time he hints at the future.' She paused. ‘Will you tell Jonathan?'

‘Would you rather I didn't?'

‘I leave it to you. I wouldn't want him to find out later that you knew.'

Sophie nodded, stirring her coffee. ‘Has . . . Lewis . . . got family?'