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‘GOOD MORNING.’ Mary smiled a warm welcome at Sapphire as she walked into the kitchen. ‘I was just about to bring you up a cup of tea.’
‘Yes, I’ve overslept disgracefully,’ Sapphire said wryly. Time was when she had thought nothing of getting up at half-past five with her father.
‘You were exhausted, what with the accident and all. Oh that reminds me, Blake rang. He said not to panic about your luggage. He’s bringing it over later when he comes to see your father. He calls in most days,’ she added, plugging in the kettle. ‘Your father looks forward to his visits, Blake keeps him up to date on how the farm’s running.’
‘May I go up and see my father?’ Sapphire didn’t want to think about Blake right now. He had occupied far too many of her thoughts already.
‘Of course.’ Again Mary smiled warmly. ‘Would you like to have your breakfast first?’
‘Just a cup of coffee will be fine,’ Sapphire assured her. ‘I’ll go up now.’ Before Blake arrives, she could have added, but didn’t. Somehow, quite how she didn’t know yet, but somehow she was going to have to find a way to explain to her father that she and Blake were parted for good. Even now she could still remember that agony of those first months in London, of having to come to terms with the truth about her marriage; about Blake’s feelings for her. He had tolerated her because he wanted the farm. He had never loved her, never desired her and knowing that she h
ad not seen these truths had diminished her self-esteem to such an extent that she had felt somehow as though everyone who saw her or spoke to her, must share Blake’s opinion of her. The only way she could escape had been to shut herself off mentally from the rest of the world. There had been days when she felt like dying; days when she would have given anything simply not to wake up in the morning. But all that was past now, she reminded herself. She had overcome the trauma of Blake’s rejection; had put the past and all that it held, safely behind her. But she couldn’t forget it, she acknowledged. She still occasionally had those terrible dreams when she was forced to witness Blake making love to Miranda, when she had to endure the sound of their mocking laughter. How she had hated herself; everything about herself, from her height to the colour of her hair, torturing herself by imagining how many times Blake must have looked at her and put Miranda in her place. The only thing that surprised her was that Blake hadn’t married. Those love letters she had found had obviously been meant for Miranda.
No-one, not even Alan knew how totally Blake had rejected her; physically, mentally and emotionally. And facing up to that knowledge had driven her almost to the point where she lost her sanity. But she had emerged from it all a stronger person. Being forced to come face to face with the truth had made her re-evaluate herself completely. No man would ever hurt her now as Blake had done. She allowed no-one to come close enough to her to do so.
If Alan did propose to her she would probably accept him. She wanted a family; she and Alan got on well. She would never feel for him what she had once felt for Blake, but then he would never look at her body, imagining it was another woman’s, he would never lie to her, or look at her with contempt. Blake was an arrogant bastard, she thought bitterly as she stood at the top of the stairs, poised to enter her father’s room. After what he’d done to her, she didn’t know how he had the nerve to suggest what he had.
‘Sapphire.’ Her father greeted her happily, from his chair by the window. The cold March sunshine picked out with cruel clarity the signs of wasting on his face, and Sapphire was overwhelmed with a rush of emotion.
‘Dad.’ She went over to him, hugging him briefly and then turning away before he could see her tears.
‘What’s this?’ Her eye was caught by the heavy, leather bound book on his lap. ‘Don’t tell me you’re actually reading something, other than a farming magazine,’ she teased. Never once during her childhood could she remember seeing her father reading. He had always been an active, physical man more at home in his fields than in the house. It saddened her unbearably to see him like this. Why … why? she cried bitterly inside.
‘It’s the family Bible.’ His smile was as she had always remembered it. ‘I haven’t looked at it since your mother wrote your name inside.’
After her, her mother had not been able to have any more children. Had she too, like Sapphire, sensed how much her father felt the lack of a male heir? Had that in part contributed to the break-up of their marriage? Questions she would never know the answer to now, Sapphire thought dully, watching her father open the Bible.
His hand trembled slightly as he touched the old paper. ‘This Bible goes back as far as 1823, and it lists the birth of every Bell since.’ He gave a faint sigh and closed it. ‘I had hoped I might see the name of your’s and Blake’s child added to that list, but now …’ He turned away dejectedly.
The words Sapphire had intended to say died unspoken. A tight knot of pain closed her throat. She reached out her hand touching her father’s shoulder, ‘Dad …’ He turned to look at her, and as though the words were coming from another person, she heard herself saying shakily, ‘Blake and I are going to try again. I … we … we talked about it last night.’ She looked out of the window without seeing the view. Could her father honestly believe that what she was saying was true? Perhaps not, but he would accept it as the truth because he wanted to believe it so desperately; just as she had once desperately wanted to believe that Blake loved her.
‘You mean the two of you plan to re-marry?’
‘We may …’ What on earth had she got herself into? Panic clawed at her. She couldn’t marry Blake again. But she had just told her father that she might.
‘I suppose if we do it will make the local tongues wag.’
‘Not necessarily. I don’t think Blake’s ever told anyone that you’re divorced. Most people think you’re still just separated.’
Why hadn’t Blake told them? Could it be that he was using her father’s illness as a lever to force her to fall in with his plans? He would buy the land from her, he had told her, but as her husband he wouldn’t need to buy it, and being married to her need not stop him from finding love elsewhere. It hadn’t stopped him before.
She must tell her father that she had changed her mind, she thought frantically, she must tell him now, before this thing went any further. Even now she couldn’t believe that he was dying. He looked ill yes, but … But hadn’t she learned the futility of self-deception yet?
‘Dad …’
‘Isn’t that the Land Rover?’ he asked interrupting her. ‘Blake must have arrived.’
‘Dad, I …’
Both of them turned at the sound of firm footsteps on the stairs, Sapphire unconsciously blending into the shadows of the room as the door was thrust open and Blake strode in. Strangely his eyes met hers almost immediately, as though he had known by instinct where she was.
‘Blake, Sapphire’s just told me the good news.’ If she hadn’t known better she might almost have believed the look the two men exchanged was one of complicity, but even as the thought formed it was gone as her father turned his head and the harsh light through the window made her acutely conscious of his illness.
‘Has she now.’ For a man who spent so much of his life outdoors Blake moved exceptionally gracefully, and far too swiftly. She had no opportunity to avoid him as he walked towards her, lean brown fingers curling round her upper arm. ‘And do you approve?’
‘Need you ask?’
‘Not really.’
