CATHERINE GEORGE - A Rumoured Engagement

‘Did you know the woman?’ asked Luke, after a pause.

‘Oh, yes. It was his ex-wife.’ Saskia thrust her hair back with an irritable gesture. ‘Not quite as “ex” as I thought, unfortunately. I knew he still saw Amanda from time to time. On business, he told me—things to sign, and all that. But that day it was flagrantly obvious their dealings were pleasure, not business.’ She let out a deep breath. ‘You know what really got to me, Luke?’

‘Tell me.’

‘The flat was so immaculate, so tidy. Not a newspaper or a dirty coffee cup or a used wineglass. Nothing. Yet the bedroom looked as though a bomb had hit it.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘The contrast was horribly vivid. They’d obviously rushed straight from the front door to the bedroom, too intent on having sex to stop for anything other than to draw the curtains.’

‘I think I’ll see to him whether you want me to or not,’ said Luke harshly. ‘What the hell was the idiot up to? Did he think he could have you and still indulge in the odd spot of auld lang syne with the ex-wife whenever the fancy took him?’

‘To be fair, the fancy obviously took them both simultaneously. I could tell from the way the clothes were discarded—’ Saskia swallowed hard, suddenly sorry she’d eaten so much at dinner.

Luke reached out and grasped her hand tightly in silent comfort.

She let out a deep breath. ‘What a fool I was. I really thought he cared for me. It was a big step on my part, actually moving in with Francis. But I think he’s still in love with Amanda. Otherwise.’

‘Otherwise?’

Saskia’s face flushed with heat in the darkness. ‘Well—people usually separate after making love. Disentangle themselves and so on.’

‘Not necessarily.’

She shrugged. ‘Anyway, even fast asleep Francis was still holding Amanda tightly, and she him. As though they couldn’t bear to let go of each other. It was that I couldn’t get out of my mind.’

‘Are you still in love with him?’ asked Luke neutrally.

She shook her head. ‘No. Which is mortifying, in a way. I must be a very shallow sort of female. Or a very mistaken one. Whatever feelings I had for Francis didn’t survive that Friday afternoon in Romney Court. It’s odd. If I had seen them lunching somewhere, or even if Francis had come to me and told me what had happened—that for some reason his wife had needed comforting and one thing led to another, and so on, and it would never happen again—I would probably have been able to handle it. Because I hadn’t seen for myself.’ She shivered. ‘But I can’t forget the scene I walked in on. I’d never thought what “in flagrante” meant before, but that day it was brought home to me with a vengeance. I’m just grateful I didn’t arrive any earlier.’

‘Amen to that,’ Luke said dryly, and got up. ‘Come on, Sassy, let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.’

Saskia shivered slightly as she got to her feet. ‘A good thing your Tom Harley picked his grapes, then.’

‘A very good thing.’ Luke followed her along the hall with the tray, his eyes searching her face when they reached the brightly lit kitchen. ‘No tears?’

She shook her head, smiling. ‘No. I’m not much one for tears, Luke. When I ran away from Francis that day I was swearing like a trooper, not crying.’

‘How did Marina react when you turned up in Oxford again?’

‘When I gave her an edited version of the scene in Francis’s bedroom she lost her temper in true Latin style, and wanted to storm up to London and inflict physical injury on him. My mother’s Italian half tends to dominate under certain circumstances.’

Luke grinned. ‘I know.’

‘But that was just gut reaction.’ Saskia shrugged. ‘When she calmed down she became intensely practical, as always, and suggested I come here to lick my wounds, since I’d already arranged to be away from my job for a fortnight. Francis was going to take time off, too, you see, so we could enjoy playing house for a while.’ She breathed in deeply. ‘Sam was wonderful. He arranged a plane flight, bless him, and drove me to the airport. So here I am. Mending my broken heart at the Villa Rosa.’

‘Is it really broken?’

‘No.’ She managed a creditable little laugh. ‘Dented a bit, maybe, but not broken. And I’ve learned a very valuable lesson—no more falling in love.’

Luke smiled a little. ‘Not until the next time, anyway.’

‘Something like that.’

‘Right then, Saskia,’ he said briskly. ‘No more moping alone here. Come with me tomorrow.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ll drive you to San Gimignano, then you can browse round the town while I chase up some of the local wine. It shouldn’t take long. I’ll buy you lunch afterwards.’

Saskia smiled. ‘Sounds good. Thanks; I’d like that.’

Luke raised an eyebrow, as though he’d expected opposition. ‘Good. I’ll say goodnight, then, Sassy.’ He paused, looking down at her steadily. ‘I’m glad you told me.’

‘So am I.’ She hesitated. ‘And I’m sorry it didn’t work out with Zoë.’

‘Thank you. Though I feel it only fair to mention that my heart isn’t broken either.’

‘I didn’t think it was.’ She grinned. ‘It’s you who does the heartbreaking, from all I hear.’

‘Certainly not,’ he said virtuously. ‘I’m really a very nice, kind sort of chap.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Laughing, Saskia went off to bed, feeling a great deal better than at any time since her flight from Romney Court.

Next morning Saskia woke early, with a feeling of anticipation she realised came from the proposed outing with Luke. Her mother would be surprised, she thought, smiling as she dressed. Marina was always defending Luke to her daughter, never able to understand why Saskia wasn’t as charmed by him as she was.

‘You were up early,’ said Luke accusingly as he came into the kitchen later. ‘I crept around like a mouse not to disturb you, and here you are, up with the lark.’

‘If this sunshine’s likely to end soon I want to make the most of it. Want some tea? Proper British tea? I brought it with me.’

‘Right, then,’ said Luke, after breakfast ‘Let’s be on our way.’

They were both dressed in jeans and white shirts, Saskia with a pale green sweater knotted round her shoulders, Luke carrying a jacket over his arm.

‘Will I do?’ she asked mockingly. ‘Do I come up to scratch?’

‘You certainly do.’ He held the car door for her, his eyes making a leisurely survey from her expensive haircut to her gleaming leather shoes. ‘I take it you’ve decided to stop wasting time on regrets over Lawford?’

‘Of course I have,’ she said irritably, and slid into the passenger seat of the Alfa-Romeo. ‘Let’s not mention him again. I want to enjoy the day.’

‘Amen to that.’ Luke drove down the hairpin bends from the house to the main road, his skill at the wheel coming as no surprise to Saskia.

‘Other than in a taxi, I’ve never been in a car with you before,’ she remarked as he turned on to the road which would take them to the hilltop town of San Gimignano.

‘Not surprising. At times in the past I had the impression you hated being in the same room, let alone the same car.’

‘I’ve grown up a bit now. And if it’s any consolation I think you drive very well. But then,’ she added tartly, ‘one of the reasons I used to resent you was the fact that you do everything well.’

Luke laughed. ‘The secret of my success is simple—I make it a rule only to do things well within my capacity. I knew I could never be an academic, like Dad, but I had a feeling for wine from my first trip to the Napa Valley. So, I’m a success at what I do because it interests me, I work damned hard, and I’ve got a reasonable head for business.’