‘You found his preferable to mine?’
She swallowed hard. ‘After what I said to you last night I doubted you would ever talk to me again. Dominic—–’
‘No more recriminations, Sara,’ he advised grimly.
‘I wasn’t going to accuse, I was going to apologise! What I said to you was unforgivable. You obviously love Marie very much, and I—I’m only sorry I can’t be her.’ She looked down at her kneading hands.
He drew a ragged breath. ‘Sara—–’
The lounge door opened noisily to admit Marie. ‘Good morning, everyone,’ she smiled. ‘Dominic!’ she reached up and kissed him. ‘Sara,’ she said more softly, gently kissing her on the cheek. ‘All right?’ She held Sara’s hands.
Tears filled Sara’s eyes at her sister’s concern, concern for her, when she was the one who was dangerously ill. ‘I—I’m fine,’ she choked. ‘I—Oh, God!’ she collapsed into Marie’s waiting arms, sobbing out her distress. ‘I’m sorry,’ she moved back seconds later, wiping away her tears. ‘This is the last thing you need.’
‘I don’t mind,’ Marie assured her. ‘I realise it was a shock for you.’
Sara gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Not as much as it must have been for you.’
Her sister shrugged. ‘I’ve got used to it. You will too, in time.’
‘Never!’ Sara vowed vehemently.
‘I hate to interrupt,’ Dominic said quietly, ‘but my mother is expecting us, Marie.’
‘Of course,’ she nodded, smiling.
‘You—you’re going out?’ Sara asked dazedly.
Marie moved to Dominic’s side. ‘I’m not being trite, but life has to go on. I’m lunching with Dominic’s mother.’
She nodded. ‘Of course. I—I’ll see you later, shall I?’
She knew Marie was right, life did have to go on, but for her life was limited—and it didn’t seem fair. There had to be something they could do, something she could do. She wouldn’t let all the life and vitality in Marie die without a fight.
Her father was still asleep, and she didn’t want to disturb him. But she wanted Simon Forrester’s address, wanted to talk to him about Marie, find out if there really was nothing that could be done for her.
She did something in that moment that she had never done before, she deliberately violated someone else’s privacy, looking through the address book on her father’s desk in his study, sure that Simon Forrester’s address would be in there, it was sure to be somewhere it could be found at all times.
The telephone number was there, but no address, so she called him instead. He might not even be in, it was a Sunday after all, and like most busy men he probably liked to relax on his day off.
The telephone rang only twice before it was picked up. ‘Forrester here,’ was barked down the telephone.
Oh dear, he didn’t sound very happy! ‘It’s Sara Hamille, Mr Forrester,’ she began tentatively.
‘Ah yes,’ his voice mellowed somewhat. ‘You want to see me, hmm?’
‘Yes,’ she answered dazedly. ‘But how did you know?’
‘I could say telepathy,’ he said in an amused voice. ‘But if I did I would be lying. Your father telephoned me last night, so I knew I would hear from you today. Come over, my dear, and we’ll have a little chat about your sister.’
‘You’re sure I won’t be causing you any inconvenience?’
‘Not at all,’ he said warmly. ‘Come over now and we’ll have lunch together. I’ll expect you in a few minutes.’
She obtained his address and rang off. She hadn’t expected him to agree to see her so soon, but she felt grateful that he could, leaving a message with Granger that she would be out to lunch, knowing her father would worry about her when he found her gone.
Simon Forrester’s house was impressive, and surely much too big for one man. He probably had a wife and family, although he hadn’t given that impression on the telephone.
He had neither wife nor family, and lived in this big house alone. Although he didn’t look as if he spent much of his time alone; there was a roguish smile on his lips as he appraised her from head to foot.