Ian pulled up outside Ballyfergus Golf Club and sat in the car for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. The hot April sun beat down on the green, and on the brown faces and arms of the four golfers teeing off from the first hole. In the far distance, the deep blue sea met the Antrim coastline in a froth of inviting white surf. But Ian had much more important things on his mind than golf or frolicking in the waves. He got out of the car, slipped the car keys in the pocket of his suit jacket and went inside.
‘Ian,’ cooed Isabelle, wafting across the function room in a floaty blue dress, her matronly chest leading the way. When she reached Ian, she cupped her cool papery hands around his cheeks and squeezed, as if he was a boy of seven. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed your seventieth for all the world,’ he laughed affectionately, realising that the reason he liked Isabelle so much was not because he’d known her all his life but because she reminded him of his mother.
‘It’s also a fundraiser for the mission in Natal,’ she said, removing her hands from his face and becoming serious. ‘I hope you’ve got your cheque book with you.’
‘Er, yes of course,’ he said and her face cracked into a smile, perfect white dentures on display. ‘Only joking, kid.’ She found his hands and squeezed them between her own firm grasp. Her blue eyes filled up with tears. ‘I’m just sorry that Evelyn can’t be here.’
He swallowed, Isabelle’s compassion making his throat feel tight and his eyes itch. ‘She’s sorry too. She sends all her love.’
‘How is she?’
‘Much the same.’
‘I’ll take a piece of birthday cake in to her tomorrow.’ She patted the back of his hand and let it go. Then she fixed a dazzling smile on her face and blinked her tear-glazed eyes. ‘But this is a party! Let’s not be sad. Evelyn wouldn’t want that.’ She pointed to a table groaning with food. ‘There’s loads to eat and we’re going to have some party games for the children later. Eric’s going to show a video of the mission. Molly and Lewis are here somewhere.’ Immediately he started scanning the room for Sarah.
But it was the children he saw first. Molly, looking so grown up in black leggings and a sparkling pink tunic; he felt an ache in his chest, a longing for her childhood that was, little-by-little, ebbing away. Soon her head would be full of boys and fashion and pop music. And there was Lewis, in a long-sleeved shirt, playing hide and seek with another little boy under the vast tablecloth that covered the buffet table. He crawled out on his hands and knees, and stood up.
‘Dad,’ he shrieked and ran across the room.
Ian braced himself for the impact and, when Lewis ran into him, he scooped him up in his arms, gave him a big hug and a kiss on the side of his head, before setting him back on his feet. Molly, who was much more subdued, came over and gave him a brief hug. ‘Hey, Dad, will you come to the school fair on Friday?’
He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Course I will, darling. It’s already in the diary. Where’s your Mum?’
‘Over there,’ said Molly pointing, ‘talking to Aunt Vi and Grandpa.’
She was watching them with a hesitant smile on her face. She looked so radiant, fragile even, in a yellow, fifties-style dress with a full skirt and fitted bodice and a little teal cardigan, the same colour as the flowers on the dress. He smiled back, and his palms started to sweat. Sarah blinked and looked away. Vi, standing beside Sarah with her hair scraped back into a tight bun and her usual dark attire, looked like the black widow.
He got himself a Coke from the bar, and stood and chatted with Isabelle’s husband, Eric. Since that day at Sarah’s house, when he’d admitted that he still had feelings for her, he’d thought of nothing but getting back with her. And the more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it was what she wanted too, even if she wasn’t as sure of it yet as he was. They got on better now than they did when they were married. Didn’t the fact that she had never remarried speak for itself? He was certain they could rekindle the magic that had once sparked between them. Excusing himself, he strolled towards Sarah, where she stood by the buffet table chatting with her aunt. Close by, her father grazed at the food, bypassing the plate in his hand and popping morsels directly into his mouth. Ian approached, feigning interest in a platter of pink, curling ham – and waited for Vi to catch his eye.
It wasn’t long before she called out, ‘Oh, there you are, Ian,’giving him the opportunity he’d been waiting for to join the little group. She kissed his cheek and called out, ‘Look who’s here, David.’ David finished cramming a sausage roll into his mouth, came over and shook Ian’s hand vigorously, pastry crumbs falling from his lips to the floor.
‘Hi Ian,’ said Sarah and he tried to make eye contact with her but, frustratingly, she looked at the silver sandals on her pretty feet instead.
‘The Golf Club has put on a good spread,’ observed Vi, drawing his attention away from Sarah.
‘And all for a good cause,’ added David and patted his stomach. ‘You should have some of those sausage rolls before they get cold, Ian. Delicious.’
‘So how are you, Ian love?’ said Vi. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you properly in ages. How’s Evelyn?’
At the mention of his mother’s name, Sarah’s head snapped up and she looked at him at last. They talked about Evelyn’s failing health for a while and then Ian turned to Sarah.
‘So, Sarah, are you going to the school fair on Friday? Molly tells me she’s on the nail-painting stall.’ He pulled a humorous face to show that he thought this a decidedly risky venture. Raquel had never quite forgiven Molly for the fuchsia pink nail polish stain in the middle of the landing carpet.
‘Eh … I plan to,’ she said and looked at her watch, before craning her neck to see past him. ‘I wonder where Becky is?’
‘She’s bringing someone, you know,’ said Vi, leaning towards Ian slightly, as if letting him in on some great secret.
‘Is she?’ he said pleasantly, wishing he and Sarah could be alone.
‘He a lecturer in biology at Queen’s,’ announced Vi, sounding impressed.
David made a sort of humming sound in the back of his throat and said grumpily, ‘Let’s just hope he’s a decent fellow and not some sort of long-haired weirdo who doesn’t know how to dress properly.’
Sarah laughed. ‘Oh, Dad, you don’t mean that, surely? Just because someone’s not in a suit and tie, it doesn’t make them a bad person.’
‘Well, you have to admit, Sarah, some of her former boyfriends left a bit to be desired,’ said Ian, perfectly at home talking about Becky whom he regarded as a lovely, but slightly wayward, younger sister.
‘Ian’s right. There’s a certain way to behave and those chaps didn’t know how to,’ said Dad firmly, balancing the plate on the edge of the buffet table.
‘Harry always dressed so well,’ chipped in Vi, referring to Ian’s father. ‘I don’t think I ever saw him without a jacket. Did you David?’
He nodded, the grumpiness replaced with a faraway look in his blue eyes. ‘In the police we used to call him Slick because he was always perfectly turned out.’
Ian smiled, glad to have the chance to talk about a father he had loved. He listened to David regale them with familiar tales of his and Harry’s days in the police, the basis of a friendship that had lasted until his father’s death. And then the conversation moved on to more recent times.
‘He was over the moon when Molly was born,’ smiled Vi. ‘He’d always wanted a grandchild.’
Ian looked at Sarah. ‘Do you remember the little wooden stool he made for her first birthday?’
‘Oh yes, she used to sit on it and watch TV,’ she said warmly, making eye contact with him again. He drank her gaze in, hanging on every word. ‘It’s in the loft still. I’m going to keep it for her till she’s grown.’
‘Do you remember how she burned her hand on the birthday candle at the party, the wee pet? She didn’t realise it was hot,’ laughed David and Ian was forced to tear his gaze away from Sarah.
‘Poor wee mite,’ said Aunt Vi. ‘I did warn you to be careful.’
Everyone let this comment pass unremarked and then Vi gave out a sigh of satisfaction and looked round the room happily. Lewis flew past in hot pursuit of another boy while, nearby, Molly bounced a pink-cheeked toddler in a white party dress on her hip. ‘Well, isn’t this just like old times, the four of us and the children all together?’
Sarah looked at her feet again and Ian’s heart soared. Vi was right. It was like old times when he and Sarah were still man and wife. He hoped that today would remind her of what they’d both lost in the divorce.
She looked at her watch again. ‘Becky said she’d be here by half two and it’s just gone three.’
‘You know what she’s like,’ said Ian, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice. ‘She’s late for everything.’ If only she would look at him, instead of craning to see Becky …
And then Molly appeared suddenly beside him, minus the toddler. ‘Where’s Raquel?’ she said, bringing him back to earth with a bump.
Everyone stared at him and his heart sank into his shoes. He ran his tongue over his lips. How could he tell them what Raquel had said to him before he’d left the house: ‘Nobody has a party in the middle of the day, not a half decent one anyway, and you know I can’t stand those churchy people. They’re so boring.’
She meant people like him. He scowled. It hadn’t always been like that. At first, she’d been happy to accompany him to Sunday church where she’d hung on to his arm possessively, her figure emphasised by a tight skirt, a cocky little veiled pillbox hat perched on her head. And his chest had swelled with pride when he saw how the men, with their frumpy wives by their side, had stared at her.
But she no longer accompanied him to church, and she’d started drinking again and he’d long ago given up on the idea of converting her to Christianity. He now wondered if, in stating her objection to sexual intimacy before marriage, she had simply been mirroring his beliefs. She was certainly no virgin. Raquel was all about sexuality and titillation but these pleasures, he’d discovered, were passing ones. As his sexual fervour waned, the stark reality of their incompatibility became ever more painfully clear. The idea of spending the rest of his days with her was inconceivable.
‘Is she working today?’ said Vi, breaking into his thoughts.
‘Er, yes,’ he said, though he’d left her at home painting her nails fluorescent pink and watching reruns of Coronation Street.
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ said Sarah and he looked at her oddly, wondering for whose benefit she was saying this. Sarah had always seemed indifferent to Raquel, slightly hostile even.
‘That’s not what she told me,’ said Molly. Ian felt his face flush red though, thankfully, everyone stared at Molly. ‘She told me she didn’t like Isabelle.’
Vi gazed at Molly for a few seconds, raised her eyebrows and said, ‘David, be a dear and hand round the plates, will you?’
‘You must’ve misheard her, Molly,’ said Ian, more loudly than was necessary.
‘No I didn’t. She …’
‘Leave it now,’ whispered Vi, grabbing Molly’s arm, and then, in her normal voice, ‘Come and see the cake, Molly. It’s in the shape of India.’
‘Why India?’
‘Because that’s where Natal is, dear,’ replied Vi as she propelled Molly by the elbow into the crowd.
David wandered off in search of more food.
At last he was alone with Sarah.
Sandwiched between Ian and the buffet table, Sarah held a plate, loaded with sandwiches, a mini-quiche and a dollop of potato salad, in front of her chest like a barricade. In the other hand she gripped a fork like a spear. For the last few months Ian had been behaving decidedly oddly and today he seemed determined to engage her in conversation when she had no desire to speak to him. Her last proper conversation with him, that night in her house, had left her feeling distinctly uncomfortable.
‘So, do you think I should let her paint my nails?’ mumbled Ian, affording Sarah a clear view of mangled egg sandwich on his tongue.
‘Huh?’ said Sarah, looking away. His habit of speaking with his mouth full had always annoyed her.
He washed the sandwich down with a swig of Coke. ‘Molly. Do you think I should let her paint my nails?’
‘If you like,’ she said indifferently, standing on tiptoes to look over his shoulder for Becky. She had so much to tell her about Cahal. How she’d followed him out of the office that day and barely managed to keep up with him until he’d reached The Big Fish and finally come to rest on a bench. She didn’t know where she’d found the courage to approach him but she was glad that she had.
The knowledge that his marriage had failed too made her feel less of a failure. And she’d been secretly pleased.
They’d parted on amicable terms and she no longer spent every moment in work on edge, fearful that she’d bump into him. She’d proved to herself that she could be civil to him, that she could mask the unsettling effect he had on her, at least to the outside world. Now all she had to do was get through the next six months.
‘Sarah? Did you hear a word I said?’ said Ian’s voice.
‘Sorry, what was that?’ She nibbled at a salmon and cream cheese sandwich, and tried to look interested.
‘I asked you how Molly got on at school this week. Has there been any more bullying?’
She chewed and swallowed. ‘Not as far as I know. Since my meeting with the head teacher, things seem to have settled down.’
‘I think it would carry more impact if I went with you to the school next time.’
She smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks, Ian. But so far, so good. The school have spoken to the girl involved – and her parents. We’ll know soon enough if there’s any more trouble.’
‘Good.’
She placed the cannibalised sandwich on the plate and scanned the faces in the room but all she could see was Cahal’s eyes, the same colour as the flowers on her dress, and the dimple in his cheek.
‘So I was thinking,’ said Ian, as Sarah looked around the room, wishing that one of the kids would come and rescue her from Ian. Where were they when she needed them? Nervously, she took a bite out of the sandwich.
‘We should make a point of going out for supper on a regular basis.’
Her eyes grew big and she chewed frantically, trying to get the sandwich down.
‘It would give us a proper chance to talk about the kids,’ he went on.
The sandwich had formed into a dry lump; the cream cheese stuck to her teeth. She placed the fork on the plate and put a hand on her throat, willing it to go down.
He was more animated now than she’d seen him in a long time, waving the Coke about so that the coffee-coloured liquid came precariously close to flying out of the glass. ‘And it would be good for the kids, you know, seeing us together more, getting along. What do you say?’
She swallowed at last with a faint audible gulp, and blurted out, ‘But we’re not together, Ian. It would just be a show of togetherness.’
His expression soured, his lips thinned and a deep frown appeared between his pale brows. But she pressed on hastily, determined to nip this fantasy of them playing happy families in the bud. ‘And we manage just fine the way things are, discussing whatever needs to be discussed when we drop the kids off from each other.’
The sour look was replaced with one of bitter disappointment and he downed the rest of the fizzy drink. Sarah’s voice softened. ‘You know you’re always welcome to stay and chat when you drop the kids off, if there’s something troubling you.’ She offered an olive branch in the form of a smile. ‘And there’s always the phone.’
His eyes brightened and a look of dogged determination, that she knew so well and slightly dreaded, passed across his face. He smiled pleasantly and leaning past her, placed the empty glass on the table behind her. She held the plate under her chin.
‘If things are fine just the way they are,’ he said, his voice low and even, ‘then why were we just discussing Molly’s problems at school? At a party?’ he said, making a sweeping gesture with his hand that encompassed the room and everyone in it.
Momentarily stumped, she said nothing.
‘You have to agree,’ he said, sliding his hand into his trouser pocket, ‘it’s hardly appropriate.’
‘You chose to raise the subject,’ she said a little nastily. ‘We didn’t have to talk about it here.’
‘Come on now, Sarah,’ he said all gentleness and smiles, ‘let’s not argue. Please?’
Suppressing her irritation with him, she nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘But you do take my point, don’t you?’
She sighed and shook her head in exasperation. He never would take no for an answer. But he was right too – this wasn’t the place to wash their family linen. She looked around, desperately trying to make eye contact with someone, anyone, in the crowd.
Ian inched closer and she noticed beads of sweat on his forehead. It was warm in the room, but not hot. ‘Are you feeling okay?’ she said.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ he said somewhat dismissively and she shuffled backwards until the edge of the table pressed into the back of her thighs.
‘Tell you what, why don’t we take the kids out for tea next week, just the four of us? They’d love that.’
‘Er … I don’t think that would be a good idea, Ian. I mean, what would Raquel say?’
He took a step backwards, his pale-eyed, steady gaze making Sarah feel as if he could see right into her soul. He ran his tongue over his lips and said very quietly, ‘I haven’t been entirely straight with you – or anyone for that matter – about Raquel. Possibly because it’s hard for me to admit that I’ve made a mistake. A big mistake.’
Sarah stared at him, torn between embarrassment at being privy to this information, and curiosity. She’d always wondered what Ian had seen in Raquel, apart from the obvious – youth and sex appeal. Raquel wasn’t a marriage breaker – she’d come on the scene after she and Ian had split up – but Sarah, like the children, had never warmed to the woman.
Ian looked at his feet and cleared his throat. ‘Raquel and I … well, suffice to say we don’t get on very well these days. In fact,’ he said, his voice catching, ‘to be brutally honest, we don’t get on at all. I haven’t been happy for a long time.’
Sarah felt her cheeks burn hot and said uneasily, ‘Ian, I don’t think you should be telling me this. You should be at home talking to Raquel, not me.’
He sighed loudly. ‘I’m done talking. I’m thinking of asking her for a divorce.’
‘Oh.’ Sarah’s immediate thought was for the children. The break-up of their father’s marriage would be unsettling and would he have to sell the house? Was he likely to become depressed? She didn’t think he was the sort of man who would be happy living for long on his own. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that, Ian,’ she said with genuine compassion.
His shoulders sagged and he said flatly, ‘I never imagined that this marriage would end in divorce too.’
Sarah nodded grimly, knowing how much Ian believed in the sanctity of marriage and how deeply he would feel this failure.
He brushed something off his cheek. ‘We barely talk to each other, at least not in any meaningful way. Not the way you and I used to talk – in the early days, at least.’ He paused briefly to smile sadly at her. ‘The truth of the matter is that Raquel and I don’t have anything in common. And it’s not the differences that make a good marriage but the things you share, like values and beliefs. And children.’ He paused to let this sink in, then went on, ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming Raquel. She’s … she’s just what she is. I feel sorry for her because I don’t believe that I can make her happy. I blame myself.’
‘Oh, Ian, you mustn’t,’ said Sarah. ‘Marriages break up all the time and sometimes it’s no one’s fault.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘The mistake I made was in not getting to really know her properly beforehand. Not like us. We’ve known each other since we were kids.’
‘Familiarity is no guarantee of a successful marriage,’ said Sarah quickly, ‘as you and I clearly demonstrate.’
‘That’s true. But we had lots of good times.’
‘We did,’ acknowledged Sarah, who had long ago stopped beating herself up about the failure of her marriage and tried to focus on its high points instead.
‘Do you remember the time we took the kids to Florida?’ It had been their last holiday together as a family.
‘Yes, Molly was just three and Lewis was still a baby.’ Looking back they’d been crazy to take the kids so young. Molly barely remembered Disney World, and Lewis not at all. But she saw now that it had been a last ditch attempt on Ian’s part to save the marriage – and his family. ‘Do you remember the ice creams we bought on the first day? They were enormous. Even you couldn’t finish yours.’
He laughed and she relaxed, pleased that she’d successfully steered the conversation onto the comfortable territory of the children. ‘After that, we bought one of everything and split it between the kids.’
Sarah tried to remember other highlights of the trip – and tried to forget the huge distance between her and Ian that had only been made more painfully obvious.
‘I sometimes think we gave up too easily,’ he said, and she stared at him in astonishment. If anything, in trying to keep the family together, she’d stuck it out longer than she ought to have. She opened her mouth to protest.
But just then her attention was caught by the man who sauntered confidently into the room. It took her a few milliseconds to recognise him but, when she did, her heart froze and the retort died on her lips. It was Anthony McLoughlin, a close friend of Cahal’s at uni – and someone she’d hoped never to see again in her entire life.
She stared at the easy engaging smile, the Roman nose and the mop of fair curly hair that was largely unchanged from the last time she’d seen him. What on earth was he doing here? Surely he wasn’t a relative of Isabelle?
Ian said something but she did not hear. Her heart had started again, pumping violently against her ribcage. She shrank back against the table and glanced at the emergency exit. With luck on her side she could avoid him, make her excuses and leave early. She took a step closer to Ian, hiding behind his broad frame, and cautiously peeped over his shoulder.
‘Do you agree?’ said Ian.
‘Huh …?’ she said, absentmindedly. And then Becky came through the door, dressed in a modest knee-length black jersey dress, and Sarah’s shoulders sagged with relief. If only she could attract Becky’s attention and get her to cover for her escape …
‘Sarah?’ said Ian.
But what was this? Anthony turned and took her sister’s hand in his and they smiled at each other. The secret, eyes-locked-together smile of lovers.
She shivered, goosebumps prickling her arms like a plucked chicken. Anthony and Becky? How could that be?
And then she remembered. Anthony had told her once, on that fateful night she’d rather forget, that he intended to stay on and do a PhD in biology. Becky’s Tony was a lecturer in biology. How could she not have made the connection? She’d been too preoccupied with Cahal to pay attention to Becky’s new man. Her stomach went cold, like she’d swallowed ice cubes.
‘What is it?’ said Ian. He followed her gaze to the happy couple. Tony cradled Becky’s hand between his own while they chatted to Isabelle and Ron.
‘Oh, so this is the mystery man,’ said Ian and turned to Sarah with a puzzled look on his face. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
Sarah bit down on her lip till it hurt. And then, to her relief, she heard Aunt Vi’s voice in her ear.
‘At least he’s wearing a jacket and tie. That’ll please your father.’
From reserves somewhere deep inside her, Sarah managed to summon up a grim smile, and Ian said, ‘He looks like a teacher.’
In crumpled chinos, a brown corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbow and a thin burgundy silk-knit tie, Tony did look like the archetypal teacher. But it wasn’t the way he was dressed that concerned her. It was the way he looked at Becky, and worse, the way she stared back at him, a look of adoration that she had never before seen on her sister’s face lending her average features a luminous beauty.
‘Well, he is a teacher of sorts, I suppose,’ said Aunt Vi, the tone of her voice indicating cautious approval, in spite of the fact that Tony stuck out among this conservative group like a sore thumb.
‘Well, Becky’s clearly keen on him,’ observed Ian. Sarah knew she had to escape. She tried to move but her legs refused to co-operate and her arms were leaden. She leaned one hand on the table to steady herself and the plate in her hand wobbled. As if in slow motion, she watched the fork slide off the plate. She tried to grab it, missed, and it landed on the floor with a loud clatter, attracting attention from everyone around.
‘Oh, do be careful! You’ll stain that beautiful dress,’ cried Vi while Ian bent at the waist and picked the fork up off the floor. Sarah, previously hidden by Ian’s body, ducked her head. But it was too late. Becky had seen her.
Ian straightened up, said, ‘I’ll get you a clean fork,’ and disappeared.
Becky’s happy voice drifted above the soft buzz of conversation in the room. ‘Oh, you must come and meet Sarah and Aunt Vi!’
With shaking hands, Sarah set the plate down carefully on the table among the platters of food and wiped her sweaty palms on the front of her dress, oblivious to Aunt Vi’s protestations. ‘Sarah,’ said Becky’s voice. Sarah lifted her head and stared her sister straight in the eye, dreading what would happen next.
Becky beamed. ‘I’d like you to meet my sister, Sarah. Sarah, this is Tony.’
She could not speak, she could only stare at him wordlessly as her breath came quietly in little fits and starts. Tony’s steady blue-eyed gaze met hers and the broad, friendly smile on his face did not waver. Only a flicker of his right eyelid and the contraction of his dark pupils gave any sign of recognition.
She must seize the initiative before it was too late. Finding her voice she thrust her hand forward and blurted out, with a manic grin on her face, ‘Nice to meet you at last, Tony.’
And he replied, taking her hand, all ease and charm, ‘Likewise. Becky’s told me so much about you.’ He pumped her hand briefly, then dropped it like a hot stone.
‘And this is my Aunt Vi,’ said Becky, and an exchange of small talk followed. The tension drained out of Sarah and she was filled instead with relief – and a new creeping fear.
The moment of danger was past. But for how long? Would he keep the secret forever or would he feel compelled to tell Becky everything? Suddenly Becky grabbed Sarah’s arm and said in a confidential tone, ‘Tony thinks I should apply to uni as a mature student.’
‘I always said you were wasted in that office.’
Becky frowned. ‘I thought you’d be a bit more enthusiastic.’
Sarah forced a smile. ‘I think it’s a great idea. Really.’
While Becky rattled off a choice of possible courses, the thought occurred to Sarah that perhaps she had misread the situation. Becky’s track record with men was pretty dismal. Why should this boyfriend last any longer than the rest?
‘Tony says he’ll help me financially,’ said Becky, cutting a swathe through Sarah’s hopes.
‘Really? He oughtn’t to make promises like that unless he intends to be around in the long term.’
‘He does,’ said Becky happily and she smiled over at Tony. He winked at her and continued the conversation with Aunt Vi. Then she clasped Sarah’s hand in hers and squeezed it tight. ‘This time it’s different, Sarah,’ she whispered. ‘He’s like no one I’ve ever met before. And he loves me.’
‘He loves you?’ croaked Sarah.
‘Yes,’ said Becky firmly, her eyes misting up. ‘And I love him. I never thought this would happen to me, Sarah. I never thought that I’d find true love.’
Sarah stared at her glumly and Becky’s face fell. ‘Aren’t you pleased for me?’
‘Why, yes … of course I am. I’m thrilled.’ Sarah forced a hollow laugh. ‘After kissing all those frogs, you’ve finally found your prince!’
Becky roared with laughter and blew Tony a kiss and Sarah felt as if her heart was breaking. Becky was utterly oblivious, of course, but Sarah knew that her relationship with her sister was irreversibly altered. Either the awful secret would come out or Sarah would be shackled to it for the rest of her life, always watchful, always wary lest she betray herself or Tony. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
Tony said something to Becky and she joined in the conversation with their aunt while Sarah stood on the periphery wishing she could shut her eyes and disappear. Better still, go back in time and change the thing that had led her to this dreadful pass.
Ian came back and Sarah smiled, wide with relief, never before so happy to see him.
Becky introduced the two men. ‘Tony went to Coleraine too, Ian, round about the same time as you.’ They spent a few moments debating if they’d bumped into each other at uni, concluding finally that though they recognised each other they had never actually spoken.
‘And Sarah too,’ said Becky brightly. ‘Didn’t you bump into each other?’
‘No,’ said Sarah hastily, shaking her head to refute any connection, while Tony stood still as a statue.
Ian turned to Sarah and held up a sparkling clean fork. ‘I see you’ve finished eating,’ he said, staring at her empty hands.
She clutched her stomach. ‘Sorry, I don’t feel hungry anymore.’
His pale eyebrows came together. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I feel a little unwell, that’s all. A little nauseous. I think I might need to lie down for a bit.’
‘I thought you looked a little peaky,’ said Aunt Vi. ‘I hope it’s not that terrible flu bug that’s doing the rounds just now. Mrs Riley’s been laid low for nearly a week. All she can keep down is my chicken soup. You’d better go home and we’ll drop the kids off after the party.’
‘Tony and me can run you home,’ said Becky. ‘And I can stay with you if you like.’
‘No!’ snapped Sarah and stretched her lips into a smile. ‘Don’t spoil your afternoon because of me. There’s loads of people here dying to meet Tony.’ In her desperation she turned to Ian. ‘Would you mind awfully giving me a lift?’
He didn’t need asking twice. Tossing the fork onto the table with a clatter, he yanked car keys out of his jacket pocket and grabbed her elbow. ‘Come on then, let’s get you out of here,’ he said, giving her elbow a gentle squeeze.
And for the first time in over a decade she was actually glad to be leaving a party with him.