‘THERE’S A VERY large car outside,’ Sarah’s mother said on Sunday morning, sounding a little put out by the ostentatiousness of a very large car.
‘It’s how they get around, Mum,’ she said. ‘But the people are ordinary, friendly, hospitable—just like you and me.’
‘Except they live in a palace,’ her mother countered, and Sarah realised that although she’d listened to Sarah’s tales about Ambelia with interest, she was obviously concerned about Sarah’s possible future amidst such wealth.
‘Wait till you meet him,’ Sarah said, hugging her mother, although the car was waiting. ‘He gives his talk on Tuesday evening and we’ll come out here on Wednesday, take you and Dad to The Crabtree for lunch and we can sit by the river if it’s fine.’
Sarah could see her mother still had doubts, but those, Sarah guessed, were about meeting Rahman al-Taraq, and would be banished when she met Harry.
She said a quick goodbye and went out to the waiting car.
‘First to Farnborough to meet the plane,’ the driver told her, and this time Sarah actually noticed what Farnborough airfield looked like.
It was, she realised, like some great futuristic city, only too small to be a city—a village maybe.
It had developed from a small, wartime landing strip to an airfield that catered to the wealthy and privileged, flying in on their private jets for business, a shopping trip, or simply pleasure.
The high-arched dome was more intimidating than welcoming, but Sarah guessed it looked better from the other side.
She waited, moving from one foot to the other in an effort to keep her excitement in check, then, finally, he was there, walking out through sliding doors and just appearing in front of her.
He dropped the small bag he was carrying and drew her into his arms, holding her so close and for so long she wondered if he’d ever let her go.
Not that she wanted to be let go!
Eventually they made their way to the car, joined at shoulder and hip, his arm around her waist.
With the miracle of organisation she was beginning to accept as part of Harry’s world, his luggage was already being loaded into the boot, and the driver had the rear door open for them.
Harry spoke quietly to him, then slid in beside her, reclaiming her hand and drawing her close to kiss her again.
‘I have never before understood the concept of missing someone,’ he said, when he finally raised his head from hers, and brushed his fingers against her cheek. ‘But every moment of every day since you left, I have missed you. In my head, and in my heart, and in other parts of my body that we’ll leave nameless, you’ve been a gap and an ache and a sorrow all run together.’
Sarah nodded, her heart too full of happiness for words to form.
‘You, too?’ he asked, and she smiled and nodded, then kissed the lips that had haunted her dreams for so long.
They spent a very enjoyable hour or so in the car, until the driver announced ‘Hotel Russell, sir’ and Harry and Sarah broke apart like naughty schoolchildren caught kissing behind the gymnasium.
The driver opened the door on Sarah’s side, while uniformed hotel staff appeared from all directions, whisking away Harry’s large suitcase and Sarah’s much smaller bag on a trolley that would have held five times as much luggage.
Harry took her hand to lead her into the hotel, but Sarah paused, wanting to take it all in. The big old red and cream brick building had large inset windows, and the quiet dignity of a dowager of older times. Inside, it was breathtaking, with marble floors and pillars and a huge chandelier over the central foyer.
‘It’s not six stars but it’s very comfortable,’ Harry was saying, ‘and close enough to walk to GOSH.’
‘I love it already,’ Sarah said, although she knew she’d also have loved some cheap flea-pit hotel with Harry for company.
Once registered, they were shown to their suite of rooms, with views out over Russell Square. But views were soon forgotten, because Harry was behind her, holding her close, his desire for her making itself felt.
She turned in his arms, and held him close as she kissed him, remembering how well they fitted together, remembering touches that brought him pleasure, and revelling in the fingers that roamed her body.
‘We will not hurry this,’ he said very firmly. ‘I’ve been waiting so long I refuse to be rushed.’
But somehow that didn’t work because, once naked on the bed together, not rushing wasn’t an option, the fire between them driving their bodies to take and be taken, to give and be given, to touch, and kiss, and tease, and come together until they both lay exhausted on the bed.
‘Maybe next time we’ll take it slowly,’ Sarah teased, propping herself on pillows so she could look down at Harry’s beloved face.
She traced her fingers down his profile, around his lips, and her heart filled with love for this man she’d met by chance, and who had given her back her love of life itself.
She’d slowly put herself back together again, but to find love as deep as this a second time—that was special.
‘Thank you,’ she said, dropping a kiss on his lips. His eyebrows rose. ‘For loving me, for letting me love you.’
For now, that was enough, Sarah decided. The future could take care of itself...
* * *
Tuesday dawned bright and sunny, and because Harry had people to see at GOSH, Sarah walked with him to the hospital, a little bit of new excitement fizzing inside her as she’d been accepted on a paediatric surgical team, not here but at Arcadia London Children’s Hospital, due to begin in six weeks.
She’d be going back in time to the long and irregular hours of hospital work, with study on top of that, but it was something she definitely wanted to do.
And something that would occupy all her attention if this little visit with Harry proved to be just that—a small piece of heaven stolen from time.
‘Well, are you coming in?’ Harry asked as they stood by the statue of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell outside the front door.
‘Not until tonight,’ she said, then wondered at the look of concern on his face.
‘You’ll be all right?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Not too many bad memories?’
She had to smile.
‘My memories of that life are all good ones now, Harry. Yes, I wonder about the baby, but all the rest are safely stored away. I’ve made new memories now and am happy with them, and happy to make more.’
She didn’t say ‘with you’ because beyond tonight she had no idea where Harry’s future might lie. She hoped it would be here, but knew it would be a huge step for him to take, to get back into paediatric surgery without being able to operate.
‘I should be done by lunch but just in case, let’s meet back at the hotel at three—I’ll stand you high tea!’
Sarah laughed. Harry was standing her everything on this little holiday and she felt pampered and thoroughly spoiled by his attention.
She kissed his cheek—lip kisses were too hard to break and they were in public—and left, wanting to wander through the museum again, to look at artefacts from the past and think about her future.
It would be with Harry, wherever he was, she’d decided. She could travel with him, learn about his projects, forget the idea of further study...
Couldn’t she?
As thinking only confused her, she headed for the Egyptian rooms and peered at mummies preserved for thousands of years, wondering if love had been as hard for people then as it was for her now.
She had lunch in the café beneath the vast, high steel and glass roof, built to provide more space and facilities for the museum, then walked back to the hotel to shower and change before meeting Harry again.
He was late, coming in at four, telling her he’d booked a table for high tea, urging her off the bed, where she’d been reading and dozing, and insisting they go now.
He was fizzing with excitement, and as they stood together in the elevator she could feel it buzzing in his body.
* * *
‘So tell me what this is all about,’ she said, but he smiled and shook his head.
‘Soon,’ he promised, and because the elevator was empty but for them, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
They sat in style at the back of the big open foyer in high-backed armchairs, a table with a snowy white cloth over it in front of their knees.
Sandwiches came first, tiny delicate sandwiches made from different coloured breads with fillings so delicious Sarah ate the lot.
‘Now tell,’ she said when the waiter brought scones and jam and cream, the scones covered by a pristine white napkin to keep them warm.
He looked at her, grey eyes dancing with excitement, although she thought she could read doubt on his face.
‘There’s a job,’ he said, ‘teaching and research. It would give me time to keep an eye on my managers who’ll take over the overseas programmes but get me back into what I love.’
He paused, took a scone, and carefully broke it open and buttered it.
‘It’s the research that interests me most as it involves development of new techniques for operating on babies still in the womb, correcting a lot of congenital problems before the infant is born.’
Sarah’s heart lurched, and she reached out and covered his hand with hers.
‘It’s perfect, something new,’ she said, ‘something to excite you, and the teaching... That’s a bonus for your students because you’re the best.’
‘Was the best,’ he said quietly, and she understood the doubt she thought she’d seen.
‘That was then, and this is now,’ she said, refusing to let him dampen her excitement. ‘And the first breakthrough you make in your research will have you back on the top of the tree again, if that is what you want.’
He didn’t answer, studying her instead, thinking...
And now his smile was free of doubt.
‘It’s not what I want,’ he said, confusing her for a moment. ‘To be top of the tree again,’ he explained.
He reached out and took both her hands in his slightly buttery fingers.
‘You’re what I want. To live with you, be with you, have children with you if you want them. I want you for my wife, by my side, whatever lies ahead. I learned that when you left, but couldn’t see a way forward until now, when we’re together again. I know you have your own ambition and I’ll be with you all the way, but being offered this position means we can be together, here in London, and it’s the being with you that’s the most important thing.’
‘But Ambelia? Your home? The throne?’
He smiled so gently she thought her heart might break.
‘That’s all been decided. My brother will make a far better ruler than me, and, deep down, I think my father knows it. Well, the rest of the family does anyway.’
The smile was better this time, but still Sarah held her breath.
‘So now I’m yours, if you’ll have me? I have my parents’ blessing—they both love you already because they have seen how happy you make me. So, my Sarah...’
I will not cry, Sarah told herself, but felt the tears sliding down her cheeks anyway.
The waiter brought little plates of cakes and pastries but she was beyond eating.
‘I’ll pack them in a box and send them to your room,’ he said, when Sarah waved him away. ‘Nice for a midnight snack.’
She smiled weakly, then realised they probably would be good at midnight—a midnight feast with the man she loved.
* * *
Harry stood on the dais, a lectern before him, dressed as she’d never seen him, in a dark suit, grey shirt and darker grey tie.
He was beautiful, she decided, then wriggled in her seat, for he’d told her the same thing—that she was beautiful—before they’d left the hotel.
They’d returned to their room after the abbreviated high tea, where she’d found an exquisite outfit waiting for her.
‘I told the woman in the boutique all about you and she chose it all,’ Harry had said proudly, and ‘all’ it was, right down to filmy underwear and sheer stockings and black high-heeled shoes.
The suit itself was grey, the colour of his shirt, with an emerald-green silk blouse to go beneath it and a small black handbag to finish the outfit.
‘Oh, Harry,’ she whispered, shaking her head. ‘It’s lovely, so stylish. I didn’t have much reason to wear suits in Cairns.’
He smiled and pulled her close so it was a little while before they both dressed in their finery and made their way to the hospital.
* * *
This would be a test for her, Harry thought, holding tightly to Sarah’s hand as they made their way through the building to where conferences and symposiums were held.
He was pretty sure it was the first time she’d have been here since the day the accident had taken her husband and child, and it must be taking tremendous courage on her part to be returning.
And she was doing it for him—to be there when he spoke, for the first time in nearly five years, about the work that had been his passion.
‘New starts,’ she whispered to him as they entered the main lecture theatre, and her fingers returned the squeeze he’d given hers.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and found her smile as reassuring as her words.
‘With you beside me, how could I not be?’
He wanted to kiss her, but it was too public a place, and too many old friends and acquaintances were hailing him.
‘It may be a crush later,’ he said, realising he’d have to speak to these people. ‘Do you want to join me?’
‘And meet a couple dozen strangers all at once?’ Sarah teased. ‘No, if you lose me I’ll be waiting by Peter and Tinkerbell.’
Expecting nerves, Harry was surprised to find himself at home behind the lectern, talking easily about the history of paediatric surgery, the first operations that now seemed clumsy, even inept compared with work done today.
‘But we must move on,’ he said, ‘to a future where many congenital defects can be repaired in the womb, and investigate ways for problems that can’t be handled that way to be done with minimally invasive surgery. Keyhole surgery is commonplace in most theatres now, but less is known about the procedures where that technique can be used on small children, even neonates.’
He paused and felt the attention of every person present in the room, although his eyes found Sarah first.
‘For that is the way ahead. That is our holy grail, and here at GOSH, through the generosity of some of our supporters, it will be happening before long.’
He surprised himself as he mentioned a few possibilities, surprised by the fact that part of his brain must have been working on these matters for some time.
* * *
Sarah sat and watched him, barely listening to his words. She’d been happy just to be with him, even if only for a few days, but now she could be happy in the present and look forward to even more happiness in the future.
The crowd rose as one, and she realised she’d drifted away from the words he was saying, content just to listen to his voice.
She stood up, clapping with them, clapping because the man she loved had returned to the world he loved.
Sure, there were things they both had to do, but before long they could be together forever.
Forever?
Was she jumping the gun?
No, he’d said forever and she knew he’d meant it. It was just that marriage hadn’t been part of the conversation—not since she’d turned him down in Ambelia.
She looked around for him, but he was being mobbed by admirers and well-wishers and she didn’t want to deny him that, so she eased out of the room and walked back through the hospital to the little garden where Tinkerbell perched lightly on one of Peter Pan’s fingers. Tinkerbell had been added later, she remembered, but the delicacy of the bronze casts always amazed her.
To her, tonight, they were symbols of David and her unborn child, the bronze statues as strong as the memories tucked away inside her head. They would never be forgotten, but it was time to move on, and to move on with joy and anticipation into the life that lay ahead.
That’s if Harry did ask her to marry him...
He appeared, as if by magic, and took her hand.
‘Will you marry me?’ he said.
And this time she said, ‘Yes.’
They wandered back to the hotel together, content to be alone.