as you said yourself, what we’re doing is the right thing and the sensible thing. I’ve agreed to marry you and I don’t see the point in my carrying on arguing with you …’
‘I’m a firm believer that sometimes it’s healthy to argue.’
‘I’m tired of arguing, and it doesn’t get anyone anywhere. Besides, there’s nothing to argue about. You haven’t let us down once. I’m surprised no one’s sent men in white coats to take you away because they think you’ve lost the plot—leaving work so early every evening and getting in so late every morning.’
‘I’d call it adjusting my body clock to match the rest of the working population.’
‘And how long is that going to last?’ She heard herself snipe with dismay, but there was no reaction from him.
After a while, he said quietly, ‘If I had a crystal ball, I would be able to tell you that.’
Sarah bit down on the tears she could feel welling up. There was a lot to be said for honesty, but since when was honesty always the best policy?
‘Maybe I’m leaving work earlier than I ever have because I have something to leave for …’
Oliver. Paternal responsibility had finally succeeded in doing what no woman ever had or ever would. Sarah diplomatically shied away from dragging that thorny issue out into the open, because she knew that it would lead to one of those arguments which she was so intent on avoiding. Instead she remained tactfully silent for a couple of minutes.
‘That’s true,’ she said noncommittally. ‘I should tell you, though, before we meet my mum and dad, that they’ll probably guess the reasons behind our sudden decision to get married …’
‘What have you told them?’ Raoul asked sharply.
‘Nothing … really.’
‘And what does nothing … really mean, Sarah?’
‘I may have mentioned that you and I are dealing with the situation like adults, and that we’ve both reached the conclusion that for Oliver’s sake the best thing we can do is get married. I explained how important it was for you to have full rights to your son, and that you didn’t care for the thought of someone else coming along and putting your nose out of joint …’
‘That should fill them with undiluted joy,’ Raoul said with biting sarcasm. ‘Their one and only daughter, walking down the aisle to satisfy my selfish desire to have complete access to my son. If your mother hadn’t lost that heirloom bracelet she’d been hoping to pass on to you she probably would have gone out into the garden, dug a hole and buried it just to save herself the hypocrisy of a gesture for a meaningless marriage.’
‘It’s not a meaningless marriage.’
Sarah knew she had overstepped the self-assertive line. It was one thing being friendly but distant. It was another to admit to him that she was spreading the word that their marriage was a sham. Not that she had. She hadn’t had the heart to mention a word of it to her parents. As far as she knew they thought that her one true love had returned and the ring soon to be on her finger was proof enough of happy endings. They had conveniently forgotten the whole dumping saga.
Raoul didn’t trust himself to speak.
An awkward silence thickened between them until Sarah blurted out nervously, ‘In fact, as marriages go, it makes more sense than most.’
More uncomfortable silence.
She subsided limply. ‘I’m just saying that there’s no need to pretend anything when we get to my parents.’
‘I’m not following you.’ Raoul’s voice was curt, and for a brief moment Sarah was bitterly regretful that she had upset the apple cart—even if the apple cart had been a little wobbly to start with.
She was spared the need for an answer by the sound of little noises from the back seat as Oliver began to stir. He needed the toilet. Could they hurry? Their uncomfortable conversation was replaced by a hang-on-for-dear-life panic drive to find the nearest pub, so that they could avail themselves of the toilets and buy some refreshments by way of compensation.
Oliver, now fully revived after his nap, was ready to take up where he had left off—with the addition of one of the nursery rhyme tapes. He proceeded to kick his feet to the music in the back, protesting vehemently every time a move was made to replace it with something more soothing.
He was the perfect safeguard against any further foolhardy conversations, but as the fast car covered the distance, only getting trapped in traffic once along the way, Sarah replayed their conversation in her head over and over again.
She wondered whether she really should have warned her parents about the reality of the situation. She questioned why she had felt so invigorated when they had been arguing. She raged hopelessly against the horrible truth—which was that maintaining a friendly front was like drinking poison on a daily basis. She asked herself whether she had done the right thing in accepting his marriage proposal, and then berated herself for acknowledging that she had because she couldn’t trust herself ever to be able to deal with the sight of him with another woman.
But what if he did stray from the straight and narrow? What if he found marriage too restrictive, even with Oliver there to keep his eyes firmly on the end purpose? She had attempted to give that very real possibility house room in her head, but however many times she tried to pretend to herself that she was civilised enough to handle it, she just couldn’t bring herself to square up to the thought. Should she add a few more ground rules to something that was getting more and more unwieldy and complex by the second?
She nearly groaned aloud in frustration.
‘I think I’m getting a headache,’ she said tightly, running her fingers over her eyes.
Raoul flicked a glance in her direction. ‘I sympathise. I’m finding that “The Wheels on the Bus” can have that effect when played at full volume repeatedly.’
Sarah relaxed enough to flash him a soft sideways smile. She was relieved that the atmosphere between them was normal once again. It was funny, but although her aim was to keep him at a distance the second she felt him really stepping away from her she panicked.
‘We’ll be there before the headache gets round to developing.’
Sure enough, twenty minutes later she began to recognise some of the towns they passed through. Oliver began a running commentary on various places of interest to him, including a sweet shop of the old-fashioned variety which they drove slowly past, and Sarah found herself pointing out her own landmarks—places she remembered from when she was a teenager.
Raoul listened and made appropriate noises. He was only mildly interested in the passing scenery. Small villages in far-off rural places did very little for him. If anything they were an unwelcome reminder of how insular people could be in the country—growing up as one of the children from the foster home in a town not dissimilar to several they had already driven through had been a surefire case of being sentenced without benefit of a jury.
Mostly, though, Raoul was trying to remain sanguine after her revelation that she had already prejudiced her parents against him.
His temper was distinctly
