you have to cope on your own, which must be hard.’ Alison bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to get personal. But Davy told us she’s never had a daddy.’
‘That’s right,’ said Sarah cheerfully. ‘Men don’t feature in Davy’s life, so I hope your husband didn’t find her too much of a nuisance.’
‘Don took to her on sight—as you can see.’ Alison got up to point through the window, where her large husband was tearing towards the house in mock terror, with two little girls chasing after him, screaming in delight.
Sarah laughed as she watched Don Rogers capture a little girl under each arm and run with them into the house.
‘Right,’ he panted as he set them down. ‘Which one would you like, Sarah?’
‘Mummy!’ Davy launched herself at Sarah to hug her, looking flushed and grubby and thoroughly pleased with herself. ‘We went bowling and had pizzas and we talked all night.’
‘Most of it, anyway,’ said Alison indulgently.
‘You’ve obviously had a marvellous time,’ said Sarah, ruffling Davy’s hair.
‘Mummy says Davy can come every weekend,’ said Polly hopefully.
Her father chuckled. ‘We might like that, but I think Sarah would miss her.’
‘How about coming to stay with Davy and me some time, instead, Polly?’ suggested Sarah. ‘Our garden’s not as big as yours, but we could go swimming, and to the cinema, maybe.’
Polly clamoured at once for permission, a date was set for two weeks later, and Alison suggested Sarah drove Polly back afterwards. ‘Join us for Sunday lunch that day. Davy too, of course. We’ll invite some of the neighbours in, make it a party.’
Sarah made no attempt to hide her pleasure. This was the kind of invitation which never came her way. ‘That’s so kind of you, I’d love to.’
On the way home Davy chattered incessantly, giving Sarah every detail of her stay with Polly. ‘Mr Rogers is lovely,’ she said with enthusiasm. ‘Mrs Rogers, too,’ she added hastily, ‘but she couldn’t play with us all the time, because she had to do cooking and stuff.’
‘A woman’s lot,’ said Sarah with a dramatic sigh, and Davy giggled.
‘You don’t cook all the time.’
‘True. Grandma’s making Sunday lunch at this very moment.’
‘What are we having?’ said Davy, eyes sparkling.
‘I know about lots of vegetables, because I did them for her before I came out. And I’m sure Grandma’s rustling up something yummy to go with them.’
When they hurried upstairs in Campden Road, delicious scents of roast chicken came wafting from Margaret’s kitchen. She came down to meet them, smiling with a warmth she never showed Sarah as she opened her arms for Davy to fling herself into them and give a second account of her activities over the weekend.
‘Goodness, what an exciting time you’ve had,’ said Margaret fondly. ‘Now, go and wash in my bathroom, Davina Tracy. Lunch is nearly ready.’ She exchanged a look with Sarah as the little girl raced off. ‘She obviously enjoyed herself.’
‘She certainly did. But brace yourself, because we’ve got Polly on a return visit in a fortnight.’ Sarah’s lips twitched. ‘You could always take off on holiday a few days sooner than scheduled.’
‘Certainly not,’ said Margaret briskly. ‘I shall be here as usual. But the Rogers child will be your responsibility, Sarah, not mine.’
The rest of the day went by in a flash, with only time for the cake Margaret always made for Davy’s tea before Sarah drove the child back to school. This was a task she never looked forward to, though it was easier these days, now Davy had made friends. During her first term Davy had hated going back to school on Sunday evenings, and had been so tearful the journey had been purgatory for Sarah.
Given her own choice of education Sarah would have kept Davy at home and sent her to a local day school. But Margaret Parker had contributed to the money Sarah’s parents had put in trust for school fees at Davy’s birth, and had made sure that when the time came the child was sent to Roedale. And if Sarah suspected that Margaret had chosen the school for its social cachet, rather than its excellent academic record, she kept her thoughts to herself.
So, although Anne and David Tracy had died on holiday when Davina was only five, Sarah had kept her promise and eventually sent the child as a weekly boarder to the girls’ school Margaret Parker had persuaded them to choose. But Sarah had never imagined beforehand how painful it would be to part with Davy every term-time Sunday evening.
When Brian rang after the weekend, with a belated enquiry after Sarah’s health, she agreed readily when he suggested they had dinner together the following evening, glad of the opportunity to tell him it was over between them.
Over dinner at Brian’s favourite restaurant Sarah listened patiently while he gave her a detailed account of the play she’d missed.
‘The actress who played Lady Windermere was particularly good,’ he informed her. ‘Beautiful creature.’
‘So I’ve heard,’ murmured Sarah absently, her mind on the kindest way to tell him it was over between them. In the end Brian gave up on her, openly relieved when she refused pudding and coffee. He walked her back to the car at such a pace she assumed he was in a hurry to get home, then sat silent for a moment, making no move to switch on the ignition.
‘Sarah, there’s something I need to tell you,’ he informed her heavily.
Because he’d taken the exact words out of her mouth she eyed him in surprise. ‘Talk away, then, Brian.’
‘I’m sorry I was poor company tonight,’ he began, staring through the windscreen. ‘Because, well—oh, dammit, there’s no easy way to say this.’
‘Are you by any chance giving me the push, Brian?’ asked Sarah unsteadily, desperate to laugh.
‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,’ he protested, and shot a hunted look at her. ‘Look, my dear, I hate to do this to you in your particular situation.’
She stiffened. ‘My situation?’
‘Don’t be offended,’ he implored her. ‘I think you do a wonderful job as a single parent. But—well—the truth is, Sarah, I’m just not cut out to be a stepfather,’ he added in a rush.
Since Sarah, in her wildest dreams, had never cast him in the role, she agreed readily. ‘No, Brian, I don’t think you are.’
‘But I must be honest. That’s not the only reason,’ he went on doggedly, and took a deep breath. ‘It’s been obvious to me for some time that a physical relationship between us is never going to happen, Sarah. And, contrary to the impression I may give, I’m a pretty normal kind of man, with the usual male needs, you know.’
‘Oh, Brian, of course you are,’ said Sarah in remorse. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfil them for you. I never meant to hurt you.’
‘I
