Catier's strike (19 page)

He was certainly an impressive-looking man, and Sarah, who had never seen him in a city suit before, could well understand the girls' only too apparent appreciation of his company. They didn't know the half of it, she thought darkly, and she wondered how long they would put up with his highhanded ways, or with the veiled insults she had had to suffer at his hands.

At last Margaret and Viola could linger no longer, and Sarah knew they had cut it fine to get back to work on time, and after a regretful farewell to Sean, and favouring Sarah with a look that plainly said, 'We'll see you later. Just who do you think you're kidding?' they were on their way.

For a few seconds, silence fell between Sarah and Sean. Sarah did not think it was fair for a man to be attacked while he was enjoying his meal so she waited until he had refused a sweet and ordered coffee, before wading in with, 'I've had enough trouble convincing Eddie that I'm ready to start work, without your putting ideas into my friends' heads as well!'

`What sort of ideas?' Sean enquired lazily, his eyes lightly scanning her indignant features.

`You know very well!' Sarah spat out at him. `He actually believed all that stuff and nonsense you gave him about our being engaged, and no thanks to you, I almost lost my job!'

`Almost?' purred Sean.

`Almost,' confirmed Sarah. 'Instead, it's very likely I shall take over as features editor at the end of the month, so really,' she gave him an acid smile, 'I suppose you did me a favour. They say

every cloud has a silver lining, don't they?' she added sweetly.

`If we weren't in such a public place, I might just attempt to alter your thinking on that,' he said casually, but his eyes belied his nonchalance. `It's a pity about that job, but you're not taking it.'

Sarah's hand closed round the strap of her shoulder bag so hard that she could feel the leather thong of the strap biting into her palm as she rose from the table. 'If you don't mind,' she said icily, 'I've finished my lunch, and I really have to go now.'

To her further fury, she found her wrist caught by Sean's strong fingers. 'You'll go, we'll both go, when I'm ready. Have another cup of coffee,' he suggested lightly, 'and stop acting like a frightened filly.'

Sarah was forced to sit down again, but drew the line at more coffee. 'Why can't you leave me alone?' she said in a low voice.

Sean's blue eyes met hers. 'Don't you know?' he asked mockingly.

Sarah looked away as she felt a flush staining her cheeks. How did she cope with this man? she asked herself hopelessly. He was too experienced for her, and she had always thought herself quite knowledgeable where men were concerned. To his way of thinking she had got off lightly, and he wasn't about to give in so easily. That he wanted an affair with her was clear. Would he suggest that they go back to the homestead? Thanks to Margaret, he knew she had a fortnight's holiday.

`You want to take me back to the homestead?'

she asked bluntly. 'Is that what you meant when you said "it depends" when I asked you when you were going back?'

Sean's eyes searched hers. 'Would you come?' he challenged.

It was the answer that Sarah had expected, but even so, she felt a dull ache inside her. 'You'd do much better with Pauline,' she said quietly.

`It's not Pauline I want. It's you,' he replied, his eyes never leaving her face.

She stared down at the tablecloth. Well, at least it was out now. She had known it all along.

`We're having dinner with Kathy,' he said, as if everything was settled. 'I've got lumbered with an appointment at three, but I should be through by four,' he told her, as he placed some notes on the table to pay for the meal, and waited for her to join him. `I'll pick you up at six. I suppose you'll need some time to pack,' he added lightly. 'We can take one of the night flights out.'

Sarah felt like a leaf that had fallen into a fast-flowing river and was being borne along willy-nilly to some unknown destination as Sean escorted her to the flat, keeping up a light conversation about how he was looking forward to the peace and quiet of the homestead and couldn't shake the dust of the city off his feet fast enough, eventually leaving the utterly bemused Sarah staring after his tall figure when he left her at the door of the flat.

As soon as he had gone the spell left her, and she let herself into the flat shaking her head to clear the last remnants of fog from her senses. Either he was mad, or she was. He really thought

that all he had to do was to snap his fingers and she would be there!

It did not suit her at that particular moment to call to mind that there had been a time, only that morning, in fact, when she would have been only too happy to have had the chance.

It was small wonder that Sean had no trouble with women! With his caveman style of courting, they didn't stand a chance! He mesmerised them first, just as he had mesmerised Viola and Margaret—but not this female, she told herself stoutly, as she went into her room.

`I'm a successful journalist,' she announced to the room, 'and I've got the chance of a lifetime to move on in my profession, and I'm taking it, do you hear?' she demanded of the baby koala bear sitting on her dressing table, and whose large soft glass eyes seemed to wink back at her. 'We know what's what, don't we?' she went on firmly. 'Just for once he's picked on the wrong number. No man tells us what to do, do they? Am I to throw everything away on a light affair with a man who happens to fancy me? Well, I'm not!'

At this point Sarah suddenly recalled that she was talking to herself, and shut her eyes. It was a good thing that the girls weren't in, or they'd be making an appointment at the funny farm for her, she thought grimly.

She sat down on her bed. She wasn't sure they wouldn't do so anyway, after she asked them to tell Sean Cartier that she was out when he called for her at six.

Not once during all that time had she given him any encouragement to think she would be

willing to have an affair with him. The opposite, in fact, she thought, going over their association at the base, and then on to the stay at the homestead.

A few seconds later she gave a light groan, as she recalled the bedroom scene when she had invited Sean to help her into the nightdress he had brought her.

He had said something about 'taking her up on that later,' hadn't he? and now he hoped to collect!

Well, hope was as far as it was going, she thought, as she glanced at her wrist watch. It was just past two-thirty, and she had three clear hours before the girls came back from work, and several things to do.

A short time later Sarah had packed all she needed for a week's stay. She knew precisely where she was going. Mrs Smith, the office cleaner, had obliged her once before when she was on the run from a particularly persistent male who had haunted her existence, until he finally got the message that there was nothing doing.

The next thing on the agenda was to write two letters, one to the girls, and the other to Sean Cartier.

She told the girls that she had decided to spend a week at a holiday resort, possibly a fortnight, but she'd see how it went. She also mentioned that Sean would be calling at six, and would they please give him the note she had left for him.

That done, she settled down to her last task, the letter to Sean, in which she explained that since she had left him, she had had second

thoughts about spending a few weeks with him, and hoped he would not be too disappointed, and after thanking him politely for the offer, she wished him a good journey home.

After she had propped the two letters on the hall table where the girls couldn't fail to see them, she picked up her case and left the flat before she changed her mind.

She was lucky in getting a taxi to take her to the inner suburban area where Mrs Smith lived, and within fifteen minutes was drawing up outside the high-rise block of flats and making her way to number twenty-five on the ground floor.

`That pesky man turned up again?' Mrs Smith asked cheerfully, as she welcomed Sarah into her small living room. 'Time you got married, duck, that'll put an end to these sort of capers,' she added in her unmistakably Cockney accent, because Mrs Smith had been born in London, and although she had spent the last ten years in Sydney, the other side of the world, she had never dropped the accent, and woe betide anyone who attempted to make her.

Sarah did not feel too inclined to go into deeper detail, but let Mrs Smith presume that it was the same 'pesky man' rather than tell her that it was another one!

Although Mrs Smith had gone to Australia after she had become a widow, to be with her son who had settled out there with his family, from what Sarah had gathered, it had not been an ideal move, and as time had gone on family visits had got fewer, but being the cheerful and outgoing soul that she was, she made light of what must at

times have been a lonely existence for her. She was not short of friends, and looked after a couple of old ladies along the passage from her flat, doing odd jobs and bringing shopping back for them on her way home from her chores at the Daily offices.

Having already spent a few days with her, Sarah now knew the routine, and made sure that she did not put her out of her usual routine, although last time it had been different, as Sarah had still been working then, and had left for work before Mrs Smith returned home.

Sarah had been quite firm in her resolve not to make work for Mrs Smith, and allowed her to give her breakfast and dinner only, since she would be cooking for herself in the evening anyway. But midday lunch, Sarah had told her firmly, would be taken in the small café across the way. She had had to tread warily, though, for Mrs Smith had her pride, and since Sarah was paying for her keep it was as well not to make too big a thing of it.

In the end Sarah won her case, for she happened to know that Mrs Smith provided snacks for her two old friends down the corridor, as she had once confided to Sarah. 'They don't bother, you know, and as long as I know they've had something, I don't worry. That social lot are always snooping around to find out how they're coping. They're not ready for the ladies' rest home yet, as nice as they're made out to be. Still,' she admitted grudgingly, 'I suppose they're only doing their bit. Got nothing else to do, most of them, they're a bit on the lah-di-dah side for me, though,' she declared.

So Sarah settled in, and the evening was spent in gossiping, although around six o'clock she found herself glancing at the much battered old mantelpiece clock that Mrs Smith had brought from her old home in London, stating that it brought back happy memories for her, and they could keep those fancy timepieces that no one could mend when they went wrong. That clock had gone on for nigh on forty years, and would see her out.

But none of these sentiments were on Sarah's mind when the hands pointed to six. In her mind's eyes she was back at the flat, trying to gauge Sean's reaction to her letter, and she felt grateful that she was nowhere in the vicinity to receive the backlash her words would invoke.

She was also glad that she had had the foresight to tell the girls that she was at a holiday resort, because that could be anywhere, and would completely mislead them as to her real abode.

Would he still keep the dinner date with Kathy? she wondered. She thought he would, as she felt he would keep to his original plan of taking a night flight out to Darwin.

The trouble was, there was nothing certain where that man was concerned, and Sarah preferred to be safe rather than sorry—and she would be sorry, she was certain of that. She would never forgive herself for losing the opportunity of a lifetime to indulge in an affair that would leave her with lasting scars.

As she sat in Mrs Smith's small sitting room, listening to the clatter going on in her small

kitchen while her hostess set about getting their evening meal, singing lustily at the top of her voice, for Mrs Smith was much addicted to singing, and as she had once said, 'It keeps me cheerful, dearie,' it did nothing to lighten Sarah's depression, only somehow deepened it. It would be a long time before she felt like singing about anything.

Being an early riser because of her job, Mrs Smith was always tucked up in bed by ten at the latest, and Sarah followed her example, although Mrs Smith had expected her to stay and see the rest of the television programme through, but Sarah had had enough for one day—and what a day! she thought tiredly as she took a quick shower before going to bed in the small second bedroom of the flat.

As nice as the room was, it was completely impersonal, and she thought longingly of her own room, that she should have been sleeping in for the first time since her fateful departure for Darwin and the camp.

That wretched man had a lot to answer for, she told herself indignantly as she settled herself in bed. Kathy had never made a truer statement than when she had sympathised with her about not having much luck with her family.

She hadn't known the half of it, Sarah mused, as she lay waiting for sleep. Right now, she was probably wondering why Sean was in such a foul mood, and why he hadn't brought his guest to dinner, and Sarah couldn't see him coming clean on that one. It was not the sort of thing you told a sister, and as he would reasonably not be

expecting to see her for a few more months, something that would never come to light. No, she thought drowsily, he would say something about someone letting him down at the last moment, and leave it at that.