Relative Sins. Anne Mather
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at her shoulder was unfamiliar, and she turned almost guiltily to find Linda Erskine’s husband hovering at her side. His appearance caused her to look with some apprehension across the hall, but Linda was still standing with Alex and seemed indifferent to anyone else.
‘I—why, yes,’ she said, forcing herself to concentrate on her companion and not speculate on his wife’s behaviour. Though if she had been James Erskine she wouldn’t have left them, she thought bitterly. Someone should warn him that people weren’t always what they seemed.
‘I should introduce myself,’ he was saying now. ‘I’m James Erskine. Harry’s father and I have been friends for years. I was so sorry to hear what happened. Harry was a fine man and I admired him greatly. You have my sympathy at this most stressful time.’
‘Thank you.’ Sara wasn’t sure whether she should address him as James or Mr Erskine, and as she was having some difficulty in separating him from the rather envious thoughts she had been having about his wife she decided to use neither.
‘It must all be quite bewildering for you,’ James went on, revealing a genuine compassion for her plight. ‘Coming back to Edmundsfield must have been daunting. Not just another country, but a wintry one as well.’
‘Yes.’ Sara managed a faint smile. ‘You forget how cold it can be. I’m afraid I’ve been spoilt for the past five years. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to wear an overcoat.’
James smiled in return. ‘I, on the other hand, know what it feels like only too well. When you get to my age you have to take care of yourself. It wouldn’t do for me to leave my overcoat behind.’
Sara warmed to him. His friendly smile, his obvious willingness to joke about his age, his understanding all commended him to her. When the news of his marriage to Linda had reached them Harry had mentioned that James Erskine must be considerably older than his wife, but at that time Sara had dismissed the fact as being of no concern to her. But now…
‘How’s Ben taking it?’ James asked. ‘I expect he’s finding it a little strange too. Thank heavens he’s so young. He’ll recover so much easier.’
‘I hope so.’ Sara nodded. ‘He and I will have to sort our future out fairly soon. We won’t be going back to Brazil, of course. That goes without saying. But we have to find somewhere to live, and I have to find a job.’
‘Of course.’ A slight frown crossed his face for a moment. ‘Well, if there’s anything I—that is, Linda or I—can do, you must let us know.’
‘Thank you.’ Sara was genuinely sure that he meant it. ‘It’s very kind of you.’
‘Not at all.’ James patted her hand with gentle warmth. ‘Ah—here comes my wife. I believe you’ve met her. And Alex. I’m sure he must be a tower of strength at this time.’
It wasn’t a description that Sara would have used, but Linda’s intervention forestalled any thoughts of that kind. ‘Darling,’ she said, touching her husband’s hand, ‘we should be going. We don’t want to impose and—Sara!’ Her start of surprise was almost convincing. ‘I do apologise. I hadn’t realised it was you James was speaking with. Let me offer my condolences. It was a terrible thing to happen. You must be quite distraught.’
‘Yes.’ Sara wished that she could respond with as much conviction. ‘I—it was terrible. And so unexpected. Harry thought the men were his friends…’
Her voice was beginning to falter. In spite of herself the strain of the last few hours was getting to her, and the awareness of Alex, standing just behind Linda and listening to every word, was too much. In addition to which there was the unwarranted dislike she still felt for the other woman to cope with, made all the more contemptible because of her husband’s kindness.
‘Well, I’m sure James has told you that if there’s anything either of us can do…’ Linda added, her gracious tone grating on Sara’s nerves. She tucked her arm into her husband’s. ‘Come along, darling. We’ve got the Websters coming at seven, remember?’ She cast a challenging glance behind her. ‘I’m sure we can leave Alex to take care of his sister-in-law.’
‘Naturally.’
Alex’s single word of acknowledgement set the seal on the Erskines’ departure, but Sara was aware that James Erskine cast her another reassuring glance as he allowed his wife to usher him away. And it was some comfort to know that not everyone blamed her for what had happened to Harry. The Erskines were family friends, and could be relied upon to reflect the general mood.
Sara’s concentration abruptly wavered. She wished she could make her departure too. This mannered observation of the required social protocol was beginning to tell on her, and now that Alex had resumed his position at her side she just wanted to be alone.
Watching James and Linda make their way to the door forced her to wonder what kind of relationship theirs was. She had heard of marriages where both partners lived their own lives, only staying together for personal reasons. Was Linda’s interest in Alex only platonic these days, or was she still harbouring regrets of what could and should have been?
‘You seemed to be getting along very well with James,’ Alex observed, and the remark jarred on her already taut nerves.
‘Is that a criticism?’ she countered, her tiredness making her reckless. ‘Don’t judge everybody by your own standards, Alex. James Erskine seems an honourable man.’
Alex’s mouth tightened for a moment. ‘And I’m not?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Sara was quite proud of her look of indifference. ‘I was merely being polite. I liked him. I can see why Linda married him.’
‘Can you?’ Alex was sardonic now. ‘For the same reasons you married Harry, perhaps. Because—life—hadn’t quite worked out as you planned.’
Sara’s nails dug into her palms. ‘You’d like to think so,’ she hissed, and they both knew that they weren’t talking about the Erskines now. ‘Just keep away from me, Alex. I can do without your amateur psychology. Save it for Linda. I’m sure she’s far more interested than me.’
Alex’s fingers closed around her upper arm. ‘Cool it, will you?’ he said in a low, harsh voice. ‘This isn’t the place to have this discussion. I’m sure you don’t want to embarrass the old man.’
‘What old—? Oh, you mean your father.’ Sara made an unsuccessful effort to get free, and then stood motionless in his grasp. ‘Let me go. I have to go and check on Ben again. He’ll be tired. It’s past time for his nap.’
‘He can wait.’ But Alex released her anyway, realising, she was sure, that any possessive moves on his part could be badly misconstrued. ‘Sara, we have to talk, you know. You can’t keep putting it off.’
Sara swung away. ‘I’m not putting anything off,’ she retorted, aware that she was overreacting but unable to do anything about it. ‘I don’t need anything from you, Alex. I never did.’
The kitchen, when she reached it, was blessedly quiet and normal. The mingled smells of newly baked bread and pastry were deliciously familiar, bringing back a score of memories of when she was a child at home.
Unfortunately her childhood had been short-lived. Her parents had been killed in a car crash when she was barely ten, and as there had been no convenient relatives to look after her a series of foster homes had followed. At sixteen she had left that kind of protective custody for good and had found herself temporary accommodation in a hostel. With some luck, and a lot of hard work, she had eventually trained as a secretary, and by the time she’d met Harry she had attained the dizzy heights of personal assistant to a rather humble official in the social services.
Which was why Elizabeth Reed hadn’t approved of their association. A fairly ordinary girl from what she regarded as a doubtful background was not what she had had in mind for her son. Linda Erskine had been only one of the contenders. Mrs Reed had paraded a selection of would-be candidates