my head’s splitting this morning! Whoever said that you couldn’t get drunk on champagne was a liar. What’s this?’ she demanded, grimacing as she saw the tray. ‘Breakfast? Oh, for God’s sake, Sara, don’t be such a fool. Phone’s ringing,’ she added unnecessarily. ‘If it’s for me, take a number and say I’ll ring back.’
It wasn’t, and, when she had listened to the voice on the other end of the line, Sara felt that tiny seed of hope wither and die.
She walked back to Cressy’s room slowly.
‘Who was it?’ Cressy demanded carelessly.
‘Tom’s school. Apparently, he had a very bad attack of asthma yesterday. Dr Robbins was very kind about it, but he feels that Tom’s health is too precarious for him to continue to stay on at school. We must go and see him, Cressy—now!’ She was shaking so much, she had to sit down, but Cressy ignored her obvious shock and said angrily, ‘Now?’
It was only an hour’s drive to the small, well-run prep school Tom was attending.
They were shown immediately into the headmaster’s study. Dr Paul Robbins was a tall, confidence-inspiring man in his late forties and, a little to Sara’s surprise and Cressy’s obvious resentment, it was Sara whom he led to the chair in front of his desk, and to whom he addressed his remarks, leaving Cressy to take a very much disliked back seat.
Paul Robbins wasn’t particularly impressed by pretty faces. He had enough experience of them to know they weren’t worth very much without something to back them up. The pretty, pouting blonde he had recognised as one of the world’s takers straight away. The other one, the quiet, hesitant girl, with the air of fragile vulnerability, she was the one who would be burdened with the care of the young boy at present lying in one of the ‘San beds’, being worriedly cared for by his wife.
‘How is he, Dr Robbins?’ Sara asked without preamble. ‘Can we see him?’
‘He’s doing quite well now that the attack’s over,’ he assured her. ‘And you can see him later. I wanted to have a talk with you… with both of you first. I’m afraid that the loss of his parents has had a very bad effect on Tom. We’ve taken the advice of a specialist on asthma and related problems, because this isn’t the first attack he’s had in the last few weeks. Of course, it’s only natural that Tom should feel insecure and vulnerable at the moment, and that this vulnerability should lead to asthma attacks, but in Tom’s case our specialist feels that Tom needs the security of his family around him. Some boys just do not take to a boarding-school life. Tom hasn’t been unhappy here, but he has always been a little withdrawn. This withdrawal has increased since his parents’ death, and we feel that, for Tom’s sake, if nothing else, he would be better off at home.’
He looked down at his blotter and fiddled with his pen.
‘I believe at the moment you live in London?’
The question was addressed to Sara alone, as though he was well aware that it was she and not Cressy who would bear the burden of Tom’s welfare.
‘Yes,’ Sara agreed weakly.
He looked gravely at her. ‘One of the reasons Tom was sent here to school was because it was thought that city life was not good for his health. Our specialist has corroborated that view. He feels that Tom would fare best in a quiet country environment, at least until he is old enough and strong enough to combat his asthma with other means. I don’t need to tell you, I know, that he is a very frail little boy.’
Made frailer by the fact that he had received so little attention from his parents, Dr Robbins acknowledged, without saying as much. He knew quite well from his talks with Tom that it was his sister to whom the child most readily related, a sister who, by the looks of her, was almost at the end of her own fragile reserves of strength.
Sara’s body tensed, her heart beating rapidly. Was Dr Robbins trying to tell her… to prepare her… He saw her face, and instantly reassured her.
‘No… no, on this occasion, I assure you that he has pulled through the attack very well, but you know how weakening they are, how severely they restrict his life. Tom needs a quiet, secure background, Miss Rodney, at least for the next few years.’
He offered them tea, but Sara refused it. She was desperately anxious to see Tom and to assure herself that he was not more seriously ill than she had been told.
The little school sanatorium was bright and cheerful, but that could surely not lessen the loneliness for the little boy who was its sole occupant, Sara thought achingly as they were taken to see him.
He was sedated and drowsy with medication, but the smile he gave her made her heart turn over. He was her brother, and yet in many ways he was also her child. His parents had loved him in their careless way, but he was like her, vulnerable and in need of much more than the casual affection that was all they had time to give. She kneeled to kiss him, her throat closing up with love and fear. He was so thin, so pale, so much smaller surely than other boys his age.
They weren’t allowed to stay with him for very long. Dr Robbins had arranged for them to see the specialist, who merely repeated what he had already told them. By this time, Cressy was exhibiting obvious signs of impatience and, when they were finally free to walk out to the car, she complained irately, ‘Honestly, there was no need for him to go through it all again! I’m going out tonight, and now I’m going to be late.’
Sara couldn’t speak. She was too shocked and worried. How could Cressy even think about going out when Tom… She bit into her bottom lip, unaware that she had torn the tender flesh until she tasted blood.
‘It’s just as well you’ve got your grandmother to turn to,’ Cressy said casually as she started the car. ‘There’s no way you could stay in London now, is there?’
Hard eyes locked with Sara’s pained, bewildered ones, and all the objections she wanted to voice died unsaid.
‘I’ll write to my grandmother tonight,’ she said quietly, but Cressy shook her head and stopped the car.
‘Sara, don’t be such a fool. There isn’t time for that. You heard what that fool Robbins said. He wants to get rid of Tom. He wants you to take him away. And I thought you loved him,’ she added cruelly. ‘If you really did, you wouldn’t hesitate. Is your pride really so much more important than Tom’s health?’
There was nothing Sara could say. Numbly, she shook her head, while one part of her cried out in desperation that she could not simply turn up on her grandmother’s doorstep without an invitation.
She tried to reason, even to argue with Cressy, but the other girl wouldn’t listen.
‘Look, we’ll drive down and collect Tom on Friday, and then go straight up to Cheshire.’
Sara was too exhausted to protest. All she could think of was Tom’s white face; all she could hear was the specialist’s dire warnings about the necessity for a quiet, secure country life.
If her grandmother wasn’t wealthy, if there had been some past contact between them… But what was the point of ‘ifs’? She was caught in a situation not of her own making, and the strong sense of loyalty and responsibility bred deep in her wouldn’t allow her to abandon Tom now, when he needed her most.
‘Almost there.’
For the first time in weeks, Cressy sounded cheerful. Sara averted her head and stared blindly out of the window. She felt sick with nerves, desperately afraid of what was to come, and she wished she had done anything other than agree to Cressy’s plans.
She had even suggested telephoning her grandmother, but Cressy had forced her to concede that a telephone call was not the best way to introduce herself to a grandmother whom she had never seen.
In the back seat, Tom was humming cheerfully. Even today, she might have found an alternative but, when they arrived at the school to collect Tom, Dr Robbins had detained her to tell her than Tom’s school fees had been paid for the year, and