Trial By Marriage. Lindsay ArmstrongЧитать онлайн книгу.
They were assembled in the main lounge-cum-dining-room, a large, graceful room with a high ceiling and a wooden archway dividing it. The furniture, she noted in a quick glance around, was beautiful; there was a round mahogony dining-table with a central pedastal and eight chairs, a studded leather lounge suite and two exquisite Persian carpets on the restored wooden floor.
‘We’ve asked you to come up and give us your opinion as to whether Sally and Ben can be left here for a couple of weeks without their mother,’ Cliff Wyatt said.
Sarah blinked and Amy said tearfully, ‘Do you have to make it sound so awful? As if I really am aban- doning them?’
‘I’m not doing anything of the kind,’ he replied in clipped tones.’ What would be quite ridiculous, to my mind, is the idea of you carting them off for an in- definite period, upsetting their schooling and gen- erally unsettling them all round while you try to get
your life back together. Sarah—’ he turned to her
‘—as if it isn’t obvious, how are they settling in?’
Sarah said slowly, ‘Very well. Ben can be a bit of a handful at times but that’s nothing unusual for little boys, especially bright little boys. And now I’ve dis- covered he has quite a flair for art and loves to paint I’ve been giving him some extra art lessons, which he loves. As for Sally, she’s made a friend, they’re in- separable actually, and got over a lot of her shyness. I’d say they’re both happy and well-adjusted at the moment.’
‘And we can’t lay much of the responsibility for that at your door these days, Amy,’ her brother said pointedly.
The result was inevitable. Amy started to sob con- vulsively and Wendy murmured, ‘Cliff, I don’t think this is helping much.’
Sarah stood up. ‘I’ll—’
‘Sit down,’ Cliff Wyatt ordered.
But Sarah stood her ground with a little glint of anger in her eyes. ‘This has nothing to do with me,’ she replied evenly, and in truth, although she couldn’t help feeling some impatience with the ever-tearful Amy, she also couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for her.
‘It has in the sense that if Amy could be assured of your interest in Sally and Ben she might go with a clearer conscience.’
Sarah returned his hard, probing look with a rather old-fashioned one of her own. ‘Naturally I’m interested in them,’ she said stiffly, ‘and if Mrs Tibbs needs a hand at all I’d be happy to help—.’
‘Good, that’s settled, then,’ Cliff Wyatt said decis- ively but Amy only sobbed harder and Sarah glared at him then walked over to the other girl and said gently,
‘They’ll be fine with us for a while, Amy. But I think you should let them know that it won’t be for long, and you should make every effort to be calm and loving before you go.’
‘I’ll try—I will!’ Amy wailed. ‘Oh, thank you, Sarah! I know Mrs Tibbs is very good with them but you’re such a sensible sort of person. I’ve watched you with the kids and so on…’ And she resolutely blew her nose, swallowed several times and managed a shaky smile.
‘The very personification of it,’ Cliff Wyatt mur- mured, while Sarah thought two thoughts—that she’d been unaware of Amy’s approval or that she’d even been interested enough to notice anything, and, sec- ondly, to wonder what she was getting herself into.
AMY and Wendy departed a day and a half later and for the next couple of days Sarah watched Ben and Sally with extra care but could detect no trauma. And on the third day after their mother’s departure they arrived at school, bustling with importance and an invitation for Sarah to have dinner that night at the homestead.
She groaned inwardly but, looking at their eager faces, knew she couldn’t refuse although she would have dearly loved to because she was still filled with indignation directed squarely towards Cliff Wyatt for his high-handed ways.
But the early dinner they shared with the children was a pleasant meal, and something became obvious that hadn’t occurred to her before—Sally and Ben were clearly very fond of their uncle. And she helped Mrs Tibbs put them to bed, read them a story then went to find her host to bid him goodnight, only to find that Mrs Tibbs had made coffee for them and served it in the lounge.
‘I—,’
‘Sit down, Sarah,’ Cliff Wyatt said with a tinge of humour. ‘There’s no need to dash off; I’m really not the ogre you take me for.’
She hesitated but as he poured her coffee she sat and accepted it with a quiet word of thanks.
‘So. No problems with our temporary orphans, I gather?’
‘None that I can see,’ she replied. ‘Has… have you heard from Amy?’
‘Yes. She rings every day. She’s staying with Wendy but I’m not sure that’s such a good thing.’
Sarah raised an eyebrow at him.
‘Wendy is a very…assured person,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Amy never has been and for her to try to practise Wendy’s philosophies regarding love, men and marriage…’ He shrugged.
‘They seem to be such good friends, though.’
‘They’ve known each other since primary school but, whereas Amy got herself into marriage and motherhood when she might have been too young to know what she was doing, Wendy has been a career girl. To date,’ he added.
Sarah frowned faintly as she tried to analyse his tone but it proved impossible so she sat in silence for a while then heard herself say, a little to her surprise, ‘What’s Amy’s husband like?’
It took about a minute for Cliff Wyatt to reply. Then he said drily, ‘The strange thing is, he’s a good friend of mine and works for me.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes,’ Cliff agreed wryly. ‘Rather awkward. And, while he may not be the finest husband in the world, he’s not an ogre either. But something has gone out of it for them obviously and she is my sister.’
‘I’m glad to hear you say that,’ Sarah murmured.
He glinted an amused look across at her. ‘What prompted that? Your membership of the universal club of women? Or the conviction that blood should be thicker than water?’
‘Both probably,’ Sarah said caustically.
‘So if I were to tell you that my real conviction on the subject of Amy and Ross is that it’s about time she settled down and stopped looking for moonlight and roses around every corner, stopped worrying more about hairdressers and clothes than being a mother and a wife she would be a lot better off—if I were to tell you all that, no doubt you’d take instant umbrage?’
Sarah looked across at him coolly. ‘Not at all. But I would make the comment that it’s probably im- possible to know exactly what goes on between a man and a woman and only a fool would imagine he does.’
‘Ah, well, I’d be surprised if I was wrong but,’ he drawled, apparently in no way put out, ‘that’s quite a list you’re compiling, Sarah.’
She frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You’ve called me a fool, an underminer of your authority—oh, and let’s not forget what an aggres- sively, unpleasantly macho type I am. But tell me something—what goes on between you and Tim Markwell?’
The unexpectedness of it caused Sarah some con- fusion and caused some colour to come to her cheeks. ‘That’s none of your business… nothing!’ she said disjointedly.
‘Then there’s no need to