CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
After a delicious blackberry and apple crumble and several different types of cheese had been demolished, Sage was almost disappointed when Rafe rose from his chair and began to make their excuses.
It was not until they were gathered around the car that Louis, who had followed everyone out, with a mischievous lift to his full mouth, said, ‘Being a daddy suits you, Rafe.’
‘Oh, do shut up, Louis,’ Constance snapped at her younger son in irritation, looking worriedly at Rafe to see his reaction. He was moving Hal’s car seat out of the Audi and into a brand new, green Land Rover Discovery.
Rafe looked up from securing the seat and smiled, not taking the bait.
‘Thanks, Louis. It’s all the practice I’ve had looking after you!’
‘What have you done to him?’ Constance uttered quietly, looking at Sage. ‘I’ve never known Rafe so easy-going. Long may it – and you both – last.’
Sage smiled gratefully at the older woman. It was such a novelty to be on the receiving end of genuine kindness after the endless spite that had poured so freely from Lucilla Deverill. She put a tentative hand on Constance’s arm.
‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely. ‘Thank you for being so warm and welcoming to both Hal and me. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it.’ Sage imagined that she, as a woman in the midst of a divorce with an almost four-year-old child, was probably not the partner Lady Constance had aspired to for her elder son, who was first in line to inherit the family’s aristocratic titles and substantial estate.
The fact that she had been received at Crockford with open arms reflected Constance’s innate goodness.
‘It’s been our pleasure,’ Constance replied honestly.
It was true, Sage was not the woman whom she had envisaged for Rafe, but she had been getting increasingly worried lately that he would end up alone.
He had always had droves of pretty girls swarming around him yet he had never seemed to show any interest in them.
So great was his focus on racing that he frequently forgot to eat, let alone date; apart from that dreadful girl in America, not a single girl until now had made enough of an impression to break through his wall of concentration.
Whereas Constance felt sure that Rafe could be happy with this beautiful, sweet-natured, humble girl – and that the only way for a mother to maintain any solid relationship with her grown-up son was to keep any prospective daughter-in-law on side.
Constance remembered her own mother telling her that it was imperative to be friends with her two sons’ girlfriends, for men become the possessions of their wives when they marry.
Rafe gave his mother a quick hug, shook hands with his father and punched Louis lightly on the arm.
‘Right, let’s make a move, you two,’ he said gently to Sage and Hal, then added, ‘Sorry – three,’ as Grouse appeared, determined not to be left behind.
Sage was securing Hal into his seat when Lord Walter appeared at the door.
‘Now, if we are going shopping – what sort of ponies do you like, boy?’ he asked gruffly.
Hal thought for a moment, then chirped up confidently, ‘A black stallion with a gleaming eye.’
They arrived in the Cornish village of Penrose at six o’clock that evening.
The second leg of the long journey was much more comfortable in the larger car.
Grouse was sprawled peacefully on his rugs, which still took up most of the cream leather back seat, and Hal contentedly watched the television behind the driver’s headrest.
It was already dark. Rafe parked in the pastoral car park of an extremely pretty thatched pub that was built from ancient grey stone.
Written on a sign swinging gently in the crisp sea breeze was THE CAMELOT INN.
Sage got out of the car and breathed in a lungful of fresh air as she stretched.
She could hear the waves lapping against the shore.
They were on the edge of Cornwall, looking out over the Atlantic ocean.
‘I’ll go and see if there’s any room at the inn,’ Rafe said, smiling slightly ironically. Sage hugged him gratefully. They stood holding onto one another in the wind, each taking strength from the closeness and warmth which the other provided.
Rafe was trying to calm the churning anger that rose up every time he thought about Santiago and, to a slightly lesser extent, Dickie.
He could not understand how these two men had gone so dramatically against the natural order of things.
He had never felt these feelings of possessiveness and protectiveness towards a woman before and the ferocity of his emotions frightened him.
Sage let Grouse and Hal out and they walked out of the small car park along a rocky outcrop where the road turned into a track and below them, the sea washed in and out on a dark, sandy beach.
Grouse trotted along, overjoyed to be outside, stopping every so often to smell the exciting new scents of unexplored territory and periodically disappearing into the night before quickly returning to vigilantly check on his charges.
The rhythmic crash of waves on the shore below was a reminder to not walk too close to the edge and Sage held onto Hal’s hand tightly as he trotted along beside her.
‘Mumma, are we walking to Grandpapa?’ he asked, tired but still curious, as they meandered along the old coastal track.
‘No, darling. Not tonight. We are just giving Grouse a walk while Rafe finds us somewhere to sleep.’ Sage suddenly felt exhausted.
The thought of seeing her father was daunting; it had been over ten years.
She was full of trepidation. Was she bringing Hal into yet another precarious situation?
It was too late to back out now though, she could not stand down after dragging Rafe halfway across the country.
What if Dickie did not want to see her though?
What if he was changed, and no longer that kind person she remembered from her childhood?
She had imagined seeing him again, so many times, not so much recently but when she was a teenager; he had sometimes been a paragon of paternal virtue in these scenes of reunion and on other occasions she had painted him as hard, cruel and selfish.
She had felt such resentment towards him after her mother died.
She had tried to forget about him, just as she imagined he had forgotten about her and Casper.
But you can’t forget someone you love, however much they have hurt you.
Now she hoped to reconcile with him – for her sake and for Hal’s.
He had so little family. Sage felt that it was the least she could do for her son, especially when she was in the midst of trying to evade his own father.
To reunite him with his grandfather, a real one.
Hal’s immediate family had been whittled down and his blood relatives on Santiago’s side left a lot to be desired.
Sage just hoped that her father was going to cut the mustard and be up to the task of becoming a proper grandfather.
She reminded herself not to care so much, not to have any expectations.
If she could let Hal and his grandfather forge a relationship, that would be enough.
Grouse appeared again out of the gloom, waving his red tail in welcome and nuzzling attentively into Hal’s side.
‘I only hope my father will be as kind as you, Grouse,’ Sage pondered out loud, stretching down to pull his silken ears fondly.
‘I love Grouse,’ Hal said simply. ‘And Rafe.’
Sage felt a rush of happiness and bent down to pick up her son.
Joyfully gathering him into her arms, she spun him around and his laughter filled their cold, black, starless surroundings, suddenly making it the most cheerful place on earth.
They skipped back towards the Camelot Inn, Sage carrying Hal on her hip.
They were trying to sing ‘Puff, the Magic Dragon’ again and Grouse was rumbling along in sympathy as they both got the words wrong.
‘What’s all this racket?’ Rafe appeared before them, eyes sparkling.
His dark hair was already damp from the precipitation off the sea, his chiselled features highlighted by the distant glow of the lights outside the pub.
Sage could not help but wonder whether he might ever be hers.
He tentatively held his arms out to Hal, who wriggled down from Sage’s hold and ran into them willingly.
‘I’ve managed to book two rooms – their only two rooms. It was a bit of luck – they’d had a cancellation, otherwise we’d have been sleeping in the car. Apparently there’s nowhere else to stay for ten miles. Shall we go and get some supper? I think I saw fish fingers on the menu.’
He shifted Hal onto his hip and took Sage’s hand, leading her into the pub.
Ducking through the low door they stepped into a low-ceilinged bar that was whitewashed inside.
It was very simple, the only decorations being framed black-and-white photographs of the village from over the years.
The bar itself was lined with ‘the regulars’; all old men wearing thick jerseys, checked shirts and flat caps like a uniform.
‘This is my sort of establishment,’ said Rafe with an approving nod. ‘The barmaid is definitely my type too.’
Sage looked up at him in surprise and he gestured towards the woman standing at the far end of the bar; bent over with age, she had snow-white hair and wore thick spectacles on a string around her neck. Sage punched him reprovingly on the arm.