CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease,
and builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.
William Blake, Songs of Innocence and of Experience
Hearing footsteps and voices coming along the passageway, Sage wondered if she could make a break for it. There wasn’t time – she was trapped in the kitchen. She started to manically bounce Hal about on her knee, her hands shaking and her teeth chattering like castanets.
Betsy came into the kitchen, her face drawn and pale.
She walked over to Sage and Hal and stood protectively in front of them.
Santiago Deverill followed her in and his dark eyes settled quickly upon Sage.
A waft of his familiar aftershave washed over her, making her want to retch.
He looked familiar and strange to Sage at the same time.
His handsome face was tanned and he had put on a tailored blue suit that hung from all the right places, highlighting his lean, athletic body.
He was also sporting a rather impressive black eye.
Had he seen her with Rafe? If he had, there would be dire consequences.
Although he had dabbled in extramarital affairs constantly, if Sage had ever even spoken to another man he had lost his head from jealousy.
Squaring her shoulders and swallowing down the rising fear, she gave a brittle laugh and forced herself to speak.
‘What on earth has happened to you? Were you hoping to win me back by donning a matching bruise? I’m afraid the shiner you so kindly bestowed upon me has faded now.’ Still clinging onto Hal for support, she was amazed that she managed to keep a nonchalant tone to her voice.
Santiago stared at Sage. He found his wife very much changed.
Gone was the cowed, miserable girl who had been in Panama and instead here she was, strong and beautiful again, just like she had been when they first met.
He paused, his mind trying to formulate a plan of best attack, but he was completely thrown off balance and was not sure how to proceed.
Everyone was still. Betsy and Maggie were stony-faced and frozen to the spot; Betsy in front of Sage, and Maggie hovering by the larder door.
He slyly tried to attack using a different phalanx.
‘I missed my son, Sage. Hal, won’t you come and give your father a hug?’ Santiago pleaded, bending down next to them, aware of all three women’s frosty eyes on him. Nobody moved.
Santiago looked pleadingly at Hal and for a moment, Sage thought the little boy was going to go to him.
His charm was still a powerful force. Instead he looked up at his mother and placed his arms around her neck.
You could have heard a pin drop in the normally loud and bustling kitchen. Hal shook his head decisively.
‘Wouldn’t you like to come home, Hal? We can go fishing and sailing, and – I’ll get you a pony!’ Santiago misguidedly threw impulsive, rash bribery at his son, desperately trying to regain some leverage.
Hal proudly proclaimed, ‘Gammy got me a pony. He’s called Custard. I want to go fish though, Mumma – can we?’
Sage had had enough. She felt clammy and shaky. Although Santiago seemed slightly intimidated, here in the warm kitchen, she knew the menace that lurked beneath the surface was real.
‘I would like you to leave, Santiago.’ She felt unnerved under his returning, unwavering gaze.
‘I’m not going anywhere. I have come here in person to tell you that I will press charges if you are not willing to give our marriage another chance.’
‘You can’t press charges against me, I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Not against you. Against your father.’ Santiago smugly delivered his finishing blow. It did not, however, deliver the punch that he had hoped.
‘My father? I have no idea what you are talking about, Santiago. Please leave.’ Sage turned to Maggie, exasperated.
She just wanted him to go. ‘Maggie, please can you run outside to the yard and tell my grandfather that his presence is immediately required in the kitchen?’ She looked at her in desperation, her mask of strength slipping for a moment.
‘Yes, Miss Sage,’ Maggie said, quickly pulling off her pinny and hanging it up neatly, before scuttling determinedly out of the room.
‘I will tell you what I’m talking about.’ Santiago walked over to one of the small orange trees next to the table and pulled off a delicate green leaf, crushing it between his thumb and first finger. ‘Your father came to visit me in Panama.’
Sage opened her mouth in disbelief and was about to say something but Santiago continued pompously.
‘No, let me talk. He walked into my mother’s house, uninvited.
I saw what looked to me like a common vagabond standing by the pool.
I went down to kick him out, upon which he announced that he was “Dickie Beaumont”.
Then, for no apparent reason, he launched himself at me and broke my nose.
’ Santiago peered from Betsy to Sage, as though waiting for an outpouring of sympathy.
None came. He continued, undeterred. ‘He could have killed me. He hit me backwards onto the stone next to the pool. Mother said I was knocked out for over five minutes. When I came round, your father had gone.’ He looked down at Sage calculatingly.
He wanted her back. He would do anything to bring her to heel.
‘And I will not hesitate to take official action against him if you refuse to come home with me.’
Betsy shifted uneasily, crossing her arms in front of her like a sentinel.
She did not know what the best course of action was and willed Dennis to hurry.
Sage, utterly confused, just stared at Santiago, and Betsy realized that the mention of Dickie had completely destabilized her.
Sage was rocking backwards and forwards in an attempt to soothe either herself or the child; which one, Betsy was not sure.
Hearing footsteps at the back door, she heaved a sigh of relief.
‘What the devil is going on here?’ Dennis strode in, still wearing his hat and boots from the races, followed by Maggie. Santiago shot forward, holding his hand out. Dennis cut him dead and marched over to Sage, his eyes flashing with anger as he saw what a state his wife and granddaughter were in.
‘Betsy, take the child up for his bath. I will deal with this.’
Betsy needed no encouragement but looked, seeking permission, to Sage.
‘Thank you, Gammy. That’s a good idea.’ Sage began to formulate a plan. ‘I just need a moment to gather my wits.’ She gave her grandmother a meaningful look and Gammy nodded.
‘Good night, my boy!’ Santiago said, in one last attempt to control the narrative.
Hal, stifling a large yawn, allowed Betsy to take his small, sticky hand.
Sliding slowly off his mother’s lap, he meekly went upstairs with his grandmother, his face still liberally smeared with crusted egg yolk and his cheeks shining with melted butter.
Sage heard him say, quite clearly, ‘Papa is a bugger, isn’t he, Gammy? ’ as he stumped up the stairs.
‘Why have you come?’ Dennis turned to look at Santiago, who had taken it upon himself to sit down at the table, opposite Sage.
‘I have come to fetch my wife and son and return them home to Panama,’ Santiago said, crossing his legs in an attempt to make himself comfortable.
Dennis stared at Sage.
‘You didn’t summon him.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘This is not what you want?’ He sounded incredulous but needed to make sure; he looked closely at his granddaughter.
‘No, Bumpa. I did not summon him. Someone –’ and at this, she glared at her grandfather – ‘I am guessing, has been in contact with my father, who decided to travel to Panama in order to thump this clod. Did you tell Dad that I came home with a black eye courtesy of him?’ Sage indicated Santiago with a nod of her head; she could hardly bear to look at her estranged husband.
Dennis had the good grace to look sheepish.
‘Well, I must admit I have been in contact with Dickie, yes. He has rung me up quite a lot since you came home – I must have spoken to him more in the last few weeks than I have in about fifteen years. If you must know, he has been building up the courage to get back in contact with you both. I wasn’t to tell you though, until you had got settled and he had managed to sort himself out once and for all.
’ He knew he had owed Sage an explanation but he did not want to delve into it with Santiago intruding on their privacy.
‘Right. Well, I suppose that answers the question of whether or not Santiago was telling the truth. It does now seem to make some semblance of sense,’ Sage said.
Santiago was now tapping his foot in impatience.
‘Sage, I am not leaving here without you and Hal. And I am not making idle threats – I will report your father to the police and sue for GBH if you do not go and collect your and Hal’s belongings.
’ He had seen Sage with that man through the window; not that he was going to let on to anyone until it suited him.
I will not be made a fool of. She’s mine.
Dennis, realizing the menace this man posed to his granddaughter, went cold. Painfully aware that he was too old to fight him, he reassured himself with the knowledge that with one shout he could summon an army of lads from the yard if he needed them.
‘I suggest you leave, Mr Deverill, or I will not be accountable for my actions.’ He spoke quietly but there was no mistaking the authority in his words.
‘No, it’s OK, Bumpa. I will go and have a drink with Santiago. I owe him a conversation.’ Sage’s overwhelming desire to get Santiago away from everyone she loved at North Place made her rash.
‘Sage, I can’t let you—’
‘Bumpa, it’s fine, really.’
Taking a shaky breath she said to Santiago, ‘I’ll meet you at the Bull – it’s a pub on the high street – in half an hour, after I’ve put Hal to bed. You can see him another time. OK?’ Santiago’s eyes widened; he was glad to see Sage capitulating so easily.