Rafe, indicating, looked left and then right and pulled out onto the main road.
‘Am I being tested?’ he asked, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he changed up through the gears.
‘Quite possibly,’ Sage replied innocently.
‘Hmm, probablyManka the Sky Gipsy, a book by “BB”. Haveyou heard of it?’ Rafe looked at Sage quickly and then returned his eyes to the road.
‘Oh yes, I have. My father used to read it to us when Casper and I were children, along withBrendon ChaseandThe Little Grey Men. His descriptions of nature are so powerful and evocative – and at the same time so sympathetic and understanding. Dad always used to say he was a true countryman.’
Sage had compartmentalized her childhood into two halves. Before and after. The first half, before her mother died and her father retreated, had taken on a hue of golden utopia. And then the second half, when Dennis and Betsy had gathered up the twins and, with Maggie’s help, kept them from falling apart. She did not know how to express this, and she had never before wanted to try. But she wanted to tell Rafe everything.
Rafe glanced at Sage again, briefly taking his eyes off the road as they sped along the motorway towards Cambridge. He wanted to ask more about her father, but he did not want to encroach into uncomfortable territory for her, so he purposefully kept his focus on the surface topic. ‘I thought “BB” was only read in my household. No one else seems to have heard of him. He’s a literary genius, in my humble opinion. Right, your turn – what’s your favourite?’ Rafe turned off Radio 4, on which a voice had been droning on about recycling systems, to better hear Sage’s soft voice over the engine.
‘My very favourite novel is probablyNational Velvetby Enid Bagnold. Oh – actually, maybe it’s theFlambardsseries by K. M. Peyton. I can’t decide! I’ve read them all so many times, they’ve kept me company through some long, lonely nights – nights when I felt real despair.’ She thought of her dog-eared childhood set that she had almost left in the bedroom in Finca Azucar; some of her other beloved books she had abandoned, mourning their loss like old friends. There had been no space in the trunk for all of her many books, but her very favourites she had packed,instead leaving most of her and Hal’s clothes with no regrets. She looked out of the window, hoping she hadn’t brought the doldrums into the warm sanctuary of the car. She wanted to say something more cheerful but her mind had frozen, momentarily stuck in the past. Rafe, speeding past the turning to the Cambridge services, saved her from any further discomfort.
‘Isn’t it peculiar that we are both still reading children’s literature. I was worried I might have blown it by not professing true love for Dostoevsky – I find him bloody depressing – or Shakespeare, who I do admit is a master wordsmith, but I don’t want to curl up withKing Learon a cold night. If you think about it, we are both optimists. We want to live in a world where good ultimately prevails over evil. Most of the fiction created for young people reassuringly depicts just that. The lines are somewhat blurred in adulthood and in texts specifically aimed at grown-ups – the principles are harder to decipher.’
Sage stared at Rafe, the sense of affinity surprising her. She smiled encouragingly, wanting him to go on.
‘Do you know though, I have never readHarry Potter. Kestrel – he’s my second cousin but like a brother to me, closest in age to me in our family – was obsessed with those books. He’s a little clumsy in society but the smartest person I know.’
Sage looked across at him, her eyes shining in the dark car.
‘Do you see him often?’
‘No, but I need to pay him a visit soon. He’s having a rough time. His lovely father, my Uncle Robert, died a few months ago. Kestrel has hidden himself away in Scotland, not wanting to see anyone.’
‘Oh, Rafe. That’s awful.’ It reminded her painfully of her wretched father who had hidden himself away from the world too. ‘Poor Kestrel. He sounds a little like Dad. Is he married? Does he have any family to support him?’
‘No, he’s not married. The family he has are all fairly useless.His mother remarried about three weeks after my uncle’s funeral, another Duke, and is now, as she crows to the rooftops, a double Duchess.’ Rafe rolled his eyes. ‘She moved away to her new estate without a backwards glance. Kestrel, who is losing his home, Dunbarton Castle, is now living in an old hunting lodge in the wilds of the west coast, and I doubt has even set eyes on another human except at the post office for a good few months apart from myself. His sister, Mary, lives in the house in London and doesn’t give a stuff about old Kestrel, she just sells more of the remaining family heirlooms when she needs more funds. I try to go up as often as I can, whenever I can manage a few days away, which unfortunately is not often enough.’ Rafe gave in to his curiosity and asked gently, ‘Sage, you mentioned your dad. Where is he?’ He glanced at her as he pulled off at the Newmarket exit. He was reassured to find that she did not look upset.
‘He’s down on the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall. He inherited an old wreck of a farm from his family when they died and he lives down there, supposedly doing the place up, but Bumpa went down several years ago – it must have been when I was still a teenager – and said it was basically a ruin and all Dad was doing was drinking whisky to drown his sorrows. He is still heartbroken about losing Mumma and he can’t pull himself through it.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘He didn’t even come to my wedding. Bumpa gave me away, although not very enthusiastically – he even said to me at the altar that it wasn’t too late for me to bolt!’ Sage chuckled wryly at the memory. ‘Cas and I have come to think of Bumpa and Gammy as our real parents. They’ve been there for us, come what may. Bumpa has looked after me better than most people’s real fathers. I am so grateful to him, not that he would want that.’
‘Your grandfather is a complete legend,’ Rafe said reverently. He didn’t know how to respond to this painful revelation.Howcould their father have abandoned the twins when they needed him most?he thought, indignant on Sage’s behalf. ‘He’s helped me so much in this first year, and he prevented me from making a couple of big rookie mistakes. I have enormous respect for him. He’s earned every ounce of the success that he is enjoying at the moment, and is on track to be leading trainer again this year. You should be very proud of him. Now, on to more serious issues. What’s your favourite song?’ He put a large, warm hand across the car to clasp Sage’s smaller one. Sage accepted it gratefully and clung on firmly to show that his regard was wholly reciprocated. He lifted their linked hands to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on her fingers.
‘Are you ready for another relationship so soon?’ Rafe asked frankly, finally getting to the point that he had been leading up to.
Sage thought for a moment.
‘“Honky Tonk Women”,’ she said, and then she laughed at his confused expression. ‘My favourite song is by the Rolling Stones. The second question is slightly harder to answer.’ She was quiet for a while, trying to analyse her true feelings. She already felt vulnerable, opening herself up like this despite her sometimes overwhelming impulses to barricade herself against any potential threat. Rafe did not hurry her. They sped along in silence until Sage spoke again. ‘In truth, I’m probably not quite ready – I didn’t think I would ever want another relationship, after Santiago. I had been so stifled, living in torment really, and only now do I feel as though I’m coming back to life. My freedom is something I will never again take for granted. But I do want to spend time with you. In fact, I’m craving it. I’m feeling things I never imagined possible. I don’t want to get things wrong though.’ Neither of them said anything for a moment, the air heavy with words unspoken. ‘Am I making any sense?’ She looked at him, willing him to understand.
‘You’re making total sense. I think we need to take things very slowly, from the beginning. I’m going to drop you home now, Sage, so you can get back to Hal. I shall go to the yard, sort out the horses for the evening, then I’ll come and pick you up again later, once Hal is in bed, take you out to dinner?’ Rafe grinned at her, excited at the prospect of more time together. ‘Let’s keep it very simple and either of us can back out at any time we choose? No strings?’
‘Sounds perfect, Rafe.’ Sage was inordinately grateful that he listened with no judgement; that he saw her, and that she was enough.
They pulled up outside North Place to find that all the lights were blazing and there was a visitor’s car parked at the front of the house. Figures could be seen at the drawing-room window. Rafe leapt out of the car, letting in a howling blast of cold air, and ran around to open the passenger door for Sage. She stepped out and Rafe held her face in his hands for a moment, before dropping a kiss onto her parted lips. He pulled away and then leant in again, as though unable to tear himself away, kissing her lips and then her forehead. Sage felt herself thaw in his arms as he held her against his body and wanted to stay close to him, but she could feel eyes on her from the house. Reluctantly pulling away, she stroked his cheek.
‘Tonight,’ she promised and turned to trip lightly up the stone steps towards the front door. She turned at the top, in some sort of quandary, deliberating, biting her lip; then she decided to say it. Even though she felt foolish. ‘I don’t want you to go!’ It felt painful, his leaving.
He laughed. ‘I’ve got to go. I need to tell my horses all about you!’ Then he folded himself back into the car.
With a half-wave, she smiled, slightly giddy, and turned to let herself into the house. She tugged off her boots as quietly as she could and put them neatly next to the old grandfather clock inthe hall. Looking up at its brass face, she saw that it was a quarter to seven: Hal would be having supper in the kitchen. She padded down the hall to sneak past the drawing room. A cloying, familiar scent of aftershave hung heavily in the warm air and she flitted past the open door in a panic, not knowing why, rushing along the passageway to the welcoming lights of the kitchen.
‘Mumma!’ Hal was overjoyed to see his mother and climbed down from the kitchen island where he had been eating eggs and soldiers with Maggie. Weaving against her legs, along with Beetle the whippet, he raised his arms to be picked up. Sage lifted him automatically into her arms, holding him close to her. She sat down, still clinging to the child.
‘Is everything all right, Maggie?’ Sage asked, seeing worry on Maggie’s normally merry face.
‘I tried to call to warn you, Miss Sage.’ Maggie’s accent was stronger when she was upset. ‘Your phone was going straight through to voicemail.’ She wrung a tea towel over and over again in her hands, looking at Sage beseechingly.