Sarah continued to stare at the picture.  One thing was for sure. Neither her father nor her mother had ever mentioned an association either with Vivien or the Abbey before her parent’s divorce. At least something was explained. Vivien had some weird hold over her father. Why else would the respectable country town doctor tolerate a relationship with an alcoholic who refused to get help after all these long years?  She can’t have been an asset to his medical practice, thought Sarah. Was it just possible that her father was actually afraid of Vivien? But if that was so, why? What did Vivien know that had her father so scared? It had to be part of the reason her father had given her not one shred of support since she had arrived here. But what did it all this have to do with the Abbey?

Rrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnggggg!

The sound of the front doorbell made Sarah nearly jump out of her skin.  She turned around as she caught sight of Morfydd’s plump young bustling. The maid was fast approaching  and very nearly ran right into the young woman.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” said Morfydd, almost out of breath,  “But there’s a young gentleman at the door who says he’s been waiting in his car for you almost half an hour.”
Sarah glanced at the old grandfather clock in the front of the hallway. Morfydd was right. It was after eleven thirty already. Sarah hastened to the door and then paused. She turned around once again.
“Thank you, Morfydd.  One moment please.”
“Yes, Miss?”
“Morfydd, how long has that little picture been hanging there at the far end of the hallway?”
The teenager frowned in thought as she walked up to the picture and stared right at it.
“I can’t rightly say, Miss Sarah.”  The maid looked genuinely puzzled. “I don’t think I’ve ever noticed it before.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Funny,” she went on, “I’ve been here for over two years now, ma’am. I thought I knew where every picture was in this house.”
Sarah nodded. The maid scurried back to the kitchen quarters. This was too strange to be just a coincidence, Sarah thought. Why would a picture just appear out of nowhere  unless it was put there on purpose? But for what reason?  Why would someone deliberately put a photograph of her father, mother and stepmother in the hallway so recently?
The young woman walked to the front door and almost collided with the tall, well-built figure of Hugh St. Owen.
“Sarah!” he exclaimed, “I’ve been waiting for you in the car for almost half an hour. I thought…” His voice trailed off as he saw how pale Sarah looked against the light blue suit she was wearing. She hung her head in embarrassment and confusion. Hugh St. Owen bent his head down and reached out a hand. He touched Sarah’s chin and raised it up. Sarah found herself staring into those brown, liquid eyes of his.  Her heart started beating again wildly, and she gave a short gasp.
“I’m fine, Mr. St. Owen,” she said, “I’ve just had a bit of a shock.”
“Call me Hugh, please,” said Hugh St. Owen. “Another shock? Sarah, haven’t you been through enough already?”  His handsome face looked concerned and caring.
“Apparently not, according to someone  or something,” she answered.
Hugh St. Owen looked at her with a fixed stare.
“Sarah,” he said, “Let’s pick your car up after lunch.  Why don’t you tell me what’s going on over a nice sandwich and tea?”
“Perfect,” Sarah answered, “Tea and sandwiches sound just the thing  er, Hugh  I haven’t even had breakfast.”
“Good, then it’s settled,” he said, “Hop in the car.”
Hugh helped Sarah into his Morris Minor.  Once again Sarah felt those delicious tingles of electricity run up and down her spine as the studly young man helped her into the automobile. Maybe Sarah just imagined it, but she thought she could feel part of his leg and thigh thrusting into her side as the car lurched forward during the journey. This only served to make the young woman even more sexually aroused than she wanted just then. Her whole body felt the yearning and wish for unbridled passion for this gorgeous creature.  To cool down, Sarah looked avidly out of the car window. Anything to take her mind off that firm, young flesh pressed against her more than willing body.
 

They drove along the serene high street of Perris-on-Sea, which was parallel with the promenade.  The main drag had been built around the late Victorian era, and still boasted the whitewashed hotels and gazebos of that period. The brilliant late March sunshine raised Sarah’s spirits.  The car slowed down at last as it approached West Point Café.  Sarah knew that this was the oldest and most revered of all the tea places in the Perris-on-Sea area, and was especially known for it’s delicious hot-buttered, toasted teacakes and superior afternoon tea. It had once been situated at the end of the Perris-on-Sea pier, but that had been blown to bits by a stray German bomb in the Second World War.  Somehow, some of the main features of the café survived and it had been rebuilt at its present site just a few years ago.  Besides the tea cakes, its other claim to fame was the spectacular view of the Welsh coast and the Irish Sea from the many picture windows surrounding the main part of the restaurant.
They were quickly shown in and, as they were fairly early arrivals, Sarah was thrilled to be seated right by one of the large picture windows that looked down on the most quiet and rugged parts of the beach. She had cooled down sufficiently to try and enjoy the rest of the morning without sexual distraction.
“Too early for toasted teacakes, I’m afraid,” said Hugh St. Owen as the waitress handed them a menu.
“Oh no, sir,” replied the waitress, a young teenager herself with blonde, wispy hair, “We are serving them right now if you want.”
Sarah’s eyes lit up.  She and Hugh both nodded in agreement. They were in for a special treat.
The young couple settled down in their chairs.
“Now, tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out,” said Hugh St. Owen.
Sarah gazed at the handsome young man sitting across from her.  Could she trust him after all that had happened?  Should she indeed tell him everything? Sarah glanced out of the picture window. She was just in time to see a jet-black cormorant hurl itself from a promontory and dive deep into the sparkling blue water to catch a fish. The waves pounded against the rocks below. In the distance Sarah could make out the light grey shape of Saint Owen’s Abbey on top of a lush green hill overlooking the bay.
Sarah turned back and looked at her companion. Hugh St. Owen was leaning forward, evidently anxious to hear everything.
Sarah made a decision. She decided to tell him. She went back over the events of the night before, the strange occurrences at the Abbey, her father’s interrogation this morning and the strange exchange she had had with her stepmother. She finished with the mystery surrounding the sudden appearance of the photograph in her father’s hallway.
Hugh St. Owen listened intently, never once interrupting his beautiful lunch date. He began to look more and more incredulous as Sarah’s story progressed. She finished her story and sat there in silence. Hugh looked at her with an unwavering stare.
The silence was suddenly broken by the appearance of the waitress bringing them a tray of steaming hot tea and toasted teacakes.  The teacakes were large, toasted, rounded buns containing raisins and masses of hot butter. Sarah took a bite. Delicious! West Point Café was certainly living up to its reputation.  After the waitress had poured the tea and left their table, Hugh St. Owen shifted in his seat.
“Sarah,” he said, “Whatever happens from now on, I can assure you I am no Guardian of the Abbey. These events are strange indeed, and I know you aren’t making them up.”
Sarah raised her eyebrows and paused before taking another bite of a delicious teacake.
“I beg your pardon?” she said, “Oh, I’m really glad you don’t think I’m lying  er  Hugh, really I am.”  The sarcasm in her voice made the young man wince.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he snapped.
“Your support leaves a lot to be desired, Mr. St. Owen.” Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“Look, Sarah, of course I believe you.” Hugh St. Owen looked earnestly at his lunch guest. “I don’t know what connection Vivien and your father have with all of this, but I might know someone who does know.”
Sarah’s eyes widened.
“Who?” she said.
“My father.”
“Your father?”
“Yes. You see, Sarah, there is something I haven’t told you.”
Sarah frowned.
“What, Hugh. What didn’t you tell me?” Sarah was almost frightened to ask.
Hugh St. Owen looked directly at Sarah.
“When I was boy, I once overheard a conversation between my father and another man.”
“What other man?” asked Sarah.
“I…I don’t know,” said Hugh.
“And?”  Sarah was listening.
“I actually heard him admit that he is  ” the young man paused.
“Yes?” Sarah cut in, “Yes?”
Sarah watched as Hugh St. Owen visibly gulped. His handsome young face was flushed with guilt and embarrassment.
“  That he is one of the Knights of Chivalry.”
Sarah breathed deeply. This wasn’t happening, she told herself.
“Of Saint Owen’s Abbey?” she asked.
Hugh St. Owen nodded. “Yes, Sarah  of Saint Owen’s Abbey.”

The delicious food instantly turned to ashes in Sarah’s mouth.

What was the handsome young man saying? Was his father, Robert St. Owen, somehow involved in the goings on at the Abbey? How was this man connected with her vicious stepmother, Vivien? And what did all this have to do with Sarah and her compelling sexual attraction to the bearer of this astonishing news? See the next exciting installment in Chapter 5 of Sarah Llewellyn and the Druid’s Curse!

Read Chapter 5: A Fairy Godfather for Sarah?
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