Melissa, meanwhile, had reclaimed her position in the sunroom and was keeping one ear cocked for the lunch bell. She was born in the wrong bloody century, Rebecca fumed as she gave the can opener one last violent twist. She would have been in her element in the days of Upstairs Downstairs. Slapping two tuna sandwiches together, she carried them through to the dining room before announcing, “Lunch is served, milady,” throwing a little curtsey in for good measure.
Ten minutes later, Melissa was waggling an “I told you so” finger across the table. “I knew you should have made more of an effort this morning.” Rebecca had filled her in on the David Seagar saga once more and was fast beginning to wish she hadn’t.
“Honestly, Becs, when you’re past your prime, you can’t afford to walk out that front door looking anything but your best.”
Here we go. Rebecca cringed as she held her hand out for Melissa’s empty plate. I wonder which self-help book she’s going to quote this time.
“Work with what God gave you, girl!”
Good grief, that was bad even by Melissa’s standards. “Not everybody views life through such superficial rose-tinted glasses. Did it not cross your mind that perhaps David saw past my fringe curl to my inner beauty?”
Melissa gave a derisive snort. “Inner beauty?”
Rebecca nodded, feeling a tad timid in her argument now.
“Oh, my friend, you are so naïve! Don’t you know the whole concept of inner beauty is a ruse devised by an ugly girl clutching at straws? Now get up those stairs and put some bloody lipstick on!”
“HI AGAIN.” DAVID LEANED nonchalantly against the door of his Land Rover. It was a look that suited him, and Rebecca had to fight the urge not to hustle him into the back seat for a spot of ravaging. A time and place, she admonished herself, and then found herself standing a little straighter as she caught his admiring glance. She was pleased now that she’d passed Melissa’s front door inspection. Her advice of “don’t act desperate but make sure he knows you’re interested” trailed annoyingly behind her as she’d gotten into the car.
“Where’s Hannah?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow in the direction of the empty booster seat in her back seat.
Oh, don’t tempt me, she thought, writhing back seat of the car images flickering before her. “I left her with Melissa. That’s my friend who came over with me. She’s staying up at the house too.”
He nodded as the three o’clock bell sounded and, like a burst dam, a hodgepodge of children flooded out of the classrooms.
“Dad, can Jack come over to our house to play?” Ben ran through the gates, Jack following closely on his heels. Jack looked up at Rebecca beseechingly, and David smiled.
“Looks like you’re outnumbered. Why don’t you both come over? I’ll even put the kettle on and make you a coffee, if you can stomach instant? My way of welcoming you to Akaroa.”
YES!!! Rebecca was mentally performing a victory dance when she remembered Hannah. David read her mind. “Your friend, Melissa, is it? She wouldn’t mind watching Hannah for an hour, would she?”
Rebecca had been practically serving Melissa hand and foot; it was the least she could do for her. “I’ll just make a quick call.” She smiled sweetly at David as she pulled out her phone.
“There you go, white and one.”
“Thanks.” Rebecca took the mug and placed it on the wooden countertop in the kitchen of David’s “work in progress” cottage on Langlois Lane. She’d just been treated to the grand tour. It was a labour of love, he’d told her, turning this house into his and Ben’s home. Oh yes, she decided, watching as he placed a large plateful of chocolate chip biscuits between them before arranging himself on the stool opposite hers. Even with its crumbling lathe and plaster walls, she could see herself being a happy little homemaker here.
There was an almighty commotion as, having sniffed out the biscuits, Ben and Jack careened in through the French doors that opened out from the kitchen into the garden and began helping themselves. If he tells me they’re homemade, I’m definitely going to marry him, she thought, helping herself to one before they all disappeared. “Mm, these are lovely; you didn’t make them, did you?” She crossed a finger behind her back, but he smirked.
“I wish! I bought them from the bakery. I’m afraid my culinary skills stretch to basic survival, and I only got to that point after your sister kindly gave me a few pointers.”
Rebecca laughed, hoping he hadn’t noticed the crumbs that had flown involuntarily out of her mouth. “You wouldn’t think Jen and I were related if you saw me in the kitchen. I’m a beans and toast sort of a girl.” Where had that come from?
Jack, treating them to the sight of a masticated chocolate chip biscuit, suddenly piped up with, “We had beans last night, didn’t we, Auntie Becca? I know a real good song about beans too.”
Rebecca squirmed in her seat; she didn’t like the sound of this. Perhaps it was time to change the subject. “My goodness, that’s a big slide, boys.” Having outgrown the rusty old swing and slide set she was gesticulating to down at the bottom of the garden, neither boy looked the slightest bit interested. When Ben announced he knew the song too, she knew it was inevitable.
“Baked beans are good for your heart! Baked beans will make you fart!”
She muttered, “I like spaghetti too.”
Snatching the last two biscuits off the plate, the two boys ran back outside.
“What is it with boys? Don’t they walk anywhere?” Rebecca asked. David grinned, treating her to a flash of white, evenly spaced teeth that any Hollywood actor would have been proud to put their name to.
“Nope and listen...” She cocked her head to one side. “I can’t hear anything except the two of them shrieking.”
“Exactly.” He tapped the side of his nose. “A word from the wise—it’s when you can’t hear them that you’ve got to worry.”
“Oh right, thanks for that. I need all the help I can get.”
“That bad, huh?”
She nodded gloomily into her coffee cup before owning up to Hannah’s eloquent little speech at preschool that morning. He threw his head back and roared with laughter, but Rebecca chewed anxiously on her bottom lip.
“Apparently I jeopardised the student-to-teacher ratio by being late as well. I am officially a crap primary caregiver. Jennifer will go mad when she finds out.”
David tried to look serious but spoiled it by winking at her. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”
The next half hour flew by as David skillfully moved the topic of conversation away from her lack of practical parenting skills to that of life in Dublin. She was glad to find that her earlier awkwardness around him had disappeared. He seemed genuinely entertained by her Irish name pronunciation anecdotes, asking, “So Padraig is in fact pronounced Porag, to be sure, to be sure?”
“Pretty much, yeah.” It was her turn to laugh. “You sound like Tom Cruise did in that horrid little flick he did back in the good old days with Nicole.”
“They didn’t have the luck o’ the Irish with dem, tats for sure.”
“Stop it!” Then, catching a glimpse of the time, she hopped reluctantly down from her stool, feeling her shyness return as she thanked him for the coffee.
“No worries. Tanks for ta Irish lesson.”
She tapped the side of her nose. “A word from the wise, David. If you were to wander around Dublin telling everyone ‘you’ve the luck o’ the Irish with you to be sure, to be sure,’ you’d probably get a fat lip.”
“What?” he asked in mock surprise. “You mean they don’t actually talk like that?” And there it was—that sexy smile charming her socks off.
“WHEN YOU SAID POP IN for a coffee, I thought you meant for half an hour, not two and a half bloody hours. It’s nearly five thirty!” Melissa’s normally sleek brown pageboy was standing on end, and chubby chocolate fingerprints decorated her olive-green jumper. Jack had angrily stomped up to his bedroom after Rebecca nearly had to drag him kicking and screami
ng to come home. And behind her, Hannah was standing on the couch, chanting “my dinnertime” like a demented pixie.
“So let me have it—did you indulge in a spot of afternoon delight or what?”
“With two seven-year-old chaperones? I don’t think so.”
Melissa pointed to her jersey in disgust. “Well, whatever you did, it better have been worth it. I won’t be responsible for my actions if chocolate doesn’t come out in the wash.”
Rebecca filled her in on the afternoon’s events, spending extra time ogling over David’s charming smile while she heated up the macaroni and cheese she’d left defrosting on the bench earlier.
Inspecting a French polished fingernail for signs of chipping, Melissa casually inquired, “You didn’t happen to notice any other dishy daddies outside the school, did you?”
Rebecca shook her head, but Melissa was undeterred. “Don’t know why I bothered asking because you’ve had blinkers on from the moment you saw David. I’ll come with you in the morning and check them out myself.”
“You will not! I am not having you standing outside a primary school trying to pick up some poor child’s dad.”
“Why not? You did.”
Rebecca ignored her. “You are not coming, Melissa, and that’s the end of it.”
Melissa’s mouth set in a determined line as she followed her to the lounge.
“Hannah, stop jumping on the couch, please! Tea’s ready now. Will you take her to wash her hands?” Rebecca pleaded.
“Only if you let me come to the school tomorrow morning.”
“Look, just because you spent the afternoon looking after a preschooler doesn’t entitle you to behave like one.”
“Pretty please. I’ll be your best friend.”
Rolling her eyes heavenward, Rebecca knew when she was beaten. “Oh, go on then, but if you get arrested for loitering with intent, you’re on your own.”
That same evening, at six thirty p.m. on the dot, the telephone rang.
“That’ll be Mummy and Daddy.” Rebecca smiled at her deceptively angelic niece sitting with a picture book open on her lap, fresh from her bath in pink flannelette pyjamas. Rebecca stretched over to answer the phone. “Hi, Jen.”
Her sister’s puzzled voice echoed down the line. “How did you know it was me?”
“The itinerary you left me kind of gave it away.”
“Oh yes, right.” Jennifer had the grace to sound sheepish as she asked if Rebecca found it useful. As much as it galled Rebecca to admit it, she did.
“Good. I didn’t want you to feel like I don’t think you’re capable or anything but kids do need their routines. So how are they?”
“The children? Oh, they’re fine.”
“You’re managing okay then?” Jennifer sounded relieved.
“Of course. They’re a breeze to look after.” Across the room, Melissa snorted. Rebecca scowled back at her and quickly changed tack. “How are things at your end?”
Jennifer’s curt “good” suggested that Mark was in the room, so the probing ended there. Leaving Hannah to lisp her day’s activities to first her mother and then her father, Rebecca went in search of Jack.
A strip of light peeked out from under the bathroom door, so she knocked lightly. “Jack? Your mum and dad are on the phone.”
“I’m busy.”
“Come on, Jack, they want to say hi to you.” From behind the closed door, there was silence. “Jack?”
Suddenly the door flew open and, resplendent in motocross pyjamas, Jack stomped past her into his bedroom. “I don’t want to talk to them!” he retorted, shutting the door in her surprised face with a finality more befitting that of a teenager. She ran her fingers through her hair exasperatedly. Rather than waste time with unsuccessful negotiations, she’d have to go and tell Jen he didn’t want to talk to them.
“Er, Jen?”
“I thought you were putting Jack on?”
“Um, the thing is—”
Jennifer interrupted, “Oh before I forget, Hannah’s just been telling me what she learned today.”
“Oh yes?” Rebecca licked her lips, feeling extremely nervous as to what was coming next. Oh please God, don’t let her have sworn at her mother.
“Yes, it’s very interesting. In fact, it was news to me too. I mean, were you aware that Paris Hilton’s got cellulite?”
Rebecca’s laugh was one of giddy relief. “Yes, I did hear a rumour, courtesy of Melissa.”
“Ah, right—Melissa. I should have guessed. So, can I talk to Jack now? I’m missing the kids. It’s a funny thing, having children, because there are times you’d give anything to get away from them for a bit but then when you do, you feel like part of you is missing.”
She sounded quite jovial now, and it seemed a shame to put a damper on her mood, but Rebecca couldn’t stall any longer.
“I’m sorry, Jen, but he doesn’t want to come to the phone.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s in a bit of a sulk in his room.” The worst bit over, she found herself ploughing on. “To be honest with you, I think he’s picked up on the fact that things aren’t right between you and Mark. He feels like he’s been abandoned. Maybe you guys should have tried to work things out a little closer to home.”
Jennifer was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice had lost its jokey ring. “I’d appreciate it if you left the psychology bit to the professionals, Rebecca. It’s a bit rich coming from you.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m only telling you what I—”
“Well, one day when you are in a long-term relationship, you might be qualified to comment. Until then, Mark and I are aware of the effect our problems are having on the kids, which is the whole point of our being here now, giving our marriage one last shot. If it’s too much of a problem for you, I’ll get on a plane and come home.”
“No! And I know, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I’m out of my depth with Jack. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him.”
“Just tell him his mum and dad love him and miss him very much and that we’ll phone again tomorrow night.”
The rest of the conversation was stilted, and it was with relief that Rebecca finally replaced the handset.
“That went well,” Melissa commented from her prone position on the couch.
“Honestly.” Rebecca rolled her eyes, wishing Jennifer didn’t have the ability to wind her up so easily. “It’s not my fault her husband did the dirty, but she still manages to make me feel guilty even though it is me who is helping her out.”
Melissa just shrugged. “Sisterly love, eh? I’m glad I’m an only child.”
“Come on, miss. Time for bed.” Rebecca hauled Hannah up and marched her protesting little body up the stairs. Surprisingly, after a few feeble attempts at escape, Hannah settled down, a huddled mound under her duvet, thumb in mouth. Tiptoeing out of the room, Rebecca took a deep breath. Time to deal with Jack. Bloody Jennifer could explain to Tarquin why her trip back home had turned her prematurely grey when she got back from her farcical love-in, she bitched silently. When she reached Jack’s bedroom door, she knocked softly and waited for admittance.
He was sitting up in bed with his bedside light shining down on an open magazine.
“What you reading?” she asked, perching at the end of his bed. He flicked the magazine shut and then held it up for her to see. The vaguely familiar title, Motocross Action, was emblazoned across the cover, along with daredevil shots of the sport’s latest stars. She shuddered at the thought of Jack one day attempting to launch himself into space, gripping onto a dirt bike while doing a double somersault.
“You bought it for me.”
That’s right, she’d bought the subscription against her better judgement, after much wheedling on his part. She wasn’t sure if it was such an ideal choice of bedtime reading, but he was obviously enjoying it.
“Mum and Dad were a bit sad they didn’t get to talk to you.”
Jack picked
his magazine up again. Seeing the conversation was to be one-sided, Rebecca sighed. “Mum told me to tell you that they both love you very much and that they’ll phone again tomorrow night.” Standing up, she leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. “Five minutes then turn your light out, okay?”
He nodded without looking up.
Chapter Fourteen
“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, KEEP your knickers on,” Rebecca muttered in response to the insistent rapping at the front door. She had no idea how long whoever it was had been out there because she hadn’t heard the knocking over the whining of the vacuum cleaner. Opening the door, she blinked into the sunshine that was just beginning to break through the remains of the morning mist and rapidly blinked again, not quite believing her own eyes.
“I nearly died of hyperthermia. What kept you so bloody long?”
There, tapping her foot imperiously, was the camel-coated vision that was her sister.
Rebecca stared at Jennifer, slack-jawed. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, hello to you too, sis. I do live here, you know.”
“You know what I mean. Where’s Mark?” Rebecca looked over her sister’s shoulder to where her brother-in-law’s car was parked, expecting to see him unloading the boot. There was no sign of him, and she swung her gaze back to her sister. What was going on?
“He stayed on in Mooloolaba because he couldn’t see the point in us both missing out on a five-star holiday that’s bought and paid for. Now stop standing there with your mouth hanging open like a simpleton and let me in. I was sunbathing in twenty-three degrees heat yesterday, you know.”
Rebecca stepped out of the way and her sister picked up her suitcase and swished past her with a proprietary air. Shutting the door behind her, she scuttled up the hall, nearly shunting into Jennifer as she stopped to shrug out of her coat. She watched as she tossed it onto the coat stand and then, shaking her hair free from her roll neck, asked, “The children are at school and preschool, I take it?”
Michelle Vernal Box Set Page 70
