‘Yeah, and I hate the thought of upsetting them.’
This brought another pause from Dan. ‘Are you sure it would upset them unduly, Billie?’
No, she wasn’t sure, although she couldn’t imagine her mum taking this calmly. ‘It’s mainly that there are rumours here on the island,’ she said. ‘And they’re doing my head in.’
‘You do sound pretty stressed.’
Did she? Just as well Dan hadn’t heard her earlier in the day. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve let myself get pretty stirred up over this. I shouldn’t have bothered you.’
‘Don’t hang up.’
‘No, I haven’t.’
‘Look,’ he said. ‘This isn’t really my field. I’m not a private investigator, but there is definitely a process for people who actually know they’re adopted to find their birth parents. They’re entitled to the information once they turn eighteen. It’s a bit of a balancing act between privacy laws for the mother and an individual’s right to know, but the procedure’s all in place.’
‘I see.’
‘But I’m not sure how that would work if you don’t actually know whether you’re adopted. That’s tricky.’
‘Yeah, it’s crazy.’
‘I could put you in touch with a private investigator,’ Dan offered next. ‘They often work with adoption issues.’
‘Okay. Thanks. I’ll think about it.’ Billie was beginning to wish that she hadn’t bothered him. It was time to stand on her own two feet, do her own research, face her own demons.
‘Where are you?’ Dan asked. ‘In Townsville?’
‘No, still on the island.’ She couldn’t help wondering what he might have suggested if she’d been closer.
‘How are you?’ he asked next. ‘What does your partner have to say about this?’
Her partner? Gulp. Of course, Dan had no idea, but at least she was used to telling this story now. ‘There is no partner,’ she told him.
And again there was silence.
‘We’ve broken up,’ Billie added.
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Dan’s tone was careful now. Carefully neutral. ‘But he knows about your baby?’
‘Oh, yes. He knows. He’s just not . . . interested.’ Billie was tempted to tell Dan the whole story, but she stopped herself just in time. She’d already landed enough of her crap on his shoulders.
‘That’s tough,’ he said.
‘Yeah, but that’s how it is.’ God, he must think she was a total screw-up. Sitting straighter, Billie injected brightness into her voice. ‘I’m okay, though, Dan. I’m getting used to the idea of being a single parent. I might even call on you for a few tips.’
‘Sure. I’d be happy to help, if I can.’
‘Thanks. You’re a champion.’ Good grief. Now she sounded like a cheerful sports coach. So lame. ‘I really do appreciate you taking the time to listen.’
‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I hope you get everything sorted.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And for what it’s worth, Billie, I reckon you should speak to your parents. You’ve got enough on your plate without having that kind of tension hanging over you.’
‘Thanks,’ she said again. ‘I’m sure that’s good advice. And say goodbye to Molly for me, won’t you?’ She wasn’t sure she should have added that. Was it going too far?
‘I will,’ Dan said. ‘Take care.’
After they’d disconnected, Billie sat in a kind of daze, thinking about Dan and how he cared for Molly and was getting on with his life after a truly heartbreaking tragedy. And here she was, dithering, and foolishly bothering him about asking her parents one difficult question.
What was she? Woman or wimp?
‘I’m going to do it, Won Ton.’ Beside her, the little dog sat up expectantly. Shit. Won Ton was on her mum’s white sofa and Freya had been so anxious about keeping her off.
Picking the small dog up, Billie cuddled her close. ‘Wicked little thing,’ she murmured. ‘But I’m going to do it.’
A phone call to her dad would be safest and, once that was behind her, she would know the worst. Or, thinking positively, she might be flooded with relief. Either way, she would take Won Ton for a walk as soon as the call was over, if it wasn’t raining. Or maybe they would go even if it was raining, and Billie would buy Thai takeaway.
She felt distinctly better now that she had a plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Freya had opted for a beach walk after lunch. The meal of fish burgers shared with Seb, and eaten at a timber bench with views out to the sea, had been more than merely pleasant. She’d loved every minute, but she wasn’t sure she could handle Seb’s other suggestions of lying under a palm tree or swimming. Such activities hinted at an easy intimacy that they, sadly, no longer enjoyed. Such pleasures, surely, were best left behind them.
So they walked to the far end of the bay, which was the longest stretch of beach on the island. The sky was overcast and a fresh wind whipped at Freya’s hair and tugged at her shirt tails, but she was already stirred after the tumultuous morning, so the windy beach and choppy seas rather suited her mood.
They didn’t talk much as they walked. They’d exhausted the subject of Billie and Pearl and there was only so much they needed to share about the many years they’d spent apart. Freya was happy to enjoy the easy silence of this newfound companionableness and to absorb their surroundings. Happy to absorb the long stretch of sand crisscrossed by footsteps, the distant hills, the low dunes with grasses and trees bending in the wind, the hush and rush of the sea. After the sleepy, tropical warmth of the past few weeks, she found the change in the weather quite exhilarating.
It was only when they reached the rocks at the far end of the bay and turned back that they saw how very dark and looming the clouds to the south were now.
‘Do you think we’ll be able to make it back before it rains?’ she asked Seb.
‘I’m not sure. Would you mind getting wet?’
‘Not really. I guess we could always make a dash for it, but I’m not much of a runner these days.’
‘Want to try?’ he asked, smiling, and holding out his hand.
Her heart gave a ridiculous, girlish skip. ‘All right, but if I take a tumble, you might have to help me up again.’
Seb sent another smile. ‘I promise.’
So they ran, holding hands. They might have been young lovers, except that they were no longer young, or in love – but it didn’t seem to matter. Freya and Seb were running in the wind, reckless and carefree, and she couldn’t quite believe how happy she was.
The sand was firm beneath her feet and although she was a little breathless, she felt wonderfully strong. Invincible. Invigorated. Such a change from the downcast mood of an hour or so earlier. She knew that Seb’s advice was very sensible. She could do nothing more for Billie until the girl had spoken to her parents. Which meant that, for now, Freya was free of responsibility. Light as a bird.
Until she stumbled.
At the very moment when she was beginning to feel entirely confident, her left knee suddenly gave way. Without warning, it just crumpled.
She cried out as she sensed this happen, and Seb, as good as his word, swung heroically into action. One moment the sand was rushing up to meet her – the next, she found herself supported in his arms, breathless, a little dizzy and clinging tight.
‘Oh, dear,’ she gasped and Seb drew her close, till her head was on his shoulder, her chest heaving against his, and she could feel their heartbeats pounding together in frantic unison.
‘Thank you. That was my reality check.’ She was a little breathless and panting now.
‘You’re not hurt, are you?’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks to you. But I guess I was right about the running. I’m not young any more.’
‘Old or young, you’re damn beautiful, Freya.’
Lifting her head, she stared at him. His face was so close now, she could see the lines around his mouth, the crow’s feet, the fl
ecks of grey in his windblown hair. She looked straight into his eyes, clear silver and grey. No longer smiling, but intensely serious.
‘Seb,’ she whispered. Her throat was so tight it was all she could manage.
His eyes shimmered as he lifted his hands to either side of her head, and he kept his gaze locked with hers as he held her face mere inches in front of him. ‘You’re like a drug I can’t get out of my system.’
She gave a shaky smile. ‘That’s not very romantic.’
‘It doesn’t feel romantic. Romance is happy, all sweetness and light, but this is painful. Deep in the gut.’
She knew exactly what he meant. She shared the same pain.
‘I need you, Freya. I’m afraid I always have.’
Oh, Seb. Her knees almost gave way again. Her eyes were blurred by tears, but she blinked them away. No more weeping. This moment was too huge. A fantasy she’d never dared to dream.
‘And I need to tell you something,’ she said.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Having Billie might be the best thing I’ve ever done, but losing you was the very worst.’
She saw the pain in his smile, the sheen in his eyes and her yearning heart nearly broke. But then Seb was kissing her, or perhaps she was kissing him. It didn’t matter. She was consumed by the utter bliss of his lips on hers again at last, the thrill of his arms binding her close. Seb, Seb. Had there ever been such a longing?
Theirs was a kiss for the ages, layered with memory and buoyed by hope. Freya no longer cared that the heavens had opened and the rain poured down. Winding her arms around his neck, she pressed closer still and their kiss turned wickedly wild. Crushing. Hungry and desperate. Not at all the sedate kiss befitting a mature couple on a public beach. A kiss filled with decades of defeated desire.
It might have been years before they finally broke apart, drowned-rat wet, with their hair plastered to their skulls and their clothes so sodden they were rendered transparent. But they were grinning like fools.
‘We should get back to my place.’ Seb reached for her hand again and there was nothing Freya wanted more.
They began to run and this time, luckily, she didn’t fall.
If reaching Seb’s house had been a matter of dashing up the beach and scrambling out of wet clothes, Freya wouldn’t have had time to be nervous. But they were on the far side of the island, which was going to require a return journey, back over a hill, whizzing around a curving headland, dipping down through Arcadia and over yet another hill before they finally reached Nelly Bay.
All this on Seb’s motorbike, no less. For heaven’s sake, why had she recklessly jumped behind him on his bike, when they might easily have travelled in her sedate SUV? And now she had way too much time to think.
Such dangerous things thoughts could be. Freya was mega excited about being with Seb again. Their kiss was a gift beyond her wildest hopes and dreams, but going back to his place was a different matter. Now she had time to worry about her middle-aged body, her no longer pert boobs, the creases on her neckline, her not so firm thighs.
Oh, and the mechanics of lovemaking were another thing to fret about. After so many years of marriage, habits were established. But Seb wasn’t Brian, thank heavens, and now she wanted to start afresh. But what were her chances, at this time of life, of becoming a lively and alluring siren?
Was it even remotely possible?
‘Don’t,’ said Seb, shooting a glance back at her as the bike finally came to a juddering halt in his driveway.
‘Don’t what?’
‘Don’t start worrying.’
‘I’m not.’
His smile suggested he knew she was lying, but all he said was, ‘Good.’ He cut the motor. ‘You should have a warm shower.’
Freya nodded, imagining her body, white and shrivelled beneath the wet clothes. ‘Great idea.’ She wondered if Seb planned to shower with her, and how would she feel about that?
The bathroom was at the end of a hallway, white tiled and spacious with a long, slender glass panel that looked into a private palm-filled courtyard. Just gorgeous. Seb handed her a fluffy white towel, a cake of frangipani-scented soap and a towelling bathrobe.
‘Take your time,’ he said. And then he left.
Right. So this wasn’t going to be a passionate, up against the wall in the shower affair.
As she slipped out of her clothes, Freya supposed it was possible that Seb was having second thoughts. Perhaps all he planned now was to get her warm and dry and then offer her some kind of supper.
Of course, Seb was a man of the world and the seduction of new women was a hobby for him, while Freya knew nothing about such things. But he’d told her he needed her, that he’d never stopped needing her. And that kiss had been blistering. Off the scale.
Don’t worry, he’d said.
So she wouldn’t.
And she did take her time, enjoying the stream of hot water, the sensuously fragranced soap, the luxurious bath towel. There was a hair dryer, which she used, quickly, without styling, and she was quite fresh and glowing by the time she emerged.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Seb called, and she found him in the kitchen, showered and dressed in beach shorts and a white shirt, left hanging open to reveal a tantalising hint of tanned torso.
Freya looked about her, expecting to find glasses and a wine bottle at the ready, but the benches were bare. She turned back to Seb. Her Seb. Thought of his kiss, of his arms about her, of their hearts beating together. She crossed the floor to him and smiled. ‘How about we save the drinks for later?’
Seb grinned and before she could make another move he was reaching for her, gathering her in. ‘Thank God you haven’t changed,’ he murmured close to her ear.
Delicious shivers flashed through Freya now, diving deep, pooling in heat. Already, with a little help from Seb, the robe was slipping from her shoulders, and Freya, in the middle of his kitchen, happily wriggled out of it, no longer caring about anything but her need for skin contact, for his hands holding her, finding her.
Just like that, the wildness was back and they were making their way, desperate and excited, to the bedroom.
Here, Freya couldn’t help being momentarily distracted by the room’s beauty. Gleaming, honey-toned timber floors, a massive bed with a snow-white spread, cushions in lime-green and aqua, and Seb’s paintings of the tropics. Lush green palm fronds, an aquamarine sea, bright pink and orange flowers.
‘Oh!’ She came to a stop in front of the flowers.
‘What is it?’ Seb asked her.
‘These heliconias. Those gorgeous colours. I decorated my bedroom in pink and orange just before the fire.’
He lifted a hand to gently touch her hair, to trace the curve of her cheek. ‘I always think of you as bright and colourful.’
She laughed, recklessly happy. ‘And I think of you as dark and sexy.’
‘Is that a challenge?’ He was sliding his hands over her shoulders now.
‘Might be.’
‘I’m up for it,’ he murmured as he traced feather-light tracks down her arms, letting his fingertips travel in a delicious slow tease, making her desperate for more. Everywhere.
And now, no more banter. They were too busy kissing, seeking, pressing close and then closer as they tumbled onto the bed. Together.
Billie was still up when Freya finally got home, so she was glad she hadn’t stayed with Seb for the whole night, much as she would have loved to.
The girl was on a sofa in the living room, watching late-night TV with Won Ton curled up beside her. In front of her, the coffee table was littered with takeaway Thai cartons, a crumpled soft-drink can and shiny chocolate wrappers. One look at Billie’s face and Freya knew she was still stressed.
‘Hello, stranger,’ Billie said.
‘Have you been waiting up for me?’
‘What else can a girl do when she has an aunt who hives off like a troublesome teenager?’
Freya wasn’t about to apo
logise for the most thrilling night of her life. She merely smiled. Meanwhile Won Ton, having woken at the sound of Freya’s voice, now abandoned Billie, hopped down from the sofa, where she should never have been, and padded over the floor to her.
‘Have you spoken to your parents?’ Freya asked Billie.
She nodded. ‘Yep. I spoke to Dad and, of course, he put me on speaker.’ She clicked the remote to silence the television, unwound her graceful, sun-tanned legs and sat up, appearing to notice, perhaps for the first time, the litter on the coffee table.
Freya knew a moment of impatience. ‘And what did they tell you?’
‘Nothing, really. They want me to wait till they get home, so we can have a proper face-to-face conversation.’
‘Really?’ Freya couldn’t believe this. ‘Surely they could reassure you that they are your actual parents?’
‘Well, yeah. More or less, but I know there’s stuff they’re not telling me.’
‘But that’s so unreasonable of them, Billie. They’ll be gone for ages yet.’
‘They won’t, actually. They left Tassie straight after my first phone call. About the baby. My baby, that is. They’re already in northern New South Wales and they’ll be home in three days.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Billie wasn’t sure how she got through the next three days. Despite her desperate curiosity, she was disappointed that her parents had abandoned their trip of a lifetime. As far as she was concerned, it was crazy beyond words, but she’d refrained from telling them so, and she hadn’t heard from them again.
Meanwhile, her one – unsatisfactory – conversation with her parents circled round and round in her head. Her father hadn’t been nearly as straight down the line as she’d hoped he would be. ‘What’s this about?’ he’d wanted to know. ‘Why are you asking such a question?’
Billie had been too uptight to be patient. ‘Just tell me, Dad.’
‘You’re our daughter, Billie. Your mother’s and mine.’
‘Your biological daughter?’
‘Yes, love.’
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