'I'm not like Grant,' he said, and turned and tossed a great lump of driftwood as far as he could out into the waves. 'I'm not, and I'll be letting Susie see that for the rest of our lives.'
He didn't ring.
Yeah, well, that'd be because Effie was coming this morning and he had to catch the boat over at high tide to go and meet her. But at nine as the first of her islanders filed into the pilates room Susie was aware of a stab of disappointment.
She should have rung him. But.. .he was calling the tune!
Doris came in limping, muttering about stupid boarders who'd left stupid boots where an old lady might trip over them, and Susie didn't even scold her about the amount of miscellaneous clutter she stored in her living room. She let her settle into easy arm exercises, stretching the muscles and stabilising the neck. She wasn't chatty. Muriel and Lionel were working on the other machines. They were hardly chatty either.
'Susie, what are you wearing on your finger?' Muriel asked, and her voice was a faint squeak. 'Is that what I think it is?'
'It's a diamond,' Susie said defensively. She'd been in two minds whether to wear it this morning—she was starting to feel like there were things she needed to sort out with Sam before she made things public. But the thought of leaving it at Elsie's place seemed wrong. Did she drive home before her clinic and leave it there? Did she not wear it?
In the end it had seemed easiest to slip it onto her finger and deal with the consequences later. Did she want to marry Sam?
Yes, she did. And he'd asked her, hadn't he, so where was the problem? It was only this dumb little niggle that surfaced every time she looked at his oversized diamond.
The dumb little niggle was pushed firmly into the file in her head marked 'Later'.
'Sam's asked you to marry him?' Doris breathed.
'Yes,' she said, almost defiant.
'And the bridge is being fixed,' Lionel whispered, breathless with excitement.
'You're not supposed to know that,' Muriel snapped.
'Neither are you,' Lionel retorted. 'But the whole island knew by breakfast-time.'
'There aren't any secrets on this island,' Doris said, hauling her arms out of her straps and fixing her gaze on Susie. 'Or there aren't supposed to be. When did this happen?'
'You tell me,' Susie said, and tried to smile, but it didn't come off.
'It must have been last night. But he slept in his own bed last night.'
'Hey,' she said, flushing. Too much information.
'He asked you to marry him last night?' Muriel demanded.
'I... Yes.'
'Good girl,' Lionel said, and beamed, but Doris and Muriel had already moved on.
'You sent him home to bed after he asked you to marry him. Are you out of your mind?' Doris demanded.
'I'm a good girl,' she tried, but the women weren't biting.
'You're a woman. And he's a man in a million and things weren't what they were when we were young. Not that I'd have sent my Harold home,' Doris said. 'So why did you?'
'It's none of your—'
'It'll be because of the twins,' Muriel said doubtfully. 'She won't want to shock them.'
'He was parked in front of my place at midnight,' Doris retorted. 'He went down to the beach and walked for hours. I woke up for my three a.m. cup of tea and he was out there, walking. The twins would have been solidly asleep at three a.m.'
'Why weren't you with him?' Muriel demanded.
'Hey,' Susie said, starting to get angry. 'I just told you that I'm getting married. Aren't you happy for me?'
'Of course we're happy for you,' Doris retorted. 'But why did you send him home?'
'I didn't send him home.'
'You didn't?'
'No.'
There was a baffled silence. No one could think of anything to say.
'Back to work,' Susie tried, but it didn't come out right.
'His aunt's coming today,' Muriel said, ignoring her. 'I'll talk to her.'
'You'll do no such thing.'
'I'll have Harold talk to Sam, then,' she said. 'You don't even have your grandpa to protect you.'
'What could he possibly have to protect me from? Sam's wonderful.'
'He is,' Muriel said.
'He's got shadows,' Doris said.
'Shadows or not, he shoulda stayed,' Lionel said. 'Things aren't what they used to be in my day if a fella like Sam excuses himself and goes home to bed after buying a girl a ring. Not without a damned good argument to the contrary.' He sighed. 'Well, well. Times have changed. Adjust these straps, will you, Susie, love? If the younger generation's falling apart, we'll just have to hang round a bit longer to put you right.'
* * *
Susie didn't see Sam till that night. At about four he phoned and asked if he could bring Effie to dinner. 'Barbecue on the beach?' he asked, and she thought he sounded a bit strained.
'I need to talk to you,' she said.
'You're still wearing my ring?'
'Of course.'
'I love you,' he said, and the world settled again. Her anxieties stilled. It'd be line.
'I can come now,' he said, but she'd promised to pop in and see Donna's baby tonight. Chloe had a rash.
He loved her. Talking could wait. Rashes and anxious mothers couldn't.
'Bring your aunt to our place at six,' she said, smiling. 'We'll be ready. I'll even endeavour to get the; twins presentable.'
'There's no need,' he said. 'Effie will love you all as you are.'
Before she could respond he'd disconnected. She replaced the phone in her pocket, feeling better. Almost OK. Just not.. .not...
She didn't know what. Maybe it was Grant, she thought. Maybe promises to marry could never be the same again.
But it was nothing to do with Grant. She knew that. This was all about Sam. Sam and her. Happy ever after.
What was wrong? What?
She shoved her disquiet into the background and went on working.
By the time she got home she was in a rush. A simple barbecue...Yeah, but she wanted the steak to be good and be marinaded and she wanted to do special salads and a yummy dessert and she just felt...breathless.
By the time she opened the door to Effie and Sam she was really puffed. And then she was...astounded.
Effie was round and dumpy and beaming. Her wispy white hair was secured into a knot on the top of her head, but the knot wasn't very secure. She wore John Lennon glasses which looked more at home on Effie than they ever had on John Lennon. But John Lennon had never let society dictate his dress, and obviously neither had Effie. The hair and the glasses were her sole concession to her age. For the rest...
She wore what looked like vast silky harem pants in shimmering lavender, a pink blouse and a violet shawl with pink dragons embroidered on with silk.
Her fingernails were long and pink, with tiny white dragons painted on every finger.
She was wearing pink and white slippers with toes that curled up and over, like someone from Aladdin's Cave.
Susie blinked.
'Hi,' Sam said from behind his aunt. He set Effie gently aside, reached forward, took Susie into his arms and kissed her. Then he drew her round to face Effie. 'This is Susie,' he said.
'You know, I'd guessed that,' Effie said warmly, and she stood on tiptoe to give Susie a kiss of her own. 'Sam's told me so much.'
'All of it good, I hope,' she said, knowing she sounded nervous, not able to do anything about it.
'Oh, my goodness,' Effie said, looking behind her. For there were Joel and Robbie, coming shyly out from the living room, ready to greet Sam with joy but brought up short by the appearance of this lady they didn't know.
'It's the twins,' Effie said, and burst into tears.
It was a very happy, very silly evening. For a lady who should be suffering from jet-lag, Effie was amazing. She set herself to enjoy her first barbecue on an Australian beach with such gusto that the success of the night was assured.
Sam seemed quiet, but he didn't
have much choice, Susie thought as the evening wore on. Effie and the twins held sway, with Brenda chipping in more than she usually did as Effie's enthusiasm disarmed them all.
They ate steak and salad and lamingtons and pavlova and piles and piles of grapes. Susie had provided beer and wine but Effie's only concession to her jet-lag was that she avoid alcohol, so they all had lemonade.
After dinner the twins and Sam swam, while Effie paddled and splashed in the shallows. They played beach cricket and the boys found, to their astonishment, that their first kindly ball bowled to this gentle old lady led to a long-distance swim to retrieve it.
They played until dusk turned almost to darkness. Brenda retired to her television, and Sam carried two sleepy little boys to bed.
'Let me do it,' he told Susie, kissing her gently before picking up a twin in each arm to bear them bodily inside. 'I need to get good at this.'
Susie watched them go, this man she loved and her kids that she adored. It would work. It must.
'It's a miracle,' Effie whispered beside her, and Susie returned her attention to her guest. She'd spread a rug and cushions on the sand in deference to Effie's long journey and advanced age, but until now Effie had scorned to use them. But with Sam inside, she relaxed, sinking down onto the cushions, stretching like a cat and gazing up at the emerging stars in wonder. 'I never saw this happening.'
'He was engaged before, wasn't he?' Susie said tentatively, not sure what the rules here were, but Effie answered without hesitation.
'To Marilyn. I knew they weren't right. Sagittarius. What are you, dear?'
'Virgo.'
'Perfect. Just perfect.'
'It's not just star signs,' Susie ventured, and got a sharp nod in response.
'I'd be the first to agree. But it does count. I'm not saying you can't make it work when the stars are against you but it makes it so much harder. And you can fight your star sign, too. Like Grant. He came out like he resented where he'd been born. Did you know Sam was three minutes older? I'm thinking Grant begrudged him those three minutes all his life.'
'It can't have made much difference.'
'Of course it could,' Effie said. 'Sam was the older one. He was responsible. Those parents of his.. .they spelt it out. Grant was charming and.. .1 don't know. Effervescent. Like some sort of glittering illusion. Even when he was little he used to manipulate people's emotions and Sam would be left to deal with the mess. Mind, he had to deal with the mess his mother left as well, which was even harder. His mother walked out when the twins were five, and you would have thought it was all Sam's fault. My brother was a hard man. I don't say he deserved what he got, but he was austere and relentless in what he saw as his duty. He knew he didn't stand a chance with Grant—Grant simply ignored him, giggled, did what he wanted. I had a theory for a while that the child was slightly autistic—he didn't feel like we did. He stayed mostly with his mother but when he was too much for her he came back to us. My brother could chastise all he wanted, shout, even weep, but Grant went on regardless. It was up to Sam to try and fix things.'
'Why are you telling me this?' Susie asked. She glanced across at the twins' lighted window. Sam was in there, reading the twins their bedtime story. It seemed wrong that she be out here, gossiping about his past.
'Because he's finally fixed it,' Effie said, and stretched again, sinking deeper into her pile of pillows. 'And this is the end.'
Susie frowned. She stopped looking at Sam's profile inside the house and turned to look at Effie. Effie was contentedly stargazing, relaxed and at ease.
'The end of what?' she asked cautiously.
'Grant's messes,' Effie said. Jet-lag must be finally catching up with her. Her voice was getting a bit dreamy, as if drifting toward sleep. 'You have no idea.. .There was cheating, bullying, stealing, love affairs with girls who were distraught, university records where results were fabricated.. .What Grant wanted, he got, and everywhere he went he left a mess Sam had to clean up. My brother gave up in the end and never lifted a finger to stop the worst of Grant's excesses. But the consequences would tear him apart. So Sam would step in. Shield his father from the knowledge of the worst of it. Even I wasn't allowed to see the worst.'
'Is that right?' Susie said, in a voice that wasn't quite steady.
'My brother died just before Grant was diagnosed with leukaemia,' Effie said. 'Well, it was dreadful, but there wasn't anything we could do about it. Not even Sam, try as he might. Leukaemia was one mess that wasn't of Grant's making. One mess that no one could sort out. Then Grant died and I thought I might lose Sam, too. Sam's been the responsible one, over and over, and when Grant died.. .he was devastated. It was like one last mess that Sam couldn't fix. He couldn't sort it, you see. There was nothing left he could do to make it right.'
'I...I see.'
'And now there's you.' Effie's voice was deeply slurred now, sleep finally catching up with her. 'Grant's left you and he's left your beautiful little boys. Grant's sons. So this is one last thing Sam can do. He can take this last mess made by Grant and he can make it right. He can put Grant to rest with this last piece of ghastly chaos that Grant's created. He can take you under his wing, he can take on this last piece of responsibility and find his happy ending in the process. Oh, Susie, my beloved Sam is happy, and now, if you'll excuse me, I think I might be falling asleep.'
* * *
Something was wrong.
The night had been fantastic, Sam thought, but as soon as he emerged, from the house he knew things had changed.
Effie was almost asleep, and Susie was looking at him with eyes that were clouded. She was schooling her expression into one as neutral as possible, but he was close enough to her now to sense there was trouble.
'What's wrong?' he asked without preamble.
'What could be wrong?' she said, but he could hear the effort she was making to keep her voice light. 'Effie's so tired she's almost unconscious. You need to take her home to bed.'
'I'll take her home and come back.'
'No,' she said. 'I have a headache.'
'You get headaches?'
'Yes.'
'Bad headaches?'
'I have a bad headache now.'
'I have aspirin in my purse,' Effie offered sleepily. 'And a little round crystal you rub on your temple. And a vial of lavender oil.'
'I just need to go to sleep,' Susie said. 'I was in the wrong bed last night and didn't get enough sleep.'
'Whose bed did you sleep in?' Effie asked, waking up.
'Not Sam's,' she said bluntly. 'Because Sam doesn't want to be like Grant.'
Sam frowned. What the hell...? 'Susie.
'Take Effie home,' she said wearily.
'I'll come back later.'
'No.' She picked up a couple of cushions and held them like a shield.
'Is there anything I can—?'
'No. I need to go to bed. Please,' she said shortly, and headed up to the veranda. She was aware that she sounded rude but there wasn't anything she could do about it.
'Susie, what's wrong?' he demanded again, starting to feel really concerned.
'You're the doctor,' she snapped. She winced and pressed fingers on her temple and tried a smile. 'Sorry. We have an exercise physiologist, a doctor and an astrologer here, so I guess we're equipped for any diagnosis but the long and short of it is that I have a headache caused by lack of sleep. And if Effie doesn't go to bed soon I imagine she'll have a headache worse than mine. So I'll bid you goodnight.'
'Goodnight, dear,' Effie said, pausing doubtfully as Sam helped her to her feet. 'I hope I haven't said anything... wrong.'
'What did you say?' Sam demanded, sounding ominous.
'Nothing,' Susie interjected fast. 'How could Effie have said anything wrong? But I'm sorry. I don't want to be rude but I really do need to go to bed.' Sam stepped forward, clearly intending to kiss her goodnight, but she stepped away fast and held her cushions closer.
'No.'
'Susie—'
'
Just go,' she said, and walked inside and closed the door behind her.
'What the hell did you say to her?' Sam demanded as the porch light flicked off. They were being told to leave in no uncertain terms.
'I just talked about how happy I was,' Effie said, bewildered.
'Nothing else?'
'I don't think so. I was almost asleep. I just said how nice it was that you were happy.'
'Effie—'
'Sam, I'm old,' Effie said, reverting to an excuse she'd used before in sticky situations where she wasn't quite sure of her ground. 'If Susan's tired, I dare say I'm more so. Maybe I'll remember in the morning. For now.. .can you take me back to Doris's or I'll fall asleep where I'm standing.'
Susie's door was closed. Her bedroom light flickered on, but the blind was tugged closed before he saw her, and darkness prevailed.
'I need to talk to her,' Sam said.
'In the morning,' Effie told him. 'I need my bed.'
She had notes to write. A lot of notes. Stuff to pack. Things to do.
Half an hour after Sam had left her cellphone rang. She checked that it wasn't someone in trouble—no matter how urgent her affairs were tonight, if there was a medical emergency and she didn't respond, she'd never forgive herself. But the incoming number was Sam's.
She flicked the cell through to the message bank, took herself into the storeroom where there were no windows to reveal to an outside world that someone might be awake, and went on writing.
What the hell was going on? Sam made Effie comfortable, rang Susie, rang her again, and then drove back. Her house was in darkness.
Maybe she did have a headache. Maybe she'd gone to sleep.
Headache. Subarachnoid haemorrhage. Stroke.
Frustrated and worried, he banged on the front door. A curlered head poked out the nearest window.
'What do you want?'
'I'm worried about Susie,' he told Brenda, and Brenda glowered.
'We're all in bed. We're OK.'
'Is Susie OK?'
'Of course she's OK.'
'Will you check?'
The curlers disappeared. From the innards of the house, Brenda's voice boomed, loud enough to wake the dead.
His Island Bride Page 14
