It was Cecily’s idea and she was, unfortunately, right. They couldn’t go out because they might be recognised and they couldn’t go to her place in case Gwen saw them. So his apartment it was.
The problem, as Alec was well aware, was that his home revealed too much of himself. He’d put away some of the incriminating items—his art was now sitting at the bottom of his closet, and his antique pens were in his underwear drawer—but some of it couldn’t be moved. Like his books. His antique writing desk. His state-of-the-art coffee machine.
Cecily was smart enough to work it all out, and at the same time she would reveal little of herself. It put Alec at a disadvantage. He didn’t like that.
The doorbell rang and he buzzed her up. He got out the platter of antipasto and put it on the dining table. As he was making his way back to the kitchen to pour the wine, he noted sitting on the credenza near the front door his stuffed rabbit, Murgatroyd. He snatched it up as there was a knock on the door. He looked around frantically, then stuffed Murgatroyd in one of the drawers of the credenza. Thank Christ he’d noticed that in time.
He opened the door, oozing charm and calm. ‘Cecily. You look lovely.’
She did. She had her hair down for the first time in their acquaintance and Alec noted the ribbons of red running through the burnished brown. She was wearing a sinful dress, that hugged her body and revealed curves that the office clothes only hinted at.
Oh, Mama.
‘Alec.’ She smiled and stepped inside. ‘Oh my goodness. You can see Parliament House.’
Cecily walked over to the sliding doors that led onto the balcony and Alec took a moment to enjoy how the dress pulled across her butt before closing his apartment door. ‘Only if you look very hard. The trees mask most of it.’
‘Hello. Great big white building with flag on top.’ Cecily waved her hand at the view. There were a lot of gum trees in the park that took up most of the hill, but they did little to mask the ‘great white building with flag on top’.
‘I am a humble person, and keep my eyes down.’
Cecily rolled her eyes at him. ‘If you’re going to say things like that, I need a drink.’
Alec went into the kitchen to pour the wine with a smile, until he remembered the reason he had wanted to have the wine ready when Cecily got here was so she wouldn’t be left alone in his lounge room to look at things. Damn Murgatroyd.
He poured quickly, grabbed the glasses and hurried out, but it was too late. His entrance into the lounge room was greeted by the words, ‘Have you read all these or are they just for show?’
Alec realised he had a choice. Continue to obfuscate, or actually tell the truth. Truth telling was a powerful strategy, when you timed it right. And this was right.
‘Yes and yes,’ he said, holding out Cecily’s glass.
She took it. ‘That makes no sense.’
‘It will. Follow me.’ He led her down the hall to the first door and pushed it open. ‘Enter.’
Cecily stepped in. ‘Oh, Alec!’ He heard the delight and wonder in her voice and knew he had done the right thing.
He leant against the doorframe and watched Cecily wander around his library. It wasn’t large—he had repurposed an ordinary bedroom—but it looked like a perfect library in a stately home. Floor-to-ceiling dark wooden shelves. A wing chair to read in. Even a ladder that swung around the room.
‘That shelf there, in the middle.’ He pointed out the shelf on the far wall.
Cecily walked over and looked at the books. ‘These are the same as the ones outside.’
‘These are the ones I have read. The ones outside are for show. There’s not a book out there that is more than a third edition.’
Cecily spun around, eyes wide. ‘You have some first editions?’
‘Not of anything worth anything. I have managed to get a third of Huckleberry Finn and Oliver Twist but unfortunately firsts of those are way beyond my budget. But every book out there is a book I read and loved, so it doesn’t bother me that the firsts I do have will never be worth any money.’
Cecily walked past him, back out into the lounge room. Alec followed and found her back at the other bookcase. ‘You liked Walden?’
‘Actually, that’s the sole joke one there.’ Alec opened the door and took out the book, handing it to Cecily.
She opened it and gasped. ‘It’s a first edition, Alec. Of an American classic. That’s not a joke. This is worth a fortune.’
‘Gotcha,’ Alec said. ‘Yes, it’s a first edition, but it’s the English first edition. Published about thirty years after it was first published in the US. That book is worth peanuts.’
Cecily handed it back. ‘I should have known there’d be one not-serious book in here.’
‘Oh, I’m very serious about my Walden. I’ve caught out many a so-called bookaphile who has seen it and made me horrendous offers for it and then been insulted when I laughed in their face.’
‘So it’s not that you don’t take anything seriously. It’s that you’re very particular about what you take seriously, and you don’t want people to know what that is.’
She was working him out too quickly. ‘Olives? Mortadella? Fresh and fabulous.’
‘And you change the subject the moment I get a little personal. I have noted that. Doing it out of nerves on the first date is one thing, but it if ends up being a pattern, we will be having words.’
‘I can’t believe I thought it would be a good idea to date an intelligent woman,’ Alec said.
Cecily laughed. ‘Now, let’s see what else I can work out about you. You don’t have any art up, but you do have hooks for art.’
‘They were there when I moved in,’ Alec said.
‘And you haven’t taken them down?’
Alec shrugged. ‘One day I might find some art I like and then I will need the hooks. In the meantime, I like to consider them a minimalist statement on the futility of life.’
‘Right. Not serious about art. The antique writing desk is lovely, and so is the credenza. You obviously have a good sense of style.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Otherwise, this lounge room is pretty much devoid of any sense of personality. I expected a bit of whimsy from you. But no, apart from the books it’s really very utilitarian. Let me consider your kitchen.’
Alec sat at the table and started picking at the platter—no sense wasting such fabulous food—while Cecily poked her head in the kitchen.
She whistled. ‘What a gorgeous coffee machine.’
‘I insist on a perfect cup of coffee each morning,’ Alec said. ‘I’m a bear without my coffee.’
‘Considering coffee is a stimulant, I can’t imagine how laid back you are without it. You live just moments from one of Canberra’s coffee hotspots, including a café wherein work two of the best baristas in Australia. Why would you make your own coffee?’
‘Means I get to sleep in the extra fifteen minutes,’ Alec said.
‘And you get to avoid people. You’ve got a fabulous library, where you can shut out the world and disappear into a book. You obviously love doing that. And you have spent thousands on a coffee machine and you don’t do that just to get an extra fifteen minutes sleep. You swan around Parliament House, being so charming that pretty much every person in the place is in love with you, but you actually don’t like people.’
‘Not true,’ Alec said. ‘I quite like people. I don’t like lots of people in the one place at the one time. Just one or two is perfect.’
‘You’re an introvert and you’ve become a political strategist. It would seem you’re a masochist as well.’
‘I realised when I was a lad that I like solving puzzles. Whether they be people, or problems, I like finding solutions. Politics allows me to get paid really well for that.’
Cecily sat down at the table. ‘Have you solved me, yet?’
Alec thought about what he had seen at her apartment. ‘You are a woman of mystery. Honestly, I can’t quite figure out all those
screens. Two and I’d say you were working, but four... Maybe you are a serious gamer. Or an artist? Or a clandestine computer programmer. Oh, a hacker. You’re a hacker.’
Cecily laughed and the sound was delightful. ‘Your imagination is ridiculous.’
‘You work for ASIO, and you’re spying on me. Well, I won’t confess easily. You will need to tie me to my bed to get the truth out of me.’
‘I won’t be tying you to your bed,’ Cecily said. ‘Not on the first date.’
‘Oh, be still my beating heart.’
Cecily ate one of the olives. ‘Oh, this is nice. What are you planning for mains?’
‘Whatever the kitchen cooked for me. I can’t remember what they said they were doing.’
‘You don’t cook?’
‘I wouldn’t think of putting any chefs out of business.’
‘I bet you can’t,’ Cecily said. ‘I think I have found your first weakness.’
‘Can you cook?’ Alec said.
‘No, but that’s considered a strength in a woman nowadays. I don’t care about the patriarchy, I won’t subsume to expectations, etcetera. Whereas you are expected to be able to cook, to show that you are a modern man. The fact you can’t makes you a failure.’
That hurt. ‘I bet I can boil an egg if I tried.’
‘I’ll take that bet,’ Cecily said.
So Alec found himself doing something he’d never imagined doing on a first date—boiling an egg. He dropped the egg into the boiling water and then swore as something white started to spill out of the egg and float in the water.
‘What did I do wrong?’ he muttered.
‘It’s an egg, Alec. You can’t drop an egg and expect it not to crack.’
‘Then how do I get it in there...’ He looked around his kitchen, muttering, before finally he thought of using a spoon to lower the egg into the water. It went in whole and stayed that way and he cheered.
‘Look at you, boiling eggs,’ Cecily said.
‘Told you I could.’ Alec put the spoon down and looked at her. She was sitting on his counter, sipping on the wine. Adorable. Gorgeous. Irresistible.
‘We never did discuss what the bet would be.’ Alec walked over and put his hands on either side of her thighs on the counter. Close, but not crowding her.
Still, Cecily’s eyes widened and there was a flare of heat that made Alec’s body tighten. ‘If you succeed, I will get to eat a nice boiled egg. I like my centre a bit runny.’
‘I like my centre hard.’
Cecily licked her lips and Alec started to harden. ‘What do you get if I fail in my egg cooking quest.’
‘I get to laugh at you,’ Cecily said softly.
Alec leaned a little closer, looking at her lips. ‘Do you want to laugh at me?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want me to kiss you?’
‘Yes.’ It came out with a breathless sigh.
They kissed, and Alec tasted Cecily’s sweetness and wanted to drink deeper of her. He stepped closer and she opened her thighs to accommodate his hips. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him, almost drowning in the joy of feeling her body pressed against him.
Then Cecily pulled away with a yelp. ‘Alec, the eggs are boiling over!’
Alec turned and saw eggy water pouring out of the pot and all over his stove top. ‘Shit.’ He leapt over to turn the water off, Cecily’s laughter his background.
He heard her slip off the counter, then she put her arms around his waist. ‘I think I win.’
Alec turned and held her. ‘I think we both win,’ he said, then the eggs were forgotten in the heat of their kiss.
Cecily
The next time Cecily went to Alec’s place, she found a display of beautiful old pens on the antique writing table, and on the credenza by the door a battered old toy rabbit.
She swept it up with delight. ‘I knew there was whimsy here. Where did you put it?’
‘In the drawer,’ Alec said. ‘Poor Murgatroyd has been mad at me ever since.’
‘Murgatroyd.’ Cecily smiled down at the rabbit. One ear had been torn off, and all the fluff on his nose had been worn away. He was dressed in a suit much like the ones Alec wore at work.
‘You’ve had him since you were little,’ she said.
‘I got Murgatroyd for my first birthday,’ Alec said. ‘I tried to put him away when I was a teenager, but I realised he was my lucky charm. As long as I was proud in my love of Murgatroyd, nothing bad would ever happen to me. So he’s been with me ever since. Caused a lot of ribbing at university, but I figured since I was going into politics I needed to develop a thick hide.
‘I love him.’ Cecily kissed the battered old nose, then put him back.
‘Have you got anything from your childhood?’
Alec had been quite open and honest with her—surprisingly so—and it was time to return the favour. ‘Actually, no. I don’t know who my parents are.’
Alec blinked, then pointed to the dining table, where this time the wine sat next to some cheese and crackers. ‘Sit and tell me all.’
Cecily took her time, getting some cheese on a cracker and eating it, then taking a sip of her wine while she put the words together. ‘My parents abandoned me. The police looked for them but never found them, so I was made a ward of the state and put into foster care. The hope was someone would adopt me, but they never did. I was moved from family to family.’ She decided not to tell him the horror that she had been through. That was a conversation for further into the relationship. ‘When I was sixteen, the state enabled me to go out on my own. I worked part-time to help put myself through the rest of school, then university, then jobs until I got the job with Michelle and came here. So that’s the whole thing. I have nothing from my childhood. No toys. No photos. There are families around the place that might have those mementos, but I decided long ago to not look back. Always forward, to the next opportunity. So, there. My deepest, darkest secret is yours.’
‘Cecily.’ Alec put his hand on hers. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. The fact you’re here, so successful, so spectacular, is such an astounding thing.’
‘Thank you,’ Cecily said. ‘But please, don’t feel pity for me. There are a lot of people out there who have had much worse lives than me, and where I came from isn’t anywhere as important as where I am going.’
‘You need to make sure you tell your story at your first election campaign.’
Cecily blinked. ‘What?’
‘The sooner it’s out there, it becomes non-news. Anyone who then tries to use it against you will look the dick, rather than people being annoyed at you for hiding things.’
‘You don’t think it would adversely impact the campaign? People like family. They’ll immediately look at me and think I’m some sort of druggo.’
‘Some people will. Unfortunately, we live in the same world as idiots. But while their voices are loud, there aren’t as many of them as the media would like you to think. Most people will either not care or think you’re admirable. They’ll be more interested in what you as their representative can do for them. Convince them you’ll be the best local member of all time and they’ll vote for you even if you sprout antennae out of your head and start speaking Martian.’
‘Antennae?’
‘You don’t have any, do you? Hang on.’ Alec reached for her head.
‘Leave my hair alone.’ Cecily battered his hands away. ‘As long as you don’t provoke me, I will never have antennae.’
‘Then I will be good as gold, scout’s honour.’
‘You weren’t a scout.’
‘Of course I wasn’t. Get my hands dirty? Perish the thought.’
‘You are such a metrosexual. I bet you spend more on your hair than I do.’
‘If my family are anything to judge by, I won’t have my hair for that long. I intend to make the most of it while it’s there.’
Cecily tipped her head to one side. ‘Actually, I think you could pull off b
ald. Sean Connery like.’
‘Why thank you, Moneypenny.’
Cecily laughed. ‘That was the most terrible Connery impersonation ever. Honestly, it seems with every conversation, you reveal more and more of your weaknesses.’
‘Whereas you remain perfect,’ Alec said.
That pretty compliment deserved a kiss, and then dinner was postponed for quite a while.
***
Cecily was doodling when John strode into her office the next day. She looked down and realised she’d been doodling her name and Alec’s. With a quick motion, she pushed it off her desk onto the floor, out of John’s sight.
‘How are things?’ she said with false calm as John sat on the edge of her desk.
‘Fabulous. Wonderful. Dreamlike. You?’
‘Pretty good.’ Although John’s words pretty much matched hers.
‘I’m here to declare you officially brilliant at your job and no longer in need of my guidance.’
Cecily had found John’s mentorship invaluable. Why was he now withdrawing it? ‘Am I so perfect now?’
‘Well, no. You are still a newbie. But you won’t make any fatal mistakes now, and that’s the important thing. So go ahead. Be confident. Be proud. You are a great representative of the party.’
Cecily was pretty sure John would consider Alec Moncrieff to be a fatal mistake. ‘Thank you. What will you do with all the spare time you now have since you’re not babysitting me anymore.’
‘Oh, I have plans, Cecily. Enormous, ginormous plans.’
‘Getting Mrs B into the ministry?’
‘God, no. Mrs B is a good old stick and she pays brilliantly, but she’s never going to make it into the ministry. Don’t tell her that, though. No, my plans are much more of a personal nature.’
Cecily realised what he was alluding to. ‘John Worthing, are you in love?’
‘I am, dear Cecily. Definitely. Indubitably. Undeniably.’
‘With who?’
John wiggled his finger. ‘That, dear Cecily, is something I cannot say.’
‘Why?’
‘Because what we have is special, precious, unique, and I want to ensure it is strong and resilient before I open it up to the light of day. One day, you will know, but not today.’
The Importance of Ernestine Page 16
